THE PHILOSOPHY, commonly called, THE MORALS WRITTEN BY the learned Philosopher PLUTARCH of Chaeronea.  
Translated out of Greek into English, and conferred with the Latin translations and the French, by PHILEMON HOLLAND of Coventrie, Doctor in Physic.  
Whereunto are annexed the Summaries necessary to be read before every Treatise.  
AT LONDON Printed by Arnold Hatfield.  
1603   

TO THE MOST HIGH AND MIGHTY PRINCE, JAMES, BY THE Grace of God, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, etc.  
IN this general joy of affectionate and loyal subjects, testified by their frequent confluence from all parts, longing for nothing so much as the full fruition of that beautiful star, which lately upon the shutting in of the evening with us after our long Summer's day, immediately by his radiant beams maintained still a twilight from the North, and within some few hours appeared bright shining above our Horizon, suffering neither the dark night and confused Chaos of Anarchy to overspread and subvert, nor the turbulent tempests and bloody broils of factious sidings to trouble and pervert our State: I also, for my part could not stay behind, but in testimony of semblable love and allegiance show myself; and withal, most humbly present unto your Highness, This Philosophy of PLUTARCH: which being first naturally bred in Greece; then, transplanted in Italy, France and other regions of the continent; after sundry Nativities, if I may so speak, reserved (not without some divine providence) unto these days, is now in this our Island newly come to light; ready both to congratulate your Majesty's first entry upon the inheritance of these Kingdoms, and desirous also to enjoy the benefit of that happy Horoscope and fortunate Ascendent, under which it was borne; even the favourable aspect of your gracious countenance: by virtue whereof, it may not only be marked to long life, feeble otherwise of itself, but also yield pleasure with profit to the English nation.  
Vouchsafe therefore, my dear Lord and dread Sovereign, to accept that now at my hands, whole & entire, which in part Trajanus the best Roman Emperor that ever was, received sometime from the first Author and Stockfather himself: Protect the same in English habit, whom in French attire Amiot dedicated to the late most Christian King: and deign unto her no less favour and grace, than her younger sister, to wit, the History or Parallel Lives, hath already obtained: which being transported out of France into England by that worthy Knight Sir Thomas North our countryman, was patronized by our late Sovereign Lady of famous memory Elizabet. And the rather, for that considering the prerogative of birthright, and the same accompanied with more variety and depth of knowledge, I may be bold to pronounce as much in her commendation, as the Poet wrote of jupiter in comparison of his brother Neptune: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
Homer. Iliad. v.   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  These regards, albeit they were sufficient motives in themselves to induce me, for to attempt none other patronage than the Name of my Liege Lord so gracious; nor so submit my labours to the censure of any person, before a King so judicious: yet was I more animated to enterprise the same, by the former experience that I had of a Prince's benignity in that behalf: what time as I consecrated my English Translation of the Roman History written by Titus Livius, unto the immortal memory of the said Noble and renowned Queen. Now, seeing that with her Realms and Dominions, the best parts and gifts that were in her, be likewise haereditarily descended upon your royal person, and the same multiplied in greater measure, proportionable to the dignity of sex, the addition of sceptres and diadems, and the weighty charge of so puissant and populous an Empire; it were in me a gross absurdity, if not mere impiety, to make any doubt of that excellent virtue of all others, whereby Princes come nearest unto the Nature of God, whose Majesty here upon earth they represent. To say nothing, how the world hath taken knowledge already, as well by your virtuous life and politic regiment hitherto, as also by the prudent and religious designments delivered in those sage and learned Compositions of your highness penning, That your blessed intention is to hold on the same course still, not only 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a point that the Indian Potentate 
Plutarch. De fortune. vel Virtut. Alexandri. Orat. 1.  Porus required of Alexander the Great: but also 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the singular note that our present Author set upon all the actions of the said mighty Monarch; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Since then both these attributes concur in your Noble person, just cause have we, in all devout thankfulness to acknowledge the goodness of the Almighty, who from heaven above hath sent us so wise a Prince, under whose reign we (if ever any Nation under the Sun) may assuredly expect that felicity and happiness, which the divine Philosopher Plato so much recommendeth: and in due 
Dialog. 5. Derep.  reverence unto your Majesty, with one heart and voice, both sing and say: 
Hîc ames dici Pater atque Princeps: 
Horat. 1. Carm. odd. 2.   
Serus in coelum redeas, tuoque  
Laetus intersis populo, Britannûm  
Prime Monarcha.   
Your Majesty's most humble and obedient subject, Philémon Holland.   

A CATALOGUE CONTAINING the Titles of every Treatise in order, thorough the whole work: with a direction to the page, where any one of them beginneth.  
1 OF the Nouriture and Education of Children. 
1  2 How a young man ought to hear Poets: and how he may take profit by reading Poems. 
17  3 Of Hearing. 
51  4 Of Moral virtue. 
64  5 Of Virtue and Vice. 
78  6 That Virtue may be taught and learned. 
80  7 How a man may discern a flatterer from a friend. 
83  8 How to Bridle Anger. 
117  9 Of Curiosity. 
133  10 Of the tranquility and contentment of Mind. 
144  11 Of unseemly and naughty Bashfulness. 
162  12 Of Brotherly Love. 
173  13 Of Intemperate speech or garrulity. 
191  14 Of Avarice or Covetousness. 
208  15 Of the natural love or kindness of Parents to their children. 
216  16 Of the Plurality of Friends. 
223  17 Of Fortune. 
229  18 Of Envy and Hatred. 
233  19 How a man may receive profit by his enemies. 
236  20 How a man may perceive his own proceeding and going forward in Virtue. 
245  21 Of Superstition. 
258  22 Of Exile or Banishment. 
269  23 That we ought not to take up money upon Usury. 
282  24 That a Philosopher ought to converse especially with princes and great Rulers, and with them to discourse. 
288  25 How a man may praise himself, without incurring envy or blame. 
300  26 What passions and maladies be wrose, those of the soul or those of the body. 
312  27 Precepts of Wedlock. 
315  28 The banquet of the seven Sages. 
325  29 Instructions for them that manage affairs of State. 
346  30 Whether an aged man ought to manage public affairs. 
382  31 The Apothegms or Notable Sayings, of Kings, Princes, and great Captains. 
401  32 Laconicke Apothegms, or the notable sayings of Lacedæmonians. 
445  33 The Apothegms, that is to say, the notable sayings and answers of Lacedaemonian Dames. 
479  34 The virtuous deeds of Women. 
482  35 A consolatory oration, sent nnto APOLLONIUS, upon the death of his son. 
509  36 A consolatory letter or discourse, sent unto his own Wife as touching the death of her and his daughter. 
533  37 How it cometh, that the divine Justice differreth otherwhiles the punishment of wicked persons. 
538  38 That Brute beasts have discourse of reason, in manner of a Dialogue named Gryllus. 
561  39 Whether it be lawful to eat flesh or no, the former oration or treatise. 
571  Of eating flesh the second Declamation. 
576  40 That a man cannot live pleasantly according to the doctrine of EPICURUS. 
580  41 Whether this common Mot be well said, LIVE HIDDEN, or, So LIVE, as no man may know thou livest. 
605  42 Rules and precepts of health, in manner of a Dialogue. 
609  43 Of the Romans fortune. 
627  44 The Symposiacks, or table Questions, The first book. 
641 
Of Symposiacks, the second book. 
661  Of Symposiacks, the third book. 
680  Of Symposiacks, the fourth book. 
698  Of Symposiacks, the fifth book. 
713  Of Symposiacks, the sixth book. 
729  Of Symposiacks, the seventh book. 
742  Of Symposiacks, the eight book. 
764  Of Symposiacks, the ninth book. 
785    45 The opinions of Philosophers. 
802 
Of Philosopher's opinions the first book. 
804  Of Philosopher's opinions the second book. 
817  Of Philosopher's opinions the third book. 
826  Of Philosopher's opinions the fourth book. 
833  Of Philosopher's opinions the fifth book. 
841    46 Roman Questions. 
850  47 Demands or questions as touching Greek affairs. 
888  48 The Parallels or, a brief Collation, of Roman narrations, with the semblable reported of the Greeks. 
906  49 The Lives of the ten Orators. 
918  50 Narrations of Love. 
944  51 Whether creatures be more wise, they of the land, or those of the water. 
949  52 Whether the Athenians were more renowned for Martial Arms, or good Letters. 
981  53 Whether of the twain is more profitable, Fire or Water. 
989  54 Of the Primitive or first Cold. 
992  55 Natural Questions. 
1002  56 Platonique Questions. 
1016  57 A commentary of the Creation of the soul, which PLATO desoribeth in his book Timaeus. 
1030  58 Of fatal Necessity. 
1048  59 A Compendious Review or Discourse, That the Stoics deliver more strange opinions, than do the Poets. 
1055  60 The Contradictions of Stoic Philosophers. 
1057  61 Of Common Conceptions against the Stoics. 
1081  62 Against COLOTES the Epicurean. 
1109  63 Of Love. 
1130  64 Of the Face appearing within the Roundle of the Moon. 
1159  65 Why the prophetess PYTHIA, giveth no answer now from the Oracle, in verse or Meeter. 
1185  66 Of the Daemon or familiar spirit of SOCRATES. 
1202  67 Of the Malice of HERODOTUS. 
1227  68 Of Music. 
1248  69 Of the Fortune or virtue of king ALEXANDER, the first Oration. 
1263  Of the Fortune or virtue of K. ALEXANDER, the second Oration. 
1272  70 Of Is is and OSIRIS. 
1286  71 Of the Oracles that have Ceased to give answer. 
1320  72 What signifieth this word, EI, engraven over the Door of APOLLO'S Temple in the City of DELPHI. 
1351    

OF THE NOURITURE AND EDUCATION OF childs.  

The Summarie.  
THe very title of this Treatise discovereth sufficiently the intention of the author; and whosoever he was that reduced these Morals and mixed works of his into one entire volume, was well advised, and had great reason to range this present Discourse in the first and foremost place: For unless our minds be framed unto virtue from our infancy, impossible it is that we should perform any worthy act so long as we live. Now, albeit Plutarch (as a mere pagan) hath both in this book and also in others ensuing, where he treateth of virtues and vices, left out the chief and principal thing to wit, The Law of God and his Truth, (wherein he was altogether ignorant) yet nevertheless, these excellent precepts by him delivered like rays which proceed from the light of nature remaining still in the spirit and soul of man, aswell to leave sinners inexcusable, as to show how happy they be, who are guided by the heavenly light of holy Scripture; are able to commence action against those, who make profession in word how they embrace the true and sovereign Good, but in deed and effect do annihilate, as much as lieth in them, the power and efficacy thereof.  
Moreover, in this Treatise he proveth first of all, That the generation of infants ought in no wise to be defamed with the blot either of adultery or drunkenness: Then, he entereth into a discourse of their education: and after he hath showed, that Nature, Reason & Usage ought to concur in their instruction, he teacheth how & by whom they should be nurtured, brought up and taught, where he reproveth sharply the sloth, ignorance and avarice of some fathers. And the better to declare the extelleneie of these benefits, namely, goodinstruction, knowledge and virtue, which the study of philosophy doth promise and teach, he compareth the same with all the greatest goods of the world: and so consequently setteth down what vices especially they are to shun and avoid, who would be capable of sincere and true literature.  
But before he proceedeth further, he describeth and limiteth how farforth children well borne and of good parentage should be urged and forced by compulsion; deciphering briefly the praises of moral philosophy: and concluding withal, That the man is blessed, who is both helpful to his neighbour as it becometh, and also good unto himself. All these points aboverehearsed, when he hath enriched and embellished with similitudes, examples, apophihegmes, and such like ornaments, he propoundeth divers rules pertinent to the Institution of young children: which done, he passeth from tender childhood to youthful age, showing what government there ought to be of young men: far from whom, he banisheth and chaseth flatterers especially: and for a final conclusion discourseth of the kind behaviour of fathers and the good example that they are to give unto their children.   

THE EDUCATION OF childs.  
FOrasmuch as we are to consider what may be said as touching the education of children free borne and descended from gentle blood, how and by what discipline they may become honest and virtuous, we shall perhaps treat hereof the better, if we begin at their very generation and nativity. First and foremost therefore, I would advise those who desire to be the fathers of such children, as may live another day in honour and reputation among men, not to match themselves and meddle with light women, common courtesans I mean, or private concubines. For a reproach this is that followeth a man all the days of his life, and a shameful stain which by no means can be fetched out, if haply he be not come of a good father or good mother: neither is there any one thing that presenteth itself more readily unto his adversaries, and sooner is in their mouth when they are disposed to check, taunt and revile, than to twit him with such parentage. In which regard, wisely said the Poet Euripides: 
When as the ground is not well laid at first, for our nativity;  
With parent's fault, men will upbraid both us, and our posterity.   
A goodly treasure then have they who are well and honestly borne, when in the confidence and assurance thereof, they may be bold to bear their heads aloft, and speak their minds frankly wheresoever they come: and verily they of all others are to make the greatest account of this blessing, who wish to have fair issue of their bodies lawfully begotten. Certes, a thing it is that ordinarily daunteth and casteth down the heart of a man, when he is privy to the baseness of his birth, and knoweth some defect, blemish and imperfection by his parents. Most truly therefore, and to the purpose right fitly spoke the same Poet: 
The privity to father's vice or mother's fault reprochable,  
Will him debase who otherwise is haughty, stout and commendable.   
Whereas chose, they that are known to be the children of noble and worthy parents, bear themselves highly, and are full of stomach and generosity. In which conceit and lofty spirit it is reported, that Diaphantus the son of Themistocles, was wont to say, and that in the hearing of many, That whatsoever pleased him, the same also the people of Athens thought well of: for, that which I would have done, quoth he my mother likewise saith Yea unto it: what my mother's mind stands to, Themistocles my father will not gainsay it: and look what likes Themistocles, the Athenians all are well contented therewith. Where by the way, the magnanimity, and brave mind of the Lacedaemoninas is highly to be praised, who condemned their king Archidamus in a great fine of money, for that he could find in his heart to espouse a wife of little stature, alleging therewith a good reason: Because, say they, his meaning is to get, not a breed of Kings, but Kinglins, or diverse Kings, to reign over us.  
Well, upon this first advertisement concerning children, there dependeth another, which they who wrote before us of the like argument, forgot not to set down; and what is that? namely, That they who for procreation of children will come near unto women, aught to meddle with them, either upon empty stomachs, and before they have drunk any wine at all, or at leastwise, after they have taken their wine in measure, and soberly: for such will prove commonly wine-bibbers and drunkards, who were engendered when their fathers were drunken: according to that which Diogenes said upon a time unto a youth whom he saw beside himself, and far overseen with drink; My lad, quoth he, thy father got thee when he was drunk. And thus much may suffice for the generation of children.  
As touching their nurture and education, whereof now I am to discourse: That which we are wont generally to say of all Arts and Sciences, the same we may be bold to pronounce of virtue, to wit, that to the accomplishment thereof, and to make a man perfectly virtuous, three things ought to concur, Nature, Reason and Usage. By reason, I understand doctrine and precepts: by usage, exercise and practise. The first beginnings we have from nature: progress and proceeding come by teaching and instruction: exercise and practice is performed by diligence: And all three together bring forth the height of perfection. If any one of these fail, it cannot otherwise be, but that virtue also should have her defect and be maimed: For nature without learning is blind: Doctrine wanting the gift of nature is defectuous; and exercise void of the other twain, imperfect. And verily, it fareth in this case much like as in Husbandry and tillage of the earth. For first and formest requisite it is, that the ground be good: Secondly, that the Husbandman be skilful; and in the third place that the seed be clean and well chosen. Semblaby, Nature resembleth the soil: the Master who teacheth, representeth the labouring Husbandman; and last of all, the rules, precepts, admonitions and examples are compared to the seed. All these good means (I dare with confidence avouch) met together, and inspired their power into the minds of these worthy personages, who throughout the world are so renowned, Pythagor as I mean, Socrates, Plato, and all the rest who have attained to a memorable name and immortal glory. Blessed then is that man and entirely beloved of the gods, whose hap it is by their favour and grace to be furnished with all three. Now if any one be of this opinion, that those who are not endued with the gift of natural wit, and yet have the helps of true instruction and diligent exercise to the attaining of virtue, cannot by this means recover and repair the foresaid defect: Know he, that he is much deceived, and to say more truly, quite out of the way: for as idleness and negligence doth mar and corrupt the goodness of nature: so, the industry and diligence of good erudition supplieth the defect, and correcteth the default thereof. Idle and slothful persons (we see) are not able to compass the things that be easy: whereas chose by study and travel, the greatest difficulties are achieved. Moreover, of what efficacy, and execution, diligence and labour is, a man may easily know by sundry effects that are daily observed. For we do evidently perceive that drops of water falling upon the hard rock, do eat the same hollow: iron and brass we see to wear and consume only by continual handling: The fellies in chariot wheels which by labour are bended and kerbed, will not return and be reduced again, do what you can to their former straightness: Like as it is impossible by any device to set straight the crooked staves that Stage-players go withal. And evident it is, that whatsoever against nature, is by force and labour changed and redressed, becometh much better and more sure, than those things that continue in their ownekinde. But, are these the things only wherein appeareth the power of study and diligence? No verily. For there are an infinite number of other experiments, which prove the same most clearly. Is there a piece of ground naturally good? Let it lie neglected, it becometh wild and barren: Yea, and the more rich and fertile that it is of itself, the more waste and fruitless it proveth for want of tillage and husbandry. chose, you shall see another plot hard, rough, and more stony than it should be: which by good ordering and the careful hand of the husbandman, soon bringeth forth fair and goodly fruit. Again, what trees are there which will not twine, grow crooked and prove fruitless, if good heed be not taken unto them? Whereas, if due regard be had, and that carefulness employed about them which becometh, they bear fruit, and yield the same ripe in due season. Is there any body so sound and able, but by neglect, riot, delicacy, and an evil habit or custom it will grow dull, feeble and unlostie, yea and fall into a misliking and consumption? On the other side, what complexion is there so faint and weak, which is not brought to great strength and perfection in the end, by continual travel and ordinary exercises? Are there any horses in the world, which if they be well handled and broken while they are colts, will not prove gentle in the end and suffer themselves easily to be mounted and manned? chose, let them remain untamed in their youth: strong-headed, stiff-necked and unruly will they be always after, and never fit for service. And why should we marvel at these and such like matters, considering that many of the most savage and cruel beasts that be, are made gentle and familiar, yea and brought to hand by labour and pains taken about them? Well said therefore that Thessalian whosoever he was, who being demanded, which Thessalians of all others were most dull and softest of spirit, Answered thus, Even they that have given over warfare. But what need we to stand longet upon this point? For certain it is, that out manners and conditions are qualities imprinted in us by tract and continuance of time: and whosoever saith that 
* Gracè 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Moral virtues are gotten by custom, in my conceit speaketh not amiss but to very great purpose. And therefore with one example and no more produced by Lycurgus as touching this matter, I will knit up and conclude my discourse thereof. Lycurgus, him I mean who established the laws of the Lacedæmonians, took two whelps of one licter, and coming both from the same sire and dam: Those he caused to be nourished and brought up diversely, and unlike one to the other; that as the one proved a greedy and ravenous cur and full of shrewd turns: so the other was given to hunting and minded nothing but to quest and follow the game. Now upon a certain day afterwards, when the Lacedæmonians were met together in a frequent assembly, he spoke unto them in this manner, My Masters, citizens of Lacedaemon, Of what importance to engender virtue in the hart of man, custom, nurture, discipline and education is, I will presently show unto you by an evident demonstration: and with that he brought forth in the sight of them all, those two whelps, and set directly before them a great platter of sops in broth, and therewith let loose also a live hare: but behold, one of them followed immediately after the hare, but the other ran strait to slap in the platter aforesaid. The Lacedæmonians wist not what to make of this, nor to what purpose he showed unto them these two dogs before said, until he broke out into this speech, These two dogs (quoth he) had one dam and 〈◊〉 same sire, but being bred and brought up diversely, See how the one is become a greedy gut, and the other a kind hound. And thus much may serve as touching custom and diversity of education.  
It were meet now in the next place to treat of the feeding and nourishing of infants newly borne. I hold it therefore convenient, that mothers rear their babes, and suckle them with their own breasts: For feed them they will with greater affection, with more care and diligence, as loving them inwardly, and (as the proverb saith) from their tender nails, whereas milk nurses and fostermothers carry not so kind a hart unto their nourcelings, but rather a feigned and counterfeit affection, as being mercenary and loving them indeed for hire only and reward. Furthermore, even nature herself is sufficient to prove, that mothers ought to suckle and nourish those whom they have borne and brought into the world: For to this end hath she given to every living creature that bringeth forth young, the food of milk: and in great wisdom the divine providence hath furnished a woman with two teats for this purpose, that if happily she should be delivered of two twins at once, she might have likewise two fountains of milk to yield nourishment for them both. Moreover, by this means more kind and loving they will be unto their children: and verily not without great reason: For this fellowship in feeding together is a bond that knitteth, or rather a wrist that straineth and stretcheth benevolence to the utmost. The experience whereof we may see even in the very brute and wild beasts, which hardly are parted from their company, with whom they have been nourished, but still they low and mow after them. Mother's therefore (as I have said) ought especially to endeavour and do their best for to be nurses of their own children, if it be possible. But in case they cannot, by reason either of some bodily infirmity and indisposition that way (for so it may fall out) or that they have a desire and do make haste to be with child again, and to have more children: then a careful eye and good regard would be had, not to entertain those for nurses and governesses that come next to hand, but to make choice of the very best and most honest that they can come by, and namely for fair conditions and good behaviour, to choose Greekish women before any other. For like as the members and limbs of little infants, so soon as ever they be borne, are of nccessitie to be form and fashioned, that afterwards they may grow strait and not crooked: even so, at the very first their hearts and manners ought to be framed and set in order: For this first age of childhood is moist and soft, apt to receive any impression: whiles the heart is tender every lesson may be soon instilled into it, and quickly will take hold, whereas hard things are not so easy to be wrought and made soft. And as signets or seals will quickly set a print upon soft wax; so the tender hearts of young children take readily the impression of whatsoever is taught them. In which regard, Plato that heavenly and divine Philosopher, seemeth unto me to have given a wise admonition for nurses, when he warned them not to tell foolish tales, nor to use vain speeches inconsiderately in the hearing of young infants, for fear least at the first their minds might apprehend folly and conceive corrupt opinions. Semblably the Poet Phocylides seemeth to deliver sage counsel in this behalf when he saith: 
A child of young and tender age  
Ought to be taught things good and sage.   
Neither is this precept in any wise to be forgotten or passed by, That other children also who are either to attend upon them, whiles they be nourced and brought up, or to bear them company and be fed together with them, be chosen such as above all things are well mannered and of good conditions: Then, that they speak the Greek tongue naturally, and pronounce the same most plainly and distinctly, for fear, lest if they sort with such fears as either in language are barbarous, or in behaviour lewd and ungracious; they catch infection from them, and be stained with their vices. For such old saws and proverbes as these, are not so rise without good reason, If thou converse and cohebite with a lame creaple, thou wilt soon learn to limp and halt thyself.  
Now when children be grown to that age, wherein they are to be committed unto the charge of Tutors, Schoolmasters and governors: then, parents ought to have an especial care of their state, namely, under whom they set them to be trained up: lest for want of good providence and foresight, they betray them into the hands of some vile slaves, base barbarians, vain and lightheaded persons. For most absurd and ridiculous is the practice of many men in this point: who if they have any servants more virtuous or better disposed than others, some of them they appoint to husbandry and tillage of their ground; others they make Masters of their ships. They employ them (I say) either in merchandise to be their factors, or as stewards of their house to receive and pay all; or else to be bankers, and so they trust them with the exchanging and turning of their moneys. But if they meet with one slave among the rest that useth to be cupshotten, given to gluttony & belly cheer, or otherwise is untoward for any good service, him they set over their children to bring them up: Whereas indeed a governor over youth should be well given, & of a right good nature himself, such an one as Phoenix was, who had the breeding and education of Achilles. The principal point therefore and most important of all that hitherto hath been alleged is this, That choice men be sought out for to be teachers & masters of our children; who live in good name and without challenge, whose carriage and behaviour is blameless; & who for their knowledge & experience of the world are the best that may be found. For surely the source & root of all goodness and honesty, is the good education and training up of our children in their tender age. And like as good husbandmen and gardeners are wont to pitch props & stakes close unto their young plants, to stay them up and keep them straight: even so, discreet and wise teachers plant good precepts and wholesome instructions round about their young scholars, to the end that thereby, their manners may bud forth commendably, and be framed to the rule of virtue. But chose, you shall have some fathers now adays, that deserve no better than to be spit at in their very faces; who either upon ignorance, or for want of experience, before any trial made of those masters, who are to have the conduct and charge of their children, commit them hand over head to the tuition of lewd persons, and such as bear show and make profession of that which they are not. Neither were this absurdity altogether so gross and ridiculous, if so be they faulted herein of mere simplicity & default of foreknowledge. But here is the heights of their folly and error, that themselves knowing otherwhiles the insufficiency, yea and the naughtiness of some such Masters, better than they do who advertise them thereof; yet for all that, they commit their children unto them, partly being overcome by the flattery of clawbacks, and partly willing to gratify some friends upon their kind and earnest entreaty. Wherein they do much like for all the world to him, who lying very sick in body, for to content and satisfy a friend, leaveth an expert and learned physician who was able to cure him, and entertaineth another blind leech, who for want of skill and experience quickly killeth him: or else unto one who being at sea; foregoeth an excellent pilot whom he knoweth to be very skilful, and for the love of a friend maketh choice of another that is most insufficient. O jupiter and all the gods in Heaven! Is it possible that a man bearing the name of a father, should make more account of a friends request, than of the good education of his own children? Which considered, had not that ancient Philosopher Crates (〈◊〉 you) just occasion to say oftentimes, that if possibly he might, he would willingly mount to the highest place of the city, and there cry out aloud in this manner: What mean you my Masters, and whether run you headlong, carking and caring all that ever you can, to gather goods and rake riches together as you do: whiles in the mean time you make little or no reckoning at all of your children, unto whom you are to leave all your wealth? To which exclamation of his, I may add thus much moreover, and say, That such fathers are like unto him that hath great regard of his shoe, but taketh no heed unto his forth. And verily, a man shall see many of these fathers, who upon a covetous mind, and a cold affection toward their own children, are grown to this pass, that for to spare their purse, and ease themselves of charge, choose men of no worth to teach them: which is as much as to seek a good market where they may buy ignorance cheapest. Certes Aristippus said very well to this purpose, when upon a time he prettily mocked such a father who had neither wit nor understanding, and jibed pleasantly with him in this manner: For when he demanded of him how much he would take for the training up and teaching of his son? He answered, An hundred crowns: A hundred crowns! quoth the father: by Hercules I swear, you ask too much out of the way; For with a hundred crowns I could buy a good slave. True quoth Aristippus again, Lay out this hundred crowns so, you may have twain, your son for one, and him whom you buy for the other. And is not this a folly of all foliys, that nurses should use their young infants to take meat and feed themselves with the right hand, yea and rebuke them if haply they put forth their left: and not to forecast and give order that they may learn civility, and hear sage & wholesome instructions? But what befalleth afterward to these good fathers, when they have first nursed their children badly, & then taught them as lewdly? Mary I will tell you. When these children of theirs are grown to man's estate, and will not abide to hear of living orderly, and as it becometh honest men: but chose fall headlong into outrageous courses, and give themselves wholly to sensuality and servile pleasures: Then such fathers all repent for their negligence past, in taking no better order for their education: but all too late considering no good ensueth thereupon: but chose, the lewd pranks which they commit daily, augment their grief of heart and cause them to languish in sorrow. For some of them they see to keep company with flatterers, parasites, and smell feasts, the lewdest, basest, and most cursed wretches of all other, who serve for nothing but to corrupt, spoil, and mar youth: Others, to captivate and spend themselves upon harlots, queans and common strumpets, proud and sumptuous in expense; the entertainment of whom is infinitely costly. Many of them consume all in delicate fare, and feeding a dainty and fine tooth: Many of them fall to dice, and with mumming and masking hazard all they have. And diverse of them again entangle themselves in other vices more hardy and adventurous, courting fair dames, and making love to other men's wives: for which purpose they walk disguised in the night, like the frantic priests of Bacchus, to commit adulteries, buying sometimes one only nights pleasure with the price of their life: Whereas if such as these had conversed before with any Philosopher, they would never have taken such ways as this, and give themselves to like vanities: but rather they would have turned over a new leaf and learned a lesson of Diogenes, who in words not very civil and seemly, howbeit to the point not untruly, gave this counsel and said, Go thy ways to the Stews (I advise thee) and enter into some brothel house, where thou mayst know how the pleasure that costeth little or nothing, differeth not from that which is bought full dearly.  
To knit up therefore all in one sum I will conclude, and this my conclusion ought of right to be esteemed for an oracle, rather than a simple counsel and admonition; That the beginning, mids, and end of all these matters, lieth only in virtuous nurture and honest education, which I avouch are the very means that be operative and powerful for the attaining both of virtue and true happiness. As for all other things which we count good in this world, are in comparison hereof, mortal, transitory, small, and not worth the seeking after with such care and study. Nobility, I confess to be a goodly thing, but it is the gift of our ancestors. Riches who doubteth that they be gay and precious matters? Howbeit, lying in the power of fortune only, who taketh the same many times from those that possess them, and giveth them away to such as never look for them. Moreover, much wealth is the very mark whereat they shoot who are common cut purses, privy & domestical thieves, Sycophants and promoters, and that which is most, the wickedest persons in the world oftentimes meet therewith. Glory and honour be things venerable, howbe it uncertain and mutable. Beauty is lovely and very much desired, but it continueth a small while. Health is worth much, and yet you see how soon it changeth. Strength of body who wisheth not? but quickly it is decayed and gone, either by sickness or years: in so much, as whosoever vaunteth and beareth himself in his able body, is greatly deceived, and cometh far short of his reckoning: For what is man's force, compared with that of other beasts, I mean Elephants, Bulls and Lions? It is learning and knowledge only, which in us is divine, heavenly and immortal. For in man's nature two parts there are to be considered of all other most principal, to wit, understanding and speech. And of these, understanding is as it were the master that commandeth: Speech, the servant that obeyeth. Now the foresaid understanding is not exposed to the injury of fortune: no slanders raised by Sycophants can take it away: Sickness hath no power to corrupt and destroy it; neither doth it decay or perish by old age: For it is the only thing that being in years, waxeth young and fresh. Length of time which doth diminish and impair all things else, addeth still more knowledge to our understanding, the elder that we are. So violence of war which in manner of a stream casteth down and carrieth all away with it, is not able to make havoc and spoil of knowledge and learning: that only is not in danger thereof. And in my conceit, Stilpo the Megarian Philosopher gave a most worthy and memorable answer unto K. Demetrius, who having forced, sacked and razed the city of Megara to the very foundation, demanded of him what losses he sustained in that general sacking? None at all (quoth he) For war can make no spoil of virtue. To which answer of his, acordeth and soundeth well the apothegm of Socrates, who (as I take it) being asked of Gorgias, what opinion he had of the great King and Monarch of the Persians in those days, whether he deemed him Happy or no? I wot not (quoth he) how he is furnished with virtue and learning. as if he judged, that true felicity consisted in these two things, and not in the transitory gifts of fortune.  
But as my counsel and advice unto parents is, to hold nothing in the world more dear and precious, then to train up their children in good letters and virtuous manners: so I say again, that they ought to have an eye unto that literature and institution which is sound, pure and uncorrupt: furthermore, to sequester and withdraw their children as far as possibly they can, from the vanity and foolish desire to be seen and heard in the frequent and public assemblies of the people. For commonly we find, that to please a multitude, is to displease the wiser sort. And that I speak truth herein Euripides giveth good testimony in these verses: 
No filled tongue I have nor eloquence,  
To speak in place of frequent audience:  
Among my fears and those in number few,  
I love to give advise and make no show:  
For, those whose speech doth please a multitude,  
With learned men are foolish thought and rude.   
For mine own part, I observe those men who endeavour to speak to the appetite and pleasure of the base and vulgar sort, that ordinarily they become loose and dissolute persons, abandoned to all sensuality. And verily not without great appearance of reason: For if to gratify and content others, they have no regard of honesty: more likelihood there is a great deal, that for to do a pleasure to themselves, and feed their own humour and appetite, they will forget all honour and devoir; yea and sooner give the reins to their own delights, than follow the straight rules of temperance and sobriety.  
But now, what good thing is there moreover, that we are to teach our children? and whereto should we advise them for to give their minds? A goodly matter no doubt it is to do nothing rashly, nor to speak a word unadvisedly: But (as the old Proverb saith) whatsoever is fair and goodly, the same also is hard and difficult. As for these orations which be made extempore and without premeditation, they go away with great facility, and are very rash and full of vanity: And such commonly as so speak, know not well either where to begin or when tomake an end. Also, over and above other absurdities and faults which they commit, who are accustomed in this wise to parley at aventure, and to let their tongue run at random, know not how to keep any mean or measure of speech, but fall into a marvelous superfluity and excess of words: Whereas on the contrary side, when a man thinketh before hand what he should say, he will never overshoot him so far as to pass beyond the bonds of temperate and proportionable language. Pericles, as we have been given to understand, being oftentimes called upon & importuned by the people, and that expressly by name, for to deliver his opinion as touching a matter in question, would not so much as rise from his place, but excused himself and said, I am provided to speak. Semblably Demosthenes, one who greatly affected the said Pericles, and followed his steps in policy and managing of State affairs, being called by the Athenians to sit in counsel with them, & requested to give his advice in certain points, refused and made the same answer, saying, I have not yet thought upon it, neither am I prepared. But peradventure some man will say, this is an headless tale and a devised report received by tradition from hand to hand, and not grounded upon any certain testimony. Listen then, what he saith himself in that oration which he made against Midias, wherein he setteth evidently before our eyes, the profit that cometh by premeditation: For in one place thereof, these be his words: My Masters of Athens, I confess plainly, and cannot deny or dissemble, that I have taken as much pains in composing of this oration as possibly I could: For an idle wretch I had been if having suffered, and suffering still such indignities as these, I would not consider and study before hand, what I had to say in reason concerning these matters. Neither allege I this, as one who condemned altogether the promptitude and readiness of the tongue, and the gift of utterance extempore, but the ordinary custom and exercise thereof in every small matter, and of no great importance. For otherwhiles it is tolerable; provided always that we use it so, as we would take a purging medicine. And to speak more plainly, my meaning is, that I would not have young men before they be grown to man's age, for to speak aught without good advice and consideration. But after they be well grounded and have gathered sufficient root which may yield pithy speech, then if occasion be offered, and that they be called unto it, I think it convenient, they should be allowed to speak freely. For even as they who have been fettered a long time and worn irons on their fear, when they are loosed from their cannot go well at the first, because they have continued such a while with clogs at their heels, but ever and anon are ready to trip and stumble: so it fareth with those that of long time have been tongue tied (as it were) and restrained of their liberty of speech: For if haply there be presented some matter, whereto they are to speak on a sudden, they will retain still the same manner and form of style, and speak no otherwise than they did before with premeditation. Mary, to suffer young boys to make subitanie and inconsiderate orations, is the next way to bring them to yaine babbling, and causeth them to utter many words altogether impertinent to the matter. It is reported that upon a time a vain and foolish painter came to Apelles, and showed him a picture, saying withal, This Image I drew thus and thus soon. I wot well (quoth Apelles) at the first sight, although thou saidst never a word that it was quickly painted and in haste. And I marvel rather that thou hast not painted many more such in the same time. But to return again to my former discourse which I began withal, as touching speech, like as I would give counsel to beware of glorious and brave words, and to avoid that manner of haughty voice which beseemeth tragedies, and is meet for theatres: So I advise and admonish again to fly as much that kind of language which is too small and overlowly: For that the one which is so loud and aloft, exceedeth civility: and the other that is as much beneath, bewrayeth overmuch fearfulness. Moreover, as the body ought not only to be sound and in health, but also in good plight and well liking: so our speech should be not only clear from sickness as it were and malady, but also strong and able: For that a thing that is sound and safe only, we do but barely praise: whereas that which is hardy and adventurous, we admire and wonder at. That which I have said, as touching the tongue and speech, the same opinion I have of the heart and the disposition thereof. For I would not have a youth to be overbold and audacious: neither do I like of him, if he be too timorous and fearful: For as the one turneth in the end to presumption and impudency; so the other into servile cowardice. But here lieth all the mastery and cunning, as well in this as in all things else, namely, to cut even in the mids, and to hold the golden mean. And since I am entered thus far into the discourse as touching the literature and erudition of youth, before I proceed any farther, I will deliver mine opinion thereof generally in these terms: Namely, That to be able to speak of one thing and no more, is first and formest in my conceit no small sign of ignorance. Then, I suppose that the exercise and practise thereof, soon bringeth satiety. And again, I hold it impossible to continue evermore in the same: For so to be ever in one song, breedeth tediousness, and soon a man is weary of it: whereas variety is always delectable both in this, and also in all other objects as well of the eye as the ear. And therefore it behoveth, that a child well descended and free borne, be not suffered to want either the fight or the hearing of all those arts and liberal sciences, which are linked as it were and comprehended within one circle, and thereupon called Encyclia. i Circular. These would I have him to run through every one superficially, for a taste only of them all: for as much as to attain unto the perfection thereof were impossible. Yet so, as his chief and principal study be employed in Philosophy: which opinion of mine I may very well confirm by a proper similitude. For all one it is, as if a man would say, a commendable thing it were to sail along the coasts, and see many a city: but expedient and profitable to make abode and dwell in the best: and much like to that pleasant and pretty conceited speech of Bion the Philosopher, who said, That even as the lovers and wooers of Lady Penelope, when they could not enjoy the Mistress herself, went in hand with her waiting maidens, and companied with them: so, as are not able to attain unto Philosophy, spend and consume themselves in the study of other Arts, which in comparison of it are nothing worth. And therefore we ought to make this account, that Philosophy is the principal head (as it were) of all other learning and knowledge whatsoever. True it is, that for the maintenance and preservation of the body, men have devised two Arts, to wit, Physic and bodily exercise: of which twain, the one procureth health; the other addeth thereto a good habitude and strong constitution: but for the infirmities and maladies of the soul, there is no other physic but only Philosophy: For by the means of it and together with it, we may know what is good, what is bad, what is honest and dishonest, what is just, and generally what to choice and what to refuse, how we ought to bear ourselves towards the gods, and towards our parents, what our demeanour should be with our elders, what regard we are to have of laws, what our carriage must be to strangers, to superiors: how we are to converse with our friends, In what sort we ought to demean ourselves towards our children and wives, and finally, what behaviour it beseemeth us to snew unto our servants and family: For as much as our duty is to worship and adore the gods, to honour our parents, to reverence our ancients, to obey the laws, to give place unto our superiors and betters, to love our friends, to use our wives chastely and with moderation: to be and affectionate to our children, and not to be ouragious with our servants, nor to tyrannize over them. But the principal and chief of all is this, not to show ourselves over joious and merry in prosperity, nor yet exceeding heavy and sad in adversity: not in pleasures and delight dissolute, nor in anger furious, and transported or rather transformed into brutish beasts by choler. And these I esteem to be the foveraigne fruits that are to be gathered and gotten by Philosophy. For to carry a generous and noble heart in prosperity, is the part of a brave minded man: to live without envy and malice, is the sign of a good and tractible nature: to overcome pleasures by the guidance of reason, is the act of wise and sage men: and to bridle and restrain choler, is a mastery that every one cannot skill of: But the height of perfection in my judgement those only attain unto, who are able to join and intermingle the politic government of weal public with the profession and study of Philosophy: For by this means (I suppose) they may enjoy two of the best things in the world, to wit, the profit of the common weal by managing State affairs: and their own good, living so as they doc in tranquility and repose of mind, by the means of Philosophy. For whereas there be amongst men three sorts of life, namely, Active, Contemplative, and Voluptuous: this last named, being dissolute, loose, and thrall to pleasure, is brutish, beastly, base and vile: The contemplative wanting the active is unprofitable: and the active, not participating with the speculation of Philosophy, committeth many absurd conormities, and wanteth ornaments to grace and beautify it. In which regard, men must endeavour and aslay as much as lieth in them both to deal in government of the State, and also to give their minds to the study of Philosophy, so far forth as they have time, and public affairs will permit. Thus governed in times past noble Pericles: thus ruled Archytas the Tarentine: thus Dion the Syracusian, and Epaminondas of Thebes swayed the State where they lived; and both of them aswell the one as the other conversed familiarly with Plato. As touching the Institution of children in good literature, needless (I suppose) it is to write any more. This only will I add unto the rest that hath been said, which I suppose to be expedient or rather necessary: namely, that they make no small account of the works and books of the ancient Sages and Philosophers, but diligently collect and gather them together: so as they do it after the manner of good husbandmen: For as they do make provision of such tools as pertain to Agriculture and husbandry, not only to keep them in their possession, but also to use them accordingly: so this reckoning aught to be made, that the instruments and furniture of knowledge and learning, be good books, if they be read and perused: For from thence as from a fountain they may be sure to maintain the same.  
And here we are not to forget the diligence that is to be employed in the bodily exercise of children: but to remember that they be sent into the schools of those masters who make profession of such feats, there to be trained and exercised sufficiently, aswell for the straight and decent growth, as for the ability and strength of their bodies: For the fast knitting and strong complexion of the body in children, is a good foundation to make them another day decent and personable old men. And like as in time of a calm & fair season, they that are at sea, aught to make provision of necessary means to withstand foul weather and a tempest: even so, very meet it is, that tender age be furnished with temperance, sobriety and continency, and even betimes reserve and lay up such voyage provision, for the better sustenance of old age. Howbeit in such order ought this labour and travel of children to be dispensed, that their bodies be not exhaust and dried up, and so by that means they themselves be overwearied, and made either unmeet or unwilling to follow their book afresh and take their learning: For as Plato said very well, Sleep and lassitude be enemies to learning. But why do I stand hereupon so much, being in comparison so small a matter?  
Proceed I will therefore and make haste to that which is of greatest importance, and passeth all the rest that hath been said before: For this I say, that youth ought to be trained to military feats, namely, in lancing darts and javelins, in drawing a bow and shooting arrows, in chase also and hunting wild beasts. Forasmuch as all the goods of those who are vanquished in fight, be exposed as a prey and booty to the conquerors: neither are they fit for warfarre and to bear arms, whose bodies having been daintily brought up in the shade and within house, are corpulent, and of a soft and delicate constitution.  

The lean and dry, the raw bone soldier fierce,  
Who trained hath been in arms and warlike toil,  
In field wholerankes of enemies will pierce,  
And in the lists all his concurrents foil.   
But what may some men say unto me? Sir, you have made promise to give us examples and precepts, concerning the education of all children free borne and of honest parentage: and now, me thinks you neglect the education of commoners and poor men's children, and deliver no instructions but such as are for gentlemen, and be suitable to the rich and wealthy only. To which objection, it is no hard matter to make answer. For mine own part, my desire especially is, that this instruction of mine might serve all: but in case there be some, who for want of means cannot make that use and profit which I could wish, let them lay the weight upon fortune, and not blame him who hath given them his advice and counsel in these points. And yet for poor men thus much will I say, Let them endeavour and strain themselves to the utmost of their power, to bring up their children in the best manner: and if they cannot reach unto that, yet must they aim thereat, and come as near as their ability will give them leave.  
I have been willing to insert these points by the way, into this present argument, and to charge my discourse over and above therewith, that I might prosecute other precepts remaining behind, which concern the education of young men. Thus much therefore I say moreover, that children must be trained and brought to their duty in all lenity, by fair words, gentle exhortations, and mild remonstrance, and in no wise (perdie) by stripes and blows: For this course of swinging and beating seemeth meet for bondslaves, rather than persons of free condition. And to say a truth, by this means they become dull and senseless, nay they have all study and labour afterwards in hatred and horror: partly for the smart and pain which they abide by such correction, and in part by the contumely and reproach that they sustain thereby. Praise and dispraise be far better and more profitable to children free borne, than all the whips, rods and boxes in the world: the one for to drive them forward to well doing, the other to draw them back from doing ill: but both the one and the other are to be used in alternative course. One while they would be commended; another while blamed and rebuked: and namely, if at any time they be too jocund and insolent, they ought to be snibbed a little and taken down, yea and put to some light shame: but soon after, raised up again by giving them their due praises. And herein we must imitate good nurses, who when they have set their infants a crying, give them the breast for to still them again. Howbeit, a measure would be kept, and great heed taken that they be not too highly commended, for fear lest they grow proud and presume overmuch of themselves: For when they be praised exceedingly they wax careless, dissolute and enervate; neither will they be willing afterwards to take more pains. Moreover, I have known certain fathers, who through excessive love of their children have hated them afterwards. But what is my meaning by this speech? Surely I will declare my mind and make my words plain anon by an evident example and demonstration. Some fathers (I say) there be, who upon a hot and hasty desire to have their children come soon forward, and to be the foremost in every thing, put them to immoderate travel and excessive pains: in such sort, that they either sink under the weight of the burden, and so fall into grievous maladies, or else finding themselves thus surcharged and overladen, they are not willing to learn that which is taught them. And it fareth with them as it doth with young herbs and plants in a garden, which so long as they be watered moderately, are nourished and thrive very well. but if they be overmuch drenched with water, they take harm thereby and are drowned: Even so we must allow unto children a breathing time between their continual labours: considering and making this account, That all the life of man is divided into labour & rest: and for this cause Nature hath so this account, That all the life of man is divided into labour & rest: and for this cause Nature hath so ordained, that as there is a time to be awake, so we find a time also to sleep. One while there is war, and another while peace: It is not always winter and foul weather, but summer likewise and a fair season. There be appointed not only work days to toil in, but also festival holidays to solace and disport ourselves. In sun, rest and appose, is (as it were) the sans unto our travail. And this we may observe as well in senseless and lifeless things, as in living and sensible creature. For we unbend our bows, and let slack the strings of Lutes, haps, and such musical instruments, to the end that we may bend and stretch the same again. And in one word, as the body is preserved and maintained by repletion and evacuation successively; so the mind likewise by repose and travel in their turns.  
Furthermore, there be other fathers also worthy of rebuke and blame, who after they have once betaken their children to Masters, Tutors and Governors, never deign afterwards themselves, either to see or hear them, whereby they might know how they learn: wherein they do fail very much in their duty. For they ought in proper person to make trial how they profit, they should ever and anon (after some few days passed between) see into their progress and proceeding, and not to repose their hope and rest altogether upon the discretion and disposition of a mercenary master. And verily this careful regard of the fathers, will work also greater diligence in the master. themselves, seeing that by this means they are called eftsoons, as it were to account and examine how much they ply their scholars, and how they profit under their hands. To this purpose may be well applied a pretty word spoken sometimes by a wise estugry of a stable, Nothing (quoth he) feedeth the steed so fat as doth the master's eye.  
But above all things, the memory of children ought daily to be exercised: for that it is as a man would say, the Treasury & Storehouse of all learning. Which was the cause that the ancient Poets have feigned, That Lady Mnemosyne, that is to say Memory, was the mother of the Muses: Whereby they would seem under an enigmatical and dark speech to give us to understand, that nothing availeth so much either to breed, or to feed and nourish learning, as Memory. And therefore great diligence would be used in the exercise thereof every way: whether the children be by nature good of remembrance and retentive: or otherwise of a fickle memory and given to oblivion. For the gift of nature in the one, by exercise we shall confirm and augment; and the imperfection or default in the other, by diligence supply and correct: in such sort, that as they, shall become better than others; so these, shall prove better than themselves. For very wisely to this purpose said the Poet Hesiodus: 
If little still to little thou do add a heap at length and much will be had.   
Over and beside, I would not have fathers to be ignorant of another point also, as touching this memorative part & faculty of the mind: namely, that it serveth much not only to get learning and literature, but also is a means that carrieth not the least stroke in worldly affairs: For the remembrance of matters past, furnisheth men with examples sufficient to guide and direct them in their consultatious of future things.  
Furthermore, this care would be had of young children, that they be kept from filthy and unseemly speeches: For words (as Democritus saith) are the shadows of deeds. Trained also they must be to be courteous, affable, & fair spoken, aswell in entertainment of talk with every one, as in saluting and greeting whomsoever they meet: for there is nothing in the world so odious as to be coy and surly of speech; to make it strange and to disdain for to speak with men. Again, young students shall make themselves more lovely and amiable to those with whom they converse, in case they be not so opinative and stiff that they will not relent nor give place one jot in disputations, if they have once taken a party against others. For a commendable and goodly matter it is for a man to know, not only how to overcome, but also to suffer himself otherwhiles to be overcome: especially in such things wherein the victory bringeth hurt and damage: For verily such a conquest may well and truly be called according to the common Proverb, A Cadmian victory, that is to say, which turneth to the detriment and loss of the winner. In confirmation whereof I may well allege the testimony of the wise Poet Euripides, who in one of his tragedies hath these verses: 
When one of twain, that argue and dispute, grows into heat of words and will not rest:  
I hold him much the wiser who is mute and stays his tongue, that he do not contest.   
Now come I to other points wherein youth is to be instructed, and those of no less importance, nay rather I may be bold to say, of greater consequence than all those whereof I have discoursed hitherto: And what be they? Namely, that young men be not riotous, and given to superfluity of expense: That they hold their tongue: That they master their anger: and finally, That they keep their hands pure & clean. But let us consider these precepts particularly, what each of them in several doth import: and more easily may they be understood, if we illustrate the same by lively examples. To begin then first with the last: There have beenc known great personages, who being once permitted to put forth their hands for to take bribes and money unjustly, lost all the honour which they had won therest of their life time: As for example, 
* Vide Plutarch. In vita Lysandris.  Gylippus the Lacedaemonian, who having once opened those bags or coffers of money by turning their bottoms upwards, and taken forth what pleased him, was shamefully banished out of Sparta, and lived obscurely in exile. As touching the gift of bridling choler, and not to be angry at all, it is a singular virtue, and perfect wise men they are indeed who can so do: Such as Socrates was, who being greatly abused by an insolent, audacious and graceless youth, that spared him not, but had spurned & kicked him with his heels, seeing those about him to be very angry and out of patience, stamping and faring as though they would run after the party, to be avenged of such an indignity; How now my masters (quoth he) what if an ass had flung out, and given me a rap with his heels, would you have had me to have yerked out and kicked him again? Howbeit, this ungracious imp went not clear away with impunity: for being rated for his insolence & lewd demeanour, and reproached by every man with the terms of Winsing ass, Kicking colt, and such like nicknames, he fell into such a fit of melancholy, that he strangled himself in a halter. Also when Aristophanes the Poet exhibited the Comedy called Clouds, wherein he let fly and discharged upon Socrates all manner of slanders and contumelies that he could devise, insomuch as one of them who were present at the very time when he railed thus licentiously, demanded of him, and said, Art thou not nettled, o Socrates, to hear and see thyself thus blasoned and noted in public place? Not a whit (quoth he again) for well I wot, that I am in a Theatre, where I make sport, and am laughed at, no otherwise than at some great feast: and glad I am that I can make the audience so merry. The like for all the world, is reported of Archytas, the Tarentine, and Plato: the one being returned home from the war, wherein he was L. General, found his land forlet, neglected and untilled; whereupon he sent for his bailiff of husbandry, who had the charge thereof: and when he was come before him, Were I not exceeding angry (quoth he) I would make thee feel my fingers, and give thee thy desert. And Plato being upon a time displeased with a servant of his, who had a licouroustooth, and had done some ungracious prank, called unto him Spensippus his sister's son, and said, Go your ways, take me this knave aside, and swinge him well: for I myself am very angry. But some man perhaps will say unto me, These be hard matters to do and imitate. True it is, I wot well; howbeit, endeavour we must and strive with ourselves what we can, according to the example of these worthy men, to cut off somewhat of our impatience, and to curb our excessive anger: for we may not look to be eqvall and comparable in any respect to them, either in experience and skill or in virtue. Howbeit, let us nevertheless, like the Priests and Torchbearers (if I may so say) of the gods, ordained to give light, and show unto men the relics of their wisdom and learning, no less than if they were very gods, assay to follow them, and tread in their steps, endeavouring as much as lieth in us, to be furnished with their examples for our better instruction. As for the rule and government of the tongue (for of it, according to my promise, I am to discourse) if there be any man, who thinketh it to be no great mastery, but a small and frivolous matter, he is very wide and far out of the right way. For a point it is of great wisdom, to know in time and place to keep silence, and far better by many degrees than any speech whatsoever. And for this cause (I suppose) it was, that our ancestors in times past instituted those precise ceremonies of sacred mysteries, to the end that being used to hold our peace by that means, we might transfer that fear which we learned in the service of the gods, to the fidelity and secrecy which we are to observe in men's affairs; and verily never was there man that repented for holding his tongue, but many a one hath often beshrewed himself for speaking. Again, that word which a man hath held in at one time, he may easily utter at another well enough; but a word once passed out of the mouth, he cannot possibly recall it again. I remember that I have heard of an infinite number of men, who by occasion of an intemperate tongue of their own, have fallen headlong into exceeding great calamities, among whom I will select one or two by way of example, to illustrate the theme that I have in hand, & overpass the rest. Ptolomaeus King of Egypt, him I mean who was surnamed Philadelphus, espoused his own sister Arsinoë, and married her: at what time one Sotades came unto him and said, You put your aglet, sir, thorough the oilet that is not made for it: For this one word, he was cast into prison, where he remained a long time in misery, and rotten in the end, suffering condign punishment due for his lavish tongue and foolish words: and for that he thought to make other men laugh, himself wept for it a long time after. The like, and in a manner the same, both did and suffered another, named Theocritus the Sophister, save that the punishment which he abide was much more grievous. For when King Alexander the Great had by his letters missive given commandment that the greeks should provide Robes of purple against his return, because upon his coming home he minded to celebrate a solemn sacrifice unto the Gods, in token of thanksgiving for that he had achieved a victory over the Barbarians: by reason of which commandment the States and cities of Greece were enjoined to contribute money by the poll, Then this Theocritus, I have ever to this day (quoth he) doubted what Homer meant by this word Purple death: but now I know full well that this is the Purple death which he speaketh of. By which words he incurred the high displeasure of King Alexander, and made him his heavy friend ever after. The same Theocritus another time procured to himself the deadly hearted of Antigonus King of the Macedonians, by reproaching him in way of mockery with his deformity and defect, for that he had but one eye. For the King having advanced Eutropion his Master Cook to aplace of high calling and command, thought him a meet man to be sent unto Theocritus, as well to give account unto him, as also to take account of him reciprocally. Eutropion gave him to understand so much from the King, and about this business, repaired often unto him. In the end, I know well (quoth Theocritus) thou wilt never have done until thou have made a dish of meat of me, and serve me up raw to the table before this Cyclops to be eaten: twitting the King with his one eye, and Eutropion with his cookery. But Eutropion came upon him again presently and said: Thou shalt be then without a head first, For I will make thee pay for thy prating and foolish tongue, and with that he went immediately to the King, and reported what he had said, who made no more ado but sent his writ and caused his head to be smitten off.  
Over and beside all these precepts before rehearsed, children ought to be enured from their very infancy in one thing which is most holy and beseeming religious education, and that is, to speak the truth: For surely, lying is a base and servile vice, detestable and hateful among all men, and not pardonable so much as to mean slaves, such as have little or no good in them. Now as touching all that which I have delivered and advised hitherto which concerneth the honest behaviour, modesty and temperance of young children, I have delivered the same frankly, resolutely, and making no doubt thereof. Mary, for one point which now I am to touch and handle, I am not so well resolved, but much distracted in my mind, hanging to and fro as it were in equal balance, and know not which way to incline, whether to the one side or to another: Insomuch as I am in great perplexity and fear: neither wot I whether I were better to go forward and utter it, or to turn back and hold my peace. And yet I will take heart, and boldly declare what it is. The question to be debated is this, Whether we ought to permit those that love young boys, to converse with them and haunt their company, or chose, keep them away and debar them that they neither come near nor have any speech with them? For when I behold & consider the austere nature & severity of some fathers, who for fear that their sons should be abused, will in no wise abide that those who love them should in any sort keep company, or talk with them, but think it intolerable, I am afraid either to bring up such an order or to approve & maintain the same. But when on the other side I propound before mine eyes the examples of Socrates, Plato, Xenophon, Aeschines, Cebes, and all the suit and sort of those worthy men in times past, who allowed the manner of loving young boys, and by that means brought such youths to learn good sciences, to skill of government & State matters, and to frame their manners to the rule and square of virtue, I am turned quite and altogether of another mind, yea and inclined wholly to imitate and follow those great personages, who have the testimony of the Poet Euripides on their side, saying in one place after this manner, 
All loves do not the flesh grossly respect:  
One love there is which doth the soul affect,  
With justice beautified and equity,  
With innocence likewise and chastity.   
Neither ought we to overpass one saying of Plato, which he delivereth between mirth and good earnest in this wise, Good reason it is, quoth he, that they who have done worthy service and achieved great prowess and victory in a battle, be privileged to kill whom it pleaseth them among their captives. And for those who desire nothing but the beauty and fresh flower of the body, mine opinion is they should be put back & kept away: but such in one word as love of the bewrie of the mind are to be chosen & admitted unto them. Also I hold, that such kind love is to be avoided and forbidden, which they practise in Thebes and Elis, as also that which in Candy they call Ravishment: but that which is used in Athens and Lacedaemon, we ought to receive and allow, even in young and fair boys. Howbeit concerning this matter every man may for me opine what he thinketh good, and do as he seeth cause and can find in his heart.  
Moreover, having sufficiently treated of the good nurture and modest behaviour of children, I purpose to proceed unto the age of young men: but first I will speak my mind 〈◊〉 once for all as touching one point. For many a time I have complained of those who have brought up diverse ill customs & this above the rest, namely to provide for their children whiles they be very young and little, masters, teachers and governors: but after they are grown once to some years, they give them head and suffer them to be carried away with the violent heat of youth: whereas chose it were meet and needful, to have a more careful eye unto them, and to hold a straighter hand over them at that time, than during their infancy and childhood. For who knoweth not, that the faults of young children are but small, light and easy to be amended, as for example, some shrewdness and little disobedience to their tutors and governors, or haply some negligence and default in not giving ear to their teachers, and not doing as their Masters appoint them: But chose the offences that yonkers commit, are many times outrageous and heinous, as gourmandise and surfeiting, robbing of their fathers, dice play in masks and mummeries, excess in feasting, banqueting, quaffing and carousing, 〈◊〉 love of young maidens, adulteries committed upon married wives, & thereby the overthrow of houses and confusion of families. In regard of which enormities, it behoved parents to repress and bridle their wild and untamed affections with great care and vigilance: For this flower of age having no forecast of thrift, but set altogether upon spending, and given to delights and pleasures, winseth and flingeth out like a skittish and frampold horse, in such sort that it had need of a sharp bit and short curb: And therefore they that endeavour not by all good means forcibly to hold in and restrain this age, but give young men liberty and suffer them to do after their own mind, plunge them ere they be aware into a licentious course of life and all manner of wickedness. Wherefore good and wise fathers ought in this age especially to be vigilant and watchful over their sons, they ought I say to keep them down, and inute them to wisdom and virtue, by teaching, by threatening, by entreaty and prayers, by advice and remonstrances, by persuasion and counsel, by fair promises, by setting before their eyes the examples of some who being abandoned to their pleasures and all sensuality, have fallen headlong into great calamities and woeful miseries: and chose, of others who by mastering their lusts and conquering their delights, have won honour and glorious renown. For surely these be the two Elements and foundations of virtue, Hope of reward, and Fear of punishment: For, as hope inciteth and setteth them forward to enterprise the best and most commendable acts, so fear plucketh them back, that they dare not enter upon lewd and wicked pranks. In sum, Fathers ought with great care to divert their children from frequenting ill company, for otherwise they shall be sure to catch infection and carry away the contagion of their leandnes. This is that Pythagoras expressly forbiddeth in his Enigmatical precepts under covert and dark words, which because they are of no small efficacy to the attaining of virtue, I will briefly set down by the way, and open their meaning. Taste not (quoth he) of the black tailed fishes, Melanuri, which is as much to say, as, Keep not company with infamons persons, & such as for their naughty life are noted (as it were) with a black coal. Pass not over a balance, That is, we ought to make the greatest account of equity and justice, and in no case to transgress the same. Sat not upon the 
* Choenix coteined 2. sextars, or after some a sextar & half, which was dimen 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Vide Cat. Rhediq. lib. 16. cap. 17. 〈◊〉.  measure Choenix, That is to say, we are to fly sloth and idleness, that we may forecast to make provision of things necessary to this life. Give not every man thy right hand, which is all one with this, Make no contracts and bargains indifferently with all persons. Wear not a ring straight upon thy finger. i. Live in freedom and at liberty; neither entangle and clog thy life with troubles as with giveth. Dig not nor rake into the fire with a sword: whereby he giveth us a caveat, not to provoke farther a man that is angry, for that is not meet and expedient; but rather to give place unto those that are in heat of choler. Ear not thy heart, that is to say, offend not thine own soul, nor hurt and consume it with pensive cares. Abstain from beans. i Intermeddle not in the affairs of State and government: for that in old time men were wont to pass their voices by beans, & so proceeded to the election of Magistrates. Put not viands in a chamber-pot: whereby he signifieth, that we should not commit good and civil words to a wicked mind; because speech is the nutriment of the understanding, which becometh polluted by the lewdness of men. Return not back from the limits and confines when thou comest unto them, that is to say, If we perceive death approaching, and that we are come to the uttermost bounds of our life, we ought to bear our death patiently, and not be discouraged thereat.  
But now is it time to retume again to my matter which I proposed before in the beginning, namely, as I have already said, we are to withdraw our children from the society and company of lewd persons, and flatterers especially: for that which many a time and often I have said to diverse and sundry fathers, I will now repeat once again, namely, That there is not a more mischievous and pestilent kind of men, or who do greater hurt to youth, and sooner overthrow them, than these flatterers, who are the undoing both of fathers and sons, causing the old age of the one, and the youth of the other, wretched and miserable, presenting with their lewd and wicked counsels an inevitable bait, to wit, Pleasure, wherewith they are sure to be caught. Father's exhort their sons that be wealthy, to sobriety; and these incite them to drunkenness. Father's give them counsel to live chaste and continent; these provoke them to lust and looseness of life. Father's bid them to save, spare, and be thrifty; these will them to spend, scatter, and be wasters. Father's advise their children to labour and travel; these flatterers give them counsel to play or sit still and do nothing; What? all our life, say they, is no more but a moment and minute of time, to speak of: we must live therefore, and enjoy our own, whiles we have it: we must not live beside ourselves, and languish. What need you regard and care for the menaces of a father, an old doting fool carrying death in his face, and having one foot in the grave, we shall see him one of these days turn up his heels, and then will we soon have him forth, and carry him aloft bravely to his grave. You shall have one of these come, and bring unto a youth some common harlot out of the stinking stews, having bome him in hand before, that she is some brave dame and citizens wife, for to furnish whom, he must rob his father, there is no remedy. Thus fathers, goodmen, in one hour are bereft and spoiled of that which they had saved many a year for the maintenance of their old age. To be short, a wretched and cursed generation they be; hypocrites, pretending friendship, but they can not skill of plain dealing and frank speech. Rich men they claw, soothe up and flatter: the poor they contemn and despise. It seemeth they have learned the Art of singing to the Harp, for to seduce young men: for when their young masters, who maintain and feed them, begin to laugh, than they set up by and by a loud laughter, than they yawn & show all their teeth; counterfeit cranks, feigned and supposed men; bastard members of mankind and this life; who compose themselves, and live to the will and pleasure of rich men: and notwithstanding their fortune is to be free borne, and of frank condition, yet they choose voluntarily to be slaves: who think they have great injury done unto them, if they may not live in all fullness and superfluity, to be kept delicately, and do nothing that good is. And therefore all futhers that have any care of their children's good education and well doing, aught of necessity to chase and drive away from them these graceless imps and shameless beasts: they shall do well also to keep from them such schoolfellows as be unhappy and given to do shroud turns: for such as they, are enough to corrupt and mar the best natures in the world.  
All these rules and lessons which hitherto I have delivered, do concern honesty, virtue and profit: but those that now remain behind, pertain rather to humanity, and are more agreeable to man's nature. For in no case would I have fathers to be very hard, sharp and rigorous to their children: but I could rather wish and desire that they wink at some faults of a young man, yea and pardon the same when they espy them, remembering that they themselves were sometimes young. For like as Physicians mingling and tempering otherwhiles some sweetejuice or liquid with bitter drugs and medicines, have devised that pleasure and delight should be the means and way to do their patients good: Even so, fathers ought to delay their eager reprehensions and cutting rebukes with kindness and clemency: one while letting the bridle loose, and giving head a little to the youthful desires of their children: another while again reigning them short and holding them in, as hard: but above all, with patience gently to bear with their faults. But if so be fathers cannot otherwise do, but be soon angry; then they must assoon have done and be quickly pacified. For I had rather that a father should be hasty with his children, so he be appeased anon: then show to anger, and as hard to be pleased again. For when a father is so hard hearted, that he will not be reconciled, but carrieth still in mind the offence that is done, it is a great sign that he hateth his children. And I hold it good that fathers sometime take not knowledge of their children's faults, and in this case make some use of hard hearing and dim sight, which old age ordinarily bringeth with it, as if by reason of these infirmities, they neither saw somewhat when they see well enough, nor heard that which they hear plainly. We bear with the faults of friends; what strange matter is it then to tolerate the imperfections of our own children? Many a time when our servants have overdrunke themselves, & surfeited therewith, we search not too narrowly into them, nor rebuke them sharply: therefore keep thy son one while short, be frank another while, and give him money to spend freely. Thou hast been highly offended, and angry with him once, pardon him another time for it. Hath he practised secretly with any one of thy household servants, and beguiled thee? Dissemble the matter and bridle thine ire. Hath he been at one of thy farms, met with a good yoke of oxen & made money thereof? cometh he in the morning to do his duty and bid thee good morrow, belching sour and smelling strongly of wine, which the day before he drunk at the tavern with companions like himself? seem to know nothing. Scenteth he of sweet perfumes and costly pomanders? Hold thy peace and say nothing. These are the means to tame and break a wild and coltish youth. True it is, that such as naturally be subject to wantonness or carnal lust, and will not be reclaimed from it, not give ear to those that rebuke them, aught to have wives of their own and to be yoked in marriage: for surely this is the best and surest means to bridle those affections, and to keep them in order. And when fathers are resolved upon this point, what wives are they to seek for them? Surely those, that are neither in blood much more noble, nor in state far wealthier than they: For an old said saw it is and a wise, Take a wife according to thyself. As for those that wed women far higher in degree, or much wealthier than themselves, I cannot say they be husbands unto their wives, but rather slaves unto their wife's goods.  
I have yet a few short lessons to annex unto those above rehearsed, which when I have set down, I will conclude, and knit up these precepts of mine. Above all things fathers are to take heed, that they neither commit any gross fault, nor omit any one part of their own duty: to the end they may be as lively examples to their own children; who looking into their life as into a clear mirror, may by the precedents by them given, forbear to do or speak any thing that is unseemly and dishonest: For such fathers who reprove their children for those parts which they play themselves, see not how under the name of their children they condemn their own selves. But surely, all those generally who are ill livers, have not the heart to rebuke so much as their own servants; much less dare they find fault with their children. And that which is worst of all, in living ill themselves, they teach and counsel their servants and children to do the same: For look where old folk be shameless, there must young people of necessity be most graceless and impudent Endeavour therefore we ought for the resormation of our children, to do ourselves all that our duty requireth: and herein to imitate that noble Lady Eurydice, who being a Slavonian borne, and most barbarous, yet for the instruction of her own children, she took pains to learn good letters when she was well stepped in years. And how kind a mother she was to her children, this Epigram which she herself made and dedicated to the Muses, doth sufficiently testify and declare: 
This Cupid here of honest love a true Memorial is,  
Which whilom Dame Eurydice of Hierapolis  
To Muses nine did dedicate: where by in soul and mind  
Conceived she was in later days and brought forth fruit in kind.  
For when her children were well grown: good ancient Lady she,  
And careful mother took the pains to learn the A. B. C.  
And in good letters did so far proceed that in the end  
She taught them those sage lessons which they might comprehend.   
But now to conclude this Treatise, To be able to observe and keep all these precepts and rules together which I have before set down, is a thing haply that I may wish for, rather than give advise and exhort unto. Howbeit, to affect and follow the greater part of them, although it require a rare felicity and singular diligence; yet it is a thing that man by nature is capable of, and may attain unto.    

HOW A YOUNG MAN ought TO HEAR POETS, AND HOW HE MAY TAKE PROFIT BY READING POEMS.  

The Summarie.  
FOrasmuch as young students are ordinarily alured as with a bait by reading of poets, in such sort, as willingly they employ their time therein, considering that Poesy hath I wot not what Sympathy with the first heats of this age: therefore by good right this present discourse is placed next unto the former. And albeit it to speak properly, it pertaineth unto those only who read ancient Poets, as well Greek as Latin, to take heed and beware how they take an impression of dangerous opinions, in regard either of religion or manners: yet a man may comprehend likewise under it all other profane authors, out of which a mind that is not corrupt may gather profit, so they be handled wisely and used with discretion. To which effect Plutarch delivereth in this treatise good precepts. And after he hath showed generally, that in Poesy there is delight and danger withal: he refuteth briefly those who flatly condemn it: Then, as he proceedeth to advertise that this ground and foundation is to be laid, namely, that poets are liars; he describeth what their fictions be, how they ought to be considered, and what the scope and mark is whereat Poë sie doth aim and shoot: After wards he adviseth, to weigh & ponder well the intention of Poets, unto which they address & accommodate their verses: to beware of their repugnanits and contradictions: and to the end that we be not so soon damnified by any dangerous points which they deliver one after another, to oppose against them the opinions and counsels of other persons of better mark. Which done, he addeth moreover and saith, That the sentences intermingled here and there in Poets, do reply sufficiently against the evil doctrine that they may seem to teach elsewhere: also, in taking heed to the divers significations of words to be rid and freed from great encumbrances and difficulties: discoursing moreover how a man may make use of their descriptions of vices and virtues: also, of the words and deeds of those personages whom they bring in: searching unto the reasons and causes of such speeches and discourses: thereout to draw in the end a deeper sense and higher meaning, reaching even to Moral philosophy, and the gentle framing of the mind unto the love of virtue. And for that there be some hard and difficult places, which like unto forked ways, may leave the minds of the Readers doubtful and in suspense: he showeth that it is an easy matter to apply the same well, and that withal, a man may reform those sentences ill placed, and accommodate them to many things. And in conclusion, framing this discourse to his principal intention, hetreateth how the praises and dispraises which Poets attribute unto persons, are to be considered: and that we ought to confirm all that which we find good in such authors by testimonies taken out of Philosophy, the only scope whereunto young men must tend in reading of Poets.   

READING AND HEARING of Poems and Poets.  
THat which the Poet Philoxenus said of flesh, that the sweetest is that which is least flesh: of fish likewise that the most favorie is that which is least fish, let us, O Marcus Sedatus, leave to be decided and judged by those, who as Cato said, had their palates more quick and sensible than their hearts. But, that young men take more pleasure in those Philosophical discourses, which favour least of Philosophy, and seem rather spoken in mirth than in earnest, and are more willing to give care thereto, and suffer themselves more easily to be led and directed thereby, is a thing to us notorious and evident. For we see, that in reading not only Aesop's fables and the fictions of Poets, but also the book of Heraclides entitled Abaris, and that of Ariston, named Lycus; wherein the opinions of Philosophers as touching the soul, are mingled with tales and feigned narrations devised for pleasure, they be ravished as one would say with great contentment and delight. And therefore such youths ought not only to keep their bodies sober and temperate in the pleasures of meat and drink, but also much more to accustom their minds to a moderate delight in those things which they hear and read, using the same temperately as a pleasant and delectable sauce to give a better and more favorie taste to that which is healthful, wholesome and profitable therein. For neither those gates that be shut in a city do guard the same and secure it for being forced and won, if there be but one standing open to receive and let in the enemies: nor the temperance and continency in the pleasures of other senses preserve a young man for being corrupted and perverted, if for want of forecast and heed taking he give himself to the pleasure only of the care. But for that the hearing approacheth nearer to the proper seat of reason and understanding (which is the brain) so much the more hurt it doth unto him that receiveth delectation thereby, if it be neglected, and not better heed taken thereto. Now forasmuch haply, as it is neither possible nor profitable, to restrain from the reading and hearing of Poems, such young men as are of the age either of my soon Soclarus, or of your Cleander, let us I pray you, have a careful eye unto them, as standing more in need of a guide now to direct them in their readings, than they did in times past to stay and dead them when they learned to go. This is the reason, that me thought in duty I was bound to send unto you in writing, that which not long since I discoursed of by mouth, as touching the writings of Poets: to the end that you may read it yourself, and if you find that the reasons therein delivered be of no less virtue & efficacy than the stones called Amethysts, which some take before and hang about their necks, to keep them from drunkenness as they sit at banquets, drinking wine merrily; you may impart and communicate the same to your son Cleander, to preoccupate and prevent his nature, which being not dull and heavy in any thing, but every way quick, lively and pregnant, is more apt and easy to be led by such allurements.  

In Polypes head there is to be had,  
One thing that good is, and another as bad,  for that the flesh thereof is pleasant and favorie enough in taste to him that feedeth thereupon: but (as they say) it causeth troublesome dreams in the sleep, and imprinteth in the fantasy strange and monstrous visions. semblably, there is in Poesy much delectation and pleasure, enough to entertain and feed the understanding and spirit of a young man: yet nevertheless, he shall meet with that there which will trouble and carry away his mind into errors, if his hearing be not well guided and conducted by sage direction. For very well and fitly it may be said not only of the land of Egypt, but also of Poetry; 
Mixed drugs plenty, as well good as bad,  
Medicines and poisons are there to be had,  which it bringeth forth and yieldeth to as many as converse therein. Likewise: 
Therein sweet love and wantonness, with dalliance, you shall find;  
And sugared words, which do beguile the best and wisest mind.   
For that which is so deceitful and dangerous therein, toucheth not at all those that be witless sots, fools, and gross of conceit. Like as Simonides answered upon a time to one, who demanded of him, Why he did not beguile and circumvent the Thessalians aswell as all other Greeks; Because, quoth he, they are too sottish for me to deal withal, and so rude, that I can not skill of deceiving them. Gorgias also the Leontine was wont to say of a Tragedy, That it was a kind of deceit, whereby he that deceived became more just than he who deceived not; and he that was deceived, wiser than another who was not deceived. What is then to be done? Shall we constrain our youth to go aboard into the Brigantine or Bark of Epicurus, to sail away and fly from Poetry, by plastring and stopping their ears with hard and strong wax, as Ulysses sometimes served those of Ithaca? or rather by environing and defending their judgement with some discourse of true reason, as with a defensative band about it, to keep and guard them, that they be not carried away with the allurements of pleasure, unto that which might hurt them: Shall we reform and preserve them? 
For sure, Lycurgus, though he was  
The valiant son of stout Dryas,  showed himself not wise nor well in his wits, when he went throughout his whole realm and caused all the vines to be cut down and destroyed, because he saw many of his subjects troubled in their brains and drunken with wine: whereas he should rather have brought the nymphs (which are the spring waters) nearer, and keep in order that foolish, furious and outrageous god Bacchus as Plato saith, with another goddess that was wise and sober. For the mingling of water with wine, delaieth and taketh away the hurtful force thereof: but killeth not withal the wholesome virtue that it hath: Even so we ought not to cut off, nor abolish Poetry, which is a part and member of the Muses and good literature: But when as the strange fables and Theatrical fictions therein, by reason of the exceeding pleasure and singular delight that they yield in reading them, do spread and swell unmeasurably, ready to enter forcibly into out conceit so far as to imprint therein some corrupt opinions: then let us beware, put forth our hands before us, keep them back and stay their course. But where there is a Grace and Muse met together, that is to say, delight conjoigned with some knowledge and learning: where I say, the attractive pleasure and sweetness of speech, is not without some fruit nor void of utility, there let us bring in withal the reason of Philosophy, and make a good medley of pleasure and profit together. For as the herb Mandragoras growing near unto a vine, doth by infusion transmit her medicinable virtue into the wine that cometh of it, and procureth in them that drink afterwards thereof, a more mild desire and inclination to sleep sound: Even so, a Poëme receiving reasons and arguments out of Philosophy, and intermingling the same with fables and fictions, maketh the learning and knowledge therein contained to be right amiable unto young men, and soon to be conceived. Which being so, they that would be learned and Philosophers indeed, ought not to reject and condemn the works of Poetry, but rather search for Philosophy in the writings of Poets: or rather therein to practise Philosophy, by using to seek profit in pleasure, and to love the same: otherwise, if they can find no goodness therein, to be displeased and discontented, and to fall out therewith. And truly this is the very beginning of knowledge and learning: for according to the Poet Sophocles, 
Lay well thy ground, what ever thou intent:  
For a good beginning, makes an happy end.   
First and foremost therefore, the young man whom we would induct and train to the reading of Poesy, aught to have nothing in his heart so well imprinted, nor so ready at hand, as this common saying, 
Poets all to say a sooth  
Are Liars stout, and speak untruth.   
And verily as Poets sometimes lie wilfully, so otherwhiles they do it against their wills: wilfully and of purpose, for that being desirous to tickle and please the ears, a thing which most Readers desire and seek after, they think that simple and plain verity is more austere for that purpose then leasing: For truth recounting a thing as it was done, keepeth to it still, and albeit the issue and the end thereof haply be unpleasant, yet nevertheless she goeth not aside but reporteth it outright: whereas a tale or lie devised for delight, quickly diverteth out of the way, and soon turneth from a thing which greeveth, unto that which is more delightsome. For there is no song in time and metre, no trope or figurative speech, no lofty style, no metaphor so fitly borrowed, no harmony, no composition of words, how smoothly soever they run, that carrieth the like grace, and is either so attractive or retentive, as a fabulous narration well couched, artificially interlaced, and aptly delivered. But as a picture drawn to the like, the colour is more effectual to move & affect our sense, than the simple purtraying and first draft, by reason of a certain resemblance it hath to the parsonage of man or woman, which deceiveth our judgement: Even so, in Poëmes, a lie intermingled with some probability and like lihood of a truth doth excite and stir more, yea and please better by far, than all the art and study that a man is able to employ either in composing excellent verses, or inditing any polished prose, without enterlarding fables and sictions Poëticall. Whereupon it came to pass, that Socrates who all his life time made great profession to be a desender and maintainer of the truth, being minded upon a time to take in hand Poetry, by occasion of certain dreams and visions appearing unto him in his sleep: in the enterprise whereof finding himself to have no aptness nor grace at all in devising lies, did into verse certain fables of Aesop, supposing verily there could be no Poesy where there were no lies. Many sacrifices we know to have been celebrated without piping and dancing. But never was there known any Poetry, but it was grounded upon some vain fables & loud leasing. The verses of Empedocles and Parmemdes, the book of Nicander entitled Thersara, where he treateth of the biting and stinging of venomous serpents, and of their remedies, The moral sentences of Theognis are writings which borrow of Poetry their lostinesse of style and measure of syllables, to bear them up mounted on high to avoid the base foot pace (as it were) of prose. When as we read therefore in Poetical compositions, any strange and absurd thing, as touching the Gods, demigods, or virtue, spoken by some worthy parsonage of great renown, he that believeth such a speech and receiveth it as an undoubted truth, wandereth in error and is corrupted in opinion: but he that ever and anon remembreth and setteth before his eyes the charms and illusions that Poetry ordinarily useth in the invention of lying fables, and eftsoons bless himself and say thus thereto, 
O quaint device, o sly and crafiiegin more changeable than spotted Ounces skin:  
Why jestest thou and yet thy brows dost knit? deceiving me, yet seem'st to teach me wit.   
He I say, shall never take harm, nor admit into his understanding any evil impression, but reprechend and reprove himself when he feareth Neptune, and standeth in dread, lest he shake cleave and open the earth, and so discover hell: he will rebuke also himself when he is offended and angry with for Apollo the principal 
* 〈◊〉.  man of all the greeks, of whom Thetu complaineth thus in the Poet Aesohylus, as touching Achilles her son.  

Himself did sing and say all good of me: himself also at wedding present was:  
Yet for all this, himself and none but be, hath slain and done to death my son alas.  He will like wise repress the treares of Achilles now departed, and of Agamemnon being in hell, who in their desire to revive and for the love of this life, stretch forth their impotent and seeble hands. And if it chance at any time that he be troubled with passions, and surprised with their enchantments and sorcery, he will not stick nor fear to say thus unto himself, 
Make haste and speed, without delay,  
Recover soon the light of day;  
Bear well in mind what thou seest here:  
And all report to thy bed fear.  Homer spoke this in mirth and pleasantly, fitting indeed the discourse, wherein he describeth hell as being in regard of the fiction a tale fit for the ears of women and none else: These be the fables that Poets do feign voluntarily. But more in number there are which they neither devisenor counterfeit, but as they are persuaded and do believe themselves, so they would bear us in hand and infect us with the same untruths, as namely when Homer writeth thus of jupiter, 
Two lots then of long sleeping death, he did in balance put,  
One for Achilles' hardy knight, and one for Hector stout:  
But when he pised it just mids, behold, stir Hector's death  
Weighed downward unto bell beneath: Then Phoebus slopped his breath.   
To this fiction Aeschylus the Poet hath aptly fitted one entire Tragedy, which he entitled Psychostasia, that is to say, the weighing of Souls or ghosts in balance. Wherein he deviseth to stand at these scales of jupiter, Thetu of the one side, and Aurora of the other, praying each of them for their sons as they fight. But there is not a man who seeth not clearly, that this it but a made tale and mere fable devised by Homer, either to content and delight the Reader, or to bring him into some great admiration and astonishment. Likewise in this place: 
'tis jupiter that moveth war:  
He is the cause that men do jar.   
As also this of another Poet: 
When God above some house will overthrow,  
He makes debate, twixt mort all men below.   
These and such like speeches are delivered by Poets, according to the very conceit and belies which they have, whereby the error and ignorance which themselves are in as touching the nature of the gods they derive and communicate unto us. Semblably, the strange wonders and marvels of Hell; The descriptions by them made which they depaint unto us by fearful and terrible terms, representing unto us the fantastical apprehensions and imaginations of burning and flaming rivers, of hideous places and horrible torments: there are not many men but wot well enough that therein be tales and lies good store: no otherwise than in meats and viands, you shall find mixed otherwhiles hurtful poison, or medicinable drugs. For neither Homer nor Pindarus, nor Sophocles, have written thus of Hell, believing certainly that there were any such things there: 
From whence the dormant rivers dead of black and shady night,  
Cast up huge mists and clouds full dark, that overwhelm the light:   
Likewise, 
The Ocean coast they sailed still along,  
Fast by the clifs of Leucas rock among.   
As also, 
Here boiling waves of gulf so deep do swell,  
Where lies the way and downfall into hell.   
And as many of them as bewailed and lamented for death as a most piteous and woeful thing, or feared want of sepulture as a miserable and wretched case, uttered their plaints and griefs in these and such like words: 
Forsake me not unburied so,  
Nor unbewailed when you go.   
Semblably, 
And then the soul from body flew, and as to hell she went,  
She did her death, her losseof strength and youthful years lament.   
Likewise, 
Do not me kill before my time, for why? to see this light  
Is sweet: source me not under earth, where nothing is but night.   
These are the voices I say of passionate persons, captivate before to error and false opinions. And therefore they touch us more nearly, and trouble us so much the rather, when they find us likewise possessed of such passions and feebleness of spirit, from whence they proceed. In which regard we ought to be prepared betimes, and provided always before hand to encounter and withstand such illusions, having this sentence readily evermore resounding in our cares as it were from a trunk or pipe, That Poetry is fabulous, and maketh small reckoning of Truth. As for the truth indeed of these things, it is exceeding hard to be conceived & comprehended even by those who travel in no other business, but to search out the knowledge and understanding of the thing, as they themselves do confess. And for this purpose these verses of Empedocles would be always ready at hand, who saith that the depth of such things as these 
No eye of man is able to perceive:  
No care to hear, nor spirit to conceive.   
Like as these also of Xenophanes. 
Never was man nor ever will be,  
Able to sound the verity  
Of those things which of God I write,  
Or of the world I do indite.   
And I assure you, The very words of Socrates in Plato imply no less, who protesteth and bindeth it with an oath, that he cannot attain to the knowledge of these matters. And this will be a good motive to induce young men to give less credit unto Poets, as touching their certain knowledge in these points, wherein they perceive the Philosophers themselves so doubtful and perplexed, yea and therewith so much troubled.  
Also the better shall we stay the mind of a young man & cause him to be more wary, if at his first entrance into the reading of Poets, we describe Poetry unto him: giving him to understand that it is an art of Imitation, & a science correspondent every way to the seat of painting: and not only must he be acquainted with the hearing of that vulgar speech so common in every man's mouth, that Poesy is a speaking picture, and picture a dumb Poesy: but also we ought to teach him, that when we behold a Lizard or an Ape well painted, or the face of Thersites lively drawn, we take pleasure therein & praise the same wonderfully; not for any beauty in the one or in the other, but because they are so naturally counterfeited. For that which is soul of itself & ill-favoured in the own nature, cannot be made fair & seemly: but the skill of resembling a thing well, be the same fair or be it foul, is always commended: whereas chose, he that takes in hand to purtray an ill-favoured body, and makes thereof a fair & beautiful image, shall exhibit a sight neither seemly nor decent. Some painters you shall have to delight in painting of strange, foolish and absurd actions: as for example Timomachus represented in a table the picture of Medea, killing her own children: Theon painted Orestes murdering his own mother: Parrhasius described with his pencil, the counterfeit race and madness of Ulysses, and Charephanes purtrayed the wanton dalliance, and dealing of men and women together unseemly. With which arguments and such like, a young man is to be made acquainted, that he may learn thereby how the thing itself is not praise worthy, where of he seeth the express resemblance, but the art and cunning of the workman who could so artificially draw the same to the life. Semblably, for as much as Poesy representeth many times by way of imitation, filthy actions, lewd affections, and vicious manners: it is the part of a young man to know thus much, That the thing which is admired therein and found to be singular, he ought not either to receive as true, or prove as good, but to praise it so far forth only as it is befitting the person, or appropriate to the subject matter. For like as when we hear the grunting of a swine, the creaking of a cart wheel, the whistling noise of the wind, or the roaring of the sea, we take no pleasure therein, but are troubled and discontented: but chose, if a merry fellow or jester can prettily counterfeit the same, as one Parmeno could grunt like a swine, and Theodorus creak like the said wheels, we are delighted therewith. Also, as we shun a diseased person, and a Lazar full of filthy ulcers, as an unpleasant and hideous spectacle to behold: but when we look upon Philactetes purtraied by Aristophon; and queen jocasta by Stlanian: namely, how they be described to pine away, and ready to yield up the ghost, we receive no small contentment thereby: even so a young man when he shall read what the ridiculous jester Thersites, or the amorous and wanton spoiler of maiden, Sisyphus, or the beastly bawd Betrochus, is brought in by Poets to say or do; let him be advertised and instructed to praise the art and sufficiency of the Poet, who knew how to paint the same so lively and naturally: but withal to blame, reject, and detest the acts and conditions which are thus represented. For there is a great difference between resembling a thing well, and a thing that is simply good: for when I say Well, I mean aptly, decently and properly: and so acts filthy and dishonest, are fit and beseeming for lewd and unhonest persons. For the shoes of that lame cripple Demonides, which he prayed to God might serve his feet that had stolen them from him, were in themselves misshapen and ill-favoured; howbeit, proper and fit for him: As for this speech, 
If laws of right and equity  
In any case may broken be,  
What man alive would not begin  
To do all wrong, a crown to win?   
And this: 
Put on the face, I thee advise,  
Of him that is just and right wise:  
But see no deeds thou do for let,  
Whereby thou must some profit get.   
Also: 
Unless I may may talon gain  
As clear as gift, I am in pain.   
Likewise: 
How shall I live or take repose,  
In case this talon I do lose?  
Nay sleep I will and fear no bell,  
Nor torments there, but think all well:  
What wrong I do, what plots I set,  
My silver talon for to get.   
Wicked words they be all, and most false; howbeit, beseeming such as Eteocles and Ixion were, and becoming well an old Usurer. If therefore we would advertise young men, that Poets write thus, not as if they praised and allowed such speeches, but as they know full well that they be lewd and naughty, so they do attribute them unto as wicked and godless persons, they should never take harm by any evil impressions from Poets: but chose, the prejudicated opinion insinuated first, of such & such a man, will presently breed a suspicion both of word and deed to be bad, as spoken and done by a bad and vicious person. Such an example is that of Paris in Homer, who flying out of the battle, went presently to bed unto fair Helena. For seeing that the Poet reporteth of no man else, but only of this unchaste adulterous Paris, that he lay with his wife in the day time: it is an evident proof that he reputed and judged such incontinency to be reproachful, and therefore made report thereof to his blame and shame both. In these cases also it would be well considered whether the Poet himself do not give some plain demonstrations emplying thus much, that he misliketh such speeches, and is offended therewith, as Menander did in the Prologue of that Comedy, which he entitled Thais.  

O lady Muse now belpe me to indite  
Of this so bold and unshame faced quean,  
Yet beautiful: who also hath a spirit  
Persuasive, and with words can carry clean  
The wrongs that she unto her lovers all  
Doth offer; whom she shutteth out of doors,  
And yet for gifts she still of them doth call,  
And picks their purse, which is the cast of whores,  
She none doth love, and yet she semblance makes  
That die she will, poor heart, for all their sakes.   
And verily in this kind, Homer among all other Poet's doth excel, and useth such advertisements with best discretion: for it is ordinary with him both to premise some reprehension and blame of evil speeches, and also to recommend the good. And for an instance hereof, in this wise he giveth commendation of a good speech, 
And then anon, this speech right commendable  
He spoke, which was both sweet and profitable.   
Again, 
Approaching then, he stood unto him near,  
And stated him soon with words that gentle were.   
Semblably on the other side, reproving bad and lewd speeches, he in a manner doth protest that he himself misliketh of them, and therewith denounceth likewise, and doth intimate unto the readers thus much in effect, That they should make no use thereof, nor take regard, otherwise than of wicked things and dangerous examples: as namely when he purposed to describe the rude and gross terms that Agamemon gave unto the Priest of Apollo, when he abused him unreverently, he premised this before; 
This nothing pleased Atreus son, K. Agamemnon height;  
But him he badly did entreat, and use with all despite.   
By this word Badly, he meaneth rudely, proudly, disdainfully, without regard of duty or decency. As for Achilles he attributeth unto him these rash and outrageous speeches, 
Thou drunken sot and dogs-face that thou art  
Thou courage hast, no more then fearful Hart.   
But he inferred withal his own judgement as touching those words in this manner, 
Achilles then sir Peleus' son, still boiling in his blood  
Gave Agamemnon words again unseemly and not good.  For it is not like that any thing could be well and decently spoken proceeding from such anger and bitter choler, he observeth the same not in words only but also in deeds. For thus he saith, 
No sooner had he spoke the word, but presently he meant  
To worthy Hector much disgrace, whose body up he hent,  
He stripped and spoiled it full soon, and then hard by the bed  
Of sir Patrochus he it laid, and grovelling there it spread.  He useth also fitly to the purpose pretty reprehensions after things be done, delivering his own sentence, as it were by way of a voice given, touching that which was either done or said a little before: As for example, after the narration of the adultery between Mars and Venus, he reporteth that the gods spoke in this sort: 
Lewd Acts do never better speed; Lo how the slow and lame  
Can overtake him him who for strength and swiftness hath the name!  And in another place, upon the audacious presumption and proud vaunting of Hector, thus he saith, 
These words he spoke in bravery and swelling pride of heart,  
But Lady juno was displeased, and took them in ill part.   
Likewise as touching the arrow that Pandarus shot, 
No sooner Pallas said the word, but foolish minded man,  
He was persuaded, and therewith straight ways to shoot began.  And these be the sententious speeches, & opinions of Poets, by them expressly uttered, which any man may soon find & easily discerme, if he will but take heed & give regard unto them. But yet over & beside these testimonies, they furnish us also with other instructions by their own deeds. For thus it is reported of Euripides, that when upon a time some reviled Ixion & reproached him by the terms of Godless, Wicked & Accursed: he answered, True indeed quoth he, and therefore I would not suffer him to be brought from the Stage, before I had set him fast upon the wheel, & broken both his arms & legs. True it is that this kind of Doctrine in Homer is after a sort mute & not delivered in plain & express terms: but if a man will consider more nearly, even those fables & fictions in him, which are most blamed & found fault withal, there may be found therein a profitable instruction & covert speculation: And yet some there be who wrist & writhe forcibly the said fables another way by their Allegories, (for so they call in these days those speeches wherein one thing is spoken & another meant, whereas in times past they were termed Hypponaeae, for the hidden meaning couched under them) whereby they would make us believe that the fiction as touching the adultery of Mars & Venus signifieth thus much, That when the Planet of Mars, is in conjunction with that of Venus in some Horoscopes and Nativities, such persons then borne shall be inclined to adulteries: but if the Sun do then arise, pass, and overtake them, than such adulteries are in danger to be discovered and the parties to be taken in the very act. Now as touching juno how she embellisheth and adorneth herself before jupiter, as also the fiction and sorcery about the needle work girdle and Tissue which she borrowed of Venus, they would have it to signify a certain purging and cleared of the air, as it approacheth near to the fire: as if the Poet himself gave not the interpretation and exposition of such doubts: For in the tale of the adultery of Venus, he meaneth nothing else, but to teach them that gave ear thereto, how wanton music, lascivious songs, and speeches grounded upon evil arguments and containing naughty matters, corrupt our manners, induce us to a luxurious, loose and effeminate life, and cause men to be subject unto pleasures, delights, sensuality and lust, and given over to the love of women: as also 
To change eft 'zounds their beds of costly price,  
Their rich array, hot baines, and each device.  And therefore the same Homer bringeth in Ulysses, commanding the Musician who sung to the Harp, in this wise 
Digress good sir from such lewd songs, and ballads vain as these,  
Sing rather of the Trojan horse: you shall us therein please.  Giving us thereby a good instruction, that Minstrels, musicans and Poets should receive the matter and argument of their compositions from wise men, sober, sage and virtuous. And as touching that fable of juno, he showeth how the love, favour, and acquaintance which women win of men by charms, sorceries and enchantments with fraud and deceit, is a thing not only transitory and of small continuance, unsure, and whereof a man hath soon enough and is quickly weary, but also that which many times turneth to hatred, anger and enmity, so soon as the present pleasure is once past: For thus threateneth jupiter and saith, 
Thou shalt then know that wanton love and dalliance in bed,  
Whereby thou erst hast me deceived, shall serve thee in small stead.  For the show and representation of wicked deeds, if there be propounded withal the shame and loss which befalleth unto them that have committed the same, doth no hurt at all, but rather much good unto the hearers. As for Philosophers verily, they use examples taken out of histories, to admonish and instruct the readers, even by such things as be at hand, and either are or have been really so: but Poets do in deed the same, and in effect, howbeit they devise and invent matter of their own heads, they feign fables I say, fitting their purpose. Certes like as Melanthius said, between board and good earnest, that the city of Athens stood upright on foot and was preserved by means of the division, discord and trouble which was among or atours and Politicians; for that all the citizens leaned not altogether to a side, nor bare levelly upon one and the same wall, and so by reason of the variance which reigned among the State's men, there was evermore some one counterpoise or other, weighing even against that which endamaged the commonweal: even so the contradictions that are found in the writings of Poets, which draw the assent and belief of the readers reciprocally to and fro, and leave matters ambiguous and doubtful, are a cause that they be not of so great moment and weight, as to endamage or endanger much. When as therefore we meet with such repugnant places among them, which being laid near together do imply evident contrarieties, we ought to incline to the safer side and favour the better part, As namely in these verses, 
The Gods in many things, my son,  
Have men decerved and them undone.   
But chose, what saith the son again? 
Sir, that's soon said: men's fautt ' excuse,  
Nothing more ready than God's t'accuse.   
Likewise in one place: 
In store of gold thou shouldst have joy:  
And count all knowledge but a toy.   
But elsewhere: 
Absurdit is in goods to flow,  
And no good thing beside to know.   
Moreover when we read: 
How then? should I die? For God's cause die?   
We must be ready with this 
What else? for love of God I judge  
We ought no service for to grudge   
These and such like diversities of doubtful sentences, are soon assoiled and dissolved, in case, as I have before said, we direct the judgement of young men to adhere unto the better part. But say, we light upon some wicked and ungodly speech, without any answer adjoined thereto for to refel the same presently: what then is to be done? Surely we must confute it, by opposing contrary sentences of the same author in other places: niether are we to be angry or offended with the Poet in this case; but rather think they be words either merrily spoken, or only to represent the nature of some person, & with him only to be displeased. Moreover, against these fictions in Homer, when he reporteth how the gods fall together by the ears, and throw one another down: or that they be wounded in some battle by the hands of mortal men: also that they beat variance and debate: you may if you will by and by oppose that which he himself speaketh in another place, and so beat him with his own rod: saying thus unto him, 
You know sir if you list, iwis  
To tell us better tales than this.   
And verily you both utter better words, and think of better matters otherwise in these places: 
The Gods in heaven do live at ease:  
They know no trouble nor disease.   
Also: 
Whereas, the Gods in bliss and joy  
Do ever live, without annoy.   
Likewise: 
The Gods themselves are void of care:  
Sadness and sorrow, men's lots they are.   
For these are the true and safe conceptions which we ought to have as touching the Gods: And for all other fabulous fictions and attributes given unto them, they have been devised only to give contentment to the readers, or to move their affections, In like case whereas Euripides saith: 
Gods over men, having power andmasterie,  
Abuse and decceive them with wiles and sophistry   
It were not amiss to allege and infer that which he writeth better and more truly in another place: 
If Gods do harm, or what doth not beseem,  
No Gods in truth, we are them for to deem.   
Also when Pindarus speaketh very bitterly and eagerly in one place, tending altogether to revenge: 
All means and plots we may address,  
To work and compass our foes distress,   
We may come upon him again and answer thus: But you good Sir elsewhere affirm, That 
The joy we gain by fraud and trecherte,  
Turns in the end to woe and misery.   
Moreover, when we hear Sophocles in this song: 
Lucre always full pleasant is and sweet,  
Although it come by false means and unmeere.   
Reply we ought and say thus: We have heard you sing in another tune: 
Deceitful lies and false language,  
Bring forth no fruit, that will bear age.   
Furthermore to encounter these speeches which are delivered as touching riches: 
Powerful is riches to win forts steep and high,  
As well as places most plain and accessible,  
Whereas those pleasures, which ready be and nigh  
To hold and enjoy, for poor is impossible.  
And why? a tongue that smooth and filled is  
Will cause aman foul and unpersonable,  
Of no regard, whose parts be all amiss  
Fair for to seem, full wise and commendable.   
The Reader may allege many opposite sentences of Sophocles, and these among the rest: 
I see no cause, but men in poverty,  
May be advanced to place of dignity.   
Also: 
A man is not the worse for his poverty,  
In case he have both wisdom and bone sty.   
Likewise: 
What joy, what grace can some of worldly pelse,  
If first by shifts a man to it attain:  
And then with restless cares torment himself,  
And take bad courses the same to maintain?   
And Menander verily in one place hath highly praised and extolled sensual lust and concupiscence, whereby he set them forward who are of an hot nature, and of themselves prone to voluptuousness, namely, in these and such like amatorious words: 
What creatures soever do live and see  
The sunlight joy, that common treasure,  
Are all, have been, and ever shall be  
Subject and thrall to fleshly pleasure.   
Howbeit, in another the same Poet hath turned us about, and forcibly drawn us unto honesty, repressing and bridling the insolent fury of a loose and luxurious life, saying in this wise: 
A filthy life though pleasant for the while,  
With shame at last, doth all delights defile.   
These sayings are in some fort contrary to the former, but far better and more profitable every way. And therefore the setting together and consideration of such contradictory sentences, will bring forth one of these two effects: for either it will draw young men to the better way, or at leastwise derogate the credit of the worst.  
But if peradventure it come to pass that the Poets themselves do not solve and salve those strange and absurd sayings, which they seem to set abroad: it were not amiss to oppose against them, the contrary sentences of other famous authors: and when we have weighed and compared them in balance, to make proof thereby which are the better. As for example, if haply Alexis the Poet hath prevailed with some by these verses of his: 
If men be wise, above all they will choose  
By all means their pleasures to compass and use.  
Whereof there be three most powerful and rise,  
Which wholly possess and accomplish our life  
To eat, to drink, to follow venery:  
As for therest, I hold accessary.   
We must call to mind and remember, that the sage Socrates was of another opinion and spoke the contrary: for he was wont to say, that the wicked lived for to eat and drink; but the virtuous did both eat and drink, to live. Semblably, to meet with this verse of the Poet who ever it was that wrote thus: 
To make thy part good with aperson lewd  
Fight with like lewdness, and be thou as shrewd.   
Bidding us in some sort to accommodate and frame ourselves like to the lewd and wicked: we may be ready with that notable apothegm of Diogenes, who being asked how a man might be revenged best of his enemy, answered thus, If (quoth he) thou show thyself a good and honest man. The wisdom also of the said Diogenes we must set against the Poet Sophocles, who troubled the minds and consciences of many thousands, with distrust and despair, by writing these verses as touching the religion and confraternity in the Mysteries of Ceres: 
How happy men and thrice happy are they  
Whose fortune it is, the secrets to see  
Of Mysteries so sacred: and straight way  
Down into hell, for to descend with glee:  
For they alone in bliss shall live for ay:  
The rest in bale, must suffer pain alway.   
How now, quoth Diogenes, when he heard such verses read: sayst thou so indeed? And shall Pataecian the notorious these be in better state after this life when he is once departed, only because he was entered and professed in the orders of this confraternity, than good Epiminondas? As for Timotheus, when upon a time in the audience of a full Theatre, he chanted a Poem which he had compiled in the honour of Diana, wherein he styled her with the Attributes and Epithets, of Menas, Thyas, Phoebas and Lyssas, which signify, Furious, Enraged, Possessed, and stark Mad: Cinnesias presently cried presently aloud unto him, I would thou hadst a daughter of thine own with such qualities. The like elegant answer Bion is reported to have made unto Theognis. For when Theognis came out with these verses, 
A man held down with poverty can nothing do or say:  
For why? his tongue wants liberty, and somewhat doth it stay.  Bion hearing them, How cometh it then to pass quoth he, that thou thyself being but a beggar keepest such a prating as thou dost, and with thy vain babbling and garrulity troublest our ears?  
Moreover we must not in any wise omit and let pass the occasions which are ministered out of the words and sentences either adjoining, or intermingled with those speeches, for to reform and correct the same: But like as Physicians are of opinion, that notwithstanding the green Flies Cantharideses be of themselves venomous and a deadly poison; yet their wings and feet are helpful and wholesome: yea and of virtue to frustrate and kill the malice of the said flies: even so in the Poems and writings of Poets, if there be one Noun or Verb hanging to a sentence that we fear will do harm, which Noun or Verb may in some sort weaken the said hurtful force, we are to take hold thereof, and to stand upon the signification of such words more at large, as some do in these verses, 
This honour due to wretched men we keep  
Our hair to cut, and over them to weep.   
As also in these, 
We men, Alas most miserable, live  
In pain and grief, this lot the gods do give.  For the Poet doth not simply affirm that the gods have predestinate all men simply to live in woe & sorrow, but this he speaketh of foolish and witless folk, who being ordinarily lewd and nought, and therefore miserable and wretched for their wickedness, he is wont to call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Another way there is beside, to turn the doubtful and suspected sentences in poetical writings to the better sense, which otherwise might be construed in the worse part: namely, by interpreting words to the signification wherein they are usually taken: wherein it were better to exercise a young man, than in the interpretations of obscure terms, which we call Glosses. And verily a point this is favouring of great learning, and full beside of delectation: as for example, To know how the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Poets signifieth, is as much to say, as ill death or a bad end; for that the Macedonians use to call death 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Likewise the Aeolians do term victory which is achieved by long suffering, continual perseverance and abiding, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Also among the Dryopians, those be named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who with other are called Daemons. i Saints or Heavenly wights. Furthermore, it is not only expedient, but necessary also, if we would receive good, and not harm, by the reading of Poets; to know certainly, how and in what signification they take the proper names of gods, as also the appellative words of good and evil things. Likewise what they mean by the vocables 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 i. the soul; or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 i fatal destiny. Namely, whether these terms be taken by them in one sense, or have many significations? The same is to be said of many other words beside: for example sake, this Noun 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 sometimes signifieth an aedisice or dwelling house, as when Homer saith, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 To the house built with an highroofe.  otherwhiles it betokeneth goods and substance: as in this piece of a verse. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 My house is eaten. i. My goods are wasted and consumed.   
Also this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is taken in one place for life; as namely in these verses; 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
God Neptune with his hair so black, enyving him long life,  
Despitefully his days cut short, and ended all the strife.   
But in another for goods and riches: to wit, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Mean while do others spend my goods.   
Semblably the Verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 you shall find put for to fret, be discontented and ill apaied: as when the Poet writeth thus; 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Which said, she seemed malcontent,  
And wounded so, away she went.   
And yet it is used sometime, for to joy and vaunt: as namely in the same Poet; 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
And do you brag and boast so much in deed,  
Poor Irus that you beat in beggars weed.   
In like sort the Verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifieth either to move or stir with great violence: as in Euripides. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  

A whale out of th' Atlantic sea, we might descry from land  
Most forcibly to swim, and then to shut himself on land.  or to sit down and take repose: as for example, when Sophocles saith thus, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
My friends what mean you in this wise so strangely for to sit,  
With branches dight about your heads, which suppliants do be fit?   
Moreover, it is very pretty and commendable, when a man meeteth with words of diverse acceptions, to make use thereof accordingly, and to accommodate them to the present occasions and subject matters: like as the Grammarians teach us to do in vocables that admit sundry senses; as for example, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
You may well praise a little bark or barge,  
But see with wares, a mighty hulk you charge.   
Here the Verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifieth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 i. to praise: and yet now in this place (to praise) is as much to say, as to refuse and reject: Like as in our common and daily speech we use to say, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 i. 'tis well: or when we bid 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Farewell it: meaning by these terms, that we like not of a thing, or will none of it, nor accept there of. And hereupon it is that some say, Proserpina is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which is as much to say as a goddess blamed and to be found fault with. This difference then, and distinction in the significations of words, is principally to be observed in matters that be more serious and of greater consequence, to wit, in the names of gods. To begin therefore with them, let us advertise and teach young men, that Poets in using the names of gods, sometimes mean thereby their very nature and essence: otherwhiles they attribute the homonymy of the same names, to the powers & virtues which the gods do give, and whereof they be the authors. And here there presenteth himself unto me the Poet Archilochus, when in his prayer he saith thus; 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  
O Vulcan king be gracious unto me,  
And hear my prayers, thus kneeling on my knee  
Devoutly: Grant, I say, this my request,  
As thou are wont, to whom thou lovest best.   
It is very clear and evident that he doth invocate the god Vulcan himself, and calleth him by his proper name. But when he bewaileth his sister's husband, who perished and was drowned in the sea, by which accident he wanted his due sepulture, he saith, that he could have borne this calamity and misfortune the better, 
If that his head and lovely limbs in pure white clothes yclad,  
As doth beseem a fair dead corpse,  
Vulcan consumed had.   
By which word Vulcan, he meaneth fire, and not the god himself. Again, when Euripides in his oath useth these words.  

By jove I swear and bloody Mars him by,  
Who bear great sway among the stars in sky.   
Certain it is, that he speaketh of the very gods jupiter and Mars: But when Sophocles saith: 
Full blind is Mars, fair Dames (I say) and nothing he doth see,  
But like wild bore he havoc makes and works all misery.   
You must understand that he speaketh of war: Like as in these verses of Homer: 
Whose blood along Scamander's stream, so deeply died in red,  
That black again it is therewith, now Trenchant Mars hath shed.   
It is meant the edge of the sword and other weapons made of brass and steel: which being so, and considering that there be many other words of double and diverse significations, we ought to learn and bear in mind, that the very names of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signify jupiter, in one place they attribute to the god himself, in another to Fortune, and oftentimes to Destiny and Fatal necessity. For when they say 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
O jupiter who from Ida hill  
Dost reign as King and work thy will.   
Also: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
O jupiter who dare avow  
That he can wiser be than thou?   
Plain it is that they mean nothing else but the god jupiter himself. But when they give the Denomination, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to the causes whereupon all things depend, and do say in this wise: 
And many a stout and valiant knight who fought in pitched field,  
Before due time there lost their lives and vital breath did yield.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. i. This was the wit of mighty jove  
Who wrought all this from heaven above.   
Surely we must understand by jove Fatal destiny: For we must not imagine that the Poet thinketh God to devise and practise any evil against men: but he giveth us to understand by the way as touching the Fatal necessity of all humane affairs, that Cities, Armies, and General Captains are predestined to fortunate success and victory over their enemies, if they be wise and govern their affections well. But chose, if they be passionate and fall into errors and misdemeanours, growing to quarrels and debates one against another, as these did, of whom the Poet spoke, it cannot be avoided but they shall commit many outrages, breed troubles and confusion, and at the last come to an unhappy end: 
For by Fatal necessity,  
And Destime inevitable:  
Bad counsels of iniquity  
Bring forth fruits thereto answerable.   
Now whereas the Poet Hesiodus bringeth in Prometheus, persuading his brother Epimetheus 
To take no gifts in any wise  
Which jupiter from heaven hath sent:  
But them always for to despise  
And send them back as discontent.   
He useth the name of jupiter for the puissance of Fortune: for by the gifts of that god, meaneth the goods of Fortune, to wit, Riches, Marriages, States and Dignities, and generally all outward blessings: the possession where of is unprofitable unto those that know not how to use them well. Esteeming therefore no better of Epimetheus than of a lewd & foolish fellow, he supposeth that he ought to take heed, & beware of prosperity whereby he was like to receive hurt and loss: yea and to come unto a mischief in the end. Semblably, when the same Poet saith: 
Reproach no man while that you live  
With poverty which gods do give.   
He understandeth hereby the gift of the gods, a thing mere casual and coming by Fortune: implying thus much, that those men are not be blamed and accused, who by some misfortune are become poor: but rather, that poverty proceeding by occasion of sloth, idleness, ease, delicate wantonness, wasteful and foolish expenses, is shame-woorthie and reprochable. For Poets and others being not acquainted with the word Fortune, which as yet was not in use, and knowing full well, that the power of this variable and inconstant cause, ranging disorderly as it did without any certain purpose and determinate end, was mighty, and could not possibly be avoided by any humane wit, reason and policy, they expressed the same by the names of the gods: much like as we in our daily speech and ordinary language, are wont commonly to give unto diverse actions and affairs, to the conditions, natures and manners of sundry persons, to speeches and orations; yea and (believe me) to men themselves, the terms of Heavenly and Divine. Well, a very good and expedient mean this is whereby we are to reform and correct many sentences and verses, which seem at the first sight to carry with them any absurdity and incongruity, as touching jupiter: as namely these, 
Two tons within the entry stand  
Of jove his house with lots both full:  
One hath success and winning hand,  
The other losses sorrow full.   
Also: 
As judge aloft sat jupiter without regard of oath  
Or covenant: and showed signs of mischief to them both.   
Likewise: 
And then began the mischiefs all of greeks and Trojans both,  
For jupiter his pleasure wrought, and with each side was wroth.   
All this we must interpret either of Fatal destiny or of Fortune, potent causes both, which neither are comprehensible within our understanding, nor yet evitable within the compass of our power. But where we read of anything attributed unto jupiter, which is conformable to reason, hath semblance of truth, and is beseeming his person, there we are to think that the said name signifieth the god himself: as for example, 
Sir Hector then advanced himself, and all the ranks beside  
Of Greeks did brave, expecting who his challenge would abide.  
Only the son of Telamonius, Ajax that worthy knight,  
He did avoid: for jupiter unto him had a spite.   
Also: 
Such great affairs of mortal men  
Are managed ay by jupiter:  
But smaller matters now and then  
To pety-gods he doth refer.   
Furthermore, we ought to have a diligent eye to other words, which may be turned and transferred to many things, and are taken in diverse senses by Poets. Of which sort is the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 .2 i Virtue. For by reason that virtue not only causeth men to be wise, prudent, just, & honest both in word and deed: but also purchaseth ordinarily unto them, honour, glory, authority and reputation in the world: therefore they give the name of Virtue unto renown, power, and might: like as the Olive fruit, they call by the name 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, i. Olive tree, and the Beech-mast they term also 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 aswell as the Beech tree. Our young man then, as he readeth in a Poet, 
The gods before virtue have set  
Labour, travel, and painful sweat.   
Or thus, 
The Greeks by virtue then down bore  
Their squadron thick and battle square.   
Likewise, 
If die we must, most glorious is death,  
For virtue, when we spend our vital breath,  presently aught to conceive thus much, That all is spoken of the best, most excellent, and divinest habitude in us, which we understand to be the very rectitude and rule of reason and judgement, the height and perfection of our reasonable humane nature, yea, and the disposition of the soul, accordant with itself. But when he readeth again these other verses there, 
Virtue in men jove causeth for to grow  
And fade: by him it doth both ebb and flow.   
As also, 
Where worldly wealth and riches are,  
Virtue and fame follow not far.  let him not by set him down, and by occasion of these words have the rich in wonderful great admiration, as if they could anon buy virtue for money, and with their wealth have it at command: let him not think, I say, that it lieth in the power of Fortune, either to augment or to diminish virtue: but rather deem thus, and make this construction, that the Poet under the name Virtue, signifieth Worship, Authority, Power, Prosperity, or some such matter. For so the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is sometimes taken by them in the native and proper signification, for a naughty and wicked disposition of the mind, as when Hesiodus writeth thus, 
Of wickedness a man may evermore  
Have foison great and plenteous store.   
But otherwile it is used for some other evil calamity or infortunity, as by Homer, 
Men quickly age and waxen old,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, with hunger and cold, etc.  And much were he deceived, who should persuade himself that Poets take beatitude and blessedness, which in Greek is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, so precisely as Philosophers do; who understand thereby, an absolute habitude, and entire possession of all good things, or rather an accomplished perfection of this life, holding on a prosperous course according to nature: for many times Poets abuse this word, calling a man blessed and happy, who is rich in world goods; and giving the term of felicity and happiness unto great power, fame and renown. As for Homer, he useth verily these terms aright and properly in this verse, 
Although much wealth I do hold and enjoy,  
Yet in my heart I take no blessed joy.   
So doth Menander when he writeth thus, 
Of goods I have and money great store,  
And all men call me rich therefore:  
But yet how rich soever I seem,  
Happy and blest none doth me deem.   
Euripides maketh great disorder and confusion, when he writeth in this sort; 
I would not have that blessed life  
Wherein I find much pain and grief.   
Also in another place. 
Why dost thou honour tyranny,  
Happy injustice and utllany?  unless a man, as I said before, take these terms as spoken metaphorically or by the figure 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. i. the abusion of them, otherwise than in their proper sense. And thus much may serve as touching this point.  
Now for this that remaineth behind, young men would be put in remembrance and admonished not once but oftentimes, that Poesy, having for her proper subject an argument to be expressed by imitation; howsoever she useth the ornaments & beautiful furniture of sigurative speeches, in setting out and describing those matters and actions which are presented unto her, yet nevertheless she doth not forego the resemblance and likelihood of truth. For that imitation indeed delighteth the Reader so long only as it carrieth some show of probability. And therefore that imitation which seemeth not altogether to square and depart from the rule of verity, doth express the signs of virtues and vices both at once, intermingled one with another in actions. Such is the Poem and composition written by Homer, which resteth not in the strange opinions and paradoxes of the Stoics, who hold, That neither any evil at all can sort with virtue, ne yet one jot of goodness with vice: but he hath bidden farewell to such precise positions; namely, That a foolish and lewd person, in all his actions, when and wheresoever, doth offend and sin: and semblably, the wise and virtuous man, at all times and in all places, can not choose but do every thing well. These are the principles which the Stoics schools refound withal. Howbeit, in the affairs of this world, and in our daily life and conversation, as Euripdes saith, 
It cannot be in every point,  
That good and bad should be disjoint:  
But in all actions we daily see,  
One with another meddled will be.  But the Art of Poetry setting apart the truth in deed, useth most of all variety and sundry forms of phrases. For, the diverse imitations are they, that give to fables that virtue to move affections & passions in the readers: these are they, that work strange events in them, even contrary to their opinion and expectation: upon which ensueth the greatest wonder, and astonishment, wherein lieth the chief grace, and from whence proceedeth the most delight and pleasure, whereas, chose, that which is simple and uniform, is not pathetical nor hath in it any fiction. Hereupon it is that Poets bring not in the same persons always winners, always happy and doing well: and that which more is, when they feign that the gods themselves meddle in men's affairs, they describe them not without their passions, nor yet exempt from errors & faults, for fear, lest that part of their Poesy which stirreth up the affection, & holdeth in suspense and admiration the minds of men, should become idle and dull, for want of some danger and adversary as it were to excite and quicken it: which being so, let us bring a young man to the reading of Poet's works, not forestalled and possessed before with such an opinion as touching those great and magnifical names of ancient worthies, as if they had been wise and just men, or virtuous Princes in the highest degree of perfection, and as a man would say, the very Canon rule, and pattern of all virtue, uprightness and integrity: Otherwise he should receive great damage thereby, in case I say he were of this mind to approve and have in admiration all that they did or said as singular; and to be offended at nothing that he heareth from them: neither would he allow of him, who blameth and findeth fault with them when they either do or say such things as these.  

O father jove, o Phoebus bright, o Pallas maiden pure:  
That you would all bring this about, and make us twain secure,  
That not one Trojane might escape, nor Greek remain alive  
But we two knights: That we (I say) and none but we believe  
May win the honour of this war, and only reap the joy  
Of victory, to raze the walls and stately towers of Troy.   
Also 
I heard the voice most piteous of Priam's daughter bright,  
Cassandra fair a virgin chaste: whom me for to despite,  
My wife dame Clytaemnestra slew, by cruel treachery,  
Because of us she jealous was for sin of lechery.   
Likewise 
With concubine of Father mine she counselled me to lie,  
The old man's curse that I might have: persuaded, so did I.   
And in another place, 
O jupiter whom men do father call, thou art a God most mischievous of all.  Let not a young man in any wise be accustomed to praise such speeches: neither let him seek any colourable pretences to cloak and excuse wicked and infamous acts: he must not be studious and cunning in such inventions, to show therein his subtility and promptness of wit. But rather he is to think thus, that Poesy is the very imitation of manners, conditions and lives, yea and of men, such as are not altogether perfect, pure and irreprehensible, but in whom passions, false opinions and ignorance bear some sway, yet so, as many times by the dexterity and goodness of nature they be reform and disposed to better ways. When a young man than is thus prepared, and his understanding so framed, that when things are well done and said, his heart is moved and affected therewith as by some heavenly instinct: and chose not well pleased with lewd deeds or words, but highly offended thereat, certes, such instruction of his judgement will be a means that he shall both hear and read any Poems without hurt and danger. But he that admireth all, & applieth himself so, that he embraceth every thing, he I say, that cometh with a judgement devoted and enthralled to those magnificent and heroic names, like unto those disciples who counterfeited to be crump shouldered and buncht back like their master Plato, or woulds needs stut, stammer and maffle as Aristotle did: surely such a one will take no great heed, but soon apprehend and entertain many evil things. Moreover this young beginner of ours ought not to be affected after a timorous and superstitious manner, as they are who being in a temple fear and dread every thing, and are ready to worship and adore whatsoever they see or hear: but boldly and confidently to pronounce and say as occasion serveth, This is ill done, or not decently spoken: no less than to give his acclamation and consent to that which is well and seemly either said or done. As for example, Achilles seeing the soldiers how they fell sick daily in the camp, and not well apaid that the war was thus drawn out in length, especially to the hindrance of his own honour, being a martial man, of great prowess and renown in the field, assembled a counsel of war and called the Greeks together, But, (as he was a man otherwise well seen in the skill of Physic) perceiving by the ninth day past, (which commonly is critical, and doth determine of maladies one way or other by course of nature) that it was no ordinary disease, nor proceeding from usual causes, stood up to make a speech, not framing himself to please and gratify the common people, but to give counsel unto the king himself in this manner.  

I think we must all is done, o Agamemnon Liege,  
Return again without effect to Greece, and leave our siege.  This was well and wisely said: these were modest and temperate words becoming his person: But when the prophet or soothsayer said, that he feared much the wrath and indignation of the mightiest man and sovereign commander of all the Greeks, he answered then never a wise or sober word; for sworn a great oath, that no man should be so hardy as to lay hand on the said prophet so long as he remained alive, he added moreover and said full unseemly, 
No, if thou shouldst both mean and name  
King Agamemnon, I vow the same.  Showing plainly by these words, what little account he made of his prince, and how he contemned sovereign authority: nay he overpassed himself more yet, and proceeded farther in heat of choler, to lay hand upon his sword, yea and to draw it forth with a full purpose to kill the king: which was done of him neither well for his own honour, nor wisely for the good of the State. But repenting himself immediately 
Into the skabbard then anon, he puts his doughty sword:  
Minerva gave him that advise, and he obeyed her word.   
Herein again he did well and honestly: for having not the power to extinguish and quench his choler quite, yet he delayed it well and repressed it, yea and brought it under the obeisance of reason, before it broke out into any excessive outrage, which had been remediless. Semblably Agamemnon himself, for that which he did and said in the assembly of Counsel, he was worthy to be scorned and laughed at. But in the matter concerning the damosel Chryseis, he showed more gravity and princely Majesty, than in like case Achilles did: for he, when the fair Briseis was taken from him and led away: 
Sat weeping in great agony  
Retired apart from company.   
But Agamemnon himself in person conducting her as far as to the ship, delivering up and sending away to her own father, the woman whom a little before he said that he loved more dearly than his own espoused wife, did nothing unfitting himself or like a passionate lover. Again, Phoenix being cursed by his father and betaken to all the hellish flends for lying with his concubine, breaketh out into these words, 
I minded once with sword of mine my father's blood to she add:  
But that some god my rage repressed, and put this in my head:  
How men would cry much shame on me, and namely Grecians all  
With one voice me a parricide or Father killer call.   
Which verses in Homer, Aristarchus was afraid to let stand, and therefore dashed them out. But verily, they serve in that place fitly for the purpose, namely, when Phoenix instructeth Achilles, what a violent passion anger is, and how there is no outrage but men will dare and do in the heat of choler, when they will not be guided with reason, or directed by the counsel of those that would appease them. For he bringeth in Meleager also, who was angry with his citizens, how be it afterwards pacified: In which example, as he wisely blameth and reproveth such passious: so he praiseth and commendeth as a good and expedient thing, not to be led and carried away therewith, but to resist and conquer them, and to take up betime and repent. True it is, that hitherto in these places already cited, there is a manifest difference to be observed: but where there is some obscurity as touching the true sense and meaning of a sentence, we must teach a young man to stay himsselfe there and pause upon the point, that he may be able to distinguish in this manner: If Nausicaa upon the first sight of Ulysses, a mere stranger, falling into the same passion of love with him, as Calypso did, and seeking nothing but wanton pleasure, as one living daintily, and being now ripe and ready for marriage, utter foolishly these and such like words, and that before her waiting maids: 
O that it were hap, so brave a Knight to wed who hath my hart:  
O that he would with me vouchsafe for to remain and not depart.   
Her boldness and incontinency is to be reproved: but if by his speech and talk, she perceived that he was a man of wit and wise behaviour, and thereupon wished in her heart to be his wedded wife, and to dwell with him rather than with one of her own country, who could skill of nothing else but to dance or be a mariner, I cannot blame her, but think her praise worthy. In like case, if when Penelope deviseth and talketh courteously with her wooers, who sued unto her for marriage, and thereupon they court her again and bestow upon her gay clothes, rich jewels and other goodly ornaments fit for a Lady, Ulysses her husband rejoice 
That she was well content to take  
Their gifts, and did to them love make,  
As though she would be kind again,  
And yet her shows were all but vain.   
If I say he joyed, in that his wife received their courtesies and tokens, and so made again of them, surely he surpasseth Poliager the notorious bawd, playing his part in the Comedies, of whom there goeth this byword: 
Bawd Poliager happy man he,  
That keeps at home in house a she:  
A heavenly goat whose influence,  
Brings in riches with affluence.   
But if he did it to have them by that means under his hand, whiles they upon hope of obtaining their suit, little thought of him how he watched them a shrewd turn: then his joy and confident assurance was grounded well & upon good reason. Semblably in the counting that he made of those goods which the Phaeacians had landed when they set him on shore; and having so done, spread sail and departed back again: if being thus left solitary alone and finding himself forlorn, he doubted of his estate and what should become of him, and yet his mind was so set upon his goods that he feared, 
Lest part thereof they took away,  
Whiles that on shore asleep he lay,   
His avarice were lamentable, nay it were abominable, I assure you: But if as some do think and say, being not sure whether he were in the Isle Ithaca or no, he supposed that the safety of his gods and money, was a certain proof and demonstration of the Phaeacians loyalty and fidelity (for never would they have transported him into a strange land but for lucre, nor when they left him and departed would have forborn his goods) he used herein no foolish argument, and his providence in so doing is commendable. Some there be who find fault with this very landing of him upon the shore, in case the Phaeacians did it whiles he was asleep in deed: and they say that it appeareth by a certain Chronicle or History among the Tuskanes which they keep by them, that Ulysses was given by nature to be very drowsy; which was the cause, that to many he was not affable, and men oftentimes might hardly speak with him. Now if this was no sleep in very truth, but that being both ashamed to send away the Phaeacians who had conducted him over sea, without feasting them & giving them presents and rewards for their kindness: and also in fear lest if they were seen there still upon the coast, whiles he entertained them so kindly, himself might be discovered by his enemies, he used this pretence of feigned sleep to cover and hide the perplexity wherein he was, or to shift off this difficulty wherein he stood in this case, they allow and commend him for it. In giving therefore to young men such advertisements as these, we shall never suffer them to run on still to the corruption of their manners, but rather imprint in them presently a fervent zeal and hearty desire to choose better things, namely, if we proceed directly to praise this and to dispraise that. And this would be done especially in Tragedies, those I mean, where in fine words and affected speeches be oftentimes framed to cloak dishonest and villainous deeds. For that which Sophocles saith in one place, is not always true: 
If that it be a naughty deed,  
Of it good words cannot proceed.   
For even himself is wont many times to palliate wicked conditions, yea, and naughty acts with pleasant speeches and familiar apparent reasons, which carry a probability of sufficient excuse. And even so playeth Euripides his companion, who showed himself upon the same stage: for see you not, how he bringeth in Phoedra to begin with her husband Theseus, First, laying all the blame on him; as if forsooth the wrongs and abuses that he offered unto her, were the cause that she was enamoured upon Hippolytus? The like audacious and bold speech he putteth in Helenas mouth against queen Hecuba, in that Tragedy which is entitled Troades, objecting unto her, and saying, That she was rather to be punished, for bearing such a son as Alexander Paris, who committed the adultery with her. A young man then, ought not to accustom him. self to think any such inventions as these to be pretty, gallant and witty, ne yet laugh at such subtle and fine devices; but to abhor and detest as much, or rather more, wanton and filthy words, than loose and dishonest deeds.  
Moreover, it would be expedient, in all speeches to search the cause whereupon they do proceed; after the example of Cato when he was a little boy: For, do he would whatsoever his Master or Tutor bad; but ever and anon he would be inquisitive and questioning with him the reason of his commandments. And yet we are not to believe and obey Poets, as we ought either Schoolmasters or Lawgivers, unless the matter by them proposed have reason for the ground: and grounded then it shallbe thought upon reason, if it be good and honest: for if it be wicked, it ought to seem foolish and vain. But many of these men there be, who are very sharp and curious in searching and demanding what Hesiodus should mean in this verse, 
Whiles men are drinking, do not set  
The flagon over the wine goblet.  as also what sense may be made of these verses in Homer: 
Another chariot who mounted is, when from his own he is alight,  
Must not his spear and iavelin miss,  
But trust thereto, and therewith fight.  but other sentences, iwis, of greater importance and danger, they admit soon, and give credit thereto, without further inquiry & examination: as for example, at these verses they stick not, 
The privity to father's vice  
Or mother's fault reprochable,  
Will him debase, who otherwise,  
Is hardy, stout, and commendable.  no more than they do at this, 
Upon a man, if fortune frown,  
His heart therewith must be cast down.  And yet such sayings as these, come near unto us, and touch the quick, troubling our manner and behaviour in this life, imprinting in us perverse judgements, base and unmanly opinious, unless we acquaint ourselves to contradict each of them in every point, after this manner. And wherefore ought he to bear an abject mind, who is crossed with adverse fortune? why rather should not he make head again, and wrestle with her, bearing himself so much the more aloft, and never endure to be trodden down and depressed by her? what reason is there, that my heart should be done, for that my father was vicious and foolish, in case I be a wise and honest man myself? Is there greater cause that the ignorance and imperfection of my father should keep me down and discourage me, that I dare not look up; than mine own knowledge and valour make me take heart and put myself forth? He that will thus encounter, withstand, and not give way to every speech, turning side, as it were, to every puff of wind, but rather esteem that sentence of Heraclitus to be well and truly spoken, 
A foolish and witless man is he,  
With every word who stricken will be.  Such a one, I say, shallbe able to put by and repel many sayings of Poets, that are neither true nor profitable. And thus much as touching those observatious which may serve a young man's turn, that he may read and hear Poets safe without any danger.  
But forasmuch as it falleth out, that as in Vines many times, the grapes lie hidden among the leaves and branches, and cannot be seen by reason that they are covered and shadowed therewith: so also in poetical verses, under fables and fictions there be covertly couched many profitable and wholesome lessons, which a young man cannot espy by himself, and therefore he misseth that commodity and fruit which is to be reaped out thereof. Howbeit, we must not suffer this, nor let him turn away, and give over: he ought not (I say) to wander aside, but stick close and fast to those matters especially, which lead unto virtue, and make any thing for the framing or reforming of manners. In which regard, I shall not do amiss, if I treat also of this matterbriefly; making, as it were, a first draft only, and touching summarily the principal points; leaving long discourses, by way of narration, confirmation, and a multitude of examples, to those that write of purpose for more show and ostentation. First and foremost therefore, when a young man knoweth thoroughly the persons of men and women, their natures also and manners both good and bad, let him then regard and consider well the sayings and doings which the Poet doth attribute aptly unto either of them. As for example, Achilles saith unto Agamemnon these words, although he speaketh them in choler, 
For never shall I honour have,  
Nor equal recompense to you,  
When populous Troy, that city brave,  
The Greeks shall force, as they do vow.  But Thersites reviling the self same Agamemnon, useth these terms; 
Much brazen vessel thou hast now in many a goodly tent,  
Of captive women eke like choice, in beauty excellent,  
In thy pavilion: whom we Greeks, as to our Sovereign,  
Do give, so soon as any town by martial force we gain.  Again Achilles in another place hath this humble speech, 
If jupiter will be so good, as to fulfil our joy,  
And grant that we one day may win the stately city Troy.  But Thersites cometh out with this proud word, 
Whom either I, or in my stead,  
Some Greek shall bond as captive lead.  Semblably in another place, when in the review of the army, Agamemnon passing along the bands, rebuked and taunted Diomedes, he answered not again, nor gave him one cross word: 
For why he feared in mode sty  
The checks of his dread Majesty.  But Sthenelus, of whom no man made any reckoning, was so bold as to reply and say, 
Sir Agamemnon Atreus son, for bear thus for to lie,  
You can, if that you list, with me report a truth: for why?  
Pronounce I dare, andit avow, we better warriors be  
In these days than our fathers were, by many a degree.   
The difference which is in these personages, if it be well marked, will teach a young man thus much: That to be modest, temperate, void of pride, and humble, is a most civil and excellent virtue: and chose it will advertise him to take heed of pride and overweening; to beware also of boasting and vaunting much of himself, as a detestable vice. And here in this place, expedient it is and profitable to observe the action of Agamemnon: He passed by Sthenelus, and would not stay to speak unto him: As for Ulysses, who found himself grieved, him he neglected not, but shaped him an answer: For as Homer writeth, 
No sooner he perceived him offended for to be,  
But presently he spoke again, and thus replied be.  For, as it is a base and servile thing, and not beseeming the majesty of a Prince to answer everile one, and by way of Apology to justify a thing done or said; so to despise and disdain all men, is mere pride and extreme folly. As for Diomedes, he did passing well to hold his peace during the time of the battle, when he was rebuked and reviled by the king, but after the fight was ended, he spoke his mind freely and boldly in this wise; 
You are the first of all the Greeks, who in reproachful wise  
Have charged me for my false heart, and fearful cowar dise.   
Good also it is, to see the difference between a wise man in deed and a vain soothsayer, who loved to be seen, and to hear himself speak among the multitude. For Calchas without all respect of choosing his time and a sit opportunity, bashed not in public place, and before all the people, to challengeking Agamemnon, imputing directly unto him, and to no other, the cause of the pestilence which reigned in the camp. But Nestor, chose, intending to make a motion as touching the reconciliation and pacifying of Achilles, and to speak directly unto that point, because he would not seem to blame and accuse the king in the audience of the people; namely, that he had passed himself in choler, and done amiss, adviseth him in this manner, saying: 
To supper bid the ancient peers: this doth your person fit:  
And when they are together met, in order as they sit,  
Let them opine, Hear their advice, and look who speaketh best,  
His counsel take I reed, and then therein see that you rest.  And after supper, he sent forth the Ambassadors accordingly. This was the only way to correct a fault, and amend that was amiss: whereas the other had been a very injurious accusation, and a contumelious reproof to his no small disgrace. Furthermore, there would be noted and considered the diversity that is in sundry nations, and that after this manner: The Trojans give the charge in battle to their enemies with great shouts, outcries, and exceeding violence: whereas the Greeks 
The onset give with all silence,  
To leaders having reverence.  For soldiers to dread and fear their captains and commanders, at what time as they be ready to join battle with the enemy, is a sign both of valour and also of obedience and military Discipline. Which is the reason that Plato would enure us to be afraid of rebukes, reproofs and silthy acts, more than of any travels and dangers, Cato likewise was wont to say, That he loved those better who blushed and looked red, than the pale faced. As for promises, there is a proper work also in them, whereby a man may discern whether they be wise or foolish. For Dolon promiseth in this manner 
The camp of Greeks jenter will and pass on still outright  
Until to Agamemnon's ship, I come there for to fight.  chose Diomedes promiseth nothing of himself, only this he saith: That he should fear the less, if he were sent with some other to bear him company. Whereby you may see that Prudence, Discretion and Forecast be civil virtues beseeming the Greeks; but audacious rashness is nought, and fit for Barbarians. The one therefore we must embrace and imitate, the other reject and cast behind us. Moreover it were a speculation not unprofitable to mark the affections that befell unto the Trojans and to Hector at what time as he was ready to enter into combat and single fight with Ajax. Aeschylus being upon a time in place to behold the combats at the Isthmian games, it fell out so that one of the champions was hurt and wounded in the very face, whereupon the people that looked on, set up a great cry and shouted aloud: See, quoth he, what use and exercise is! the Beholder's cry out, but the man himself that is hurt, saith never a word. In like manner, when Homer the Poet saith, that Ajax was no sooner seen in his bright complete harnish, and armed at all pieces, but the greeks rejoiced: whereas 
The Trojans all for fear did quake, and tremble every joint  
Hector himself did feel his heart to beat even at this point.  who would not wonder to see this difference? Thepartie himself who was in danger, felt his hart only to leap, as if he had been (I assure you) to wrestle for the best game, or to run a race for the prize: but they that saw him, trembled and shaked all their body over, for fear of the peril wherein their prince was, and for kind affection that they bore unto him. It is worth the noting also what odds and difference there is between the most resolnte or valiant Captain, and the greatest coward: For it is said of Ther sites that 
Achilles of all that were in the Host  
And also Ulysses he hated most.  whereas Ajax as he always loved Achilles, so he giveth an honourable testimony thereof, when he speaketh unto Hector in this wise, 
In single fight with me alone what worthy knight we have  
In Grecian host, thou mayst not see besides Achilles' brave:  
Achilles he, the Paragon of Prowess whom we count  
Whose Lions hart undaunted yet all other doth surmount.  This is a singular commendation of Achilles particularly: but that which followeth afterwards, is aptly spoken to the praise of all in general: 
Wot well that many of us there be in Camp that dare and can  
Make head, and maint aine fight with thee in combat man to man.  Mark, how he praiseth not himself, to be the man alone or the most valorous of all other, but is content to be ranged with many more as sufficient men to make their part good against him. Thus much may serve as touching the diversity of persons, unless we will add this moreover, That of Trojans we read there were many taken prisoners alive by their enemies, but of the Greeks not one: as also that diverse of them became humble suppliants to their enemies and fell down at their feet; namely Adrastus, the sons of Antimachus and Lycaon: yea and Hector himself besought Achtlles to vouchsafe him burial: whereas, there was not one of them that did the like: As if thus much were implied thereby, that it is the manner of Barbarians in fight, to make supplication, to submit, to kneel and lie prostrate before the enemy: but of Grecians, either to win the victory by main fight, or to die for it.  
Moreover, like as in pasturage and feeding, the Bee settleth upon flowers: the goat seartheth after green leaves and brouseth young buds: the Swine searcheth for roots, and other beasts for the seed & fruit; Even so in reading Poems, one gathereth the flower of the History: another cleaveth to the elegancy of phrase and furniture of words, as Aristophanes was wont to say of Euripides, 
His tongue so round doth please my mind,  
In style so smooth, content I find.  Others there be who affect moral sentences aptly fitted to the reformation of manners. Those therefore with whom now we have to deal, and to whom we direct our speech, we are to admonish, that it were a shame and unwoorthy thing, if either he who setteth his mind upon fables should mark well the witty narrations, and singular fine inventions therein: or he that delighteth in eloquence should note diligently the pure and elegant phrase, the artificial rhetoric also, as he readeth: whiles he, that would seem to affect honour, to study honesty, and to take Poets in hand not for delight, pleasure and pastime, but for the insight of learning, and for the treasure of knowledge, readeth and heareth carelessly and without fruits, those sentences which are penned and delivered by them to the recommendation of fortitude, temperance and justice: For as concerning valour and virtue you shall find these verses, 
What is befallen sir Diomedes, that we forget to fight?  
How is it that our hearts be done? where is our Martial might?  
Come near, stand close unto my side, great shame it were for us,  
If Hector now should board our ships and force our navy thus.   
For to see a most wise and prudent captain who was in danger to perish, and to be overthrown together with the whole army, not to be afraid of death, but to fear reproach and shameful disgrace, the same no doubt will cause a young man to be wonderfully affectionate to virtue and prowess.  
For wisdom and justice these verses serve: 
Minerva then took great delight  
To see the man wise and upright.   
Such a sentence as this, will give occasion to a young scholar thus to reason and discourse: The Poet here hath devised, that the goddess joyed not in a rich man, in one that was fair, well favoured and personable, or mighty in bodily strength: but in him that was prudent and just withal. And in another place where the same goddess saith, that she will not neglect nor forsake Ulysses and leave him destitute: 
For tongue he hath and 〈◊〉 at will:  
He is both wise and full of skill:   
The Poet showeth plainly; That there is nothing in us but virtue only, that is divine and beloved of the gods: if this be true that Like will to like, and Naturally every thing delighteth in the Semblable. Now forasmuch as it seemeth to be a great matter and rare perfections, as in truth it is no less, to be able to master and bridle anger: certes a greater virtue it is and a gift more singular to prevent and wisely to forecast, that we fall not into choler, nor suffer ourselves to be surprised therewith: And therefore the readers of Poets ought to be advertised in these points, not coldly but in good earnest: as namely, how Achilles, a man by nature nothing meek, mild and patient, giveth warning unto Priamus to be quiet, and not to provoke him, in these words: 
Take heed old father I thee reed, how thou my choler move:  
I minded am thy son to yield:  
For why? from jove above  
A messenger hath warned me so:  
Beware Graybeard, I say,  
Lest that my tent will not thee save, but forthwith I thee slay:  
Although in humble wise thou come, with suppliants habit dight,  
And so I do transgress joves will and break the laws of right.   
Who also after he had washed the corpse of Hector, and wound it within Funeral clothes, bestowed the same with his own hands in the chariot, before that Priamus his father should see it, so misused as it was, 
For fear least when he saw  
his son, so us angled and bewrayed  
In grief of heart, old father he, should not himself be stayed  
But with hot words Achilles move in him to sheathe his sword  
Without regard of jupiter, his hests, his will and word.   
For when a man is apt and prone to anger, as being of nature hot, rough and choleric, to know himself so given, and therewith to prevent, decline and avoid all occasions of ire, and by the guidance of reason to hold of, in such sort, that even as it were against his will he shall not fall into any passionato sits, is a 〈◊〉 of great wisdom and singular providence. After the same manner ought he that is given 〈◊〉 wine, to be armed against drunkenness: he also that is by nature amorous, should thus withstand wanton love: Like as Agesilaus, who would not abide to be kissed of a beautiful young boy coming toward him: and Cyrus, who durst not so much as set his eye upon fair Panthea. Whereas chose, those that be ill nourtured and badly brought up, seek all means and occasions to kindle and inflame their foolish affections, ministering matter thereto, as fuel unto fire: casting themselves headlong and that wilfully into those vices, whereunto they are most prone and ready to fall by nature. But Ulysses not only bridled and repressed his owned choler when he was chafed, but also perceiving by some words of Telemachus his son, that he was angry and hatefully bend against lewd persons, he laboured to appease and mitigate his mood: he dealt with him before hand, willing and commanding him to be quiet, to forbear and have patience.  

My son, if that by word or deed  
In mine own house they me abuse,  
By't in thine anger, I thee reed,  
See thou induxe, and patience use:  
Nay if they draw me by the foot,  
And out of doors me drag anon,  
Or their sharp arrows at me shoot,  
See all, say nought, what ever is done.   
For like as men use not to bridle their horses when they be running in a race, but before they begin their course; even so they that hardly can digest indignities, and upon occasion offered are quickly angry, ought first to be praeoccupate with reason: and being thus prepared beforehand, to bring them to the combat.  
Over and beside, a young man must not negligently pass over the bare words as he readeth. And yet I speak not this, as though I would have him play upon them, as Cleanthes did, who making semblance to interpret and expound words, would otherwhiles cavil and make sport. For where as we read in Homer, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   
He would have us to read these two last words in one, by way of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 thus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as if forsooth, the air which by exhalation is elevated, and doth rise from the earth, should therefore be called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Chrysippus likewise many times comes in with his bald reasons, without all grace: and this he doth not in jest and merriment, but he would seem to devise reasons subtly; and so forceth diverse words impertinently: as namely, when he wresteth these words, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to this sense, as if 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 should signify one that was eager and quick in disputation or argument, surpassing others in force of eloquence. It were better for us to leave these nice subtleties of words and syllables unto Grammarians for to be scanned, and to consider more nearly other observations, which, as they yield greater profit, so they carry with them more probability and likelihood of truth: and namely to pick some good out of these verses; 
Most cross unto my mind it is,  
For taught I am proësseiwis.   
Also, 
Full well he knew, to every wight  
To show himself a courteous knight.   
For hereby he declareth evidently, that valour and fortitude is gotten by teaching; as also, he is of opinion, That to be mild, affable and kind to every man, is a gracious virtue, proceeding from science and reason: whereupon he exhorteth us, not to be careless of ourselves, but to learn good and honest things, by giving ear unto our teachers: for that cowardice, folly, and perverse incivility, be the defects of learning, and are mere ignorance indeed. Hereto acordeth very well, that which the same Poet Homer saith of jupiter and Neptune: 
Behold one father both they had, and country one them bread:  
But jupiter was former borne, and had the wiser head.   
He declareth hereby that wisdom is a most divine and princely quality; wherein he placeth the sovereign and highest excellency of jupiter, as esteeming all other good parts to accompany that sovereign and heavenly virtue. We are likewise to acquaint a young man to hear, and that with no heavy and dull ear, but attentively and with a vigilant mind, these other verses; 
Right wise he is, and wot you well,  
A lie for no good will he tell.   
Also, 
Antilochus, reputed aye for wise, you are to blame  
My steeds to hurt, mine honour eke thus for to stain with shame.   
Likewise, 
You, a worthy knight, to speak so foolishly!  
I would have said you had, in wait, past all men verily.   
These sentences import thus much; That wise men will never speak untruths: neither will they in battle behave themselves as cowards, and use deceit in fight, ne yet charge unjust imputations upon others without reason. Also when the Poet saith, that he through his folly suffered himself to be induced & persuaded to break the truce and league, he showeth plainly, That he thinketh a wise man will in no wise commit unrighteousness. The like may of a young man be taught, as touching continency and chastity, especially, if he consider well these verses.  

K. Proetus wife, Dame Antea, him loved and wooed soon  
For to embrace her secretly, and lie with her anon:  
But never would he yield thereto. Belleryphon was wise,  
And in his heart he never let such thoughts for to arise.   
As also these, 
Dame Clytemnestro first was chaste, and wanton tricks rejected  
All while she was by reason led, and wisdoms lore directed.   
In these places we see, that the Poet attributeth the cause of continency and pudicitie unto wisdom. Furtherward in those exhortations whereby captains use to encourage their soldiers to fight, when the Poet eftsoons inferreth these and such like speeches, 
Fie, fie for shame o Lycians, you are now light of foot,  
To run away thus as you do, iwis it will not boot.   
Also: 
A conflict sharp is toward, Sirs, wherefore let every one  
Set shame and just revenge in sight, else all, I doubt, is gone.   
By which words the Poet seemeth to ascribe fortitude unto shamefastness and modesty: For that, those who are bashful and ashamed to commit filthiness, are able likewise not only to overcome voluptuous pleasures; but also to undergo all dangerous adventures. By occasion whereof Timotheus also in his Poem entitled Persa was moved not unaptly to encourage the greeks fight, saying thus: 
Have honest shame in reverence and honour her, I you advise.  
She helpeth Prowess, and from hence  
the victory doth oft arise.   
AEschylus also reputeth it a point of wisdom, not to be vain glorious nor desirous to be seen of the multitude, ne yet to be lifted up with the puffs of popular praise, when he describeth Amphiaraus in this wise: 
He seeketh not to seem the very best,  
But for to be the best in word and deed:  
He sowed hath within his worthy breast,  
In furrow deep, all good and virtuous seed,  
Which yield both leaf & fruit in season due,  
I mean sage counsel joined with honour true.   
For the part it is of a wise man and of good conceit, to stand upon his own bottom, that is to say, to rest in himself, and to think highly of his own resolutions and courses as the very best. Thus you see how all good things being reduced unto prudence, there is no kind of virtue but it cometh to a man afterwards, and is acquired by learning and discipline.  
Moreover, like as Bees have this property by nature to find and suck the mildest and best honey, out of the sharpest and most eager flowers; yea and from among the roughest and most prickly thorns: even so children and young men if they be well nourtuted and orderly enured in the reading of Poems, will learn after a sort to draw always some wholesome and profitable doctrine or other, even out of those places which move suspicion of lewd and absurd sense. At the first sight, Agamemnon may seem suspected of avarice and bribery, in that he exempted from warfare, that rich 
* 〈◊〉  man in regard of the fair mare Aetha he gave unto him as a gift and gratuity: 
That unto Troy that stately town, he might not with him go  
To serve in arms: but stay at home, and rest there far from woe:  
Where he might live in solace much, enjoying all his own:  
For jupiter in measure great had wealth on him bestowen.   
Howbeit, as Aristotle saith, he did very well in preferring a good mare before a man no better than he was: For I assure you a coward & heartless man, flowing in abundance of riches, wallowing in pleasures and delight, and thereby made effeminate, is not in prize comparable either to a dog or an ass. Semblaby, it may seem that Thetis did exceeding badly to incite her son to pleasures, and to put him in mind of the fleshly delights of Venus: But even there, the continency of Achilles is worthy to be considered: who notwithstanding that he had been enamoured of Briseis, and saw that she was returned again unto him, yea and knew that he had not long to live, but that his end was near; yet neither made he haste to enjoy his pleasures while he might, nor as many men use to do, bewailed the death of his friend, sitting idly the while, doing nothing at all and neglecting the duties of his calling: but as in sorrow and grief of heart he forbore his delights and pleasures, so in action and conduct of his regiment, he showed himself a martial and valorous man. In like manner Archilochus is not commended for this, that being to mourn and lament for the loss of his brother in law who married his sister, and was perished in the sea, he would seem to conquer his sorrow with drinking wine & making good cheer: yet nevertheless he allegeth a cause of his doing so, which carrieth some appearance of reason in these words: 
For neither can my plaints and tears restore his life and heal:  
Ne yet my mirth and pleasant sports will harm him ever a deal.   
And if he were of this mind, and had reason to think, that in following his delights, merriments, pastimes and banquets, he could not impair the state of his brother departed; how should our present condition be the worse and our affairs go backward, by the study and practise of Philosophy, by managing the government of public weal, by frequenting the common hall and courts of pleas, by going down to the Academy and schools of learning, or by following Agriculture and husbandry?  
And therefore the corrections of some poetical verses by changing certain words which practise Cleanthes and Antisthenes were wont to use are not amiss. For one of them upon a time when the Athenians in full Theatre took offence and made a great stir at this verse: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
What filthy thing can be that breedeth shame?  
Unless they think it so, that use the same?  quieted all the trouble presently by changing it and pronouncing another in this wise, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
A filthy thing, is soul and filthy still:  
Think it, or think it not, That doth not skill.  As for Cleanthes when he read these verses as touching riches: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Among good friends for to be slow and spend upon yourself  
Your sickly body to preserve; thus use your worldly pelf.  He altered them in this manner, and wrote thus: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
That you may it to harlots give, and pampering much yourself:  
A crasit body overthrow, abusing worldly pelf.  Semblaby Zeno reading these verses of Sophocles, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Who once in court of Tyrant serve, become  
His slaves anon, though free they thither come.  turned the same and wrote this again, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
His slave iwis he cannot bec,  
If he at first came thither free.  But you must not understand that he meaneth here by a free man, one, that is timorous, but fearless, magnanimous, & whose heart is not easy to be daunted. What should hinder us then, but that we also by such suggestions and corrections as these may reclaim and withdraw young men from the worse to the better. Whereas therefore we shall meet with these verses, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
The thing that men are for to wish and most desire is this,  
That when they shoot at their delights, the arrow may not mis.  Not so, but rather thus, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
That when they aim at their profit  
The arrow may be sure to hit.  For to reach into those things which a man ought not to desire, yea and to obtain and have the same is pitiful and lamentable, and in no wise to be wished for. Likewise, when we read in Homer thus, 
Thy part of weal and woe thou must o Agamemnon have,  
For Athens did not thee beget, always to winor save.  We verily are thus to say rather, 
Thou art to joy, and never for to grieve,  
But in a mean estate delight to live.  
For Athens did not Agamemnon get  
The world at will to have, and find no let.  Again, when we meet with this verse, 
Alas what mischief sent to men, is this from gods above,  
That they should see what thing is good, and it not use nor love?  Sent from gods above? nay rather, it is a brutish, unreasonable, yea, a woeful and lamentable thing, that a man seeing that which is better, should for all that be carried away and transported to the worse, by reason of intemperance, sloth, and effeminate softness of the mind. Also, if we light upon this sentence, 
Behaviour 'tis and good carriage,  
That do persuade, and not language.  Not so iwis, but manners and words together are persuasive: or rather the manners by means of speech, like as the horse is ruled by the bit and bridle, and as the Pilot guideth the ship by the rudder or helm. For surely virtue is furnished with no instrument or means so gracious with men and so familiar, as speech is.  
Moreover, where you encounter these verses; 
For wanton love, how stands his mind?  
To male more or to female kind?   
Answer. 
Both hands are right, with him, where beauty is,  
Neither of twain to him can come amiss.  Nay rather thus he should have answered: 
Where virtue is seated, and continence,  
Both hands are like, there is no difference.  And to speak truly and more plainly, in equal balance poised he is indeed, inclining neither the one way nor the other: Whereas chose, he that with pleasure and beauty swayeth to and fro, is altogether left handed, inconstant, and incontinent. Read you at any time this verse? 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Religion true, and right godliness  
Make wise men too fearful always, more or less.  In no wise admit thereof, but say thus: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Religion true, and right godliness,  
Make wise men bold, and hardy, more or less.  For in truth, fear and despair, by the means of religion, ariseth in the hearts of none but of fools, unthankful and senseless persons, who have in suspicion and do dread that divine power which is the first cause of all good things, as hurtful unto them. Thus much concerning correction of sentences.  
There is beside an amplification of that which we read, whereby a sentence may be stretched farther than the bare words import. And thus Chrysippus hath rightly taught us how to transfer and apply that which was spoken of one only thing, to many of the like kind, and so to make a profitable use thereof: for after this manner when Hesiodus saith, 
An ox or cow a man shall never lose,  
If neighbour his be not malicious.  He meaneth by ox or cow, his dog likewise and ass, yea, and all things else that may perish. Semblably, whereas Euripides saith thus, 
A slave indeed, whom may we justly call?  
Even him of death who thinketh not all.  We must understand that he meant and spoke, aswell of labour, affliction and sickness, as of death. And verily, as physicians finding the virtue and operations of a medicine applied and fitted to one malady, by the knowledge thereof can skill how to accommodate the same to all others of the like nature, and use it accordingly; even so, when we meet with a sentence that is common, and whereof the profit may serve to many purposes, we ought not to oversee and neglect the manifold use thereof, and leave it as appropriate to one only matter: but to handle the same so, that it may be applied to all of like sort: and herein we must enure and exercise young men, to see and know readily this communion, and with a quick conceit to transfer that which they find apt and proper in many, and by examples to be practised and made prompt therein, so as they be able to mark at the first hearing the semblable: To the end that when they come to read in Menander this verse, 
A happy man we may him call,  
Who hath much wealth, and wit withal.  They may very well think that in naming wealth, he meant and included Honour, authority and eloquence. Also, that the imputation which Ulysses charged upon Achilles, sitting idly in the Island Scyros, among the young maidens and damosels, in these words, 
You sir, whose father was a knight, the best that ever drew  
His sword, of all the greeks in fight and many acaptaine slew:  
Sat you here carding like a wench and spinning wool on rock,  
Thereby the glorious light to quench of your most noble stock?  may be aptly said unto any loose liver and voluptuous wanton, unto a covetous and wretched miser, unto an idle lusk, an untaught or ignorant lozel. As for example, in am of this verse in the foresaid imputation, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
What, what, good sir? are you become a spinster now for need,  
Whose father was of all the greeks a knight of doughtiest deed.  A man may read and not unfitly thus, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  
Can you carouse so lustily and toss the pot so round,  
Whose father knew to shake a spear and stoutly stand his ground?   
Or after this manner, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  
Your courage serves to hazard all at casting of three dies  
Your father's heart was tried in war and martial jeopardies.   
Either thus, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  
You cunning are to play at quoites the game,  
Where as your sire, by prowess won much same.   
Or in this wise, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  
Are you become indeed a Tavernour,  
Whose father was a worthy governor?   
Or lastly thus, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  
In hundred ten, you can full well call for at such a day,  
Your father ten and hundreds knew, to range in battellray.  And in one word, so well as you are descended there is no goodness nor great thing in you worthy thy the noble parentage. Moreover, where you happen upon these verses, 
What tell you me of Pluto and his chievance,  
For such a god as he with all his puissance.  
Iworship not: since that the lewdest wreach  
In all the world, to wealth may quickly reach.  A man may say as much of glory, of outward beauty, of the rich mantles of a captain general, of a Bishop's mitre, and the sacred coronet of a priest, which we see the wickedest wretches in the world may attain unto. Again, whereas the words of another verse import thus much only: 
That children gotren of cowardice,  
Be foul and those whom men despise.  The same verily do imply also, that Intemperance, Superstition, Envy, and all other vices and maladies of the mind, bring forth no better offspring. Now whereas Homer said excellent well in one place: 
Paris a coward thou art for sooth,  
For all thy face so fair and smooth.   
And in another, 
Sir Hector in the prime of age,  
With lovely looks and fair visage.  (For by these terms and epithits, he showeth covertly that a man deserveth blame and reproach, who is endued with no better grace and gift than beauty) we may well and fitly apply this reprehension to such like things: namely, to pluck down their peacocks plumes, who vaunt and glorify themselves for matters of no moment and value: teaching young men thereby, that such praises as these, be no better than contumelies and reproaches: As for example, when a man is saluted in this manner: O most excellent for riches, for keeping a bountiful table, for many servitors: right excellent for singulat good teams of draft oxen, caples and mules, for stables of steeds and greathorses: yea or thus moreover to the rest: O surpassing orator and of wonderful eloquence: for to speak a truth, a man is to aim at excellency and preference before others in good and honest things, that in the chief and principal he may be the highest and foremost: as also in great matters, the greatest: for the reputation that groweth from small and base things is dishonourable, illiberal, vile, & of no worth. And verily this example last alleged, putteth us straightways in mind, to consider better the reprehensions and praises which offer themselves especially in the Poems of Homer: For certes, they give us expressly to understand one notable instruction, to wit, Not highly to esteem the gifts either of body or of fortune. For first and formest (in those titles which they give one to another in reciprocal greetings) when they meet and shake hands, the manner is not to salute by the name of Beautiful, Rich or Strong, but they use such commendations as these, 
Ulysses o most noble knight, from jupiter first descended,  
Laertes son, for wisdom, and much wit, yet most commended.   
Also 
O Hector son of Priamus king,  
Equal to jove in wisdom and cunning.   
Likewise, 
Achilles o of Peleus the most redoubted son,  
Chief glory of the worthy greeks, their light and shining sun.   
And again, 
Patroclus o son of Menaetius,  
Most lovely in my hart and gracious.  Semblably when they are disposed to revile and taunt, they twit not one another with any defects and imperfections of the body, but touch them expressly with the vices of the mind, after this manner, 
Thou drunken sot, as shameless as, the dogs that use to bark  
Thou coward base as heartless as, the stags that run in park.   
And thus, 
Thou wrangling Ajax of Barrotters chief  
Divising nought but evil and mischief.   
Semblably, 
Idomeneus in frappling prompt,  
What meen'st thou thus to prate?  
This babbling little thee becomes, such clattering men do hate.   
As also, 
O Ajax fie for shame: how far out of theway  
Speak you, so bold and malapert? you brag too much I say.   
To conclude, Ulysses revileth not Thersites, with these terms: Thou halting and lame squire, thou bald pate thou coptank, thou that art camel backed, or crump shouldered: but rather reproacheth him with his vain babbling and undiscreet language. But rather on the contrary side, the mother of Vulcan when she speaketh unto her son lovingly and in great kindness of hart, beginneth first with his lameness in this manner 
Come hither my son, come to me, come sweet hart  
My poor 〈◊〉 cripple, come crokelegd as thou art.   
By this it may appear plainly that Homer devideth those, who think it a shame to be halt, blind, or otherwise impotent. He is of opinion, that nothing is blame worthy which is not dishonest: nor any thing dishonest and shameful, which came not by our own selves, but proceeded from fortune. And therefore these two great and singular commodities, they are sure to find, who be exercised in reading and hearing of Poets: the one tending to moderation and modesty: in that they learn to reproach no man odiously, bitterly and foolishly with his fortune: the other unto magnanimity; for that they be taught themselves to make use of their own fortune: not to be cast down and troubled, for any adverse calamity that may happen; but meekly and patiently to abide the frumps, scoffs, reproachful terms that are given them, yea, and the laughters that arise thereupon. And verily evermore this sentence of Philemon ought to be ready at hand and resound in their ears: 
Nothing there is more pleasant and musical  
Then him to abide who doth thee miscall.  Howbeit, if any of these mockers, deserve to be rebuked and taunted again, vantage would be taken of the vices and imperfections of their mind, and those are to be objected against them; for so Adrastus in a tragedy when Alcmaeon provoked with these words, Alc. 

A sister thou hast (I tell thee true) who in husband's blood her hands did imbrue.   Adr. 

But thou thyself, (I must tell plain) thy mother that bore thee, hast cruelly slain.   For like as they who whip and scourge garments, touch not the body at all: even so they that upbraid a man with infortunity, or reproach him for some default or blemish in his parentage, do like vain fools beat those things that are without, but never come near the quick, nor touch the soul, ne yet any thing which truly deserveth correction, blame or biting.  
Over and beside, as we showed and taught before, how to impeach and derogate the credit of those lewd sentences and dangerous speeches, which otherwhiles we meet with in Poetical books namely, by opposing against the same, the good and grave saws of worthy persons, renowned as well for their learning as politic government: even so, if we find any civil, honest, and profitable matter in Poetry, we ought (as it were) to nourish, confirm and strengthen the same, by demonstrations and testimonies Philosophical: and evermore to remember that we ascribe the first invention of such sentences to sage Philosophers: For a just, requisite and commodious thing it is, that their credit should be in that manner fortified and authorized: namely, when the Poems which are pronounced upon the Stage in a Theatre, or sung to the harp, or taught unto children in schools, do accord with the sententious counsels of Pythagoras, the instructions of Plato, and the precepts of Chilon: when I say the rules of Bias, shall tend to the same end and effect as do those lessons that children are to read and learn. And therefore we are to teach and instruct them thus much, not slightly and by the way, but earnestly and of purpose, that these places of Poets 
Fair daughter mine, thou wert not borne  
To manage wars and arms to dread:  
Mind thou love sports, and think no scorn  
To join young folk in marriage bed.   
Likewise; 
For jupiter displeased is with thee,  
If that in fight thou unmatched be.  nothing at all differ from this notable sentence, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. i. Know thyself: but carry the very same sense and meaning.  
Also these verses 
Like fools, they do not know, iwis,  
That half than whole much better is.   
Likewise, 
Evil counsels hurt no man so much,  
As him that author is of such.  are all one in effect with the opinions and discourses of Plato in his dialogue Gorgias, and in his books of Common weal; to wit, that more dangerous it is to do wrong that to suffer injury; and more damage cometh by giving than by receiving an abuse.  
Also to this verse of Aeschylus 
Be of good cheer: Excessive pain  
Can not endure nor long remain:  
When woeful bale is at the highest,  
Then blessed boot (be sure) is nighest.  we must say, that they be the very same with that divulged sentence so often repeated by Epicurus, and so highly admired by his followers, namely, That as great pains are not durable, so long griefs are tolerable. And as the former member of this sentence was evidently expressed by Acschylus, so the other is a consequent thereof, and implied therein. For if a grief that is sore and vehement, endureth not; surely that which continueth, can not be violent or intolerable.  
Semblably this sentence of Thespis the Poet in verse 
Thou seest how jove all other gods for this doth far excel,  
Because that lies he doth abhor, and pride of heart expel.  
He is not wont to laugh and scorn, to frump he doth disdain:  
He only can not skill of lusts and pleasures which be vain.  is varied by Plato in prose, when he saith that the divine power is seated far from pleasure and pain. As for these verses of Barchylides, 
We hold it true, and ever will maintain  
That glory sound and virtue doth endure.  
Great wealth and store we take to be but vain,  
And may befall to vile men and impure.  As also these of Euripides to the like sense; 
Sage temperance I hold, we ought to honour most in heart;  
For with good men it doth remain, and never will depart.  As also these, 
When honour and worldly wealth you have,  
To furnish yourselves with virtue, take care,  
Without her if riches you get and save,  
Though blessed you seem, unhappy you are.  Contain they not an evident proof and demonstration of that which the Philosophers teach as touching riches and external goods; which without virtue profit not those at all who are possessed of them? And verily thus to reduce, and fitly to accommodate the sentences of Poets unto the precepts and principles delivered by Philosophers, will soon dissever Poetry from fables, and pluck from it the mask wherewith it is disguised; it will give, I say, unto them an esfectuall power, that being profitably spoken, they may be thought serious and persuasive: yea, and beside, will make an overture and way unto the mind of a young lad, that it may incline the rather to Philosophical reasons and discourses: namely, when he having gotten some smatch and taste already thereof, and being not void altogether of hearing good things, he shall not come altogether without judgement; replenished only with foolish conceits and opinions which he hath evermore heard from his mothers and nurse's mouth, yea, and otherwhiles (believe me) from his father, tutor and schoolmaster: who will not stick in his hearing to repute for blessed and happy, yea, and with great reverence to give the worship to those who are rich: but as for death, pain and labour, to stand in fear and horror thereof: and chose, to make no reckoning and account of virtue, but to despise the same, and think it as good as nothing, without earthly riches and authority. Certes, when young men shall come thus rawly and untrained, to hear the divisions, reasons & arguments of Philosophers, flat contrary to such opinions, they will at first be much astonished, troubled & disquieted in their minds: and no more able to admit of the same, and to reduce such doctrine, than they, who having a long time been penned in, and kept in dark, can abide the glittering rays of the Sun shine: unless they were acquainted before by little & little with some false and bastard light, not altogether so lively and clear, as it: And even so, I say, young men must be accustomed beforehand, yea, and from the very first day, to the light of the truth, intermingled somewhat with fables among, that they may the better endure the full light and sight of the clear truth, without any pain and offence at all. For when they have either heard or read before in Poems these sentences: 
Lament we ought for infants at their birth,  
Entering a world of ears that they shall have:  
Whereas the dead we should with joy and mirth  
Accompany, and bring them so to grave.   
Also, 
Of worldly thing we need no more but twain,  
For bread to eat the earth doth yield us grain:  
And for to quench our thirst, the river clear  
Affords us drink, the water fair and shear.   
Likewise, 
O tyranny so loved, and in request  
With barbarous, but hateful to the rest.   
Lastly, 
The highest pitchoes man's felicity,  
To feel the least part of adversity.  Less troubled they are & grieved in spirit, when they shall hear in the Philosopher's schools, That we are to make no account of death as a thing touching us: That the Riches of nature are definite & limited: That felicity and sovereign happiness of man, lieth not in great sums of money, ne yet in the pride of managing State affairs, nor in dignities and great authority, but in a quiet life free from pain and sorrow: in moderating all passions, and in a disposition of the mind kept within the compass of Nature. To conclude, in regard hereof, as also for other reasons before alleged, A young man had need to be well guided and directed in reading of Poets, to the end that he may be sent to the study of Philosophy not forestalled with sinister surmises; but rather sufficiently instructed before and prepared, yea and made friendly and familiar thereto by the means of Poetry.    

OF HEARING.  

The Summarie.  
BY good right, this present discourse was ranged next unto the former twain. For seeing we are not borne into this world learned; but before we can speak ourselves sensibly or any thing to reason, we ought to have heard men who are able to deliver their minds with judgement, to the end, that by their aid and help we may be better framed and fitted to the way of virtue: requisite it is that after the imbibition of good nurture in childhood, and some liberty and licence given to travelin the the writings of Poets, according to the rules above declared. Young men that are students should advance forward, and mount up into higher schools. Now for that in the time when this Author, Plutarch, lived, be sides many good books, there were a great number of professors in the liberal sciences, and namely in those rites, into which Barbarism crept afterwards: he proposeth and setteth down those precepts now which they are to follow and observe, that go to hear public lectures, orations and disputations, thereby to know how to behave themselves there; which traning haply may reach to all that which we shall hear spoken elsewhere; and is material to make us more learned and better mannered. In the first place therefore he showeth that at what time as we grow to years of discretion, we should have a feeling of our ignorance, to the end that we may be desirous to learn, and after wards hear willingly. For to increase our affection, he toucheth those dangers into which they fall, who will needs be teachers, before they be taught themselves: adjoining hereto those vices and inconveniences, which a young man is to take heed of, in hearing, and above all others, to beware of envy: as also on the other side what he ought to study. Now, for that impossible it is, that teachers should be perfect and fully accomplished in all things, he proceedeth to declare with what mind and spirit we should take knowledge and consider of their imperfections; giving withal an advertisement how to avoid another extremity, to wit, an excessive admiration of him that speaketh, namely, to leave the principal substance of doctrine: the which will be so much more accepted, in case it be commended and adorned with eloquence. He cometh afterwards to treat of those problems and questions which may be propounded in companies and meetings: also of the pleasure that we ought to take when we are told the truth: in such sort, that as we are not to envy them for their excellency, who speak any thing to raise and set us aloft: so on the contrary side we ought to carry with us thither, a spirit favourable, gracious, well prepared, hating flattery, loving reprehensions, patient, void of that rustical bashfulness which we see in over blunt and dull natures, neither presumptuous nor yet discouraged, but keeping a good measure and mean between vatne curiosity and that supine sloth and idleness, which is in the most part of those that he hearers. To conclude, he would have him that hath diligently heard a certain time, and with discretion, to exercise himself in devising and inventing some thing of his own, in such sort that he may put the same forth, so, as the outward part may discover well what goodness there lieth enclosed within.   

OF HEARING.  
THis little treatise (my friend Nicander) which being gathered and compiled by starts, as my leisure would serve As touching the manner of Hearing, I lately put in writing, and send here unto you, To the end that you being delivered now from the subjection of Masters, who were wont to command you, and having put on your virile rob and grown to man's estate, may knowhow to hear him that giveth you good counsel. For this licentious easement and delivery from all government, which some young men for desault of good nurture and education do untruly term Liberty, setteth over them more rough Lords and harder Masters by far, than were those teachers, tutors and governors, under whom they were awed in their childhood, to wit, their own irregular lusts and unordinate appetites, which now be (as it were) dischained & let loose. For, like as a woman (to use the words of Herodot us) no sooner doth of her smock or inner vesture, but therewithal she casteth off all shamefastness and modesty; even so, some young men there be, who together with the garments of infancy and childhood, lay by all grace, shame and fear: so that being once divested of that habit and apparel which became them so well, and gave them a modest and sober countenance, they are straightways full of stubborness and disobedience. As for yourself, who have oftentimes heard, that To follow God, and to obey Reason is all one, you ought to think, that the wiser sort and such as have wit indeed, repute not the passage and change from chidhood to man's estate, an absolute deliverance and freedom from commandment and subjection, but an exchange only of the commander: for that their life in steed either of a mercenary hireling or some master bought with a piece of money, who was wont to govern it in their nonage and minority, taketh then a divine and heavenly guide to conduct it, even Reason: unto which they that yield themselves obeisant, are to be reputed only free and at liberty. For they alone live as they would, who have learned to will that which they should: whereas if our actions and affections both be disordinate and not ruled by reason, the liberty of our freewill is small, slender and feeble, yea and intermingled for the most part with much repentance. Like as therefore among new Burgovises (who lately are enroled Free-Denisens to enjoy the Franchises and privileges of some city) they that were mere aliens before and strangers new come from far and remote parts, find themselves grieved at the first with many things that are done, yea and complain thereof: but such as had been inhabitants there sometime before they were made citizens, who partly by education were enured, and partly by custom and conversing, familiarly acquainted with the laws and customs of the place, never think much, but can brook well enough, and undergo with patience all charges and impositions laid upon them; So it behoveth that a young man should along time have been bred up and (as it were) half nursed in Philosophy, accustomed (I say) he ought to have been from the beginning with intermingling all that he learneth or heareth in his tender years, with Philosophical reasons, that being thus made tractable, gentle and familiar before hand, he might now betake himself wholly and in good earnest to Philosophy: which alone is able to array and adorn young men with those robes and ornaments, of reason which are manlike indeed and every way perfect. Moreover, I suppose you will be well pleased and content, to give ear unto that which Theophrastus hath written of hearing; which of all the five senses given us by nature, presenteth both the most and also the greatest passions unto the mind. For there is no object of the eye, nothing that we taste or touch that causeth such exstasies, so violent troubles or sudden frights, as those which enter and pierce into the soul, by the means of some noises, sounds and voices, incident to our hearing. And albeit this sense lie thus open and exposed to passions, yet is it more fit to admit reason than such affections: for many places there be and parts of the body that make way and give entrance unto vices for to pass unto the soul: but the only handle (as I may so say) wherewith virtue may take hold of young men are their ears: provided always, that they were kept clean and near at the first from all flattery, and defended against corrupt and lewd speeches, that they touch them not.  
Good reason therefore had Xenocrates, to give order that children should have certain aurielets or bolsters devised to hang about their ears for their defence, rather than sencers and swordplaiers: for that these are in danger only to have their ears spoiled with knocks or cuts by weapons: but the other, to have their manners corrupted and marred with naughty speeches. Neither was it any part of Xenocrates his meaning, to deprive them altogether of hearing, and to commend deafness: but to admonish and exhort them, so long to forbear the hearing of evil words, and to take heed, until other good sayings, entertained and nourished there, in long continuance of time by Philosophy, had seized the place, and were well settled in that part which is most easy to be moved and persuaded by speech: where being once lodged, they might as good sentinels and guards preserve and defend the same. Bias verily, that ancient Sage, being commanded by king Amasis, to send ento him the best and worst piece of a beast killed for sacrifice, plucked forth the tongue only, and sent it him; giving him thus much thereby to understand, That speech is the cause both of most good, and also of greatest harm. Many there be also, who ordinarily when they kiss little children, both touch their ears withal, and also bid them do the like: insinuating thus much covertly, by way of mirth and sport, That they are to love those who profit them and do them good by their ears. For this is certain and evident, that a young man deprived and debarred of hearing, being able to taste and conceive reason, will not only become barren altogether of fruit, and put out not so much as any buds and flowers at all, which may give some hope of virtue: but also chose, will soon turn to vice, and send forth of his corrupt mind many wild and savage shoots, like as a ground neglected and untilled, beareth nothing but briars, brambles and hurtful weeds. For the motions and inclinations unto pleasures, and the sinister conceits and suspicions of pains and travels (which are no strangers to us iwis, entering in directly from without forth by themselves, or else let in by evil suggestions, but inbred with us, and the natural sources of infinite vices and maladies) if a man suffer to run on end with the rains at large, whither by nature they would go, and not cut them off by sage remonstrances, or divert them another way, and thereby reform the default of nature; surely there were not upon the face of the earth any wild beast, but would be more tame and gentle than man. Forasmuch as therefore the sense of hearing bringeth unto young men so great profit, and no less peril with it, I suppose it were well done, if a man would eftsoons both devise with himself, and also discourse with others, as touching the order and manner of hearing. Forasmuch as we do see most men in this point to offend and err, in that they exercise themselves in speaking before they were used to hear: supposing that good speech requireth akinde of discipline, meditation and practice ere it be learned: as for hearing, though men use it without any art, it makes no matter how, yet they may receive profit thereby as they think. And verily, albeit at Tennis play they that practise the feat thereof, learn to take the ball as it cometh, and also to strike and send it from them again, both at once. Yet in the use of speech it is otherwise: for to receive it well, goeth before the utterance and delivery thereof: like as conception and retention of the seed, doth praeceed birth of the infant. It is said, That the eggs laid by fowls, called Wind-egges, as they proceed of imperfect and false conceptions, so they are the rudiments and beginnings of such fruits, as never will quicken and have life; even so, The speeches that young men let fall, such I mean, as never knew how to hear, nor were wont to receive profit by hearing, are nothing else indeed but very wind: and as the Poet saith, 
Words vain, obscure, and foolish every one,  
Which under clouds soon vanish and be gone.   
Certes if they would power out any liquor out of one vessel into another, they are wont to incline and turn down the mouth of the one, so, as the said liquor may pass into the receptorie without shedding any part thereof, least in stead of an infusion indeed there be an effusion only and spilling of the same: and yet thesemen cannot learn to be attentive and give good care unto others, so as nothing do escape them, which is well and profitably delivered. But here is the greatest folly and most ridiculous, that if they meet with one, who can relate the order of a feast or great dinner, discourse from point to point of a solemn show or pomp, tella tale of some dream, or make report of a quarrel and brablement between him and another, they hearken with great silence, bid him say on, and will not miss every circumstance: Let another man draw them apart, to teach them some good and profitable lesson, to exhort them to their duty, to admonish and tell them of a fault, to reprove them wherein they did amiss, or to appease their mood when they be in choler, they can not abide and endure him: for either the will set in hand to argue and refute him by arguments contending and contesting against that which hath been said, (if they be able so to do:) or if they find themselves too weak, they slink away, and run thither, where they may hear some other vain and foolish discourses, desirous to fill their ears (like naughty and rotten vessels) with any thing rather than that, which is good and necessary. They that would keep and order horses well, teach them to have a good mouth, to rain light, and to obey the bit: even so, they that bring up children as they ought, make them obsequent and obeisant to reason, by teaching them to hear much and speak little. For Spintharus praising Epaminondas upon a time, gave out thus much of him, That he could hardly meet with another man who knew more than he, and spoke less. And it is commonly said, that nature herself hath given to each us but one tongue and two ears, because we ought to hear more than we speak. Now as Silence and Taciturnity is every where and at all times a singular and sure ornament of a young man; so especially, if when he heareth another man to speak he interrupt and trouble him not, nor bay and bark (as it were) at every word: but although he do not very well like of his speech, yet hath patience and forbeareth, giving him leave to make an end: and when he hath finished his speech, setteth not upon him presently, nor beginneth out of hand to confute him, but suffereth him to pause a while, and as Aeschines saith, giveth him some time to breath and bethink himself to see, if haply he think it good to add any more to that which hath been delivered already, or change somewhat, or else retract and unsay something: Whereas, they that by and by cut a man off, with contradictions, and neither hear, nor are well heard themselves, but are ever replying upon other, whiles they speak, observe no decorum nor grace at all, but show a very undecent and unseemly behaviour. But he that is accustomed to hear patiently, and with a modest and sober countenance, better conceiveth and retaineth the good things uttered, and withal hath more leisure to mark, observe and discern that which is either unprofitable or false: He showeth himself besides, to be a lover of the truth, and is not taken for a litigious quarreler, a rash wrangler, or abitterbrawler. And therefore, some there be, who not unaptly say, That we ought no less, but rather more, to void out of the minds of young men that presumption and foolish opinion which they have of their own selves, than to rid and exclude the wind and air out of leather bags or bladders wherewith they are puffed and blown up, if we mean to infuse and put any good thing into them: for otherwise, if they be still full of that swelling wind of arrogancy and overweening of themselves, they will never receive and admit any goodness.  
Moreover, envy accompanied with a malign eye and ill will is good in no action whatsoever where it is present: but as it is an impediment and hindrance to all honest causes; so it is the worst counsellor and assistant that he can have who would be an auditor, making all those things that be profitable and for his benefit, to seem odious, unpleasant, harsh to the ear and hardly admitted; for that the nature of envious persons is, to take more pleasure in any thing else than in that which is well spoken. And verily, whosoever repineth and is vexed at the heart, to see others rich, beautiful or in authority, is only envious: for grieved he is at the welfare of others: but he that taketh discontentment in hearing a wise and sententious speech, is offended with the good of his own self: for, like as the light is a benefit to them that see; even so is speech unto the hearers if they will embrace and entertain the same: As for those kinds of envy which arise in regard of other things, there be some naughty passions and vicious conditions of the mind beside, that breed and engender them: but that manner of envy which is conceived against them that speak excellently well, springeth from a certain & important desire of vain glory, and unjust ambition, which will not suffer him that is so indisposed to give ear and attend unto the words spoken, but troubleth, disquieteth, and distracteth the mind and understanding: both to consider at one instant his own state and sufficiency, whether it be inferior to the conceit and eloquence of the speaker: and also to regard and look upon the countenance of other hearers, whether they take contentment and are in admiration of him that maketh the speech: yea and withal, is haply he be praifed, the same mind is wonderfully galled and amazed, angry and ready to fall out with all that be present, in case they approve his speech with applanse. Herewith it letteth slip also and rejecteth the matter and good sayings that were delivered already; for that the remembrance thereof is unsaverie and unpleasant: and still he is disquieted and wotteth not what to do, hearing out the rest with fear and trembling, list haply they should be better than the former, never so desirous that the speakers should hasten to an end and have done, as when they discourse and speak best. Now when the Sermon is ended, and the auditory dissolved: what doth this envious spirit then? not ruminate, be you sure, nor consider of the reason and matter delivered; but he stirreth the affections and opinions striaghtwaies, and gathereth voice (as it were in a scrutiny) of the audience. If he meet with any that give out good words to the praise of the Preacher, them he avoideth and fleeth from, as if he were in a furious fit of madness: happeneth he upon such as find fault, and be ready to misconstrue and prevert the words that were spoken, to the worst sense: these are they whom he loveth a life, to them he runneth, and with them he sorteth and keepeth company: But say that he find none of that disposition, so as he can not wrest any words to a wrong construction, than he falleth to make comparisons, and to set against him, others younger than he; who of the same theme have discoursed better, with more plausible utterance and greater source of eloquence: he never ceaseth nor giveth over corrupting, misinterpreting, and disgracing the whole speech, until he have made the same altogether unprofitable and without any edificat at all to his own self. It behoveth therefore, that he who desireth to hear, take truce (for the time) with ambition; to the end that he may give ear with patience and mildness unto him that maketh an oration or sermon, and carry himself no otherwise than if he were admitted to some sacred and festival banquet, or an invited guest to the first frmits of a solemn sacrifice; praising his eloquence when he hath spoken well and sufficiently to the piint in any matter, accepting favourably, and in best part, his good will, to deliver and communicate to others, such things as he knew, and to persuade his hearers with those reasons and motives which had induced and persuade himself. Neither must our auditors make this reckoning and conclusion, That whatsoever hath been singularly well delivered by the speaker, aught to be ascribed to chance and fortune, as if he hada let fall his words at aventuer: but impute the same to his diligence, labour and art: yea, and he ought to imitate the same with a kind of zeal and admiration. But whereas he hath faulted and done amiss, it is the part of an hearer to bend his mind, and consider well and circumspectly, what might the cause and occision be of such error: For like as (according to Xenophon) good householders know how to make profit and use, aswell of their enemies as their friends; even so they that be vigilant and attentive hearers, take good, not only by them that speak well, but by those also that miss and fail of their purpose: for barren, trivial and stale invention; improper, vain and unsignificant words; forced and foolish figures; abrupt, fond, and unseemly break forth with joy to some praise, and such like impertinences or defects, which often times besal unto them that speak in public place; are sooner espied by us that are hearers, than observed by themselves who are the speakers. And therefore we are to transfer the inquisition and correction of any such fault, from them to ourselves, by examining whether we also may not fault like wise, before we be aware? For there is nothing in the world more easy, than for a man to blame and reprehend his neighbour: but such a reprehension verily is vain and unprofitable, unless it have a reference to correct and amend the like errors in himself. In which regard every one ought to be ready in this case, according to the advertisement of Plato, to say into himself, Am not I also such an one? or do not I the semblable otherwhiles:? For even as we see our own eyes shining within the ball or apple or our neighbour's eye, so we ought by the form & manner of other men's orations to take the pattern and representation of our own; to the end that we be not too forward and bold in despising others, but may more carefully take heed to ourselves when we likewise come to speak. To this purpose also it would dec very well, to make a kind of conference and comparison in this manner; Namely, to retire ourselves apart when we have heard one make an oration, and to take in hand some points which we think had not been well and sufficiently handled, and then to assay either to supply that which was defective in some, or to correct what was amiss in others; or else to vary the same matter in other words, or at leastwise to discourse altogether thereof, with new reasons and arguments; like as Plato himself did upon the oration of Lysias. For, I assure you, no hard matter it is, but very easy to contradict the oration and reason by another pronounced, marry to set a better by it, that is a piece of work right hard and difficult. Much like, as when a certain Lacedaemonian heard that Phlip king of Macedon had demolished and razed the city Olynthus, Hath he so? quoth he, But is not able to set up such another. Now when as we shall see that entreating of the same subject and argument, there is no great differenece between our own doings and other men's before us, and that we have not far excelled them, we shall be reclaimed much from the contempt of others, and quickly repress and stay our own presumptuous pride and self love, seeing it thus checked by this trial and comparison. And verily, to admire other men's doings, as it is a thing adverse and opposite to despising, so it is a sign of a milder nature, and more inclined to indifferency and equity. But even herein also there would be no less heed taken (if not more) than in the contempt beforesaid: for as they which are so presumptuous, bold, and given so much to dispraise and despise others, receive less good and smaller profit by hearing; to the simple and harmless sort, addicted overmuch to others, and having them in admiration, are more subject to take harm and hurt thereby: verifying this sentence of Heraclîtus, 
A foolish sot astonished is anon  
A shall he here's, or seeth done,   
As for the praises therefore, of him that speaketh, we ought favorablie and of course without great affectation to pass them out of our mouths: in giving credit unto their reasons and arguments we are to be more wary and circumspect: and as touching the phrase, utterance, and action of those that exercise to make speeches, we must both see and hear the same with a single hart and a kind affection: As for the utilite and truth of those matters which are delivered, we should examine and weigh the same exactly & with more severity of judgement. Thus we who be hearens shall avoid the suspicions of evil will and hearted, & they again that are speakers shall do usno harm. For oftentimes it falleth out that upon a special faustines and good liking unto those that preach unto us, we take less heed to ourselves and by our credulity admit & embrace from their lips many false & erroneous opinions. The Lacedaemonian rulers & Lords of the Counsel of estate, upon a time liking well of the good advice and opinion of a person who was an ill liver, caused the same to be delivered openly by another of approved life and good reputation: wherein they did very wisely & as prudent politicians, to accustom the people for to affect the behaviour and honest carriage of their counsellors, rather than to respect their words only. But in Philosophy it is otherwise: For we must lay aside the reputation of the man who hath in public place spoken his mind: and examine the matter apart by itself: For that, like as in war (we say) there be many false ahrmes: so also in an auditory there pass as many vanities: The goodly grey beard and hoafie hard of the speaker, his solemn gesture and composing of his countenance, his grave eye brows, his glorious words in behalf of himself: but above all, the acclamations, the applause and clapping of hands, the leaping and shouting of the standersbies and those that are present in place, are enough otherwhiles to trouble and astonish the spirits of a young hearer, who is not well acquainted with such matters, and carry him away perforce as it were with a stream: Over and beside, there is in the very style and speech it lelfe a secret power able to beguile and deceive a young novice; namely, if it run round away, smooth and pleasant, and if withallthere be a certain affected gravity, and artificial port and loftiness, to set out and grace the matter. And even as they that play upon the pipe, be it corner, recorder of fife, fault many times in musioke, and are not perceived by the hearers; so a brave and elegant tongue, a copious and gallant oration, dazzleth the wits of the hearer, so a she can not judge fourdly of the matter in hand. Melanthus being demanded upon a time, what he thought of a Tragedy of Diogenes: Prould not see it (quoth he) for so many words, where with it was choked up But the Orations & declamations for the most part of these Sophisters, who make show of their eloquence, not only have their sentences covered (as it were) with vailses and curtains of words, but that which more is, they themselves do dulce their voice by the means of (I wot not what) devised notes, soft sounds, exquisite and musical accents in their pronunciation, so as they ravish the wits of the hearers, and transport them beside themselves: leading and carrying them which way they list: and thus for a certain little vain pleasure that they give, receive again applause and glory much more vain: Insomuch, as that befalleth properly unto them which by report Dionysius answered upon a time: who seemed to promise unto a famous minstrel for his oxcellent play in an open Theatre, to reward him with great gifts, gave him in the end just nothing, but said he had recompensed him sufficiently already: For look (quoth he) how much pleasure I have received from thee by thy song and minstrelsy, so much contentment and joy thou hast had from me by hoping for some great reward. And verily such recompense as this have those Sophisters and great Orators at their hearers hands: For admired they are so long as they sit in their chair, and give delight unto their auditory: No sooner is their speech ended, but gone is the pleasure of the one, and the glory of the other. Thus the Auditors spend their time, and the speakers employ their whole life in vain. For this cause, it behoveth a young hearer to sequester and set aside the rank superfluity of words and to seek after the fruit itself: and herein not to imitate women, that plait and make garlands of flowers, but to follow the Bees: For those women laying for, and choosing fair flowers and odoriferous herbs, twist, plat and compose them so, as they make thereof a piece of work (I must needs say) pleasant to the senses; but fruitless altogether, and not lasting above one day: whereas the Bees flying oftentimes over & over the meadows full of Violets, Roses and Crowtoes, light at length upon Thyme, an herb of a most strong sent, and quick taste and there settle, 
Intending then great pains to take  
The yellow home for to make,  and when they have gathered from them some profitable juice or liquor to serve their turn, they fly away unto their proper work and business. Semblably ought an auditor who is studious of skill and knowledge, and hath his mind and understanding free from passions, to let pass, affected, flourishing and superfluous words, yea, and such matters also as be fit for the Stage and Theatre, reputing them to be food meet for drone Bees (I mean Sophisters) and nothing good for honey: and rather with diligence and attentive heed to sound the very depth and profound intention of the speaker, for or draw that which is good & profitable: remembering eftsoons, that he is not come thither as to a Theatre, either to see sports & pastimes, or to hear musiscke and Poetical fables, but into a school & auditory, for to learn how to amend and reform his life by the rule of reason. And therefore he must enter into his won heart and examine himself when he is alone, how he was moved and affected with the Lecture of Sermon that he heard; consider (I say) and reason he ought with himself whether he find any turbulent passions of his mind thereby dulced and appeased; whether any grief or heaviness that trouble him be mitigated and assuaged; whether his courage 2nd confidence of heart be more resolute and better confirmed; and in one word, whether he feel any instinct unto virtue and honesty, to be more kindled and inflamed. When we rise out of the barbers chair, we think it meet presently to consult with a mirror or looking glass; we struck our head to see whether he hath polled and knotted it well; we consider and peruse our beard and every hair whether we have the right cut, & be trimmed as we ought: a shame it were then, to depart from a school or a lecture, and not immediately to retire apart and view our mind well, whether it have laid away any foolish thought that troubled it: whether it be eased of superfluous and wandering thoughts, that clogged it: and be thereby more lightsome and pleasant. For neither a Baine and Striph, as Ariston saith nor a sermon doth any good, if the one do not scour the skin, and the other cleanse the heart.  
A young man therefore is to take joy and delight if he have made profit by a lecture, or be better edified by hearing a sermon. And yet I write not this, as if this pleasure should be the final end that he proposeth to himself when he goeth to such a lecture or sermon, neither would I have him think that he should depart out of the Philosopher's school, with a merry note singing jocundly, or with a fresh and cheerful countenance: ne yet to use means to be perfumed with sweet odours and ointments, whereas he hath more need of Embracations, Fomentations and Cataplasms: but to take it well and be thankful, if haply by some sharp words and cutting speeches, any man hath cleansed and purified his heart full of cloudy mists and palpable darkness, like as men drive Bee-hives and rid away Bees with smoke. For albeit, he that preacheth unto others ought not to be altogether earelesse and negligent in his style, but that it may carry with it some pleasure, delectation and grace, aswell as probability and reason: yet a young man when he cometh to hear should not stand so much thereupon, but have least regard thereto, especially at the first: marry afterwards (I will not say) but he may well enough have an eye unto it also. For like as those that drink, after they have once quenched their thirst, engraven or imprinted upon them: even so, when a young student or auditor is well replenished and furnished with doctrine, after he hath breathed and paused a while, may be permitted to consider farther of the speech, namely, what elegant and copious phrases it hath. As for him, who at the very beginning attendeth not nor cleaveth unto the matter and substance, but hunteth after the language only, desiring that it should be pure Attic, fine and smooth: I can liken such a one to him, who being empoisoned will not drink any Antidore or counterpoison, unless the pot or cup wherein it is, be made of the Colian earth in Aitica: or who in the cold of winter will not wear a garment, except it were made of the wool that came from the Attic sheeps back; but had rather sit still idle doing nothing and stirring not, with some thin mantel and overworn gaberdine cast over him, such as be the orations of Lystas his penning. The errors committed in this kind, have been the cause why there is found so little wit and understanding, and chose so much tongue and bibble-babble, such vain chattering about words in young men throughout the Schools: who never observe the life, the deeds, the carriage and demeanour in State government of a Philosopher, but give all praise and commendation to his fine terms and elegant words, only setting out his eloquence, action and ready delivery of his oration, but will not in any wise learn or inquire whether the matter so uttered be profitable or unprofitable, necessary or vain and superfluous.  
Next to these precepts, how we should hear Philosopher to discourse at large and with a continued speech, there followeth in good consequence a rule and advertisement as touching short questions and problems. A man that cometh as a bidden guest unto a great supper, aught to be content with that which is set before him upon the table, and neither to call for any viands else, nor to find fault with those that are present: He also that is invited to a Philosophical feast or banquet (as I may say) of discourses, in case they be matters and questions certain and chosen long before for to be handled, aught to do nothing else but hear with patience and silence him that speaketh: for they that distract and hale him away to other themes, interposing interrogations and demands, or otherwise move doubts or make oppositions as he speaketh, are troublesome and unportunate hearers, such as be unsociable and accord not with an auditory; who beside that they receive no profit themselves, disturb doth the speaker and the speech also. But in case the party that standeth ad oppositum, do of himself will and pray his auditors to ask him questions and to propose what they will, than they ought to propound such demands as be either necessary or profitable. Ulysses verily in Homer was mocked by the wooers of his wife, because 
He called for shieves of bread to eat,  
And not for swords or candrons near.   
For it was reputed a sign of magnanimity to demand, aswell as to give things of great price and value. Much more than might a man deride and laugh at the auditor, who will move unto a Master or Doctor of the Chair, trifling, frivolous and fruitless questions, as otherwhiles some of these young men do: who taking pleasure to vaunt themselves, and to show what great scholars they are in Logic or the Mathematics, are wont to pur forth questions as touching the sections of things indefinite: also, what be literal motions or Diametrical? Unto whom a man may very well answer as Philotimus the Physician did unto one that had a suppuration in his chest, and by reason of an inward ulcer of his lungs was in a consumption, who coming to him for counsel, desired that he would give him a medicine for a little whitflow growing about the root of his nail: but Philotimus perceiving by his colour and shortness of wind in what case he was; My good friend (quoth he) you have no such weed of a cure for your whitflow, you may hold your peace well enough at this time for any danger there: Even so, it may be said unto one of these young men; There is no time now to think or dispute upon such questions, but rather by what means you may be freed from presumptuous overweening of yourself, from pride and arrogance, from wanton love and foolish toys: that you may be settled in a sound state of life, devoid of vanity. Moreover, this young man is to have a good cie and ragard unto the sufficiency of the speaker, whether it be by natural inclination, or gotten by experience and practise, and accordingly to frame and direct his questions in those points wherein he is most excellent: and in no wise to force him who is well read and studied in Moral Philosophy, to answer unto Physical or Mathematical questions: or him that is better seen in Natural Philosophy to draw unto Logic, for to give his judgement of Hypothetical propositions & to resolve them: or to move the knots & make solution of false Syllogisms, Elenches sophistical and such fallacies. For like as one that would go about to cleave wood with a key, or unlock a door with an axe, seemeth not so much to do hurt unto those instruments, as to deprive himself of the proper use and commodity as well of the one as the other; Even so, they that require of a Speaker that which he is not apt unto by nature, or wherein he is not well practised, & will not reap, gather & take that which willingly cometh from him, and wherewith he is able to furnish them, are not only hurt therein, but incur the name and blame of a peevish, froward and malicious nature. Furthermore this heed would be taken, not to overly him with many questions, nor oftentimes to urge him therewith. For this bewrayeth one, that in some sort loveth to hear himself speak and would be seen: whereas, when another doth propose a question to give attentive ear, and that with mildness and patience, is a sign of a studious person, and one that knoweth well how to behave himself in company, and can abide that others should learn aswell as he: unless perhaps some private and particular occurrent do urge the contrary, or some passion do hinder, which had need to be stayed and repressed, or else some malady and imperfection which requireth remedy. For peradventure as Heraclitus saith, it were not good for one to hide and conceal his own ignorance, but to let it appear and be known, and so to cure it. But say, that some fit of choler, some assault of scrupulous superstition, or some violent quarrel and jar with one household and kinsfolk, or some furious passion proceeding from wanton lust, 
Which doth the secret heart strings move,  
That erst were never stirred with love,  trouble our understanding, and put it out of tune, we ought not for the avoiding of a reproof, to fly for refuge to other matters, and interrupt the discourse begun, but be desirous to hear of such things, even in open places of exercises; and after the exercise or lecture done, to take the Philosophers or Readers aside, and confer with them, to be further informed: not as many do, who are well enough contented to hear Philosophers speak of others, and have them theresore in great admiration: but if it chance that a Philosopher leave other men, and turn his speech to them apart, to tell them freely and boldly what he thinketh, admonishing and putting them in mind of such things as do concern them, than they are in a chafe, than they say he speaks beside the text and more than needs. For of this opinion are these men, That we are to hear Philosophers in Schools for pastime, as players of Tragedies in a Theatre upon the Stage: As for other matters out of the School, they hold them no better men than themselves: and to say a truth, good reason have they so to deem of Sophisters, who are no sooner out of their chairs, or come down from off the pulpit, and when their books, and petty introductions are laid out of their hands, but in other serious actions and parts of this life to be discoursed of, a man shall find them as raw as other, and nothing better skilled than the vulgar sort. But to come unto those Philosophers indeed, who worthily are so to be called and esteemed, ignorant are such persons above rehearsed, that their words (be they spoken in earnest or in game) their becks, their nods, their countenance, whether it be composed to smiling or to frowning, but principally their words directed privately to every one a part, be all significant, and carry some fruit commodious to those that with patience will give them leave to speak, and are willing and used to hearken unto them.  
As concerning the praises which we are to attribute unto them for their eloquence and well speaking, there would in this duty some wise caution & mean be used: for that in this case, neither overmuch nor too little is commendable & honest. And verily that scholar, who seemeth not to be moved or touched with any thing that he heareth, is a heavy and unsupportable auditor, full of a secret presumptuous opinion of himself, conceited inwardly of his own sufficiency, of an inbred self love and aptness to speak much of his own doings, showing evidently that he thinketh he can speak better than that which hath been delivered: In regard whereof, he never stirs brow any way decently, he uttereth not a word to testific that he heareth willingly and with contentment: but by a certain forced silence, affected gravity, and counterfeit countenance, would purchase and win unto himself the reputation of a stayed man, of a profound and deep clerk: and is as sparie of his praises, as of his purse and money in it, imagining that they bid him loss, who would have him part with any one jot thereof, as if he rob himself of so much as he imparted to another. For many therebe who misconstrue & interpret in ill sense one sentence of Pythagor as, when he saith, That he had gotten this fruit by the study of Philosophy, namely, to have nothing in admiration. And these men are of this opinion, that because they are not to admire, praise, and honour others, therefore they must despise and dispraise them, and by the disdain and contempt of others they think themselves to seem grave and venerable. For reason Philosophical, although it rejecteth that wonder and admiration which proceedeth of doubt or ignorance, for that she knoweth the cause of every thing, and is able to discourse thereof; yet for all that it condemneth not courtesy, magnanimity and humanity. For certes unto such as truly and certainly are good, a right great honour it is to honour those that are worthy of honour: also for a man to adorn another is an excellent ornament proceeding from a superabundance (as it were) of glory and honour which is in himself, void of all envy and malice. Whereas those that be niggards in praising of another, seem to be poor & bare themselves that way, & bewray how hungry they be after their own praises. Now on the contrary side, he who without all judgement & discretion at every word and syllable (in a manner) is ready to rise up & give acclamation, offendeth as much another way, being a man of levity and inconstancy, oftentimes displeaseth, even them that be the speakers, but always is offensive and troublesome to other assistants about him: causing them to rise up eftsoons & lift up themselves against their wills, drawing them perforce to do as they see him do, and even for very shame and modesty, to set up some cries and acclamations with him for company. Now after that he hath reaped no fruit nor edification by the oration that he hath heard, for that he had so troubled and disquieted the auditory by his unseasonable praises, he returneth from thence with one of these three additions to his style: namely, either a Mocker, a Flatterer, or a Blockhead, who understood not what was said. A judge I must needs say, when he sitteth upon the seat of justice to hear and determine causes, aught to give ear unto both parties without hatred or favour, void of all affection, and respective only to right and equity. But in the auditories where learned men are met together, there is neither law nor oath hindereth us, but that we may hear him with favour and benevolence, who doth speak and discourse unto us. And even our ancients in old time were wont to place and set Mercury in their temples near unto the Graces, giving us thereby to know that above all things, a speech publicly delivered, requireth a gracious and friendly audience: for they never thought that the speaker would be such an outcast, or so far short and unsufficient; but if he were not able either to say somewhat of his own invention praise worthy, or to report from ancients that which is memorable, or to deliver the subject matter of his speech together with his drift and intention, so as it deserved applause: yet at leastwise, his elocution and disposition of every part might be commendable: for according to the old proverb, 
With Calthrap-thistles rough and keen, with pricky Restharrow,  
Close Scions fair and white are seen with soft walflowres to grow.  For if some to show their wit, have taken upon them the praise of vomiting, others of fever, and someiwis of a pot or cauldron, and yet have not failed of favour and approbation: how can it otherwise be, but that the oration compassed by a grave parsonage, who in some sort is reputed, or at leastwise called a Philosopher, should minister unto benevolent, gracious and courteous Auditors some respite and opportunity of time for to praise and commend the same? All those that are in the flower and prime of their age, saith Plato, one way or other, do affect and move him that is enamoured on them: insomuch as if they be white of colour, he calleth them the children of the gods: if black of hue, he terms them manly and magnanimous: be one hawke-nosed, such he nameth Royal and of a kingly race: is he camoise or flat nosed, him he will have to be gentle, pleasant and gracious: and to conclude, looketh one pale & yellow, then to cover and mollify in some sort that ill colour, he useth to call him Hony-face: and every one of these defects, he loveth and embraceth as several beauties: For in love is no lack, and of this nature it is to clasp and cleave to every thing that it can reach or meet withal, in manner of Ivy; much more than will he that is a studious scholar & a diligent hearer, find always one thing or other, for which he may seem worthily to praise any one that mounteth up into the chair for to declaim or discourse. For even Plato himself, who in the oration of Lysias commended not the invention; and as for the disposition thereof, utterly found fault therewith as disorderly and confused: yet he praised his style and elocution, & gave this attribute unto it, that every word was perspicuous and lightsome, and withal ran round, as if they all had been artificially wrought with the Turner's instrument. A man that were so disposed, may seem in reason to reprove in Archylocus the argument and subject matter: in Parmenides the composition of his verses: in Phocylides, the mean and homely matter: the loquacity of Euripides, and the inequality or uneven style of Sophocles: After which sort, you shall have among Orators and Rhetoricians, one who cannot express the natural disposition of a man, another who hath no power in resembling passions & affections, and another again who faileth in grace and yet each one of them commendable enough for some particular and especial gift, either to move or to delight. In which regard, the hearers also, may find sufficient matter & pleasure enough to gratify and content if they list, those that speak and make orations to them. For some of them it sufficeth although we do not testify our good liking of them by lively and open voice, to give them a favourable regard of the eye, to show them a mild and gentle visage, a cheerful look, an amiable disposition of the countenance, without any sign of sadness and heaviness. And verily, these things are grown now to be of common and ordinary, that we can afford them even to those who speak but so so and to no purpose at all; insomuch, as every auditory can skill thereof: But to sit still modestly in his place without any token of disdain; to bear the body upright, leaning neither one way nor other; to fix the eye wistly upon him that speaketh; to show a forward gesture, as if one gave great attention and marked every word seriously; to set and dispose the countenance plain, pure and simple, without any signification at all, not only of contempt or discontentment, but also of all other cares and thoughts whatsoever, be evident tokens of approbation, and tend all thereto. For, as in every thing else, beauty and favour is composed and framed (as it were) of many numbers meeting and concurring in one, and all together at the same time, and that by a certain symmetry, consonance and harmony: but that which is foul and ill favoured, is bred immediately by the least thing in the world, that either is wanting, or added and put to absurdly, otherwise than it should; even so we may notably observe in this action of hearing, not only the knitting and bending of the brows, or the heavy cheer of the visage, a crooked aspect and wandering cast of the eye, a writhing away or turning about of the body, an undecent change of the thighs cross one over another: but a very nod of the head, or wink of the eye alone, the whispering or rounding one of another in the ear, a bare smile, gapings, and drowsy yawnings, as if a man were ready to drop asleep: finally, the hanging down of the head, and whatsoever gestures of that sort, we are countable for as fault worthy, and they would be carefully taken heed of. Howbeit, there be some of this opinion, that the speaker indeed aught to look unto himself and his behaviour when he is aloft; but the hearers beneath need not. They would (I say) have him who is to make a speech in public place, to come well prepared, and with diligent praemeditation of that which he ought to say: but as for the hearers, they have no more to do but to take their places, without any forthinking of the matter, without any care and regard at all of duty and demeanour after they be set, as if they were come to a very supper, and nothing else, there to take their repast or ease themselves, whiles others take pain and travel. And yet a guest that goeth to sup with another, hath something to do and observe when he sits at the table, if he would be thought civil and mannerly: how much more then, in all reason, is an auditor bound so to do, who is to hear another speak. For he is partaker with him of his speech, yea, and by right, a coadjutour of him: he ought not then, to examine rigorously his faults escaped; he is not to sift narrowly, and weigh in severe balance each word of his, and every gesture; whiles he himself (exempt from censure and controlment, and without fear of being espied and searched into) committeth many enormities, unseemly parts, and incongruities in hearing. For like as at Tennis play, he that receiveth the ball, aught in the stirring and motion of his body to accommodate himself handsomely and in order to his fellow that smit it; even so between the speaker and the hearer, if both of them observe their duty and decency, there would be a mutual and reciprocal porportion. Now in yielding praises unto the Reader or Speaker, we must not inconsiderately, use all manner of terms and acclamations without discretion: For Epicurus himself is not well liked, but odious, when he saith, That upon the reading of any letters missive from his friends unto him, they that were about him did set up excessive outcries and applauses, with troublesome clapping of their hands. And verily those who bring in now adays into the auditory uncoth and strange noises by way of acclamation; they also who have brought up these terms, O heavenly and divine speech; The voice of God & not of man, uttered by his mouth; and, Who is able to come near unto him? as though it were not sufficient, simply thus to say; O well said, Wisely spoken, or, Truly delivered; which were the testimonies and signs of praise which Plato, Socrates, and Hyperides used in old time) such men, I say, do highly offend, and pass the bounds of decency exceeding much: nay, they do traduce and abuse the speakers themselves, as though they did hunt after, and lay for such excessive and proud commendations. Those also be odious and unpleasant, who as if they were in some judicial Court, depose and give formal testimony as touching the honour of the speakers, and bind the same with an oath: neither be they in less fault, who without regard of the quality of persons, do accommodate unto them their titles of praise beside all decorum: As for example, when they be ready to cry aloud unto a Philosopher, O quick and witty saying! and unto an old man, O what a brave and jolly speech is this! transferring and applying unto Philosophers those words and terms that ordinarily are used or attributed to players, or such as exercise and show themselves in scholastical declamations: and to a serious and sober oration, giving a praise more beseeming a light and wanton courtesan: which is as much, as if upon the head of a victorious champion, they should set a garland of lilies or roses, and not of the laurel or wild olive tree. Euripides verily, the Poet, when one overheard him as he prompted and indited unto the actors or persons in the Chorus, a certain song set to musical harmony, and therewith laughed heartily whiles he instructed them in singing the same; If thou wert not (quoth he) some blockish and senseless dolt, thou wouldst never laugh when I sung a heavy mixt-Lydian tune, or a note to a dump or doleful dittic. Semblably, a grave Philosopher, and a man exercised in managing State affairs, might very well in mine advice, cut off, and repress the delicate insolency of some auditor, over wanton disposed to mirth and jollity, by saying thus unto him; Thou seemest unto me a brainsick fellow, & untaught: for otherwise whiles I am teaching, preaching, and reproving vices, discoursing and reading of policy and the administration of Common weal, of the nature of the gods, or the duty of a Magistrate, thou wouldst neither dance thus and sing as thou dost. For consider with me in truth, what a disorder is this, That when a Philosopher is in the School at his lecture reading, they within should keep a crying and howling, and make such noises, as they that be without can not tell whether it be some piper, harper, or dancer that they thus do praise, such a confused brute they make within. Moreover, we ought not to hear the reprehensions, rebukes, and corrections of Philosophers, rechlesly without sense of grief and displeasure, nor yet unmanly: for they that can so well abide to be reproved or blamed by a Philosopher, and make nothing ado at it, insomuch as when they be found fault withal, they fall a laughing, or can find in their hearts to praise those that do reprehend them, much like unto these flattering Parasites, who are content to extol and commend their good masters that give them their meat and drink, notwithstanding they be reviled and taunted by them: these fellows (I say) of all others, be most rash, audacious and bold, showing thereby their shameless impudency, which is no good nor true argument of courage and fortitude. As for a pretty scoff pleasantly delivered, and in mirth, without any wrong meant, or touch of credit, if a man know how to take it well, and be not moved thereby to choler and displeasure, but laugh it out, it doth argue no base mind, nor want of wit and understanding, but is a liberal and gentelmanlike quality, savouring much of the ingenuous manner of the Lacedæmonians. But to hear a sharp check that toucheth the very quick, and a reprehension to reform manners, delivered in cutting and tart words, much like unto an eager and biting medicine, and therewith not to be cast down, and shrink together for fear, nor to run all into a sweat, or be ready to 〈◊〉 and stagger with a dizziness in the head, for very shame that hath set the heart on fire, but to seem inflexible and nothing thereat moved, smiling in some sort, and drily scoffing after a dissembling manner, is a notable sign of a most dissolute and illiberal nature, past all grace, and that basheth for nothing, being so long wont and enured to evil doing; in such sort, as the heart and conscience is hardened and overgrowen with a certain brawn and thick skin, which will not receive the mark or wale of any lash, be it never so smart. And as there be many such, so you shall meet with other youths of another nature mere contrary unto them; who if they happen but once to be checked and to hear ill, are soon gone, and will not turn again, but quit the Philosophy schools for ever. These being endued by nature with the good rudiments and beginnings of virtue tending unto felicity another day, to wit, Shamefastness and Abashment, lose the benefit thereof, in that by reason of their overmuch delicacy and effaeminate minds, they can not abide reproofs, nor with generosity endure correctious, but turn away their itching ears, to hear rather the pleasant and smooth tales of some flatterers or sophisters, which yield them no fruit nor profit at all in the end. For as he, who after incision made, or the fear of dismembering performed by the Chirurgeon, runneth away from him, and will not tarry to have his wound bound up or seared, sustaineth all the pain of the cure, but misseth the good that might ensue thereof: even so he, who unto that speech of the Philosopher which hath wounded and lanced his folly and untowardness, will not give leisure to heal the same up, and bring it to a perfect & confirmed skin again, goeth his ways with the painful bit and dolorous sting, but wanteth all the help and benefit of Philosophy. For not only the hurt that Telephus received, as Euripides saith, 
By scales of rust both ease and remedy found,  
Filled from the spear, that first didmake the wound.  but also the prick inflicted upon a towardly young man by Philosophy, is healed by the same words that did the hurt. And therefore when he findeth himself checked and blamed, feel he must and suffer some smart, abide (I say) he ought to be bitten, but not to be crushed and confounded therewith, not to be discouraged and dismayed for ever. Thus he is to think of himself being now inducted in Philosophy, as if he were a novice newly instituted and processed in some religious orders and sacred mysteries: namely, that after he hath patiently endured a while the first expiatory purifications and troubles, he may hope at the end thereof to see and find some sweet and goodly fruit of consolation, after this present disquietness and agony. Say also, that he were wrongfully and without cause thus snubbed and rebuked by the Philosopher, yet he shall do well to have patience and sit out the end. And after the speech finished, he may address an Apology unto him and justify himself, praying him to reserve this liberty of speech and vehemency of reproof which he now used, for to repress and redress some other fault, which he shall indeed have committed. Moreover, like as in Grammar, the learning to spell letters and to read: in Music also to play upon the Lute or Harp; yea and in bodily exercise, the feat of wrestling and other activities, at the beginning be painful, cumbersome, and exceeding hard, but after that one be well entered and have made some progress therein, by little and little continual use and custom (much after the manner of conversing and acquaintance among men) maketh mastery, engendereth further knowledge, and then every thing that was strong and difficult before, proveth familiar and easy enough both to say and do: Even so, it fareth in Philosophy, whereat the first there seemeth no doubt to be some strangeness, obscurity, and I wot not what barrenness, aswell in the terms and words, as in the matters therein contained: Howbeit, for all that a young man must not for want of heart be astonished at the first entrance into it, nor yet for faintness be discouraged and give over: but make proof and trial of every thing, persevere and continue in diligence, desirous ever to pass on still and proceed further, and as it were, to draw well before, waiting and attending the time which may make the knowledge thereof familiar by use and custom, the only means which causeth every thing that is of itself good and honest, to be also sweet and pleasant in the end. And verily this familiarity will come on apace, bringing with it a great clearness and light of learning: it doth ingenerate also an ardent love and affection to virtue, without which love, a man were most wretched or timorous, if he should apply himself to follow another course of life, having once given over for want of heart the study of Philosophy. But peradventure it may fall out so, that young men not well experienced, may find at the beginning such difficulties in some matters that hardly or unneath at all they shall be able to comprehend them. Howbeit, they are themselves partly the cause that they do incur this obscurity and ignorance: who being of diverse and contrary natures, yet fall into one and the selfsame inconvenience. For some upon a certain respectuous reverence which they bore unto their Reader and Doctor, or because they would seem to spare him, are afraid to ask questions, and to be confirmed and resolved in doubts arising from the doctrine which he delivereth: and so give signs by nodding their heads that they approve all, as if they understood every thing very well. Others again by reason of a certain importune ambition and vain emulation of others, for to show the quickness and promptitude of their wit, and their ready capacity, giving out that they fully understand that which they never conceived, by that means attain to nothing. And thus it cometh to pass, that those bashful ones, who for modesty and shamefastness are silent and dare not ask that whereof they are ignorant, after they be departed out of the auditory, are in heaviness and doubtful perplexity, until at last they be driven of necessity with greater shame to trouble those who have once already delivered their doctrine, to run (I say) unto them back again and move questions anew. And as for these ambitious, bold and presumptuous persons they be forced to palliate, cover and disguise their ignorance and blindness which abideth with them for ever. Therefore casting behind us and rejecting all such stupidity and vanity; let us take pains and endeavour howsoever we do, to learn and thoroughly to comprehend, all profitable discourses that shall be taught unto us: and for to effect this, let us be content gently to bear the scoffs and derisions of others, that think themselves quicker of conceit than ourselves: according to the example of Cleanthes and Xenocrates, who being 〈◊〉 what more gross and dull of capacity than others their school-fellowes, ran not therefore away from school, nor were any whit discouraged, but the first that scoffed and made sport with themselves, saying, they were like unto narrow mouthed vessels and brazen tables, for that they hardly conceived any thing that was taught them, but they retained and kept the same safe and surely when they had it once: for not only as Phocylides saith, 
Who seeks in the'nd for goodness and for praies,  
Mean while must be deceived many wates.  but also to suffer himself to be mocked oftentimes and to endure much reproach, to abide broad jests and skurrile scoffs: expelling ignorance with all his might and main: yea, and conquering the same.  
Moreover, we must be careful to avoid one fault more, which many commit on the contrary side; who for that they be somewhat slow of apprehension and idle withal, are very troublesome unto their teachers, and importune them overmuch: when they be apart by themselves, they will not take any pains nor labour to understand that which they have heard; but they put their masters to new travel, who read unto them: ask and inquiring of them ever and anon concerning one and the same thing, resembling herein young callow birds which are not yet feathered and fledged, but always gaping toward the bill of the dam, and so by their good wills would have nothing given them, but that which hath been chewed and prepared already. Now there be others yet, who desirous beyond all reason to be counted quick of wit and attentive hearers, weary their masters even as they are reading unto them, with much prittle prattle, interrupting them every foot in their lectures, demanding of them one thing or other that is needless and impertinent, calling for proofs and demonstrations of things where no need is: 
Thus they much pains for little take,  
And of short way long journeys make.  According as Sophocles said, making much work, not only for themselves, but also for others: For staying their teacher thus as they do every foot with their vain and superfluous questions, as if they were walking together upon the way, they hinder the course of the lecture, being so often interrupted and broken off. These fellows then according to the saying of Hierom, in this doing are much like to cowardly & dastardly cur dogs, which, when they be at home within house, will bite the hides and skins of wild beasts, and lie tugging at their shagged hair: but they dare not touch them abroad in the field. Furthermore, I would give those others, who are but soft spirited and slow withal, this counsel that retaining the principal points of every matter, they supply the rest apart by themselves, exercising their memory, and as it were leading it by the hand to all that dependeth thereto: to the end that when they have conceived in their spirit the words of others, as it were the elementary beginning and the very seed, they might nourish and augment the same: For that the mind and understanding of man is not of the nature of a vessel that requireth to be filled up: but it hath need only of some match (if I may so say) to kindle and set it on fire (like as the matter standeth ever in need of the efficient cause) which may engender in it a certain inventive motion, and an affection to find out the truth. Well then, like as if a man going to his neighbour for to fetch fire, and finding there good store, and the same burning light in the chimney, should sit him down by it and warm himself continually thereat, and never make care to take some of it home with him, you would take him to be unwise: even so he, that cometh to another for to learn, and thinketh not that he ought to kindle his own fire within and make light in his own mind, but taketh pleasure in hearing only, and there sitteth by his master still, and joyeth only in this contentment: he may well get himself a kind of opinion by the words of another, like a fresh and red colour by sitting by the fire side: but as for the moss or rust of his mind within, he shall never scour it out, nor disperse the darkness by the light of Philosophy.  
Now if there be need yet of one precept more to achieve the duty of a good auditor, it is this, That we ought to remember eftsoons that which now I have to say: namely, That we exercise our wit and understanding by ourselves, to invent something of our own, aswell as to comprehend that which we hear of others: to the end that we may acquire within ourselves a certain habitude, not sophistical nor historical, that is to say, apparent only, and able to recite barely that which we have been taught by others, but a more inwardly imprinted and philosophical, making this account, that the very beginning of a good life, is to hear well and as we ought.    

OF MORAL VIRTUE.  

The Summarie.  
BEfore he entereth into the discourse of virtues and vices, he treateth of Moral virtue in general: propounding in the first place the diversity of opinions of Philosophers as touching this point: the which he discusseth and examineth: Wherein after that he had begun to dispute concerning the composition of the soul, he adjoineth his own opinion touching that property, which Moral virtue hath particularly by itself, as also wherein it differeth from contemplative Philosophy. Then having defined the Mediocrity of this virtue, and declared the difference between Continence and Temper ance, he speaketh of the impression of reason in the soul. And by this means addresseth himself against the Stoics, & disputeth concerning the affections of the soul: proving the inequality therein, with such a refutation of the contrary objections, that after he had taught how the reasonless part of the soul, aught to be managed, he discovereth by diverse similitudes and reasons, the absurdities of the said Stoic Philosophers, who instead of well governing and ruling the soul of man, have as much as liethin them, extinguished and abolished the same.   

OF MORAL VIRTUE.  
MY purpose is to treat of that virtue, which is both called and also reputed Moral, and namely wherein it differeth especially from virtue contemplative: as having for the subject matter thereof, the passions of the mind, and for the form, Reason: Likewise of what nature and substance it is; as also, how it doth subsist and hath the Being: to wit, whether that part of the soul which is capable of the said virtue be endued and adorned with reason as appropriate and peculiar unto it; or, whether it borrow it from other parts, & so receiving it, be like unto things mingled, and adhering to the better: or rather, for that being under the government and rule of another, it be said to participate the power and puissance of that which commendeth it? For, that virtue also may subsist and have an essential being, without any subject matter and mixture at all, I suppose it is very evident and apparent. But first and foremost, I hold it very expedient, briefly to run through the opinions of other Philosophers, not so much by way of an Historical narration and so an end, as, that when they be once showed and laid abroad, our opinion may both appear more plainly, and also be held more surely.  
Menedemus then, who was borne in the city Eretria, abolished all plurality and difference of virtues, supposing that there was but one only virtue, and the same known by sundry names: For he said, that it was but one and the same thing, which men called Temperance, Fortitude, and justice: like as if one should say, A Reasonable creature and a man, he meaneth the self same thing. As for Ariston the Chian, he was of opinion likewise, that in substance there was no more but one virtue, the which he termed by the name of Health: mary, in some diverse respects, there were many virtues, and those different one from another: as namely for example, if a man should call our eyesight, when it beholdeth white things Leucothea: when it seeth black Melanthie: and so likewise in other matters. For virtue, (quoth he) which concerneth and considereth what we ought either to do or not to do, beareth the name of Prudence: when it ruleth and ordereth our lust or concupiscence, limiting out a certain measure, and lawful proportion of time unto pleasures, it is called Temperance: if it intermeddle with the commerce, contracts and negotiation between man and man, than it is named justice: like as (to make it more plain) a knife is the same still, although it cut, now one thing, and then another: and the fire notwithstanding it worketh upon sundry matters, yet it remameth always of one and the same nature. It seemeth also, that Zeno the Citiean, inclined in some sort to this opinion, who in 〈◊〉 Prudence, saith, that when it doth distribute to every man his own, it ought to be called justice when it is occupied in objects either to be chosen or avoided, than it is Temperance; and in bearing or suffering, it should be named Fortitude. Now, they that defend and maintain this opinion of Zeno, affirm, that by Prudence he understandeth Science or Knowledge. But Chrysyppus, who was of this mind, that each virtue had a peculiar quality, and according to it, aught to be defined and set down, wist not how (ere he was aware) he brought into Philosophy, and as Plato saith, raised a swarm of virtues never known before, and wherewith the schools had not been acquainted. For like as of Valiant he derived Valour, of Just justice, of Clement Clemency: so also of Gracious, he comes in with Gratiositie, of Good, Goodness, of Great, Greatness, of Honest, Honesty, and all other such like Dexterities, asfabilities and courtesies, he termed by the name of virtues, and so pestered Philosophy with new, strange and absurd words, more iwis than was needful.  
Now these Philosophers agree jointly all in this, that they set down virtue to be a certain disposition and power of the principal part of the soul, acquired by reason: or rather, that it is reason itself: and this they suppose as a truth confessed, certain, firm and irrefragable. They hold also, that the part of the soul, subject to passions, sensual, brutish and unreasonable, differeth not from reason by any essential difference, or by nature: but they imagine, that the very part and substance of the soul which they call understanding, reason, and the principal part, being wholly turned and changed, as well in sudden passions, as alterations by habitude and disposition, becometh either vice or virtue, and in itself hath no brutishness at all: but is named only unreasonable, according as the motion of the appetite and lust is so powerful, that it becometh mistress, and by that means she is driven and carried forcibly to some dishonest and absurd course, contrary to the judgement of reason: For they would have that very motion or passion itself to be reason, howbeit depraved and nought, as taking her force and strength from false and perverse judgement. Howbeit, all these (as it may seem) were ignorant of this one point; namely, that each one of us (to speak truly) is double and compound: And as for one of these duplicities, they never thoroughly saw; that only which is of the twain more evident, to wit, the mixture or composition of the soul and body they acknowledge. And yet, that there is beside a certain duplicity in the soul itself, which consisteth of two diverse and different natures: and namely, that the brutish and reasonles part, in manner of another body is combined and knit into reason by a certain natural link of necessity: It seemeth that Pythagoras himself was not ignorant: And this we may undoubtedly gather and conjecture by his great diligence which he employed in that Music and Harmony which he inferred for the dulcing, taming & appeasing of the soul: as knowing full well, that all the parts thereof were not obedient and subject to instruction, learning and discipline, ne yet such as might by reason be altered and trained from vice to virtue: but required some other kind of persuasive power cooperative with it, for to frame the same and make it gentle and tractable: for otherwise it would be hardly or never conquered by Philosophy, and brought within the compass of obedience; so obstinate and rebellious it is. And Plato verily was of this opinion (which he professed openly, and held as a firm and undoubted truth) that the soul of this universal world, is not simple, uniform, and uncompounded, but mixed (as it were) of a certain power of 
* 1. The same  Identity and of Diversity. For after one sort, it is governed and turned about continually in an uniform manner, by means of one and the same order, which is powerful and predominant over all: and after another sort again, it is divided into circles, sphoeres, and motions, wandering and contrary in manner to the other: whereupon dependeth the beginning of diversity in generation of all things in the earth. Semblably (quoth he) the soul of man, being a part and portion of that universal soul of the world, composed likewise of proportions and numbers answerable to the other, is not simple and of one nature or affection, but one part thereof is more spiritual, intelligible and reasonable, which ought of right and according to nature have the sovereignty and command in man: the other is brutish, sensual, erroneous, and disorderly of itself, requiring the direction and guidance of another. Now, this is subdivided again into other two parts; where of the one is always called Corporal or Vegetative; the other Thymocides, as one would say, Irascible and Concupiscible; which one while doth adhere and stick close to the foresaid gross and corporal portion: and otherwhiles to the more pure and spiritual part, which is the Discourse of reason; unto which according as it doth frame and apply itself, it giveth strength and vigour thereto. Now the difference between the one and the other, may be known principally by the fight and resistance that often times is between understanding and reason on the one side, and the concupiscence and wrathful part on the other; which showeth that these other faculties are often disobedient and repugnant to the best part. And verily, Aristotle used these principles and grounds especially above all others at the first, as appear by his writings: but afterwards, he attributed the irascible part unto the concupiscible, confounding them both together in one, as if ire were a concupiscence or desire of revenge. Howbeit, this he always held to the very end, That the brutish and sensual part, which is subject unto passions, was wholly and ever distinct from the intellectual part, which is the same that reason: not that it is fully deprived of reason, as is that corporal and gross part of the soul, to wit, whereby we have sense only common with beasts, and whereby we are nourished as plants. But whereas, this being furred and deaf, and altogether uncapable of reason, doth after a sort proceed and spring from the flesh, and always cleave unto the body: the other sensual part which is so subject unto passions, although it be in itself destitute of reason, as a thing proper unto it: yet nevertheless apt and fit it is to hear and obey the understanding and discoursing part of the mind; insomuch as it will turn unto it, suffer itself to be ranged and ordered according to the rules and precepts thereof; unless it be utterly spoiled and corrupted, either by blind and foolish pleasure, or else by a loose and intemperate course of life. As for them that make a wonder at this, and do not conceive how that part being in some sort brutish and unreasonable, may yet be obedient unto reason, they seem unto me as if they did not well comprehend the might and power of reason: namely, how great it is, and forcible, or how far forth it may pierce and pass in command, guidance and direction; not by way of rough, churlish, violent, and irregular courses, but by fair and formal means, which are able to do more by gentle inducements and persuasions, than all the necessary constraints and enforcements in the world. That this is so, it appeareth by the breath, spirits, sinews, bones, and other parts of the body, which be altogether void of reason: howbeit, so soon as there ariseth any motion of the will, which shaketh (as it were) thereines' of reason never so little, all of them keep their order, they agree together, and yield obedience. As for example, if the mind and will be disposed to run, the feet are quickly stretched out and ready for a course; the hands likewise settle to their business, if there be a motion of the mind either to throw, or take hold of any thing. And verily, the Poet Homer most excellently expresseth the sympathy and conformity of this brutish part of the soul unto reason, in these verses; 
Thus wept the chaste Penelope, and drenched her lovely face  
With dreary tears, which from her eyes ran trickling down apace  
For tender heart, bewailing sore the loss of husband dear,  
Ulysses' height, who was in place set by her side full near.  
And he himself in soul, no less, didpitie for to see  
His best be loved thus to weep: but wise and crafty he  
Kept in his tears: for why? his eyes within the lids were set  
As stiff as iron and sturdy horn, one drop would they not shed.  In such obedience to the judgement of reason he had his breath, spirits, his blood and his tears. An evident proof hereof is to be seen in those, whose flesh doth rise upon the first sight of fair and beautiful persons: for no sooner doth reason or law forbid to come near and touch them, but presently the same falleth, lieth down, and is quiet again without any stirring or panting at all. A thing very ordinary and most commonly perceived in those, who be enamoured upon fair women, not knowing at first who they were. For so soon as they perceive afterwards, that they be their own sisters or daughters, their lust presently cooleth, by means of reason that toucheth it and interposeth itself between: so that the body keepeth all the members thereof decently in order, and obedient to the judgement of the said reason. Moreover, it falleth out oftentimes, that we eat with a good stomach and great pleasure certain meats and viands, before we know what they are: but after we understand and perceive once that we have taken either that which was unclean or unlawful and forbidden: not only in our judgement and understanding we find trouble and offence thereby; but also our bodily faculties agreeing to our opinion are dismayed thereat: so that anon, thore ensue vomits, sick quawmes, and overturnings of the stomach, which disquiet all the whole frame. And were it not, that I greatly feared to be thought of purpose, to gather and insert in my discourse such pleasant and youthful inducements, I could infer in this place Psalteries, Lutes, haps, Pipes, Flutes, and other like musical instruments, how they are devised by Art, for to accord and frame with human passions: for notwithstanding they be altogether without life, yet they cease not to apply themselves unto us, and the judgement of our minds, lamenting, singing, and wanton disporting together with us, resembling both the turbulent passions, and also the mild affections and dispositions of those that play upon them. And yet verily it is reported also of Zeno himself, that he went one day to the Theatre for to hear the Musician Amoebeus, who sung unto the Harp: saying unto his scholars, Let us go Sirs and learn what harmony and music the entrails of beasts, their sinews and bones: Let us see (I say) what resonance and melody bare wood may yield, being disposed by numbers, proportions and order. But leaving these examples, I would gladly demand and ask of them, if when they see dogs, horses, and birds, which we nourish and keep in our houses, brought to that pass by use, seeding and teaching, that they learn to render sensible words, to perform certain motions, gestures, and diverse seats, both pleasant and profitable unto us; and likewise, when they read in Homer, how Achilles encouraged to battle both horse and man; they do marvel still and make doubt, whether that part and faculty in us, whereby we are angry, do lust, joy or grieve, be of that nature that it can well obey reason, and be so affected and disposed thereby that it may give assent thereto: considering especially, that it is not seated or lodged without, nor separated from us, ne yet framed by any thing which is not in us: no nor shapen by forcible means and constraint, to wit, by mould, stroke of hammer, or any such thing: but as it is fitted and forged by nature, so it keepeth to her, is conversant with her, and finally perfited and accomplished by custom and continuance. Which is the reason that very properly Manners be called in Greek by the name 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to give us to understand, that they are nothing else (to speak plainly and after a gross manner) but a certain quality imprinted by long continuance of time, in that part of the soul which of itself is unreasonable: and is named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, for that the said reasonless part framed by reason, taketh this quality or difference (call it whether you will) by the means of long time and custom which they term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. For reason is not willing to root out quite all passions (which were neither possible nor expedient) but only it doth limit them within certain bounds, and setteth down a kind of order: and thus aftera sort causeth Moral virtues not to be impassibilities, but rather mediocrities and regularities, or moderations of our affections: and this it doth by the means of prudence and wisdom, which reduceth the power of this sensual and pathetical part, unto a civil and honest habitude. For these three things (they say) are in the soul of man, to wit, a natural puissance or faculty, a passion or motion, and also an habitude. Now the said faculty or power is the very beginning, and (as a man would say) the matter of passions, to wit, the power or aptness to be angry, to be ashamed, or to be confident and bold. The passion is the actual moving of the said power: namely, anger itself, shame, confidence or boldness. The habitude is a settled and confirmed strength established in the sensual or unreasonable part by continual use and custom: which if the passions be ill governed by reason, becometh to be a vice: and chose, a virtue; in case the same be well ordered and directed thereby. Moreover, forasmuch as Philosophers do not hold and affirm, that every virtue is a mediocrity nor call it Moral: to the end therefore, that we may the better declare and show the difference, we had need to fetch the beginning of this discourse farther off.  
Of all things then that be in the world, some have their essence and being of themselves absolutely and simply: others respectively and in relation to us. Absolutely have their being the earth, the heaven, the stars, and the sea: Respectively and in regard of us, Good, evil, profitable, hurtful, pleasant, and displeasant. Now it being so, that reason doth contemplate and behold, the one sort aswell as the other: the former rank of those things which are sunply and absolutely so, pertain unto science and speculation, as their proper objects: the second kind of those things which are understood by reference and regard unto us, pertain properly unto consultation and action. And as the virtue of the former sort is called Sapience: so the virtue of the other is named Prudence. For a difference there is between Prudence and Sapience: in this, that Prudence consisteth in a certain relation & application of the contemplative faculty of the soul unto Action, and unto the regiment of the sensual part according to reason: by which occasion, Prudence had need of the assistance of Fortune: whereas Sapience hath nothing to do with it, no more than it hath need of consultation, for to attain and reach unto the end it aimeth at. For that indeed it concerneth such things as be ever one and always of the same sort. And like as the Geometrician never consulteth as touching a triangle, to wit, whether it hath three angles equal to twain that be right, or no? Because he knoweth assuredly that it hath (for all consultations are concerning things that vary and alter sometime after one sort, and otherwhiles after another, and never meddleth with those that be firm, stable, and immutable) even so, the understanding and contemplative faculty of the mind, exercising her functions in those first and principal things which be permanent, and have evermore the same nature, not capable of change and mutation, is sequestered and exempt altogether from consultation. But Prudence which descendeth to things full of variety, error, trouble, and confusion, must of necessity eftsoons intermeddle with casualties, and use deliberation in things more doubtful and uncertain: yea and after it hath consulted to proceed unto action, calling and drawing unto it the reasonless part also to be assistant and present, as drawn into the judgement of things to be executed. For need those actions have of a certain instinct and motion to set them forward, which this Moral habitude doth make in each passion, and the same instinct requireth likewise the assistance of reason to limit it that it may be moderate, to the end that it neither exceed the mean, nor come short and be defective: for that it cannot be chosen but this brutish and passable part hath motions in it; some overvehement, quick and sudden, others as slow again, and more slack than is meet. Which is the reason that our actions cannot be good but after one manner: whereas, they may be evil after diverse sorts: like as a man cannot hit the mark but one way: marry he may miss sundry ways, either by overshooting or coming short. The part and duty then, of that active faculty of reason according to nature, is to cut off and take away all those excessive or defective passions, and to reduce them unto a mediocrity. For whereas the said instinct or motion, either by infirmity, effeminate delicacy, fear, or slothfulness, doth fail and come short of duty and the end required, there active reason is present ready to rouse, excite, and stir up the same. Again on the other side, when it runneth on end beyond all measure, after a dissolute and disorderly manner, there reason is priest, to abridge that which is too much, and to repress and stay the same: thus ruling and restraining these pathetical motions, it breedeth in man these Moral virtues whereof we speak, imprinting them in that reasonless part of the mind: and no other they are than a mean between excess and defect. Neither must we think, That all virtues do consist in a mediocrity: for Sapience or Wisdom, which stand in no need at all of the brutish and unreasonable part, and consist only in the pure and sincere intelligence and discourse of understanding, and not subject to all passions, is the very height and excellency of reason, perfect and absolute of itself: a full and accomplished power (I say) wherein is engendered that most divine, heavenly and happy knowledge. But Moral virtue which savoureth somewhat of the earth, by reason of the necessities of our body, and in which regard it standeth in need of the instrumental ministery of the pathetical part, for to work and perform her operations, being in no wise the corruption or abolition of the sensual and unreasonable part of the soul, but rather the order, moderation and embelishment thereof, is the extremity and height of excellence, in respect of the faculty and quality: but considering the quantity is rather a mediocrity, taking away the excess on the one side and the defect on the other.  
But now, forasmuch as this term of Mean or Mediocrity may be understood divers ways, we are to set down what kind of mean this Moral virtue is. First and foremost therefore whereas there is one mean compounded of two simple extremes, as a russet or brown colour between white and black: also that which containeth and is contained, must needs be the midst between the thing that doth contain and is contained, as for example, the number of 8. is just between 12. and 4. like as that, which taketh no part at all of either extreme, as namely those things which we call Adiaphora, Indifferent, and do partake neither good nor ill: In none of these significations or senses can this virtue be called a mean or mediocrity. For surely it may not be in any wise a composition or mixture of two vices which be both worse: neither doth it comprehend the less and defective: or is comprehended of that which is overmuch above decency, and excessive, ne yet is it altogether void of passions and perturbations, subject to excess and defect, to more and less than is meet. But this moral virtue of ours, as it is in deed, so also it is called a Mean, especially in respect of that mediocrity which is observed in the Harmony and accord of sounds. For like as in Music there is a note or sound called the Mean, for that it is the mids between the treble and base, which in Greek be called Hypate and Neat, and lieth just betwixt the height and loudness of the one, and the lowness or baseness of the other: Even so, moral virtue being a motion and faculty about the unreasonable part of the soul, tempereth the remission and intention, and in one word taketh away the excess and defect of the passions, reducing each of them to a certain Mediocrity and moderation that falleth not on any side.  
Now, to begin with Fortitude, they say it is the mean between Cowardice & rash Audacity, of which twain the one is a defect, the other an excess of the ireful passion. Liberality, between Nigardise & Prodigality: Clemency & Mildness, between senseless Indolence and Cruelty: justice, the mean of giving more or less than due, in contracts and affairs between men: like as Temperance, a mediocrity between the blockish stupidity of the mind moved with no touch of pleasure, & an unbrideled looseness whereby it is abandoned to all sensuality. Wherein especially & most clearly is given us to understand & see the difference between the brutish & the reasonable part of the soul: & thereby evident it is that wandering passions be one thing, & reason another: for otherwise we should not discern Continency from Temperance, nor Incontinency from Intemperance, in pleasure and lusts, if that faculty of the mind whereby we judge, and that whereby we cover and desire were all one and the same: but now, Temperance is, when reason is able to manage, handle and govern the sensual and passionate part (as if it were a beast brought up by hand and made tame and gentle, so as it will be ready to obey it in all desires and lusts, yea and willing to receive the bit) whereas Continency is when reason doth rule and command concupiscence as being the stronger, and leadeth it, but not without some pains and trouble thereof, for that it is not willing to show obedience, but striveth, flingeth out sidelong, & goeth crossed, insomuch as it hath enough to do for to master it with stripes of the cudgel, and with hard bits of the bridle to hold it in and restrain it, whiles it resisteth all that ever it may, and putteth reason to much agony, trouble and travail: which Plato doth lively represent unto us by a proper similitude, saying, that there be two draft beasts which draw the chariot of our souls, whereof the worst doth both wince and strive against the other fellow in the same yoke, and also troubleth the cochman or charioteer, who hath the conduct of them; putting him to his shifts that he is feign always to pull in and hold his head hard, otherwhiles glad to let him slack and give him the head for fear, as Simonides saith, 
Lest that his purple reins full soon out of his hands should slip anon.  Thus you see what the reason is, why they do not vouchsafe Continency, the name of a perfect virtue in itself, but think it to be less than virtue. For there is not in it a certain mediocrity arising from the Symphony and accord of the worst with the better: neither is the excess of passion cut away, ne yet doth the appetite yield itself obedient and agreeable to reason: but doth trouble and vex, and is troubled and vexed reciprocally, being kept down perforce and by constraint; like as in a seditious state, both parties at discord, intending mischief and war one against another, dwell together within the precinct of one wall: insomuch as the soul of a continent person for the fight and variance between reason and appetite, may aptly be compared as Sophocles saith unto a city, 
Which at one time is full of incense sweet  
Resounding mirth with loud 〈◊〉 song,  
And yet the same doth yield in every street  
All signs of grief, with plaints and groans among.  And hereupon it is alos, that they hold Incotinencie to be less than Vice: mary, Intemperance they will have to be a full & complete vice indeed: For that in it as the affection is ill, so the reason also is corrupt & depraved: and as by the one it is incited & led to the appetite of filthiness & dishonesty, so by the other through perverse judgement it is induced to give consent unto dishonest lusts, and withal groweth to be senseless & hath no feeling at all of sins and faults which it comitteth: whereas Incontinency retaineth still a right and sound judgement by means of reason: Howbeit through the vehement and violent passion which is stronger than reason, it is carried away against the own judgement. Moreover, in these respects, it differeth from Intemperance: For that the reason of the incontinent person is overmatched with passion: but of the other, it doth not so much as enter combat therewith. He, albeit he contradict, gainsay, and strives a while, yet in the end yieldeth unto lusts and followeth them; but the Intemperate man is led thereby, and at the first giveth consent, and approoveth thereof. Again, the Intemperate person is well content, and taketh joy in having sinned: whereas the other is presently grieved thereat. Again, he runneth willingly and of his own accord to commit sin and villainy; but the incontinent man, maugre and full against his mind doth abandon honesty. And as there is this distinct difference plainly seen in their deeds and actions, so there is no less to be observed in their words and speeches. For the sayings ordinarily of the Intemperate person be these and such like, 
What mirth in life, what pleasure, what delight,  
Without content in sports of Venus' bright?  
Were those joys past, and I for them unmeet,  
Ring out my knell, bring forth my winding sheet.   
Another saith, 
To eat, to drink, to wench, are principal  
All pleasures else, I Accessortes call.  As if with all his hart and soul he were wholly given to a voluptuous life, yea and overwhelmed therewith. And no less than those, he also who hath these words in his mouth, 
Now suffer me to perish by and by  
It pleaseth nay it booteth me to die.  speaketh as one whose appetite and judgement both were out of order and diseased. But the speeches of Incontinent persons be in another key and far different. For one saith, 
My mind is good and thither doth sway,  
My nature bad, and puts it away.   
Another, 
Alas, alas, To see, how Gods above have sent to men on earth this misery  
To know their Good, and that which they should love yet wanting grace, to do the contrary!   
And a third, 
Now plucks, now hales, of deadly 〈◊〉 a fire: but surely, hold my reason can no more:  
Than anchor flank stay ship from being split, when grounded 'tis on sands near to the shore.  He nameth unproperly and without good grace the slanck of an anchor resting lightly upon the loose sand, to signify the feeble hold that reason hath which is not resolute and firmly seated, but through the weakness and delicacy of the soul, rejecteth and forsaketh judgement: And not much unlike hereunto, is this comparison also that another maketh in a contrary sense; 
Much like a ship which fastened is to land  
With cordage strong, where of we may be bold,  
The winds do blow, and yet she doth withstand  
And check them all, her cables take such hold.   
He termeth the judgement of reason, when it resisteth a dishonest act, by the name of Cable and Cordage; which notwithstanding afterwards may be broken by the violence of some passion (as it were) with the continual gales of ablustring wind. For to say a very truth, the intemperate person is by his lusts and desires carried with full sail to his pleasures; he giveth himself thereto, and thither directeth his whole course: but the incontinent person tendeth thither also: howbeit (as a man would say) crookedly and not directly, as one desirous and endeavouring to withdraw himself, and to repel the passion that draweth and moveth him to it, yet in the end he also slideth and falleth into some foul and dishonest act: Like as Timon by way of biting, scoff, traduced and reproved Anaxarchus in this wise, 
Here shows itself the dogged force of Anaxarchus fell,  
So stubborn and so perminent, when once he took apitch:  
And yet as wise as he would seem, awretch (I heard folk tell)  
He judged was: for that to vice and pleasures overmich  
By nature prone he was: a thing that Sages most do shun,  
Which brought him back out of the way, and made him dote anon,  For neither is a wise Sage properly called continent, but temperate: nor a fool incontinent, but intemperate: because the one taketh pleasure and delight in good and honest things; and the other is not offended nor displeased with foul and dishonest actions. And therefore incontinency resembleth properly a mind (as I may so say) Sophistical, which hath some use of reason, but the same so weak, that it is not able to persevere and continue firm in that which it hath once known and judged to be right. Thus you may see the differences between Intemperance and Incontinence: As for Continency & Temperance, they differ also in certain respects correspondent in some proportion unto those on the contrary side. For remorse, sorrow, displeasure and indignation, do not as yet abandon and quit continence: whereas in the mind of a temperate person, all lieth plain and even on every side; nothing there but quietness and integrity, in such sort, as whosoever seeth the great obeisance and the marvelous tranquility whereby the reasonless part is united & incorporate together with the reasonable, might well say, 
And then anon the winds were down, a calm ensued straightway:  
No waves were seen, some power divine the sea asleep did lay.  namely, when reason had once extinguished the excessive, furious, and raging motions of the lusts and desires. And yet these affections and passions which of necessity nature hath need of, the same hath reason made so agreeable, so obeisant, so friendly and cooperative, yea, and ready to second all good intentions and purposes ready to be executed; that they neither run before it, nor come dragging behind; ne yet behave themselves disorderly, no, nor show the least disdisobedience: so as each appetite is ruled by reason, and willingly accompanieth it, 
Like as the sucking foal doth go  
And run with dam, both to and fro.  The which confirmeth the saying of Xenocrates, touching those who earnestly study Philosophy, and practise it: For they only (quoth he) do that willingly, which others do perforce and for dread of the law: who forbear indeed to satisfy their pleasures, and turn back, as if they were scared from them for fear of being bitten of some cursed mastiff or shrewd cat, regarding nothing else but danger that may ensue thereupon. Now, that there is in the soul a sense and perceivance of that strength, firmity, and resolution to encounter sinful lusts and desires, as if it had a power to strive and make head again, it is very plain and evident: howbeit, some there be, who hold and maintain, That Passion is nothing different from Reason: neither (by their saying) is there in the mind a dissension or sedition (as it were) of two diverse faculties: but all the trouble that we feel, is no more but an alteration or change of one & the self same thing to wit, reason both ways; which we ourselves are not able to perceive, for that forsooth it changeth suddenly and with such celerity: never considereth all the while, that the same faculty of the mind is framed by nature to concupiscence and repentance both: to be angry and to fear: inclined to commit some foul and dishonest fact, by the allurement of pleasure, and chose restrained from the same for fear of pain. As for lust, fear, and all such like passions, they are no other (say they) but perverse opinions and corrupt judgements not arising and engendered in any one part of the soul by itself, but spread over that which is the chief and principal, to wit, reason and understanding: where of they be the inclinations, assensions, motions, and in one word, certain operations, which in the turning of an hand be apt to change and pass from one to another: much like unto the sudden braids, starts and run to and fro of little children, which how violent soever they be and vehement, yet by reason of their weakness are but slippery, unsteadfast and unconstant.  
But these assertions and oppositions of theirs, are checked and refuted by apparent evidence and common sense: For what man is he that ever felt in himself a change of his lust and concupiscence into judgement: and chose an alteration of his judgement into lust: neither doth the wanton lover cease to love when he doth reason with himself and conclude, That such love is to be repressed, and that he ought to strive and fight against it: neither doth he then give over reasoning and judging, when being overcome through weakness, he yieldeth himself prisoner and thrall to lust: but like as when by advertisement of reason he doth resist in some sort a passion arising, yet the same doth still tempt him: so likewise when he is conquered and overcome therewith, by the light of the same reason at that very instant, he seeth and knoweth that he sinneth and doth amiss: so, that neither by those perturbations is reason lost and abolished; nor yet by reason is he freed and delivered from them: but whiles he is tossed thus to and fro, he remaineth a neuter in the mids, or rather participating in common of them both. As for those who are of opinion, that one while the principal part of our soul is lust and concupiscence: and then anon that it doth resist & stand against the same: are much like unto them, who imagine & say, that the hunter & the wild beast be not twain, but one body, changing itself, one while into the form of an hunter, and another time, taking the shape of a savage beast: For both they in a manifest and apparent matter should seem to be blind and see nothing: and also these bear witness and depose against their own sense, considering that they find and seel in themselves really not a mutation or change of one only thing, but a sensible strife and sight of two things together within them. But here they come upon us again and object in this wise. How cometh it to pass then (say they) that the power and faculty in man which doth deliberate and consult is not likewise double (being oftentimes distracted, carried, and drawn to contrary opinions, as it is, namely, touching that which is profitable and expedient) but is one still and the same? True, we must confess, that divided it seemeth to be: But this comparison doth not hold, neither is the event and effect alike: for that part of our soul wherein prudence and reason is seated, fighteth not with itself, but using the help of one and the same faculty, it handleth diverse arguments, or rather being but one power of discoursing it is employed in sundry subjects and matters different: which is the reason that there is no dolour and grief at one end of those reasonings and discourses which are without passion; neither are they that consult forced (as it were) to hold one of those contrary parts against their mind and judgement; unless peradventure it so fall out, that some affection lie close to one part or other, as if a man should secretly and under hand lay somewhat beside in one of the balances or scales, against reason for to weigh it down. A thing (I assure you) that many times falleth out: and then it is not reason that is poised against reason; but either ambition, emulation, favour, jealousy, fear, or some secret passion, making semblance as if in show of speeches, two reasons were at variance and differed one from another. As may appear by these verses in Homer: 
They thought it shame the combat to reject,  
And yet for fear they durst not it accept.  Likewise in another Poet: 
To suffer death it dolorous though with renown it meet:  
Death to avoid is cowardice: but yet our life is sweet.  And verily in determining of controversies between man and man in their contracts and suits of law, these passions coming between, are they, that make the longest delays, & be the greatest enemies of expedition and dispatch: like as in the counsels of kings and princes, they that speak in favour of one party and for to win grace, do not upon any reason of two sentences incline to the one, but they accommodate themselves to their affection, even against the regard of utility & profit. And this is the cause that in those States which be called Aristocraties, that is to say, governed by a Senate or Counsel of the greatest men: the Magistrates who sit in judgement, will not suffer Orators & Advocates at the Bar to move affections in all their Pleas: for in Truth, let not the discourse of reason be impeached and hindered by some passion, it will of itself tend directly to that which is good and just. But in case there do arise a passion between, to cross the same, than you shall see pleasure and displeasure to raise a combat and dissension, to encounter that which by consultation would have been judged and determined. For otherwise, how cometh it to pass that in Philosophical discourses and disputations, a man shall never see it otherwise, but that without any dolour and grief, some are turned and drawn oftentimes by others into their opinions, and subscribe thereto willingly? Nay even Aristotle himself, Democritus also and Chrysippus have been known to retract and recant some points, which before time they held, and that without any trouble of mind, without grief and remorse, but rather with pleasure and contentment of heart: because in that speculative or contemplative part of the soul, which is given to knowledge and learning only, there reign no passions to make resistance, insomuch as the brutish part being quiet and at repose, loveth not curiously to intermeddle in these and such like matters: By which means it happeneth, that the reason hath no sooner a sight of truth, but willingly it inclineth thereto, and doth reject untruth and falsity: for that there lieth in it and in no other part else, that power and faculty to believe and give assent one way, as also to be persuaded for to alter opinion and go another way. Whereas chose, the counsels and deliberations of worldly affairs, judgements also, and arbitriments, being for the most part full of passions, make the way somewhat difficult for reason to pass, and put her to much trouble. For in these cases, the sensual and unreasonable part of the soul is ready to stay and stop her course; yea and to fright her from going forward, meeting her either with the object of pleasure; or else casting in her way stumbling blocks of fear, of pain, of lusts and desires. And verily the deciding and judgement of this disputation lieth in the sense, which feeleth aswell the one as the other, and is touched with them both: For say that the one doth surmount and hath the victory, it doth not therefore defeit utterly and destroy the other; but drawn it is thereto perforce, and making resistance the while. As for example, the wanton and amorous person when he checketh and reproveth himself therefore, useth the discourse of reason against the said passion of his; yet so, as having them both, actually subsisting together in the soul: much like as if with his hand he repressed and kept down the one part, inflamed with an hot fit of passion, and yet feeling within himself both parts, and those actually in combat one against the other. chose, in those consultations, disputes, and inquisitions which are not passionate, and wherein these motions of the brutish part have nothing to do, such I mean as those be especially of the contemplative part of the soul: if they be equal and so continue, there ensueth no determinat judgement and resolution: but a doubt remaineth, as if it were a certain pause or stay of the understanding, not able to proceed farther, but abiding in suspense between two contrary opinions. Now if it chance to incline unto one of them, it is because the mightier hath overweighed the other & annulled it, yet so, as it is not displeased or discontent, no nor contesteth obstinately afterwards against the received opinion. To be short, & to conclude all in one general word; where it seemeth that one discourse and reason is contrary unto another; it argueth not by and by a conceit of two diverse subjects, but one alone in sundry apprehensions and imaginations. Howbeit, whensoever the brutish and sensual part is in a conflict with reason, and the same such that it can neither vanquish, nor be vanquished without some sense of grievance: then incontinently this battle divideth the soul in twain, so as the war is evident and sensible. And not only by this fight a man may know how the source and beginning of these passions differeth from that fountain of reason: but no less also by the consequence that followeth thereupon. For seeing that possible it is for a man to love one child that is ingenuous and towardly disposed to virtue: as also affect another as well, who is ill given and dissolute: considering also that one may use anger unjustly against his own children or parents: and another chose justly in the defence of children or parents against enemies and tyrants. Like as in the one there is perceived a manifest combat and resistance of passion against reason; so in the other, there may be seen as evident a yielding and obeisance thereof, suffering itself to be directed thereby, yea and willingly running and offering her assistance and helping hand. To illustrate this by a familiar example, it happeneth otherwhiles, that an honest man espouseth a wife according to the laws, with this intention only to cherish and keep her tenderly, yea and to company with her duly, and according to the laws of chastity and honesty: howbeit afterwards in tract of time, and by long continuance and conversing together, which hath bred in his heart the affection of love, he perceiveth by discourse of reason, and findeth in himself that he loveth her more dearly and entirely, than he purposed at the first. Semblably, young scholars having met with gentle and kind masters, at the beginning, follow and affect them in a kind of zeal, for the benefit only that they reap by them. Howbeit afterwards in process of time, they fall to love them; and so in stead of familiar and daily disciples, they become their lovers, and are so called. The same is usually to be seen in the behaviour and carriage of men toward good magistrates in cities, neighbours also, kinsfolk and allies: For they begin acquaintance one with another, after a civil sort only, by way of duty or necessity and use: but afterwards by little and little ere they be aware, they grow into an affectionate love of them, namely, when reason doth concur, persuading & drawing unto it that part of the mind which is the seat of passions and affections. As for that Poet whosoever he was, that first wrote this sentence, 
Two sorts there be of bashfulness, the one we cannot blame,  
The other troubleth many an hour, and doth decay the same.  Doth he not plainly show that he hath found in himself by experience oftentimes, that even this affection by means of lingering delay, and putting off from time to time, hath put him by the benefit of good opportunities, and hindered the execution of many brave affairs? Unto these proofs and all gations precedent, the stoics being forced to yield, in regard they be so clear and evident: yet for to make some way of evasion and escape, they call shame, bashfulness; pleasure, joy; and fear, wariness or circumspection. And I assure you, no man could justly find fault with these disguisements of odious things with honest terms: if so be they would attribute unto these passions the said names when they be ranged under the rule of reason, and give them their own hateful terms indeed, when they strive with reason and violently make resistance. But when convinced by the tears which they shed, by trembling and quaking of their joints, yea by change of colour going and coming; in stead of naming Dolour and Fear directly, come in with (I wot not what) pretty devised terms of Morsures, Contractions or Conturbations: also when they would cloak and extenuate the imperfection of other passions, by calling lust a promptitude or forwardness to a thing: it seemeth, that by a flourish of fine words, they devise shifts, evasions, and justifications, not philosophical but sophistical. And yet verily they themselves again do term those joys, those promptitudes of the will, and wary circumspections by the name of Eupathies, i good affections and not of Apathies, that is to say, Impassibilities: wherein they use the words aright and as they ought. For than is it truly called Eupathie, i. a good affection, when reason doth not utterly abolish the passion, but guideth and ordereth the same well in such as be discreet and temperate. But what befalleth unto vicious and dissolute persons? Surely, when they have set down in their judgement and resolution, to love father and mother as tenderly as one lover may another, yet they are not able to perform so much. Mary say, that they determine to affect a courtesan or a flatterer, presently they can find in their hearts to love such most dearly. Moreover, if it were so, that passion and judgement were both one, it could not otherwise be, so soon as one had determined that he ought to love or hate, but that presently love or hate would follow thereupon, But now it falleth out clean contrary; for that the passion as it acordeth well with some judgements and obeyeth; so it repugneth with others, and is obstinate and disobedient: whereupon it is, that themselves enforced thereto by the truth of the thing, do affirm and pronounce that every judgement is not a passion, but that only, which stirreth up and moveth a strong and vehement appetite to a thing: confessing thereby, no doubt, that one thing it is in us which judgeth, and another thing that suffereth, that is to say, which receiveth passions: like as that which moveth, and that which is moved be diverse. Certes, even Chrysippus himself, defininig in many places what is Patience and what is Continency, doth avouch, That they be habitudes, apt and fit to obey and follow the choice of reason: whereby he showeth evidently that by the force of truth, he was driven to confess and avow, That there is one thing in us which doth obey and yield, and another which being obeyed, is yielded unto, and not obeyed, is resisted.  
Furthermore, as touching the Stoics, who hold, That all sins and faults be equal, neither will this place, nor the time now serve to argue against them, whether in other points they swerve from the truth: howbeit, thus much by the way I dare be bold to say, That in most things they will be found to repugn reason, even against apparent and manifest evidence. For according to their opinion, every passion or perturbation is a fault, and whosoever grieve, fear or lust, do sin: but in those passions great difference, there is seen, according to more or less: for who would ever be so gross, as to say, that Dolons' fear was equal to the fear of Ajax? who as Homer writeth, 
As he went out of field did turn and look behind full oft:  
With knee before knee decently, and so retired soft.  or compare the sorrow of King Alexander, who would needs have killed himself for the death of Clitus, to that of Plato for the death of Socrates? For dolours and griefs increase exceedingly when they grow upon occasion of that which happeneth beside all reason; like as any accident, which falleth out beyond our expectation, is more grievous, and breedeth greater anguish than that whereof areason may be rendered, and which a man might suspect to follow. As for example, if he who ever expected to fee his son advanced to honour, and living in great repuration among men, should hear say that he were in prison, and put to all manner of torture, as Parmeno was advertised of his son Philotas. And who will ever say, that the anger of Nicocreon against Anaxarchus, was to be compared with that of Magas against Philemon, which arose upon the same occasion, for that they both were spitefully reviled by them in reproachful terms; for Nicocreon caused Anaxarchus to be braid in a mortar with iron pestles: whereas Magas commanded the Executioner to lay a sharp naked sword upon the neck of Philémon, and so to let him go without doing him any more harm. And therefore it is, that Plato named anger the sinews of the soul, giving us thereby to understand, that they might be stretched by bitterness, and let slake by mildness. But the Stoics, for to avoid and put back these objections and such like, deny that these stretchings and vehement fits of passions be according to judgement, for that it may fail and err many ways: saying, they be certain pricks or stings, contractions, diffusions or dilatations, which in proportion and according to reason, may be greater or less. Certes, what variety there is in judgement, it is plain and evident. For some there be that deem poverty not to be ill: others hold, that it is very ill: and there are again, who account it the worst thing in the world; insomuch as to avoid it, they could be content to throw themselves headlong from high rocks into the sea. Also you shall have those, who reckon death to be evil, in that only it depriveth us of the fruition of many good things: others there be, who think and say as much but it is in regard of the eternal torments & horrible punishments that be under the ground in hell. As for bodily health, some love it no otherwise than a thing agreeable to nature and profitable withal: others take it to be the sovereign good in the world, as without which they make no reckoning of riches, of children, 
Ne yet of crown and regal dignity,  
Which men do match even with divinity.  Nay, they let not in the end to think and say, That virtue it serveth in no stead, and availeth nought, unless it be accompanied with good health: whereby it appeareth, that as touching judgement, some err more, some less. But my meaning is not now to dispute against this evasion of theirs. Thus much only I purpose to take for mine advantage out of their own confession, in that themselves do grant, That the brutish and sensual part, according to which, they say that passions be greater and more violent, is different from judgement: and howsoever they may seem to contest and cavil about words and names, they grant the substance and the thing itself in question, joining with those who maintain that the reasonless part of the soul which enterteineth passions, is altogether different from that which is able to discourse, reason and judge. And verily Chrysppus in those books which he entitled, Of Anomologie, after he head written and taught, that angenis blind, and many times will not permit a man to see those things which be plain and apparent, and as often casteth a dark mist over that which he hath already perfectly learned and known; proceedeth forward a little further: For (quoth he) the passions which arise, drive out and chase forth all discourse of reason, and such things as were judged and determined otherwise against them, urging it still by force unto contrary actions. Then he useth the testimony of Menander the Poet, who in one place writeth thus, by way of exclamation: 
We worth the time, wretch that I am,  
How was my mind distraught  
In body mine? where were my wits? some folly (sure) me caught,  
What time I fell to this. For why? thereof I made no choice.  
far better things they were, 〈◊〉, which had my former voice.  The same Chrysippus also going on still: It being so (quoth he) that a reasonable creature is by nature borne and given to use reason in all things, and to be governed thereby: yet notwithstanding we reject and cast it behind us, being overruled by another more violent motion that carrieth us away. In which words, what doth he else but confess even that which happeneth upon the dissension between affection and reason? For it were a mere ridiculous mockery in deed, as Plato saith, to affirm that a man were better & worse than himself: or that he were able now to master himself, & anon ready to be mastered by himself, and how were it possible that the same man should be better & worse than himself, and at once both master and servant, unless every one were naturally in some sort double, and had in him somewhat better and somewhat worse? And verily by that means, he that hath the worse part, obedient to the better, hath power over himself, yea, and better than himself: whereas he that suffereth the brutish and unreasonable part of his soul to command and go before, so as the better and more noble part doth follow, and is serviceable unto it, he no doubt is worse than himself: he is (I say) incontinent or rather impotent, and hath no power over himself, but disposed contrary to nature. For according to the course and ordinance of nature, meet and fit it is that reason being divine and heavenly, should command and rule that which is sensual and void of reason: which as it doth arise and spring out of the very body, so it resembleth it, as participating the properties and passions thereof, yea and naturally is full of them, as being deeply concorporate and thoroughly mixed therewith: As it may appear by all the motions which it hath, tending to no other things but those that be material and corporal, as receiving their augmentations and diminutions from thence, (or to say more properly) being stretched out and let slack more or less, according to the mutations of the body. Which is the cause that young persons are quick, prompt, and audacious rash: also, for that they be full of blood, and the same hot, their lusts and appetites, are likewise fiery, violent and furious: whereas chose in old folk because the source of concupiscence seated about the liver is after a sort quenched, yea and become weak and feeble: reason is more vigorous and predominant in them: as much as the sensual and passionate part, doth languish and decay together with the body. And verily this is that which doth frame and dispose the nature of wild beasts to diverse passions: For it is not long of any opinions good or bad which arise in them, that some of them are strong, venturous and fearless, yea and ready to withstand any perils presented before them: others again be so surprised with fear and fright, that they dare not stir or do any thing: but the force and power which lieth in the blood, in the spirits and in the whole body, is that which causeth this diversity of passions, by reason that the passable part growing out of the flesh as from a root, doth bud soorth and bring with it a quality and proneness semblable. But in man that there is a sympathy and fellow moving of the body, together with the motions of the passions, may be proved by the pale colour, the red flushing of the face, the trembling of the joints, and panting and leaping of the heart in fear and anger: And again on the contrary side by the dilations of the arteries, heart and colour, in hope and expectation of some pleasures. But when as the divine spirit and understanding of man doth move of itself alone without any passion, than the body is at repose and remaineth quiet, not communicating nor participating any whit with the operation of the mind and intendment, no more than it being disposed to study upon any Mathematical proposition or other science speculative, it calleth for the help and assistance of the unreasonable part: By which it is manifest, that there be two distinct parts in us, different in faculty and power one from another. In sum, Go through the universal world, allthings (as they themselves affirm, and evident experience doth convince) are governed and ordered, some by a certain habitude: others by nature: some by sensual and unreasonable soul: others by that which hath reason and understanding. Of all which man hath his part at once, yea, and was borne naturally with these differences above said. For, contained he is by an habitude: nourished by nature: reason & understanding he useth: he hath his portion likewise of that which is unreasonable and inbred; there is together with him the source and primitive cause of passions, as a thing necessary for him, neither doth it enter into him from without: in which regard it ought not to be extirped utterly, but hath need only of ordering and government: whereupon Reason dealeth not after the Thracian manner, nor like king Lycurgus, who commanded all vines without exception to be cut down, because wine caused drunkenness: it rooteth not out (I say) all affections indifferently one with another, the profitable as well as the hurtful: but (like unto the good gods 〈◊〉 and Hemorides, who teach us to order plants that they may fructify, and to make them gentle which were savage) to cut away that which groweth wild and rank, to save all the rest and so to order and manage the same, that it may serve for good use. For neither do they shed and spill their wine upon the flower, who are afraid to be drunk, but delay the same with water: nor those who fear the violence of a passion, do take it quite away, but rather temper and qualify the same: like as folk use to break horses and oxen from their flinging out with their heels, their stiffness & curstness of the head & stubbornness in receiving the bridle or the yoke, but do not restrain them of other motions in going about their work and doing their deed. And even so verily, reason maketh good use of these passions, when they be well tamed and brought (as it were) to hand: without over weakening or rooting out clean, that part of the soul which is made for to second reason, and do it good service: For as Pindarus saith, 
The horse doth serve in chariot at the thill,  
The ox at plough doth labour hardin field,  
Who list in chase the wild Boar for to kill,  
The hardy hound he must provide with skill.  And I assure you, the entertainment of these passions and their breed, serve in far better stead, when they do assist reason and give an edge (as it were) and vigour unto virtues, than the beasts above named in their kind. Thus moderate ire doth second valour and fortitude: hatred of wicked persons helpeth the execution of justice: and indignation is just and due unto those, who without any merit or desert enjoie the felicity of this life: who also for that their heart is puffed up with foolish arrogancy, and inflamed with disdainful pride and insolence in regard of their prosperity, have need to be taken down and cooled. Neither is a man able by any means (would he never so feign) to separate from true friendship, natural indulgence, and kind affection: nor from humanity, commiseration and pity; ne yet from perfect benevolence and good will, the fellowiship in joy and sorrow. Now if it be true (as it is indeed) that they do grossly err, who would abolish all love, because of foolish and wanton love: surely they do amiss, who for covertousnes sake and greediness of money, do blame and condemn quite all other appetites and desires. They do (I say) as much as those, who would forbid running altogether, because a man may stumble and catch a fall as he runneth: or debar shooting for that we may overshoot and miss the mark: or to condemn hearing of music, because a discord or jar is offensive to the ear. For like as in sounds, music maketh an accord and harmony, not by taking away the loud and base notes: And in our body's Physic procureth health, not by destroying heat and cold, but by a certain temperature and mixture of them both in good proportion: Even so it fareth in the soul of man, wherein reason hath the predominance and victory: namely, when by the power thereof, the passions, perturbations and motions are reduced into a kind of moderation and mediocrity. For no doubt excessive sorrow and heaviness, immeasurable joy and gladness in the soul, may be aptly compared to a swelling and inflammation in the body, but neither joy nor sorrow simply in itself. And therefore Homer in this wise sentence of his 
Aman of worth doth never colour change,  
Exce ssive fear in him is very strange,  doth not abolish fear altogether, but the extremity thereof; to the end, that a man should not think that either valour is desperate folly, or confidence audacious temerity. And therefore in pleasures and delights, we ought likewise to cut off immoderate lust: as also in taking punishment, extreme hatred of malefactors. He that can do so, shall be reputed in the one not indolent, but temperate, and in the other not bitter and cruel, but just and righteous. Whereas let passions be rid clean away (if that were possible to be done) our reason will be found in many things more dull and idle: like as the pilot and master of a ship hath little to do, if the wind be laid and no gale at all stirring. And verily (as it should seem) wise Lawmakers, seeing this well enough, have with great policy given occasion in cities and commonwealths of Ambition and Emulation among citizens one with another: and in the field against enemies devised to excite the courage of soldiers, and to whet their ire and manhood by sound of trumpets, mischiefs, diums, and other instruments. For not only in Poetry (as Plato saith very well) he that is inspired and (as it were) ravished with the divine instinct of the Muses, will make a ridiculous fool of him, who otherwise is an excellent Poet, and his crafts-master as having learned the exquisite knowledge of the art: but also in battles, the heat of courage set on fire with a certain divine inspiration is invincible and cannot be withstood. This is that martial fury, which (as Homer saith) the gods do infuse or inspire rather into warlike men: 
Thus having said he did in spire  
The Prince's heart with might andire.   
And again, 
One god or other, surely doth him assist  
Else faring thus, he never could persist.  As if to the discourse of reason they had adjoined passion as a prick to incite, and a chariot to set it forward. Certes, even these very Stoics with whom now we argue, and who seem to reject all passions, we may see oftentimes, how they stir up young men with praises, and as often rebuke them with sharp admonitions and severe reprehensions. Whereof there must needs ensue of the one part pleasure, and of the other part displeasure. For surely checks and fault-findings, strike a certain repentance and shame: of which two, the former is comprised under sorrow, and the latter under fear: and these be the means that they use principally to chastise and correct withal. Which was the reason that Diogenes upon a time, when he heard Plato so highly praised and extolled. And what great and worthy matter (quoth he) find you in that man, who having been a Philosopher so long & taught the precepts thereof, hath not in all this time grieved and wounded the heart of any one person? For surely the Mathematical sciences a man cannot so properly call the ears or handles of Philosophy (to use the words of Xenocrates) as he may affirm that these affections of young men, to wit, bashfulness, desire, repentance, pleasure and pain are their handles, whereof reason and law together taking hold by a discreet apt and wholesome touch, bring a young man speedily and effectually into the right way. And therefore the Lacedaemonian schoolmaster and governor of children said very well, when he professed, that he would bring to pass that the child whom he took into his tuition, should joy in honest things, and grieve in those that were fold and dishonest. Then which there cannot possibly be named a more worthy or commendable end of the liberal education and bringing up of a young youth well descended.    

OF VIRTUE AND VICE.  

The Summarie.  
IN this little treatise adjoined aptly unto the former, the Author proveth, that outward and corruptible things be not they that set the soul in repose, but reason well ruled and governed: And after that he hath depainted the miserable estate of wicked and sinful persons, troubled and tormented with their passions both night and day, he proveth by proper and apt similitudes, that philosophy together with the love of virtue, bringeth true contentment and happiness indeed unto a man.   

OF VIRTUE AND VICE.  
IT seemeth, and commonly it is thought, that they be the garments which do heat a man; and yet of themselves they neither do heat nor bring any heat with them: for take any of them apart by itself, you shall find it cold; which is the reason that men being very hot, and in a fit of a fever, love often to change their clothes, for to cool and refresh their bodies. But the truth is this, Look what heat a man doth yield from himself, the clothes or garments that cover the body do keep in the same, and unite close together and being thus included and held in, suffer it not to evapotate, breath out, and vanish away. The same error in the state of this life, hath deceived many man, who imagine that if they may dwell in stately and gorgeous great houses, be attended upon with a number of servants, retain a sort of slaves, and can gather together huge sums of gold and silver, than they shall live in joy and pleasure: wheteas in very sooth, the sweet and joyful life proceedeth not from any thing without. But chose, when a man hath those goodly things about him, it is himself that addeth a pleasure and grace unto them, even from his own nature and civil behaviour, composed by moral virtue within him, which is the very fountain and lively spring of all good contentment.  

For if the fire do always burn out light,  
More stately is the house, and fair in sight.   
Semblably, riches are more acceptable, glory hath the better and more shining lustre, yea, and authority carrieth the greater grace, if the inward joy of the soul be joined therewith: For surely men do endure poverty, exile and banishment out of their own countries, yea, and bear the burden of old age willingly and with more ease, according as their manners be mild, and the mind disposed to meekness. And like as sweet odours, and Aromatical perfumes, give a pleasant smell unto threadbare and ragged clothes; but chose, the rich rob of Anchyses yielded from under it stinking matter and corrupt blood; which as the Poet saith, 
Ran down by drops upon his cloak  
Of silk so fine, and it did soak.  Even so, with virtue, any sort of life, and all manner of living is pleasant & void of sorrow: whereas chose, vice causeth those things which otherwise seemed great, honourable, and magnificent, to be odious, loathsome and unwelcome to those that have them, if (I say) it be mingled therewith, according to the testimony of these vulgar verses: 
This man who whiles he walks abroad in street  
Or market place, is ever happy thought:  
No sooner sets within his own house feet,  
Thrice wretched but he is, and not for nought.  
His wife (as master) hath of all the power,  
She bids, commands, she chides and fights each hour.  And yet one may with ease be rid and divorced from such a cursed and shrewd wife, if he be a man in deed, and not a bondslave; but for thine own vice, no means will serve to exempt thee from it. It is not enough to command it to be gone, by sending a little script or bill of divorcement, and to think thereby to be delivered from troubles, and so to live alone in quiet and repose. For it cleaveth close within the ribs, it sticketh fast in the very bowels, it dwelleth there both night and day, 
It burneth thee, yet firebrand none is seen,  
And hasteneth age apace before thou ween,  A troublesome companion it is upon the way, by reason of arrogancy and presumption: a costly and sumptuous guest at the table for gluttony and gourmandise: an unpleasant and cumbersome bedfellow in the night, in regard of thoughts, cares and jealousies which break the sleep, or trouble the same with fantasies. For whiles men lie asleep, the body is at rest and repose; but the mind all the while is disquieted and affrighted with fearful dreams and tumultuous visions, by reason of superstitious fear of the gods, 
If that I sleep, when sorrows me surprise,  
Then fearful dreams me kill before I rise.  saith one. And even so do other vices serve men: to wit, Envy, Fear, Wrath, Wanton love, and Unbridled lust. For in the day time, vice looking out, and composing itself somewhat unto others abroad, is somewhat ashamed of herself, and covereth her passions; she giveth not herself wholly to her motions and perturbations, but many times doth strive again and make resistance: but in sleep, being without the danger of laws and the opinion of the world, being far removed (as it were) from fear and shame: than it setteth all lusts awork, than it quickeneth and raiseth up all lewdness, and then it displaieth all lascivious wantonness. It tempteth (as Plato saith) a man to have carnal dealing with his own mother, and to eat of forbidden and unlawful meats: there is no villainy that it forbeareth; executing (so far forth as it is able) all abomination, and hath the fruition thereof, if it be but by illusions and fantastical dreams, which end not in any pleasure, nor accomplishment of concupiscence, but are powerful only to excite, stir, and provoke still the fits of secret passions and maladies of a corrupt heart. Wherein lieth then, the pleasure and delight of sin, if it be so, that in no place nor at any time it be void of pensiveness, care and grief? if it never have contentment, but always in molestation and trouble, without repose? As for carnal delights and fleshly pleasures, the good complexion and sound constitution of an healthful body, giveth thereby means, place, opportunity and breeding. But in the soul it is not possible that there should be engendered any mirth, joy and contentment, unless the first foundation be laid in peace of conscience, and tranquility of spirit, void of fear, and enjoying a settled calm in all assurance and confidence, without any show of tempest toward. For otherwise, suppose that some hope do smile upon a man; or say, that delight tickle a little; the same anon is troubled, and all the sport is marred by some careful cogitation breaking forth: like as the object and concurrence of one rock troubleth and overthroweth all, though the water and weather both be never so calm.  
Now gather gold and spare not by heaps, rake and scrape together masses of silver, build fair, gallant and stately walking places, replenish all thy house with slaves, and a whole city with debtors: unless withal thou do allay the passions of thy mind; unless thou stay and appease thy insatiable lust and desire; unless thou free and deliver thyself from all fear and carking cares: thou dost as much as strain wine, or make hippocras for one that is sick of a fever, give honey to a choleric person diseased with the raging motion of choler, offer meats and viands to those that be sick of the stomachical flux, continual lask, ulceration of the guts and bloody flux, who neither take pleasure therein, nor are the better but the worse rather a great deal for them. See you not how sick folks are offended, and their stomachs rise at the most fine, costly and deintiest meats that be offered unto them? how they spit them forth again, and will none, though they be forced upon them? And yet afterwards, when the body is reduced again into good temperature: when pure spirits and good fresh blood is engendered, and when the natural heat is restored and become familiar and kind: then they rise up on their feet to their meat, than their stomachs serve to eat full savourly of course bread with cheese or cresses, and therein they take great pleasure and contentment: The like disposition in the mind doth reason work. Then and never before shalt thou be pleased and at peace with thyself, when thou hast once learned what is good and honest indeed: In poverty thou shalt live deliciously like a king: or in a private and quiet state sequestered from civil and public affairs, thou shalt live as well as they who have the conduct of great armies, and govern the commonweal. When thou hast studied Philosophy and profited therein, thou shalt never lead a life in discontentment, but shalt learn how to away with any estate and course of life, and therein find no small joy & heart's ease. Thy riches thou wilt rejoice in, because thou shalt have better means to do good unto all men: In poverty likewise thou wilt take joy in regard thou shalt have fewer cares to trouble thee: Glory will turn to thy solace, when thou shalt see thyself so honoured: and thy low estate and obscure condition will be no less comfort, for that thou shalt be safe and secured from envy.    

THAT VIRTUE MAY BE TAUGHT AND LEARNED.  

The Summarie.  
PLutarch refuting here the error of those, who are of opinion, That by good and diligent instruction a man cannot become the better; recommendeth sufficiently the study of virtue. And to prove this assertion of his, he showeth that the apprentissage of that, which is of small consequence in this world, witnesseth enough that a man ought to be trained from day to day to the knowledge of things that are beseeming and worthy his person: Afterwards, he declareth that as much travel should be employed to make him comprehend such things as be far distant from the capacity and excellency of his spirit: In which discourse he taxeth covertly those vain and giddy heads, who (as they say) run, after their own shadow, whereas they should stay and rest upon that which is firm and permanent.   

THAT VIRTUE MAY BE taught and learned.  
WE dispute of virtue, and put in question, whether Prudence, justice, Loyalty and Honesty may be taught or no? And do we admire then the works of Orators, Sailors and Shipmasters, Architects, Husbandmen and an infinite number of other such which be extant? Whereas of good men we have nothing but their bare and simple names, as if they were Hippocentaures, Giants or Cyclopes: and marvel we that of virtuous actions which be entire, perfect, and unblamable, none can be found: ne yet any manners so composed according to duty, but that they be tainted with some passions and vicious perturbations? yea and if it happen that nature of herself bring forth some good and honest actions, the same straightways are darkened, corrupted and in a manner marred, by certain strange mixtures of contrary matters that creep into them, like as when among good corn there grow up weeds and wild bushes that choke the same; or when some kind and gentle fruit is clean altered by savage nourishment. Men learn to sing, to dance, to read and write, to till the ground, and to ride horses, they learn likewise to show themselves, to do on their apparel decently; they are taught to wait at cup and trencher, to give drink at the table, to season and dress meat: and none of all this can they skill to perform and do handsomely, if they be not trained thereto: and yet shall that, for which these and such like qualities they learn, to wit, good life and honest conversation, be reckoned a mere casual thing, coming by chance and fortune, and which can neither be taught nor learned? Oh good sirs, what a thing is this? In saying, That virtue cannot be taught, we deny withal that it is, or hath any being. For if it be true, that the learning of it, is the generation and breeding thereof, certes he that hindereth the one disannulleth the other: and in denying that it may be taught, we grant that no such thing there is at all: And yet as Plato saith, for the neck of a Lute not made in proportion to the rest of the body, there was never known one brother go to war with another, nor a friend to quarrel with his friend, ne yet two neighbour cities to fall out and maintain deadly feud, to the interchangeable working and suffering of those miseries and calamities which follow open war. Neither can any man come forth and say, that by occasion of an accent (as for example, whether the word Telchines should be pronounced with the accent over the second syllable of no) there arose sedition and dissension in any city; or debate in a house between man and wife, about the warp and woufe of any web: Howbeit never man yet would take in hand to wear a piece of cloth, nor handle a book, nor play upon the lute or harp, unless he had learned before; for albeit he were not like to sustain any great loss and notall damage thereby, yet he would fear to be mocked and laughed to scorn for his labour, in which case as Heraclitus saith, it were better for a man to conceal his own ignorance: and may such an one think then, that he could order a house well, rule a wife, and behave himself as it becometh in marriage, bear migistracie, or govern a common weal as he ought, being never bound and brought up to it? Diogenes espying upon a time a boy eating greedily, and unmannerly gave his master or Tutor a good cuff on the ear: and good reason he had so to do, as imputing the fault rather to him, who had not taught, than to the boy, who had not learned better manners. And is it so indeed? aught they of necessity, who would be mannerly at the table, both in putting hand to a dish of meat, and taking the cup with a good grace, or as Aristophanes saith, 
At board not feeding greedily,  
Nor laughing much, undecently,  
Nor crossing feet full wanton.  to be taught even from their infancy. And is it possible that the same should know to behave themselves in wedlock, how to manage the affairs of State, how to converse among men, how to bear office without touch and blame, unless they have learned first how to carry themselves one toward another? Aristippus answered upon a time, when one said unto him, And are you sit every where? I should (quoth he, laughing merrily) cast away the fare for feriage, which I pay unto the mariner, if I were every where. And why might not a man say likewise, If children be not the better for their teaching, the salary is lost which men bestow upon their Masters and Teachers. But we see that they taking them into their governance presently from their nurses, like as they did form their limbs and joints featly with their hands, do prepare and frame their manners accordingly, & set them in the right way to virtue. And to this purpose answered very wisely a Laconian Schoolmaster to one who demanded of him, what good he did to the child of whom he had the charge? Mary (quoth he) I make him to take joy and pleasure in those things that be honest. And to say a truth, these teachers and governors instruct children to hold up their heads strait as they go in the street, and not to bear it forward: also, not to dip into sauce, but with one finger: not to take bread or fish but with twain: to rub or scratch after this or that manner: and thus and thus to truss and hold up their clothes. What shall we say then to him, who would make us believe that the Art of Physic professeth to scour the morphew, or heal a whit-flaw: but not to cure a pleurisy, fever, or the frenzy? And what differeth he from them, who hold that there be schools and rules to teach petties and little children how to be mannerly, and demean themselves in small matters, but as for great, important and absolute things, it must be nothing else but use and custom, or else mere chance and fortune that doth effect them? For like as he were ridiculous, and worthy to be laughed at, who should say, that no man ought to lay hand upon the oar for to row, but he that hath been prentice to it; but sit at the stern and guide the helm he may, who was never taught it: even so, he, who maintaineth, that in some inferior arts there is required apprentisage, but for the attainining of virtue none at all, deserveth likewise to be mocked. And verily, he should do contrary unto the Scythians: For they, as Herodot us writeth, use to put out the eyes of theirslaves only, to the end that being blind, they might turn round about with their milk, & so stir and shake it. But he forsooth putteth the eye of reason into these base and inferior arts, which are no better than servants waiting upon others; but plucketh it from virtue. Iphtcrates answered chose, being demanded of Callias the son of Chabrias, by way of contempt and derision, in this wise, What are you sit? An Archer? A Targetiere? A man at arms? or a light armeds soldier? I am none (quoth he) of all these, but rather one of those who commandeth them all. Well, ridiculous then is he, and very absurd, who would say, There were an art to be taught, of drawing a bow & shooting, of fight close at hand being armed at all pieces, of discharging bullets with a sling, or of sitting and riding an horse; but forsooth to lead and conduct an army, there was none at all: as who would say, that feat, were a thing not learned, but coming by chance, I know not how. And yet I must needs say, more sottish and foolish were he, who should hold and affirm that Prudence only could not be taught, without which no other Arts and Sciences be worth aught, or avail any whit. That this is true, and that she is alone the guide which leadeth and guideth all other Sciences, Arts and Virtues, giving them every one their due place and honour, and making them profitable to mankind, a man may know by this, if there were nothing else, That there would be no grace at a feast, though the meat were never so well dressed and served up by skilful Cooks, though there were proper Escuirs or Showers to set the dishes upon the board, Carvers, Tasters, Skinkers, and other Servitors and Waiters enough, unless there be some good order observed among the said Ministers, to place and dispose every thing as it ought.    

HOW A MAN MAY DISCERN A FLATTERER FROM A FRIEND.  

The Summarie.  
THe traveller hath great occasion and cause to rejoice, if in his journey he go with a good companion, who by his pleasant and profitable discourses may make him forget the tedious difficulite of the way: even so in his life, happy is the man, who can find and meet with those to bear him company, by whom he may both easily pass through the occurrent dangers that are presented unto him, and also advance forward cheerfully unto virtue. In which regard, our author Plutarch having discoursed as touching the Nouriture, education, and instruction of youth, as also of Vice and Virtue in general, by good order and in great reason, showeth in this Treatise, what sort of people we ought carefully to avoid, and with whom to join and be acquainted. And as he was a man well experienced and practised in the affairs of this world, he affirmeth and proveth by very sound and firm reasons, That there is nothing whereof we are to be more wary and heedful, than false friendship, which he calleth Flattery. Morcover, this being a matter of so great importance, as every wise man may well think and perceive, he draweth out this present discourse in length: and for that his purpose is to instruct us in those means whereby we may be able to distinguish between a flatterer and a true friend, he showeth in the first place, That the only principal remedy to stop up the entry against all flatterers, is to know ourselves well: for otherwise, we shall have such array and ornaments hanged upon us, that we shall not easily perceive and discern who we are. And chose, it happeneth often times, that we esteem to be our perfect friends, so skilful are they in counterfeiting; and withal, when they find us disposed to entertain such company, our own indiscretion depriveth us of that true insight and view, which our soul ought to have in discerning a false friend from a true. Being willing therefore to aid and help us in this point, he describeth a crafty and wily flatterer, he discovereth his cunning casts, and depainteth him in his colours, showing the very draft & lineaments which may direct us to the knowledge of him, to wit, That he doth conform and frame himself to the humour and nature of those whose company he haunteth; how he is unconstant and mutable, changing and turning into many and sundry fashions, without any right and sincere affection, applying himself all the while to every things else but virtue willing to be reputed always more leaned and vicious, than those whom he flattereth: without regard of doing them good any way, or seeking their profit, he only aimeth at this, to please them and follow their vein in all things by custom and use, bringing him that will give ear unto his words, to this pass, That he shall think vice to be verve: working covertly and underhand for to deceive more cleanly, transforming virtue into vice, and making it nothing strange and coy to blame himself, for to do the more mischief afterwards to another: then be flattereth most, when he maketh no semblance or show at all that he mindeth any such thing, and exalteth up to the sky those that be most vicious, and worst of all others, so they will give him entertainment. Likewise, for that flatterers show themselves otherwhiles, very forward and bold to speak their minds and to find fault, which it one of the best and surest marks of true friendship, he treateth consequently of this liberty and freedom of speech, and how a man may know whether there be any flatrerie therein or no. He declareth therefore, how flatterers use this frank reprehension in vain and frivolous things, and never in those sins and gross faults which are in deed blameworthy: so that this manner of reprehension, is a kind of soothing them up, and lulling men asseepe in their notorious vices: or else they charge them with faults clean contrary. Now after he hath showed how a man should take heed and beware of them, he discourseth of those services which may make flatterers, and wherein the same differ from the offices and dueities of friends, and in pursuing and prosecuting this Antithesis, he proveth that a flatterer is priest and ready to do his pleasurein in shame matters, whereas a friends he weth his good will in those that be honest: also that a slatterer is envious, and so is not a friend. And for that our nature is proud and blind withal, having need of good friends to guide and direct it, he describeth with what manner of eye, and ear we ought to see and hear those that procure our good, albeit, they may seem to carry with them a kind of severity. Mean while he exhorteth friends, so to temper and qualify their liberty in reprehension, that all impudency and importunate rigour be far from it. But for as much as this is (as it were) the principal thing in amity he showeth, That first we must cut away self-love in all our reprehensions; and secondly all injurtous, bitter and biting speeches: then he adjoineth moreover, in what seasons, and upon what occurrences, a man ought to reprove and say his mind frankly: and with what dexterity he is to proceed: that is to say, that sometunes, yea, and more often, he ought to rebuke his friend apart, or under the person of another: wherein he is to look unto this, That he eschew all vainglory, and season his reprehensions with some praise among, to make them more acceptable and better taken. Consequently, he teacheth us, how we must receive the advertisements, admonitions, and reprehensions of a true friend: and returning to the very point in deed, of amity and friendship, he showeth what mean a man should keep for to avert and turn away the neighbour vice, and to urge our friends forward to their devoir: adding moreover, That all remonstrance and admonition ought to be tempered with mildness and lenity: wherein he concludeth this whole Treatise, which I assure you is to be well read and marked in these days of all persons, but those especially, who are advanced above others in worldly wealth or honour able place.   

HOW A MAN MAY DISCERN a flatterer form a friend.  
PLato writeth (o Antiochus Philopappus) that all men do willingly pardon him, who professeth, That he loveth himself best: Howbeit thereby (quoth he) is engendered in us, this fault and inconvenience among may others the greatest: that by this means no man can be a just judge of himself, but partial and favourable. For the lover is ordinarily blinded in the thing that he loveth, unless he have been taught, yea and accustomed long before, to affect and esteem things honest above those that be his own properly, or inbred and familiar to him. This is it, that giveth unto a flatterer that large field, under pretence of friendship, where he hath a fort (as it were) commodiously seated, and with the vantage to assail and endamage us, and that is, Self-love: whereby every man being the first and greatest flatterer of himself, he can be very well content, to admit a stranger to come near and flatter him, namely, when he thinketh and is well willing withal, to witness with him and to confirm that good self-conceit and opinion of his own. For even he, who is justly reproached to be a lover of Flatterers, loveth himself notwithstanding exceeding well: and for that good affection that he hath, is both very willing, yea and fully persuaded also, that all good things are in himself: and the desire whereof is not simply, bad, and unlawful: but the persuasion is it, that is dangerous and slippery, having need to be restrained with great heed and carefulness. Now if Truth be an heavenly thing, and the very source yielding all good things (as Plato saith) aswell to the gods as to men: we ought thus to judge, That a flatterer is an enemy to the gods, and principally to Apollo: For opposite he is always and contrary to this precept of his, Know thyself: causing a man to be abused and deceived by his own self, yea and to be ignorant of the good and evil things that be in him; in making the good gifts which are in him to be defective & unperfect: but the evil parts incorrigible and such as cannot be reform. Now if it were so, that flattery (as the most part of other vices) touched either only or especially, base, mean, and abject persons, it were perhaps neither so hurtful, nor so hard to be avoided as it is. But like as worms breed most of all and soon in frimme, tender and sweet wood: even so, for the most the part the generous and gentle natures, and those minds that are more ingenuous, honest, amialble, and mild than others, are readiest to receive and nourish the flatterer that hangeth upon him. Moreover, as Simonides was wont to say, that the keeping of an escuirie or stable of horses, followeth not the lamp or oil cruet, but the rich corn fields: that is, it is not for poor men to entertain great horses, but those rather who are landed men and with their revennewes able to maintain them: Even so, we see it is ordinary, that flattery keepeth not company nor sorteth with poor folk, or such persons as live obscurely & are of no ability: but commonly it is the ruin and decay of great houses, & a malady incidet to mighty States; which oftentimes undoth & overthroweth whole Monarchies, Realms, and great Seignories. In which regard it is no small matter, nor a thing that requireth little, or no forecast & providence to search & consider the nature thereof: lest being so active and busy as it is, and ready to meddle in every place (nothing so much) it do no hurt unto friendship, norbring it into obloquy and discredit. For these flatteres resemble louse for all the world: And why? These vermin we see never haunt those that be dead, but leave and forsake the corpse so soon as ever the blood (whereof they were wont to feed) is extinct or deprived of vital spirit: Semblably, a man shall never see flatterers, so much as approach unto such persons as are in decay, whose state is cracked and credit waxeth cool; but look where there is the glory of the world, where there is authority and power, thither they flock, and there they grow: no sooner is there a change of fortune but they sneak and slink away, and are no more seen. But we ought not to attend so long and stay for this trial, being unprofitable, or rather hurtful and not without some danger: For it goeth very hard with a man, if at the very instant and not before, even when he hath most need of friendship, to perceive those to be no friends whom he took to be, and namely, when he hath not with him at hand, a good and faithful friend, to exchange for him that is untrusty, disloyal and counterfeit. For if a man did well, he should be provided before hand of an approved and tried friend, ere he have need to employ him, aswell as of current and lawful money; and not then to make trial of him and find him faulty, when he is in greatest necessity and standeth in most need: For we ought not to make proof with our loss, and find him to be false to our cost and detriment; but chose to be skilful in the means of smelling out a flatterer, that we receive no damage by him: For otherwise, that might befall us, which happeneth unto those who for to know the force of deadly poisons, take the assay, and taste first themselves thereof: well may they indeed come to the judgement thereof: but this skill is dearly bought, when they are sure to die for it. And like as we do not commend such; no more can we praise and approve of those, who measure friendship only by honesty and profit: thinking withal, That such as converse and company with them pleasantly, are strait ways to be attainted as flatterers, no less then if they were taken in the very act of flattery: For surely a friend should not be unpleasant & unsavoury, without any seasoning (as it were) of delightsome qualities: neither is friendship to be accounted venerable in this respect, that it is austere or bitter; but even that very beauty and gravity that it hath is sweet and desircable, and as the Poet saith, 
About her always seated be  
Delightsome Love and Graces three.  And not he only who is in calamity, 
Doth great content and comfort find  
To see the face of trusty friend.  according as Euripides saith, but true amity addeth noless grace, pleasure, and joy unto those that be in prosperity, than it easeth them of sorrow and grief who are in adversity. Evenus was wont to say, that of all pleasant sauce, fire was the best and most effectual: And even so God having mingled friendship with this life of ours, hath made all things joious, sweet, pleasant and acceptable, where a friend is present and enjoieth his part. For otherwise a man can not devise nor express, how and in what sort a flatterer could insilnuate himself and creep into favour, under the colour of pleasure, if he saw that friendship in the own nature never admitted any thing that was pleasant and delectable. But like as false and counterfeit pieces of gold which will not abide the touch, represent only the lustre and bright glittering of gold: So a flatterer resembling the sweet and pleasant behaviour of a friend, showeth himself always jocund, merry and delightsome, without crossing at any time. And therefore we ought not presently to suspect all them to be flatterers who are given to praise others: For otherwhiles to commend a man, so it be done in time and place convenient, is a property no loesses befitting a friend, than to blame and reprehend: Nay chose, there is nothing so adverse and repugnant to amity and society, than testiness, thwarting, complaining, and evermore faultfinding: whereas, if a man knoweth the good will of his friend to be ever priest and ready to yield due praises, and those in full measure to things well done, he will be are more patiently and in better part another time, his free reprehensions and reproof for that which is done amiss: for that he is verily persuaded of him that as he was willing enough to praise, so he was as loath to dispraise, and therefore taketh all in good worth. A difficult matter than it is, will some one say, to discern a flatterer from a friend, seeing there is no difference between them, either in doing pleasure, or yielding praise: for otherwise, we see oftentimes, that in many services, courtesies and kindnesses beside, a flatterer is more ready and forward than a friend. True it is indeed we must needs say: a right hard matter it is to know the one from the other; especially if we speak of a right flatterer indeed, who is his own crafts-master, and can skill how to handle the matter artificially, and with great cunning and dexterity: if (I say) we make no reckoning of them for flatterers, as the common people do, who are these ordinary smell-feasts, and as ready as flies to light in every dish: these parasites (I say) whose tongue (as one said very well) will be walking so soon as men have washed their hands, and be ready to sit down to meat, cogging and soothing up their good masters at every word, who have no honesty at all in them, and whose scurrility, profane, and irreligious impurity, a man shall soon find with one dish of meat and cup of wine. For surely there was no great need to detect and convince the flattery of Melanthius the Parasite and jester of Alexander Pheraus the Tyrant, who being asked upon a time how Alexander his good Lord and master was murdered, Mary with a thrust (quoth he) of a sword, which went in at his side, and ran as far as into my belly: neither of such as a man shall never see to fail, but where there is a good house and plentiful table kept, they will be sure to gather round about it, in such sort as there is no fire nor iron grates, or brass gates, can keep them back, but they will be ready to put their foot under the board: no nor of those women who in times past were called in Cypress, Colacides. i Flatteresses; but after they were come to Syria, men named them, Climacides, as one would say, Ladderesses, for that they used to lie along, & to make their backs stepping stools or ladders as it were for Queens & Great men's wives to get upon when they would mount into their coaches. Whatkinde of flatterer than is it so hard and yet needful to beward of? Forsooth, even of him who seemeth none such, and professeth nothing less than to flatter: whom a man shall never find about the kitchen where the good meat is dressed, nor take measuring of shadows to know how the day goes, and when it is dinner or supper time: ne yet see drunken and lying along the ground untowardly, and full like a beast: But for the most part sober he is enough; he loveth to be a curious Polypragmon; he will have an oar in every boat, and thinks he is to intermeddle in all matters; he hath a mind to be privy and party in all deep secrets; and in one word he carrieth himself like a grave Tragedian, and not as a Comical or Satirical player, and under that vision and habit he counterfeiteth a friend. For according to the saying of Plato, it is the greatest and most extreme injustice for a man to make semblance of being just when he is not: even so we are to think, that flattery of all others to be most dangerous, which is covert and not apert or professed; which is serious (I say) and not practised by way of jest and sport. And verily such glozing and flattery as this, causeth men oftentimes to mistrust true friendship indeed, and doth derogate much from the credit thereof: for that in many things it jumpeth so even therewith, unless a man take very good heed and look narrowly into it. True it is, that Gobrias being run into a dark and secret room, together with one of the usurping Tyrants of Persia, called Magis, whom he pursued hard, and at handy gripes struggling, grappling, and wrestling close together, cried out unto Darius coming into the place with a naked sword, and doubting to thrust at the Usurper, for fear he should run Gobrias through also, Thrust hardly and spare not (quoth he) though you dispatch us both at once. But we who in no wise can allow of that common saying, Let a friend perish, so he take an enemy with him: but are desirous to pluck and part a slatterer from a friend, with whom he is coupled and interlaced by means of so many resemblances: we (I say) have great cause to fear and beware, that we do not cast and reject from us the good with the bad: or lest in pardoning and accepting that which is agreeable and familiar unto us, we fall upon that which is hurtful and dangerous. For like as among wild seeds of another kind, those that being of the same form, fashion, and bigness with the grains of wheat are intermingled therewith, a man shall hardly try out from the rest, for that they will not pass through the holes of the sieve, ruddle or try, if they be narrow; and in case they be large and wide, out goeth the good corn together with them; even so it is passing hard to separate flattery from friendship, being so intermeddled therewith in all accidents, motions, affairs, dealings, employment and conversation as it is. For considering that a flatterer seeth well enough, that there is nothing in the world so pleasurable as friendship, nor yieldeth more contentment unto man than it doth: He windeth himself into favour by means of pleasure, and wholly is employed to procure mirth and delight. Also for that both grace and commodity, doth always accompany amity; in which regard the common Proverb saith, that a friend is more necessary than either fire or water. Therefore a flatterer is ready to put himself forward, and offereth his service with all double diligence, striving in all occasions and businesses to be ever prompt and officious. And because the principal thing that linketh and bindeth friendship sure at the beginning, is the conformity and likeness of manners, studies, endeavours and inclinations, and in one word seeing that to be like affected, and to show pleasure or displeasure in the same things, is the chief matter that knitteth amity and both combineth, and also keepeth men together, by a certain mutual correspondency in natural affections: the flatterer knowing so much, composeth his nature (as it were) some unformed matter ready to receive all sorts of impressions, studying to frame and accommodate himself wholly to all those things that he taketh in hand; yea and to resemble those persons just by way of imitation whom he meaneth to set upon and deceive, as being supple, soft, and pliable, to represent them lively in every point, so as a man may say of him after this manner, 
Achilles' son think you he is?  
Nay, even Achilles himself iwis.  But the craftiest cast of all other, that he hath, is this, That seeing (as he doth) liberty of speech, (both in truth, and also according to the opinion and speech of the whole world) to be the proper voice of friendship (as a man would say) of some living creature; insomuch, as where there is not this freedom of speaking frankly, there is no true friendship nor generosity in deed. In this point also, he will not seem to come short, nor leave it behind for want of imitation; but after the fashion of fine and excellent cooks, who use to serve up tart, bitter and sharp sauces together with sweet & pleasant meats, for to divert & take away the satiety and fullness which soon followeth them. These flatterers also use a certain kind of plain and free speech; howbeit, neither sincere and natural is it, nor profitable, but (as we commonly say) from teeth outward, or (as it were) beckening and winking slightly with the eye under the brows, nottouching the quick, but tickling aloft only, to no purpose. Well, in these respects above specified, hardly and with much ado is a flatterer discovered, and taken in the manner; much like unto those beasts, who by nature have this property, To change their colour, and in hue to resemble that bodily matter or place whereon they settle, and which they touch. Seeing then it is so, that he is so apt to deceive folk, and lieth hidden under the likeness of a friend; our part it is, by unfolding the differences that are so hidden, to turn him out of his masking habit, and being despoiled of those colours and habilements that he borroweth of others, for want of his own (as Plato saith) to lay him naked and open to the eye: let us therefore enter into this discourse, and fetch it from the very first beginning.  
We have already said, that the original of friendship among men (for the most part) is our conformity of nature and inclination, embracing the same customs and manners, loving the same exercises, affecting the same studies, and delighting in the same actions and employments: concerning which, these verses well and fitly run; 
Old solke love best with aged folk to talk,  
And with their fears young children to disport:  
Women once met, do let their tongues to walk,  
With such likewise, such persons best do sport:  
The wretched man his miseries doth lament  
With those, whose state like fortunes do torment.  The flatterer then, being well aware that it is a thing naturally inbred in us, to delight in those that are like ourselves, to converse with them, and to use and love them above all others, endeavoureth first to and foremost to draw and approach, yea, and to lodge near unto him whom he meaneth to enveagle and compass, even as if he went about in some great pasture to make toward one beast, whom he purposeth to tame and bring to hand, by little and little joining close unto him, as it were, to be concorporated in the same studies and exercises, in the same affections, employments and course of life: and this he doth so long, until the party whom he layeth for, have given him some advantage to take hold by, as suffering himself gently to be touched, clawed, handled and stroked; during which time, he lettethslip no opportunity to blame those persons, to reprove those things, and courses of life, which he perceiveth the other to hate: chose, to praise and approve all that which he knoweth him to take delight in: and this he doth not after an ordinary manner and in a mean, but excessively and beyond all measure, with a kind of admiration and wonder; confirming this love or hatred of his, to a thing, not as if he had received these impressions from some sudden passion, but upon a stayed and settled judgement. Which being so: how, and by what different marks shall he be known and convinced, that he is not the like or the same in deed, but only a counterfeit of the like and of the same? First, a man must consider well, whether there be an uniform equality in all his intentions and actions or no? whether he continue and persist still, taking pleasure in the same things, and praising the same at all times? whether he compose and direct his life according to one and the same mould and pattern? like as it becometh a man who is an ingenuous lover of that friendship and conversation which is ever after one manner, and always like itself: for such a one in deed is a true friend. But a flatterer chose is one who hath no one permanent seat in his manners and be behaviour, nor hath made choice of any life for his own content, but only to please another, as framing and applying his actions wholly to the humour of another, is never simple, uniform, nor like himself, but variable and changing always from one form to another, much like as water which is powered out of one vessel into another, even as it runneth forth, taketh the form and fashion of that vessel which receiveth it. And herein he is clean contrary to the ape; for the ape as it should seem, thinking to counterfeit man, by turning, hopping and dancing as he doth, is quickly caught: but the flatterer, whiles he doth imitate and counterfeit others, doth entice and draw them, as it were, with a pipe or call, into his net, and so beguileth them. And this he doth not always after one manner; for with one he danceth and singeth; with another he will seem to wrestle, or otherwise to exercise the body in feats of activity: if he chance to meet with a man that loveth to hunt, and to keep hounds, him he will follow hard at heels, setting out a throat as loud in a manner as Hippolytus in the Tragedy Phoedra, crying, 
So ho, this is my joy and only good,  
With cry to lure, with tooting horn to wind,  
By leave of gods to bring into the wood  
My hounds, to rouse and chase the dapple Hind.  And yet hath he nothing to do at all with the wild beasts of the forest, but it is the hunter himself whom he layeth for to take within his net and toil. And say that he light upon a young man that is a student & given to learning, than you shall see him also as deep poring upon his book, and always in his Study; you shall have him let his beard grow down to his foot, like a grave Philosopher: who but he then, in his side threadbare student's cloak, after the Greek fashion, as if he had no care of himself, nor joy of any thing else in the world: not a word then in mouth, but of the Numbers, Orthangles and Triangles of Plato. If peradventure there fall into his hands an idle do-nothing, who is rich withal, and a good fellow, one that loveth to eat and drink and make good cheer, 
That wily Fox Ulysses though  
His ragged garments will off do.  off goes then his bare and overworn studying gown, his beard he causeth to be cut & shorn as near as a new mown field in harvest, when all the corn is gone: no talk then but of flagons, bottles, pots, and cooling pans to keep the wine cold: nothing now but merry conceits to move laughter in every walking place and gallery of pleasure: Now he letteth fly srumpes and scoffs against scholars and such as study philosophy. Thus by report it fell out upon a time at Syracuse: For when Plato thither arrived, and Denys all on a sudden was set upon a furious fit of love to Philosophy, his palace and whole court was full of dust and sand, by reason of the great recourse thither of Students in Geometry, who did nothing but draw figures therein. But no sooner had Plato incurred his displeasure and was out of favour: no sooner had Denys the tyrant bidden Philosophy farewell, & given himself again to belly-cheer, to wine, vanities, wantonness, and all looseness of life: but all at once, it seemed the whole court was transformed likewise, (as it were by the sorcery and enchantment of Cyrces') into hatred and detestation of good letters; so as they forgot all goodness, and betook themselves to folly and sottishness. To this purpose it were not amiss for to allege as testimonies, the fashions and acts of some notorious flatterers, such I mean as have governed Common-welths, and affected popularity. Among whom the greatest of all other was Alcibiades, who all the while he was at Athens used to scoff, and had a good grace in merry conceits & pleasant jests: he kept great horses, and lived in jollity, most gallantly, with the love and favour of all men: when he sojourned in Sparta, he went always shaved to the bare skin, in an overworn cloak, or else the same very course, and never washed his body but in cold water. Afterwards, being in Thrace, he became a soldior, and would carouse and drink lustily with the best. He came no sooner to Tisaphernes in Asia, but he gave himself to voluptuousness and pleasure, to riot, wantonness, and superfluous delights: Thus throughout the whole course of his life, he won the love of all men, by framing himself to their humours and fashions wheresoever he came. Such were not Epaminondas and Agesilaus: For albeit they conversed with many sorts of people, travailed diverse cities, and saw sundry fashions and manners of strange nations; yet they never changed their behaviour, they were the same men still, retaining evermore a decent port which became them in their apparel, speech, diet, and their whole carriage and demeanour. Plato likewise was no changeling, but the same man at Syracuasa, that he was in the Academy or College at Athens: and look what his carriage was before Dion, the same it was and no other in Denys his court.  
But that man may very easily find out the variable changes of a flatterer, as of the fish called the Pourcuttle, who will but strain a little and take the pains to play the dissembler himself, making show as if he likewise were transformed into diverse and sundry fashions; namely in misliking the course of his former life, and suddenly seeming to embrace those things which he rejected before, whether it be in diet, action or speech: For than he shall soon see the flatterer also to be inconstant, and not a man of himself, taking love or hatred to this or that, joying or grieving at a thing, upon any affection of his own that leadeth him thereto, for that he receiveth always as a mirror the images of the passions, motions and and lives of other men. If you chance to blame one of your friends before him, what will he say by and by? Ah well, You have found him out I see now at last though it were long since: I wis I liked him not long a great while ago: chose, if your mind alter, so that you happen to fall a praising of him again: Very well done will he say, and bind it with an oath, I con you thank for that: I am very glad for the man's sake, and I believe no less of him. Do you break with him about the alteration of your life, and bear him in hand that you mean to take another course, as for example, to give over State affairs, to betake yourself to a more private and quiet life. Yea marry (quoth he) and then you do well, it is more than high time so to do: For long since we should have been disburdened of these troubles so full of envy and peril. Make him believe once that you will change your copy, and that you are about to shake off this idle life, and to betake yourself unto the Commonweal, both to rule and also to speak in public place: you shall have him to soothe you up, and second your song, with these and such like responds: A brave mind (believe me) and beseeming a man of your worth and good parts: For to say a truth, this idle and priyate life, though it be pleasant, and have ease enough, yet it is but base, abject, and dishonourable; when you find him there once, muffle his nose immediately with this posy, 
Good sir me thinks you soon do turn your style,  
You seem much changed from him you were erewhile.  I have no need of such a friend, that will alter as I do, and follow me every way (for my shadow can do that much better) I had rather have one that with me will follow the truth, & judge according to it and not otherwise. Avaunt therefore, I will have nought to do with thee. This you see one way to discover a flatterer.  
A second difference we ought to observe in his imitations and resemblances, for a true friend doth not imitate all that he seeth him whom he loveth to do; neither is he forward in praising every thing but that only which is best: For according to Sophocles, 
In love he would his fellow be,  
But not in hate and enmity.  And verily one friend is ready and willing to assist another in well doing and in honest life, and never will yield to be companion in lewdness, or help him to commit any wicked and heinous fact; unless peradventure through the ordinary conversation, and continual acquaintance together, he be tainted with infection of some ill quality and vicious condition, even against his will and ere he be well aware: much like as they who by contagion catch rhewmaticke and blear eyes: or as the familiar friends and scholars (by report) of Plato did imitate him in stooping forward: and those of Aristotle in his stammering and maffling speech; and the 〈◊〉 of Alexander the Great, in bending of his neck, and rough voice when he spoke. For even so some there be who receive impression of their manners and conditions at unawares and against their wills. But chose, it fareth with a flatterer even as with the Chamoelion; For as he can take upon him any colour save only white; semblably, a flatterer cannot possibly frame himself to any thing that good is and of importance: but there is no naughtiness and badness in the world which he will not quickly imitate. And well I may compare such fellows to ill painters, who when through insufficiency in their art they be not able to draw to the life, the beauty and favour of a good face, will be sure yet to express the rivels, warts, moules, freckles, scars and such like deformities. For even so a flatterer can imitate very passing well, Incontinency, foolish superstition, hastiness and choler, bitterness towards household servants, distrust and diffidence in friends & kinsfolk, yea and treachery against them: for that by nature he is always inclined to the worse; and beside, so far he would be thought from blaming vice, that he undertaketh to imitate the same. For those that seek for amendment of life and reformation of manners are ever suspected: such (I say) as show themselves displeased and offended at the faults and misdemeanours of their friends. And this was it that made Dion odious to Denys the Tyranty, Samius to Philip, and Cleomenes to Ptolomaeus, and in the end was their ruin and overthrow. The flatterer who desireth to be both pleasant and faithful at once, or at leastwise so to be reputed, for execessive love and friendship that he pretendeth, will not seem to be offended with his friend for any lewd parts, but in all things would be thought to carry the same affection, and to be in manner of the same nature and incorporate into him: whereupon it cometh to pass also, that even in casual things and the occurrences of this life, which happen without our will and counsel, he will needs have a part, there is no remedy. This if he be disposed to flatter sick persons, he will make as though he were sick also of the same disease for company: and if he have to do with such as be dim sighted or hard of hearing, he will be thought neither to see nor hear well for fellowship. Thus the flatterers about Denys the Tyrants, when he had an impediment in his eyes that he could not see clearly, feigned that themselves likewise were half blind, and to make it good, hit one upon another at the board, and overthrew the dish upon the table as they sat at supper. Others there be that proceed farther than so, and because they would appear more touched with fellow-feeling of affections, will enter as far as to the very inward secrets that are not to be revealed. For if they can perceive that they whom they do flatter, be not fortunate in their marriage, or that they are grown into distrust, jealousy, and sinister opinion, either of their own children, or their near kinsfolk and familiars; they spare not themselves but begin to complain, & that with grief of heart and sorrow of their own wives and children, of theirkinred and friends, laying abroad some criminous matters, which were better (iwis) to be concealed and smothered, than uttered and revealed. And this resemblance and likeness that they take upon themselves, causeth them to seem more affectionate and fuller of compassion. The other then, thus flattered, thinking that by this means they have received from them a sufficient pawn and assurance of their fidelity, stick not to let fall from their mouth some matter of secrecy also; and when they have once committed it unto them, than they are ever after bound to use them, yea and be afraid to mistrust them in any thing. I myself knew one who seemed to put away his own wedded wife, because his friendwhom he flattered had divorced his befofe: and when he had so done, was known to go secretly unto her, and messengers there were who passed to and fro between them under hand: which the divorced wife of the other perceived and found out well enough. Certes little knew he what a flatterer was, and he had no experience of him who thought these jambicke verses to express the Sea-crab better than him, 
Abeast whose body and belly are meet,  
The eye doth serve each way to see:  
With teeth it creeps, they stand for feet,  
Aread now what creature this may be?  For this is the very portraiture and image of a parasite, who keeps about the frying pan (as Eupolis saith) of his good friends, and waiteth where the cloth is laid. But as touching these things, let us refer them to their proper place for to be discoursed more at large. Howbeit, for the present let us not leave behind us one notable devise and cunning cast; that a flatterer hath in his imitations; to wit, that if he do counterfeit some good ovalitie that is in him whom he doth flatter, yet he giveth him always the upper hand: For among those that be true friends, there is no emulation at all, no jealousy or envy between one & another: but whether they be equal in well doing or come behind, they take all in good part and never grieve at the matter. But the flatterer bearing well in mind that he in every place, is to play the second part, yieldeth always in his imitation the equality from himself, and doth affect to counterfeit another so, as he will be the inferior, giving the superiority unto the other in all things but those which are nought, for therein he challengeth to himself the victory over his friend. If he be somewhat mal-content and hard to be pleased, then will the flatterer profess himself to be stark melancholic: if his friend be somewhat too religious or superstitious, then will he make semblance as though he were rapt and transported altogether with the fear of the gods: If the other be amorous, he will be in love furious: when the other saith I laughed a good; but I (will he say again) laughed until I was well near dead. But in good things it is clean contrary, for when he speaketh of good footmanship he will say, I run swiftly indeed; but you fly away. Again, I sit a horse and rid reasonable well; but what is that to this Hippocentaure here for good horsemanship? Also, I have a pretty gift in Poetry (I must needs say) and am not the worst versifier in the world; but 
To thunder verses I have no skill,  
To jupiter there leave that I will.  in these and such like speeches two things at once he doth: for first he seemeth to approve the enterprise of the other as singular good, because he doth imitate him; and secondly he showeth that his sufficiency therein is incomparable and not to be matched, in that he confesseth himself to come short of him. And thus much of the different marks between a flatterer and a friend as touching their resemblances.  
Now, forasmuch as there is a community of delectation and pleasure in them both (as I have said before) for that an honest man taketh no less joy and comfort in his friends, than a lewd person in flatterers, let us consider likewise the distinction between them in this behalf. The only way to distinguish them a sunder in this point, is to mark the drift and end of the delectation both in the one and the other: which a man may see more clearly by this example: There is in a sweet ointment an odoriferous smell: so is therealso in an Antidote or medicine; but herrein lieth the difference, for that in the ointment abovesaid, their is a reference to pleasure only, and to nothing else; but in the Antidote, beside the delectation that the odor yieldeth, there is a respect also of some medicinable virtue, namely either to purge and cleanse the body, or to heat and chafe it, or else to incamate and make new flesh to come. Again Painters do grind and mix fresh colours and lively tinctures; so the Apothecary hath drugs and medicines of a beautiful and pleasant colour to the eye, that it would do a man good to look upon them. But wherein is the difference? Is there any man so gross that conceiveth not readily, that the odds lieth in the use or end, for which both the one and the other be ordained? Semblably the mutual offices and kindnesses that pass from friend to friend, beside the honesty and profit that they have, bring with them also that which is pleasing and delectable, as if some dainty and lively flowers grew thereupon: For sometime friends use plays and pastimes one with another: they invite one another, they eat and drink together: yea and otherwhiles (believe me) you shall have them make themselves merry and laugh heartily, jesting, gauding, and disporting one with another; all which serve as pleasant sauces to season their other serious and honest affairs of great weight and consequence. And to this purpose serve well these verses: 
With pleasant discourses from one to another  
They made themselves merry, being met together.   
Also, 
And nothing else disjoined our amity,  
Nor partedour pleasures and mutual jollity.   
But the whole work of a flatterer, and the only mark that he shooteth at, is always to devise, prepare and confect, as it were, some play or sport, some action and speech, with pleasure and to do pleasure. And to knit up all briefly in one word, he is of opinion that he ought to do all for to be pleasant: whereas the true friend doing always that which his duty requireth, many times pleaseth, and as often again he is displeasant: not that his intention is to displease at any time; howbeit if he see it expedient and better so to do, he will not stick to be a little harsh and unpleasant. For like as a Physician when need requireth, putteth in some Saffron or spikenard into his medicine: yea and otherwhile permitreth his patient a delicate bath, or liberal and dainty diet to his full contentment: but sometimes for it again, leaving out all sweet odours, casteth in Castorem, 
Or Polium which strong scent doth yield  
And stinks most of all herbs in field.  or else he bruiseth and stampeth some Ellebore, and forceth his patient to drink of that potion: not proposing either in the former medicine pleasure, nor in the latter displeasure for the end: but both by the one and the other, training the sick person under his hand to one & the same effect of his cure, to wit, his good and the health of his body; even so it is with a true friend: one while with praises and gracious words he extolleth and cheereth up his friend, inciting him thereby always to that which is good and honest, as he in Homer, 
Dear heart Sir Teucer worthy son of Telamonius that Knight,  
Come Prince and flower of valiant knights,  
Shoot thus your arrows flight.   
And another, 
How can I ever put out of mind  
Heavenly Ulysses a Prince so kind?  chose, anotherwhile where there is need of chastisement and correction, he will not spare but use sharp and biting words: yea, and that free speech which carrieth with it an affection careful to do good, and such as in deed beseemeth a tutor and governor, much after this manner: 
What Menelaus! how ever that from jupiter you descend:  
You play the fool, for folly such  
I cannot you commend.  It falleth out so likewise, that sometime he addeth deeds to words. And thus Menedemus shut the door against the son of Asclepiades his friend, and would not deign once to salute him, because he was a riotous youth, and lived dissolutely and out of all order: by which means he was reclaimed from loose life, and became an honest man. Arcesilaus in like manner excluded Battus out of his school, and would not suffer him to enter, because in a Comedy that he composed, he had made one verse against Cleanthes; but afterwards Battus repenting of that he had done, and making satisfaction unto Cleanthes, was pardoned and received again into his favour. For a man may offend his friend with intention to do him good; but he must not proceed so far in displeasing him, that thereby he break or undo the knot of friendship: he ought (I say) to use a sharp rebuke, as a Physician doth some bitter or tart medicine, to save or peserve the life of his patient. And a good friend is to play the part of a Musician, who to bring his instrument into tune, and so to keep it, setteth up these strings, and letteth down those: and so ought a friend to exchange profit with pleasure, and use one with another, as occasion serveth, observing still this rule often times, to be pleasing unto his friend, but always profitable: whereas the flatterer being used evermore to sing one note, and to play upon the same string, that is to say, To please: and in all his words and deeds, to aim at nothing else but the contentment of him whom he flattereth, can not skill either in act to resist, or in speech to reprove and offend him; but goeth on still in following his humour, according always with him in one tune, and keeping the same note just with him.  
Now, as Xenophon writeth of king Agesilaus, that he was well apaied to be commended of them who he knew would also blame him if there were cause; so we are to think well of friendship when it is pleasant, delightsome and cheerful, if otherwhiles also it can displease and cross again; but to have in suspicion the conversation and acquaintance of such, as never do or say any thing but that which is pleasing, continually keeping one course without change, never rubbing where the gall is, nor touching the sore, without reproof and contradiction. We ought (I say) to have ready always in remembrance the saying of an ancient Laconian, who hearing king Charilaus so highly praised and extolled; And how possibly (quoth he) can he be good, who is never sharp or severe unto the wicked? The gadfly (as they say) which useth to plague bulls and oxen, settleth about their ears, and so doth the tick deal by dogs: after the same manner, flatterers take hold of ambitious men's ears, and possess them with praises; and being once set fast there, hardly are they to be removed and chased away. And here most needful it is, that our judgement be watchful and observant, and do discern whether these praises be attributed to the thing or the person; we shall perceive that the thing itself is praised, if they commend men rather absent than in place: also if they desire and affect that themselves, which they do so like and approve in others: again, if they praise not us alone, but all others, for the semblable qualities: likewise, if they neither say nor do one thing now, and another time the contrary. But the principal thing of all other, is this, If we ourselves know in our own secret conscience, that we neither repent nor be ashamed of that, for which they so commend us; ne yet wish in our hearts, that we had said or done the contrary: for the inward judgement of our mind and soul bearing witness against such praises, and not admitting thereof, is void of affections and passions, whereby it neither can be touched nor corrupted and surprised by a flatterer. Howbeit, I know not how it cometh about, that the most part of men can not abide nor receive the consolations which be ministered unto them in their adversities, but rather take delight and comfort in those that weep, lament and mourn with them: and yet the same men having offended or being delinquent in any duty, if one come and find fault or touch them to the quick therefore, do strike and imprint into their heart's remorse and repentance, they take him for no better than an accuser and enemy: chose, let one highly commend and magnify that which they have done; him they salute and embrace, him they account their well-willer and friend in deed. Now, whosoever they be that are ready to praise and extol with applause and clapping of hands, that which one hath done or said, were it in earnest or in game; such (I say) are dangerous and hurtful for the present only, and in those things which are next hand: but those, who with their praises pierce as fair as to the manners within, and with their flatteries proceed to corrupt their inward natures and dispositions, I can liken unto those slaves or household servants, who rob their masters, not only of that corn which is in the heap, & heath in the garners, but also of the very seed; for the inclination and towardness of a man, are the seed that bring forth all his actions, and the habitude of conditions and manners, are the very source and head from whom runneth the course of our whole life, which they pervert in giving to vices the names of virtues. Thucydides in his story writeth: That during civil seditions and wars, men transferred the accustomed significations of words unto other things, for to justify their deeds: for desperate rashness, without all reason, was reputed valour, and called Love-friend: provident delay and remporizing, was taken for decent cowardice: Modesty and temperance, was thought to be a cloak of effeminate unmanliness: a prudent and wary circumspection in all things, was held for a general sloth and idleness. According to which precedent, we are to consider and observe in flatterers, how they term prodigality by the name of liberality; cowardice is nothing with them but heedful wariness: brainsicknesse they entitle promptitude, quickness, and celerity: base and mechanical nigardise, they account temperate frugality. Is there one full of love and given to be amorous? him they call good fellow, a boun-companion, a man of a kind and good nature. See they one hasty, wrathful, and proud withal? him they will have to be hardy, valiant and magnanimous: chose, one of a base mind and abject spirit, they will grace with the attribute of fellowlike, and full of humanity. Much like to that which Plato hath written in one place: That the amorous lover is a flatterer of those whom he loveth. For if they be flat nosed like a shoing borne, such they call lovely and gracious: be they hawk-nosed like a griffin, ôh, that is a kingly sight say they: those that be black of colour, are manly: white of complexion, be God's children. And as for the term Melichriis, that is, Hony-coloured, it is always (verily) a flattering word, devised by a lover, to mitigate and diminish the odiousness of a pale hue, which he seemeth by that sweet name, not to mislike, but to take in the best part. And verily if he that is foul & ill favoured, be borne in hand that he is fair and beautiful, or one of small & low stature made believe that he is goodly & tall; he neither continueth long in this his error, neither is the damage that he sustaineth thereby grievous & great, nor unrecoverable: but the praises which induce & enure a man to believe, That vice is virtue, insomuch that he is nothing at all discontented in his sin and grieved therefore, but rather taketh pleasure therein: those also which take away from us all shame and abashment to commitfaults; such were they that brought the Sicilians to ruin, and gave them occasion to beautify or colour the tyranny and cruelty of Denys and Phalaris, with the goodly names of justice and Hatred of wickedness: These were the overthrow of Egypt, in cloaking the effeminate wantonness, the furious superstition, the yelling noises after a fanatical manner of king Ptolomaeus, together with the marks that he carried of Lilies and Tabours in his body, with the glorious names of Devotion, Religion, and the service of the gods. And this was it that at the same time went very near, and had like to have corrupted and spoiled for ever the manners and fashions of the Romans, which before were so highly reputed, to wit, naming the riotousness of Antony, his looseness, his superfluous delights, his sumptuous shows & public feasts, with their profusion and wasting of so much money, by smooth and gentle terms of courtesies, and merriments full of humanity, by which disguisements and pretexts, his fault was mollified or diminished in abusing so excessively the grandence of his puissance & fortune. And what was it else that made Ptolomaeus to put on the mask or mussle (as it were) of a piper, and to hang about him pipes and flutes? What was it that caused Nero to mount up the Stage to act Tragedies, with a viso over his face, and buskins on his legs? was it not the praise of such flatterers as these? And are not most of our kings being when they sing small and fine, after a puling manner, saluted Apollo's for their music: and if they drink until they be drunk, honoured with the names of Bacchus the god of wine: and when they seem a little to wrestle or try some frets of activity, styled by and by with the glorious addition of Hercules, brought (think you) to exceeding dishonour & shame by this gross flattery, taking such pleasure as they do in these gallant surnames. And therefore we had most need to beware of a flatterer in the praises which he giveth, which himself is not ignorant of, but being careful and very subtle in avoiding all suspicion, if haply he meet with one of these fine fools, and delicate minions, well set out in gay apparel: or some rustical thicke-skin, carrying on his back a good leather pilch; or (as they say) one that feedeth grossly: such he will not spare but abuse with broad flattery, and make common laughing stocks of them: Like as Struthias, making a very ass of Bias, and riding him up and down, yea & insulting upon him for his sottishness with praises that he would seem to hang upon him: Thou hast (quoth he) drunk more than king Alexander the great, & with that turning to Cyprius laughed as hard as ever he could till he was ready to sink again. But if a flatterer chance to deal with them that be more civil and elegant, and do perceive that they have a special eye unto him in this point, namely that they stand well upon their guard in this place, for fear lest they be surprised by him: then he goes not to work directly in praising of them, but he keepeth aloof, he fetcheth about many compasses a great way off at first, afterwards by little and little he winneth some ground and approacheth nearer and nearer, making no noise until he can touch and handle them, much after the manner of those that come about wild beasts, assaying how to bring them to hand and make them tame and gentle. For one while he will report to such a one the praises that some other give out of him: imitating herein the Rhetoricians, who many times in their orations speak in the third person, and after this manner he will begin: I was not long since (quoth he) in the market place, where I had some talk with certain strangers, and other ancient personages of good worth, whom I was glad at the heart to hear, how they recounted all the good in the world of you, and spoke wonderfully in your commendation. Otherwhiles he will devise and fetch out of his own fingers ends some light imputations against him, yet all forged and false, agreeable to his person and condition, making semblance as if he had heard others what they said of him, and very cunningly will he close with him, and bear him in hand that he is come in all haste to know of him, whether ever he said or did so as was reported of him: And if the other do deny it, (as it is no other like but he will) thereupon he takes occasion to enter into the praise and commendation of the man in this wise: I marvel truly how that you should abuse and speak ill of any of your familiars and friends, who were never wont so much as to miscall or say otherwise than well of your very enemies? or how it possibly could be, that you should be ready to gape after other men's goods, who use to be so liberal and bountiful of your own? Other flatterers there be, who like as Painters to set up their colours and to give them more beautiful light and lustre unto them, lay near unto them others that be more dark and shadowy: so they in blaming, reproving, reproaching, traducing & deriding the contrary virtues to those vices which are in them whom the mean to flatter, covertly and underhand do praise and approve those faults and imperfections that they have, and so in praising and allowing, do feed and cherish the same: As for example, if they be among prodigal ding-thrists and wasters, riotous persons, covetous misers, mischievous wretches, and such as have raked & scraped goods together by hook and crook, and by all indirect means they care not how: before them they will speak basely of Temperance and Abstinence, calling it rusticity: and as for those that live justly and with a good conscience, contenting themselves with their estate, and therein reposing suffisance, those they will nickname, heartless, and base minded folk, altogether insufficient to do or dare any thing. If it fall out, that they converse and be in company with such as be idle lusks, and love to sit still at home and do nothing, forbearing to meddle with ordinary affairs abroad in the world: they will not bash to find fault with policy and civil government, calling the managing of State matters and common weal, a thankless intermeddling in other men's affairs, with much travail and no profit. And as for the mind and desire to be a magistrate and to sit in place of authority, they will not let to say it is vain glory and ambition, altogether fruitless. For to flatter and claw an orator, they will reprove in his presence a Philosopher. Among light huswives that be wanton given, they win the price, and are very well accepted, if they call honest matrons and chaste dames (who content themselves with their own husbands, and them love alone) rude and rustical women, untaught, ill bred, unlovely and having no grace with them. But herein is the very height of wickedness, that these flatterers for advantage will not spare their own selves: For like as wrestlers debase their own bodies and stoop down low otherwhiles, for to overthrow their fellows that wrestle with them, and to lay them along on the ground; so in blaming and finding many faults with themselves, they wind in, and creep closely to the praise and admiration of others: I am (quoth one of them) a very coward, and no better than a very slave at sea; I can away with no labour and travel in the world; I am all in a heat of choler, and raging mad, if I hear that one hath given me any bad terms; mary as for this man (meaning him whom he flattereth) he casteth doubts at no peril and danger, all is one with him, sea or land, he can endure all hardness, and he counteth nothing painful, no hurt there is in him, a singular man he is, and hath not his fellow, he is angry at nothing, he beareth all with patience. But say he meet with one at aventure, which standeth upon his own bottom, and hath some great opinion of his own sufficiency for wit and understanding, who hath a desire to be austere, and not to depend upon the conceits of others, but resteth in his own judgement; and upon a certain uprightness in himself, eftsoons hath these verses in his mouth: 
Sir Diomedes, do not me praise  
So much to more or less,  
Nor out of measure me dispraise,  
I love not such excess.  This flatterer then, who is this own crafts-master and hath thoroughly learned his trade, goeth not the old way to work in setting upon him, but he hath another engine and device in store to assail such a grim sir withal. He will make an errand to him for counsel in his own affairs, as being the man whom he esteemeth to have more wit and wisdom than himself. There be diverse others (quoth he) with whom I have better acquaintance and familiarity than with yourself: Howbeit, sir I am forced of necessity to make bold and to importune you a little: For whither else should we ingram men repair, that have need of advice? and to whom are we to have recourse in matters of trust and secrecy. And then after he hath heard once what he will say, and it makes no matter what it be; he will take his leave, saying, that he hath received not counsel from a man, but an oracle from some god. Now before he departeth, if haply he perceive that he taketh upon him good skill and insight in literature, he will present unto him some compositions of his own penning, praying him withal to peruse them, yea and to correct the same. Mithridates the king, affected and loved the art of Physic very well: by reason whereof some of his familiar friends about him, came and offered themselves to be cut and cauterised by him: which was a mere flattery in deed and not in word. For it seemed that they gave great testimony of his soul, in that they put their lives into his hands: 
Of subtle spirits, thus you may see,  
That many forms and shapes there be.  But this kind of dissimuled praises, requiring greater and more wary circumspection to be taken heed of, if a man would detect and convince, he ought of purpose when he is tempted and assailed with such flattery, to obtrude and propose unto the flatterer absurd counsel, if he seem to damaund and ask it: advertisements also and properly of the same kind, yea and corrections without all sense and to no purpose, when he shall offer his labours to be read and perused: In so doing, if he perceive the party suspected to be a flatterer, doth not gainsay nor contradict any thing, but alloweth of all and receiveth the same, yea and more than that, when he shall to every point cry out and say, Oh well said and sufficiently: O excellent wit: be sure, than he is caught in a trap: they I say it will be found plainly according to the common byword, 
That when he did a watchword crave,  
Some other thing he sought to have:  
Or as we say (in Proverb old)  
Draff was his errand, but drink he would.  that is to say, he waited for some occasion and opportunity, by praising to puff him up with vanity and overweening of himself. Moreover, like as some have defined painting to be a mute Poesy; even so praising is a kind of silent and secret flattery. Hunters (we see) than soon deceive the poor beasts, when they seem to do nothing less than to hunt, making semblance as though they either traveled like wayfaring men, or rended their flocks, or else tilled the ground. Semblably flatterers touch those whom they flatter, nearest and enter to the very quick by praising, when they make no show thereof, but seem to do nothing less than praise. For he that giveth the chair and seat to another coming in place, or as he is making an oration either in public place before the people, or in Council house to the Senate, breaketh off his own speech, and yieldeth unto him his room, giving him leave to speak or to opine, and remaineth silent himself: by this his silence showeth, that he doth repute the other a better man, and of more sufficiency for wisdom and knowledge than himself, much more than if he should pronounce and ring it out aloud to the whole audience. And hereupon it is that this sort of people who make profession of faltterie, take up ordinarily the first and highest seats, aswell at sermons and public orations whither men flock to hear, as at the theatres and shown places, not that they think themselves worthic of such places, but because they may rise and make room for better & richer persons as they come, and thereby slatter them, kindly. This we see also, that in solemn assemblies and great meetings or auditories, they are by their good wills the first that put themselves forth, and make offer to begin speech; but it is for nothing else, but that afterward they would seem to quit the place and give assent to their betters, soon retracting their own opinions, when they hear a mighty man, a rich or noble parsonage in authority to contradict and say the contrary. And here we ought most of all to be circumspect and wary, that we may evict them of this, That all this courting, this giving place, this yielding of the victory and reverence made unto others, is not for any more sufficiency that they acknowledge in them, for their knowledge, experience and virtues; ne yet for their worthiness in regard of elder age, but only for their wealth, riches, credit, and reputation in the world. 
* 〈◊〉 reporteth this of K. Alexander, & not of Megabysus.  Megabysus a great Lord belonging to the king's court of Persia, came upon a time to visit Apelles the painter: and sitting by him in his shop to see him work, began of his own accord to discourse I wot not what, of lines, shadows and other matters belonging to his art: Apelles hearing him, could not hold but said unto him; See you not sir these little prentice boys here that grind Ochre and other colours? So long as you sat still and said never a word, they advised you well and their eye was never off, wondering to see your rich purple robes, your chains and jewels of gold, no sooner began you to speak, but they fell to teighing, and now they laugh you to scorn, talking thus as you do of those things which you never learned. And Solon being demanded once by Croesus' King of Lydia, what men he had seen whom he reputed most happy in this world? named unto him one Tellus, none of the great men of Athens, but a good plain and mean citizen, Cleobis also and Biton: and these he said were of all others most fortunate. But these flatterers will affirm that Kings and Princes, rich men and rulers, are not only blessed, happy and fortumate; but also excel all others in wisdom, knowledge and virtue. There is not one of them that can endure so much as to hear the Stoics, who hold, that the sage and wise man (such a one as they depaint unto us) ought all at once to be called, rich, fair, noble, yea and a king: whereas our flatterers will have the rich man only, whom they are disposed to flatter, to be an Orator and a Poet; yea and if he will himself, a painter, a good piper, passing light of foot and strong of limbs; insomuch, as whosoever wrestleth with him, shall be sure to take the foil and lie along; and whomsoever he runneth with in the race, he shall come behind him a fair deal, but how? Surely even as Crisson the Himeraean lagged for the nonce behind King Alexander the Great, when he ran with him for the best game: for which the King was highly displeased & wroth at him, when he once perceved it. Carneades was wont to say, that the sons of Kings and great rich men, learned to do nothing well and right, but only to sit and ride an horse. For that their masters are wont to flatter and praise them in all their schools where they be taught: for if they be at the exercise of wrestling, you shall have him that wrestleth with them, of purpose to take a fall and lie under them: Marry, the horse not knowing nor having the reason to discern a private man's son from a prince; nor whether he be poor or rich that sits upon his back, will be sure to cast him over his head and lay him along whosoever he be, that cannot skill how to hold and rule him. Bion therefore was but a very lob and fool in saying thus: If I wist that with praising a piece of ground I could make it good, rich and fertile, it should want for no praises; and rather would I commend it than toil and moil in digging, tilling, & doing work about it. And yet I will not say, that a man is too blame and doth amiss in praising: if so be, that those who are praised be the better and more fruitful in all good things for it. Howbeit to come again into the ground before said; a field being praised never so much is not the worse nor less fertile therefore: but I assure you they that commend folk falsely, and beyond their desert and due, puff them full of wind and vanity, and work their overthrow in the end. But now having discoursed sufficiently upon this article and point of praises, let us proceed forward to treat of frankness and liberty of speech. And verily meet and reason it had been, that as Patroclus when he put on the armour of Achilles, and brought forth his horses of service to battle, durst not meddle with his spear Pelias, but left it only untouched; so a flatterer also, although he mask and disguise himself withother habits, ornaments and ensigns of a friend, should let this liberty only of speech alone, and not once go about to touch or counterfeit it, as being indeed 
A baston of such poise and weight  
So big withal so stiff and straight,  that of all others it belongeth only to friendship for to be carried and wielded by it. But for as much, as our flatterers now a days are afraid to be detected in laughing in their cups, in their jests, scoffs, and gamesome mirth; therefore to avoid such discovery, they have learned forsooth to knit and bend the brows, they can skill iwis, to flatter, and yet look with a frowning face and crabbed countenance, they have the cast to temper with their glavering gloss some rough reprehensions, and chiding checks among: let us not overpass this point untouched, but consider and examine the same likewise. For mine own part I am of this mind: That as in a Comedy of Menander, there comes in a counterfeit Hercules to play his part upon the stage with a club on his shoulder, that is (you may be sure) nothing massy, heavy, stiff and strong, but some device and gawd, hollow and empty within, made of brown paper or such like stuff; Even so, that plain and free speech which a slatterer useth, will be found light, soft, and without any strength at all to give a blow: much like (to say truly) unto the soft bed pillows that women lie on, which seeming full and plump to resist and bear out against their heads, yield and sink under the same so much the more: For after the same manner, this counterfeit free speech of theirs puffed up full of wind, or else sluffed with some deceitful light matter, seemeth to rise up, to swell, and bear out hard & stiff, to the end that being pressed down once (and both sides as it were coming together) it might receive, enlap and enfold him that chanceth to fall thereupon, and so carry him away with it. Whereas the true and friendly liberty of speech indeed, taketh hold of those that are delinquent and do offend, bringing with it a kind of pain for the time, which notwithstanding is wholesome and healthful: resembling herein the nature of honey, which being applied to a sore or ulcerous place, at the first doth smart and sting; but it doth cleanse and mundify withal, and otherwise is profitable, sweet and pleasant. But as touching this plain dealing and frank speech, I will write a part of purpose in place convenient. As for the flatterer he maketh show at the first, that he is rough, violent, and inexorable in all dealings with others. For over his servants he carrieth a hard hand, and is not pleased with their service, with his familiars, acquaintance and kinsfolk he is sharp and eager, ready to find fault with every thing; he maketh no reckoning nor account of any man but himself; he despiseth and disdaineth all the world beside; there is not a man living that he will pardon and forgive; he blameth and accuseth every one; and his whole study is to is win the name & reputation of a man that hateth vice, & in that regard careth not whom he doth provoke, and whose displeasure he incur: as who, for no good in the world would he hired to hold his 〈◊〉, nor willingly forbear to speak plainly the truth; who with his good will would never speak or do any thing to soothe up and please another: Then will he make semblance as though he neither saw nor took knowledge of any great and gross sins indeed: but if peradventure there be some light and small outward faults, he will make foul a do thereat, he will keep a wondering and crying out upon them: then shall you have him in good earnest exclaim and reprove the delinquent with a loud and sounding voice: As for example, if he chance to espy the implements or any thing else about the house lie out of order; if a man be not well and neatly lodged; if his beard be not of the rightcut, or his hair grow out of fashion; if a garment sit not handsomely about him, or if a horse or hound be not so carefully tended as they should be. But say that a man set nought by his parents, neglect his own children, misuse his wife, disdain and despise his kindred, spend and consume his goods; none of all these enormities touch and move him: here he is mute and hath not a word to say; he dared not reprove these abuses: much like as if a Master of the wrestling school, who suffereth a wrestler that is under his hand to be a drunkard and a whoremonger, should chide and rebuke him sharply about an oil cruse or currycomb; or as if a Grammarian should find fault with his scholar and chide him for his writing tables or his pen, letting him go away clear with solaecismes, incongruities and barbarisms, as if he heard them not. Also I can liken flatterer to him, who will not blame an ill author, or ridiculous Rhetorician in any thing as touching his oration itself; but rather reproveth him for his utterance, and sharply taketh him up for that by drinking of cold water he hath hurt his windpipe, and so marred his voice; or to one who being bidden to read over and peruse a poor silly Epigram or other writing that is nothing worth, taketh on and fareth against the paper wherein it is written, for being thick, course or rugged; or against the writer, for negligent, slovenly or impure otherwise. Thus the clawbacks and flatterers about king Ptolomaeus, who would seem to love good letters, and to be desirous of learning, used ordinarily to draw out their disputations and conferences at length, even to midnight, debating about some gloss or signification of a word, about a verse, or touching some history: but all the while there was not one among so many of them, that would tell him of his cruelty, of his wrongs and oppressions, ne yet of his 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Some expound it, beating his subjects with 〈◊〉, and oppressing the with 〈◊〉 exactions.  〈◊〉, tabouring, and other enormous indignities, under the colour of religion; and seek to reform him. Certes a foolish fellow were he, who coming to a man diseased with tumours, swellings, impostumes, or hollow ulcers, called Fistulas, should with a Chirurgeons lancet, or Barber's razor, fall to cut his hairs, or pair his nails; even so it fareth with these flatterers, who apply their liberty of speech to such things, as neither are in pain, nor yet do any hurt. Moreover, some others there be of them, who being more cunning and crafty than their fellows, and use this plainness of language and reprehension of theirs, for to please and make sport withal. Thus Agis the Argive, seeing how Alexander the great, gave very great rewards and gifts to a certain pleasant and odd fellow that was a jester, cried out for very envy and dolour of heart; O great abuse and monstrous absurdity: The King hearing it, turned about unto him in great displeasure and indignation, demanding of him what he had to say? I confess (quoth he) indeed, that I am grieved, and I think it a great indignity, when I see all you that are descended from jupiter and his sons, to take pleasure in flatterers and jesters about you, for to make you merry. For even so Hercules took a delight to have in his company certain ridiculous Cecrops', and Bacchus had ever in his train the Silenes. In your court likewise, a man may see such to be in credit and highly esteemed. When Tiberius Caesar the Emperor upon a certain day was come into the Senate house of Rome, one of the Senators who knew how to flatter, arose and stood up, and with a good loud voice; Meet it is (quoth he) o Caesar that men free borne, should likewise have the liberty of speech, and speak their minds frankly, without dissimuling or concealing any thing which they know to be good and profitable: with this speech of his, he stirred up the attention of the whole house, so as they gave good ear unto him, and Tiberius himself listened what he would say. Now when all was still and in great silence; Harken (quoth he) o Caesar, what it is that we all accuse and blame you for, but no man dare be so bold as to speak it out: You neglect yourself, and have no regard of your own person; you consume and spoil your body with continual cares and travels for our sake, taking no rest nor repose either day or night. Now when he had drawn out a long train of words to this purpose, Cassius Severus a Rhetorician, stood up, and by report said thus; Such liberty of speech as this, will be the utter undoing of this man. But these flatteries are of the lighter sort, and do less hurt: there be other more dangerous, which work the mischief and corruption of those who are not wise, and take no heed unto them; namely, when flatterers set in hand to reprove them whom they flatter, for the contrary vices to those that be in them. Thus Himerius the flatterer reproached a certain rich man of Athens, the veriest pinching miser and the most covetous withal, that was in the whole city, with the imputations of prodigality, and negligence about his own profit and gain; charging him that one day he would smart for it, and both he and his children be hunger-sterved for want wherewith to sustain themselves, if he looked no better to his thrift: or when they object miserable nigardise and beggary, unto those that are known to be prodigal spenders, and consume all. After which manner, Titus Petronius reproved Nero. Again, if they come to princes and great lords, who deal cruelly and hardly with their subjects and tenants, saying unto them, That they must lay away this overmuch lenity and foolish pity of theirs, which neither is seemly for their persons, nor yet profitable for their state. And very like to these, is he who maketh semblance to him who is a very senseless for and foolish fool, that he stands in great fear and doubt of him, lest he should be circumvented by him, as if he were some cautelous, crafty and cunning person. He also, that doth rebuke another, who is an ordinary slanderer, who taketh pleasure (upon spite and envy) to be ever railing on all men, and backbiting them, if he chance any one time to break out into the praise of some worthy and excellent parsonage, saying in this manner unto him; This is a great fault that you have, and a disease that followeth you, thus to praise men of no worth: What is he (I pray you) whom you thus commend? what good parts be in him? hath he at any time done any doughty deed, or delivered any singular speech that might deserve such praises? But in amatorious and love matters they pass: there you shall have them most of all to come over those whom they flatter and lay on load; to them they will join close, and set them on a flaming fire. For if they see brethren at some variance, or setting nought by their parents, or else to deal unkindly with their own wives, and to set no store by them, or to be jealous and suspicious of them; they never admonish, chastise or rebuke them for it, that they may amend; but rather they will kindle more coals between, and increase their anger and discontentment on both sides: Nay, it is no great matter (will they say,) it is even well enough; you will never see and know who you are; you are the cause of all this your own self; and self do, self have; you evermore have borne yourselves so pliable, submiss and lowly toward them, that you are but rightly served. But say there be some itching heat of love, or smart anger upon jealousy, in regard of a courtesan or married wife, whom the party is amorous of; then shall you see a flatterer ready at hand to display his cunning openly, and to speak his mind freely unto him, putting fire to fire and feeding his love; you shall have him to lay the law upon this lover, accusing and entering process against him in these terms: You have broken the laws of love; you have done and said many things not so kindly as beseemed a true lover, but rather dealt hardly with your love, and enough to lose her heart, and incur her hatred for ever; 
Unthankful person that thou art.  
For kisses so many of thy sweet hart.   
Thus the flattering friends of Antonius, when he burned in love of the Egyptian queen Cleopatra, would persuade and make him believe, that she it was who was enamoured upon him, and by way of opprobrious imputation they would tell him to his face, that he was proud, disdainful, hard hearted, and void of all kind affection. This noble queen (would they say) forsaking so mighty and wealthy a kingdom, so many pleasant palaces, and stately houses of blessed abode, such means and opportunities of happiness, for the love of you pineth away, and consumeth herself, trudging after your camp to and fro, for to do your Honour content and pleasure with the habit and title of your Concubine, 
Whiles you in breast do carry an hart  
Which will not be wrought by any art.  neglecting her (good lady) and suffering her to perish for sorrow and hearts grief. Whereupon he being well enough pleased to hear himself thus charged with wrong doing to her, and taking more pleasure in these accusations of theirs, than if they had directly praised him, was so blind that he could not see how they that seemed thus to admonish him of his duty, perverted and corrupted him thereby so much the more. For this counterfeit liberty of plain dealing and plain speech, may be very well likened to the wanton pinches and bitings of luxurious women, who tickle and stir up the lust and pleasure of men by that which might seem to cause their pain. For like as pure wine, which otherwise of itself is a sure remedy against the poison of hemlock, if a man do mingle it with the juice of the said hemlock, doth mightily enforce the poison thereof, and make it irremediable, for that by means of the heat it conveieth the same more speedily unto the heart; even so these lewd and mischievous flatterers, knowing full well that frank speech is a singular help and remedy against flattery, abuse it to flatter withal. And therefore it seemeth that Bias answered not so well as he might have done, to one that asked of him, which was the shrewdest and most hurtful beast of all other: If (quoth he) your question be of wild and savage, a Tyrant is worse; if of tame and gentle, a Flatterer. For he might have said more truly; that of Flatterers some be of a tame kind, such (I mean) as these parasites are who haunts the baines and stouphes; those also that follow good cheer and keep about the table. As for him, who (like as the Pourcuttle fish stretcheth out his claws like branches) reacheth as far as to the secret chambers and cabinets of women, with his busy intermeddling, with his calumniations and malicious demeanours, such a one is savage, fell, intractable and dangerous to be approached.  
Now one of the means to beware of this flattery, is to know and remember always, that our soul consisteth of two parts, whereof the one is addicted to the truth, loving honesty and reason; the other more brutish, of the own nature unreasonable, given to untruth and withal passionate. A true friend assisteth evermore the better part, in giving counsel and comfort, even as an expert and skilful Physician, who hath an eye that aimeth always at the maintenance and increase of health: but the flatterer doth apply himself, and settleth to that part which is void of reason and full of passions: this he scratcheth, this he tickleth continually, this he stroketh and handleth in such sort, by devising some vicious and dishonest pleasures, that he withdraweth and turneth it away quite from the rule and guidance of reason. Moreover, as there be some kind of viands, which if a man eat, they neither turn unto blood, not engender spirits, ne yet add vigour and strength to the nerves and the marrow; but all the good they do, is haply to cause the flesh or genital parts to rise, to stir and lose the belly, or to breed some foggy, fantom and half rotten flesh, which is neither fast nor sound within; even so, if a man look nearly and have good regard unto a flatterer, he shall never find that all the words he useth, minister or procure one jot of good to him that is wise and governed by reason; but feed fools with the pleasant delights of love; kindle and augment the fire of inconsiderate anger; provoke them unto envy; breed in them an odious and vain presumption of their own wit; increase their sorrow and grief, with moaning them and lamenting with them for company; set on work and exasperate their inbred naughtiness and lewd disposition; their illiberal mind and covetous nature; their diffidence and distrustfulness of others; their base and servile timidity, making them always worse, and apt to conveive ill; more fearful, jealous and suspicious, by the means of some new accusations, false furmises and conjectural suggestions, which they be ready to put into their heads. For evermore it getteth closely into some vicious passion and affection of the mind, and there lurketh; the same it nourisheth and feedeth fat, but anon it appeareth like a botch, rising eftsoons upon the corrupt, diseased or inflamed parts of the soul. Art thou angry with one? punish him (saith he:) Hast thou a mind to a thing? buy it, and make no more ado: Art thou never so little afraid? let us fly and be gone: Suspectest thou this or that? believe it confidently (saith he.) But if peradventure, he can hardly be seen and discovered about these passions, for that they be so mighty and violent, that oftentimes they chase and expel all use of reason, he will give some vantage to be sooner taken in others that be not so strong and vehement, where we shall find him always the same and like himself. For say, a man do suspect that he hath taken a surfeit, either by over liberal feeding or drinking heady wine, and upon that occasion make some doubt to bathe his body, or to eat presently again and lay gorge upon gorge (as they say:) A true friend will advice him to forbear & abstain; he will admonish him to take heed to himself and look to his health: In comes a flatterer, and he will draw him to the bane in all haste; he will bid him to call for some novelty or other to be set upon the board, willing him to fall fresh to it again, and not to punish his body and do himself injury, by fasting and refusing his meat and drink: Also if he see him not disposed to take a journey by land or voyage by sea, or to go about any enterprise whatsoever it be, slowly and with an ill will, he will say unto him; either that there is no such great need, or the time is not so convenient, but it may be put off to a farther day, or it will serve the turn well enough to send others about it. Now if it fall out so, that he having made promise to some familiar friend, either to lend or let him have the use of some money, or to give him it freely, do change his mind and repent of his promise; but yet be some what abashed and ashamed thus to break his word; the flatterer by and by will put himself to the worse and lighter end of the balance, and make it weigh down on the purse side, soon excluding and cutting off all shame for the matter: What man! (will he say) Spare your purse and save your silver: you are at a great charge; you keep a great house, and have many about you which must be maintained and have sufficient; in such sort, that if we be not altogether ignorant of ourselves, and wilfully blind, not seeing that we be covetous, shameless, timorous and base minded, we cannot choose but start and find out a flatterer; neither is it possible that he should escape us. For surely he will evermore defend and maintain these imperfections, and frankly will he speak his mind in favour there of, if he perceive us to over pass ourselves therein. But thus much may suffice as touching these matters.  
Let us come now to the uses and services that a flatter is employed in: For in such offices he doth confound, trouble, and darken much the difference between him and a true friend; showing himself in appearance, always diligent, ready and prompt in all occurrences, without seeking any colourable pretences of shifting off, and a refusing to do any thin As for a faithful friend, his whole carriage and behaviour is simple, like as be the words of truth, as faith Eurypides, without welts and guards, plain without plaits, and nothing counterfeit: whereas the conditions of a flatterer to say a truth, 
By nature are diseased much,  
And medicines needful are for such,  not only with wisdom to be ministered and applied, but also many in number, and those (I assure you) of a more exquisite making and composition than any other. And verily as friends many times when they meet one another in the street, pass by without good-morrow or god speed, or any word at all between them; only by some light some look, cheerful smile, or amiable regard of the eye reciprocally given and taken, without any other token else, there is testified the goodwill and mutual affection of the heart within: whereas the flatterer runneth toward his friend to meet him, followeth apace at his heels, spreadeth forth both his arms abroad, and that afar off, to embrace him: and if it chance that he be saluted and spoken to first, because the other had an eye on him before, he will with brave words excuse himself, yea, and many times call for witnesses, and bind it with great oaths good store, that he saw him not. Even so likewise in their affairs and negotiations abroad in the world, friends omit and overslip many small and light things, not searching narrowly into matters, not offering or expecting again any exquiquisit service; nothing curious and busy in each thing, ne yet putting themselves forward to every kind of ministery: but the flatterer is herein double diligent, he will be continually employed and never rest, without seeming at any time to be weary, no place, no space nor opportunity will he give the other to do any service; he looketh to be called unto and commanded; and if he be not bidden, he will take it ill and be displeased; nay you shall have him then out of heart and discouraged, complaining of his ill fortune, and protesting before God and man, as if he had some great wrong done unto him. These be evident marks and undoubted arguments to such as have wit and understanding, not of a friendship sound, sober & honest, but rather smelling of wanton and whorish love, which is more ready to embrace and clip, than is decent and seemly. Howbeit, to examine the same more particularly, let us consider what difference there is between a flatterer and a friend, as touching the offers and promises that they make. They who have written of this theme before us, say very well, that a friends promise goeth in this form, 
If that I can, or if it may be done,  
Fulfil I will your mind, and that right soon.  but the offer of a flatterer runneth in this manner, 
What would you have? say but the word to me,  
Without all doubt, effected it shall be.  For such frank promisers and bragger's as these, the Poets also use to bring unto the Stage in their Comedies, after this sort; 
Now of all loves, Nicomachus, this I crave,  
Set me against this soldier here so brave,  
I will so swinge his coat, you shall it see,  
That like a pompion his flesh shall tender be:  
His face, his head I shall much softer make,  
Than is the sponge that grows in sea or lake.   
Moreover, you shall not see a friend offer his helping hand or aid in any action, unless he were called before to counsel, and his opinion asked of the enterprise, or that he have approved and set down the same upon good advisement, to be either honest or profitable: whereas the flatterer, if a man should do him so much credit, as to require his consent and approbation, or otherwise request him to deliver his opinion of the thing, he, not only upon a desire to yield unto others and to gratify them; but also for fear to give any suspicion that he would seem to draw back and avoid to set his hand to any work or business whatsoever, is ready with the foremost to apply himself to the appetite and inclination of another, yea and withal, pricketh and inciteth him forward to enter upon it. And yet lightly you shall find even of rich men and kings, but few or none who can or will come forth with these words; 
Would God some one that needy is and poor,  
Yea, worse than be that begs from door to door,  
Would come to me (so that he were my friend)  
Without all fear, and speak to me his mind.  But now adays it is far otherwise; for they are much like unto composers of Tragedies, who will be provided of a choir or dance of their friends to sing with them, or desire to have a Theatre of purpose to give applause and clap their hands unto them. And verily whereas Merope in a certain Tragedy giveth these sage and wise advertisements; 
Take those for friends, I reed, and hold them so,  
Whose speech is sound, and waves not to and fro:  
But those that please thy mind in word and deed,  
Count lewd, and such lock forth of door with speed.  Our Potentates and Grand Signior do clean contrary; for such as will not follow their humours, and sooth them up at every word, but gainsay their courses, in making remonstrance of that which is more profitable and expedient; such they disdain and will not vouchsafe them a good look. But for those wicked wretches, base minded varlets, and cozening impostors, who can curry favour, they not only set their doors wide open for such, and receive them into their houses, but they admit them also to conferences with their inward affections and the very secrets of their heart. Among whom you shall have one more plain perhaps and simple than the rest, who will say, that it is not for him, neither is he worthy to deliberate and consult of so great affairs; mary he could be content, and would take upon him, to be a poor servitor and minister, to execute whatsoever were concluded and enjoined him to do: another more crafty and cunning than his fellows, is willing enough to be used in counsel, where he will hear all doubts and perils that be cast; his kickshaws shall speak if they will, his head and eyes shall nod and make signs, but his tongue shall not speak a word: Say that the party whom he mindeth to flatter, do utter his mind and what he thinketh good to do: then will he cry out aloud and say, By Hercules I swear, it was at my tongues end to have said as much, had you not prevented me and taken the word out of my mouth, I would have given you the very same counsel. For like as the Mathematicians do affirm, that the superficial and outward extremities, the limbs also of the Mathematical bodies, do of themselves and in their own nature, neither bend nor stretch, ne yet move at all: for that they be intellectual only or imaginary, and not corporal, but according as the bodies do bow, reach or stir, so do they; so you shall ever find that a flatterer, will pronounce, opine, think and be moved to anger, according as he seeth another before him. And therefore in this kind, most easy it is to observe the difference between a flatterer and a friend. But yet more evident you shall see it in the manner of doing service. For the offices and kindnesses which come from a friend, are ever best, and (as living creatures) have their most proper virtues inwardly, carrying least in show, and having no outward ostentation of glorious pomp. And as it falleth out many times a Physician cureth his patient, and saith little or nothing at all unto him, but doth the deed ere he be aware; even so, a good friend whether he be present or departed from his friend, doth him good still, and taketh care for him when he full little knoweth of it. Such a one was Arcesilaus the Philosopher, who beside many other other kind parts which he showed unto his friend Apelles, the painter of Chios, coming one day to visit him when he was sick, & perceiving how poor he was, went his way for that time: and when he returned again, brought twenty good drachmas with him: and then sitting close unto Apelles by his bed's side: Here is nothing here (quoth he) I see well, but these four bare Elements that Empedocles writeth of, 
Hot Fire, cold Water, shear and soft:  
Gross Earth, pure Air that spreads aloft.  But me thinks you lie not at your ease; and with that he removed the pillow or bolster under his head, and so conveyed underneath it privily, the small pieces of coin aforesaid. The old woman his nurse and keeper, when she made the bed, found this money: whereat she marveled not a little, and told Apelles thereof, who laughing thereat: This is (quoth he) one of Arcesilaus his thievish casts. And for that it is a Maxim in Philosophy, that children are bome like their parents, one Lacydes a scholar of Arcesilaus aforesaid, being assistant with many others to a friend of his named Cephisocrates, when he came to his trial in a case of treason against the State: in pleading of which cause, the accuser his adversary called for Cephisocrates his ring, a pregnant evidence that made against him, which he had cleanly slipped from his finger & let it fall to the ground; whereof the said Lacydes being advised, set his foot presently over it, and so kept it out of sight: for that the main proof of the matter in question lay upon that ring. Now after sentence passed on Cephisocrates his side, and that he was clearly acquit of the crime, he went privately to every one of the judges for to give them thanks: One of them who (as it should seem) had seen what was done, willed him to thank Lacydes: and with that told how the case stood, and how it went with him as it did: but all this while Lacydes himself had not said a word to any creature. Thus I think verily, that the gods themselves do bestow many benefits and favours upon men secretly, and whereof they be not aware; being of this nature to take joy and pleasure in bountifulness and doing good. chose, the office that a flatterer seemeth to perform, hath nothing in it that is just, nothing true, nothing simple, nothing liberal: only you shall see him sweat at it; you shall have him run up and down; keep a loud crying & a great ado, and set his countenance upon the matter, so as that he maketh right good semblance & show that he doth especial service, taketh much care & pains about his business: & maketh haste to dispatch it: and much like are all his doings to a curious picture, which with strange colours, with broken plaits, wrinkles and angles, affecteth and striveth (as it were) to show some lively resemblance. Moreover, much ado he maketh, & is troublesome in telling how he went to and fro, wandering here and there about the matter; also what a deal of care he took therein; how he incurred the evil will & displeasure of others; and a thousand hindrances, troubles & dangers, as beside he reckoneth up; insomuch as a man that heareth, would say; All that ever he did was not worth so much as the twittle twattle that he maketh. For surely a good turn that is upbraided in that wise, becometh burdensome, odious, & not thankfully accepted, but intolerable. In all the offices & services of a flatterer, you shall find these upbraid and shameful reports, that would make one blush to hear them, and those not only after the deed done, but at the very instant when he is about it. But in steed hereof, a true friend, if it fall out so, that he be forced and urged to relate what is done, maketh a plain report and narration in modest manner; but of himself he will never say word. After which sort did the Lacedæmonians in times past, when they had sent corn unto the Smyrnaeans, which, in their extreme necessity they craved at their hands: For at what time as the men of Smyrna magnified, and wonderfully extolled this liberality of theirs, they returned this answer again: This is not so great a matter that it should deserve so highly to be praised or wondered at: for (say they) gathered we have thus much, and made this supply of your necessities, only by cutting ourselves and our labouring beasts short of one days pittance and allowance. Bounty in this wise performed, is not only gentlemanlike and liberal indeed, but also more welcome and acceptable to the receivers; in as much as they think it was no great damage, nor much out of their way that did it. Furthermore, not only this odious fashion of doing any service with such pain and trouble, or the readiness to make offer and promise so quickly, doth principally bewray the nature of a flatterer: but herein also much more he may be discovered: for that a friend is willingly employed in honest causes: but a flatterer in shameful and dishonest: as also in the diverse ends that they purpose; for the one seeketh to profit his friend, the other to please only a friend; as Gorgtas was wont to say, will never require that his friend should do him a pleasure, but in just things only: whiles a flatterer serveth his turn in many things that are unjust: For why? 
To do good deeds friends should be joint,  
But not to sin in any point.  whereas he should endeavour to avert and withdraw him from that which is not decent, or seemly: Now if it happen that the other will not be persuaded by him, than were it not amiss to say unto him, as Antipater once answered Photion; You cannot have me to be a friend and flatterer too (that is to say) a friend, and no friend. For one friend is to stand to another, and to assist him in doing, and not in misdoing, in consulting, and not in complotting and conspiring, in bearing witness with him of the truth, and not in circumventing any one by falsehood, yea and to take part with him in suffering calamity, and not to bear him company in doing injury: For say that we may chance to be privy unto some shameful and reproachful deeds of our friend; yet we ought not to be party unto them therein, nor willing to aid them in any undecent action. For like as the Lacedæmonians being defaited in battle by king Antipater, and treating with him about the capitulations and articles of peace, made request unto him, That he would impose upon them what conditions he would himself, were they never so chargeable and disadvantageous unto them, but in no wise enjoin them to do any shameful indignity; even so a faithful friend ought to be so disposed, that if his friends occasions do require any matter of expense, danger, or travail, he show himself at the first call and holding up of his finger, ready to come, and cheerfully to take his part and undergo the same, without any shifting off, or allegation of any excuse whatsoever: marry, if there be never so little shame or dishonour that may accrue thereby, he shall then refuse and pray him to hold him excused; he shall request pardon and desire to have leave for to be dismissed and depart in peace. The flatterer is quite contrary: for in painful, difficult and dangerous affairs, which require his help and assistance, he draweth back, and is ready to pluck his neck out of the collar: if (I say) in this case you seem for trial sake to knock (as it were upon a pot) to see whether he be right, he will not ring clear; but you shall see by the dead sound of his pretended and forged excuses, that he is full of cracks and flaws: chose, in dishonest, vile, base and shameful ministries, I am for you (will he say) I am yours to command; do with me what you will, tread me under your foot, abuse me at your pleasure: to be short, he will think nothing to be an ignominious indignity unto him. See you not the ape? good he is not to keep the house and to give warning of thieves, as dogs do; carry upon his back any burdens he can not, like the horse; neither yet is he fit to draw or to plough the ground, as the oxedoth; and therefore he beareth all kind of abuse and misusing, all wrongs, all unhappy sports and tricks that can be devised, serving only as an instrument of mockery, and a mere laughing stock. Even so it fareth with a flatterer, being not meet to plead at the bar for a friend, to assist him in counsel, to lay his hand to his purse and supply his wants that way, nor to fight as his champion in maintenance of his quarrel, as one that can away with no labour, no pains taking, or serious employment; and in one word, fit for nothing, that good is: mary in such affairs as may be done under the arm, that is to say, which be close secret and filthy services, he is the forwardest man in the world, and maketh no excuses. A trusty currier he is between, in love matters, in finding favour with a bawd and bringing a wench or harlot to your bed, he excellent, and hath a marvelous gift; to make the shot, and clear the reckoning of any sumptuous feast or banquet he is ready and perfect; in providing for great dinner or supper, and setting the same forth accordingly, he is nothing slow, but nimble enough. To give entertainment unto concubines he is very handsome, obsequious and serviceable; if one bid him to speak audaciously and malapertly against a father in law, a guardian, tutor, or any such, or to put away his true espoused wife, like as he seeth his good master do before him, he is without all shame & mercy: so that even herein also it is no hard matter to see what kind of man he is, and how much he differeth from a true friend: For command him to commit what villainy and wickedness you will, ready he is to execute the same, and so he may gratify and pleasure you that set him on work, he careth not to do any injury to himself.  
There is moreover another means not of the least consequence, whereby a man may know how much a flatterer differeth from a friend indeed, namely, by his disposition and behaviour towards his other friends: for a true friend findeth contentment in nothing so much as to love many, and likewise to be loved of many; and herein he laboureth especially with his friend to procure himself many others to love and honour him: for being of this opinion, that among good friends all things are common, he thinketh that nothing ought to be more common than friends themselves. But the supposed, false and counterfeit friend, being privy to his own conscience, that he doth great injury to true amity and friendship, which he doth corrupt in manner of a base piece of money: as he is by nature envious, so he exerciseth that envy of his, upon such as be like himself, striving with a kind of emulation to surpass them in scurrile speech, giving of taunts and garrulity, but before such as he knoweth better than himself, he trembleth and is afraid, and in truth dare not come near nor show his face to such an one, no more (I assure you) than a footman to go and keep pace (according to the Proverb) with a Lydian chariot, or rather (as Simonides saith, 
Laid to fine gold tried clean from dross,  
He hath not so much as lead so gross.  Being compared with true, sound and grave friendship, which (as they say) will endure the hammer, he cannot choose but find himself to be but light, falsified and deceitful: seeing than that he must needs be detected and known, for such an one as he is, what doth he thinkey you? Surely he playeth like an unskilful painter, who had painted certain cocks, but very badly: For like as he gave commandment to his boy for to keep away natural and living cocks in deed, far enough off from his pictures; so a flatterer will do what he can to chase away true friends, and not suffer them to approach near; or if he be not able so to do, than openly and in public place, he will seem to curry favour with them, to honour and admire them, as far better than himself: but secretly, underhand, and behind their backs, he will not let to raise some privy calumniations, & sow slanderous reports tending to their discredit: but if he see that by such privy girds and pinches which will fret and gall the sore, he cannot at the first bring his purpose about: yet he remembreth full well and observeth the saying of Medius. This Medius was the chief captain of the troop, or the master rather of the choir (if I may so say) of all those flatterers that used the court of king Alexander the great, & came about his person; the principal Sophister also that opposed himself and banded against all good men, and never rested to slander and backbite them: This rule and lesson he taught his scholars and choristers that were under his hand, To cast out standers boldly, and not to spare, terewith to bite others: For (quoth he) although the sore may heal up again, yet the scar will remain and be ever seen. By these cicatrices and scars of false imputations, or (to speak more properly and truly) by such gangrenes and cankerous ulcers as these, Alexander the king being corroded and eaten, did to death Calisthenes, Parmenion, and Philotas, his fast & faithful friends: but to such as Agnon, Bagoas, Agesias and Demetrius were, he abandoned and gave himself. wholly to be supplanted and overthrown at their pleasure, whiles he was by them adored, adorned, arrayed gorgeously with rich robes, and set out like a Barbarian image, statue or idol. Lo what is the force and power of flattery to win grace and favour; and namely in those, who would be reputed the mightiest monarchs and greatest potentates of the world, it beareth most sway: For such are persuaded, and desirous also, that the best things should be in themselves; and this is it, that giveth both credit and also boldness unto a flatterer. True it is I must confess, that the highest places and forts situate upon the loftiest mounts, are least accessible and most hard to be gained by those who would surprise and force them; but where there is an high spirit and haughty mind by nature, not guided by the same judgement of reason, but lifted up with the favours of fortune, or nobility of birth, it is the easiest matter in the world even for most base and vile persons to conquer such, and the avennes to them lie ready and open, to give the vantage of easiest entrance. And therefore as in the beginning of this Treatise I gave warning; so now I admonish the Readers again in this place; That every man would labour and strive with himself to root out that self love and overweening that they have of their own good parts and worthiness: For this is it that doth flatter us within, and possesseth our minds before hand, whereby we are exposed and lie more open unto flatterers that are without, finding us thus prepared already for to work upon. But if we would obey the god Apollo, and by acknowledging how much in all things we ought to esteem that oracle of his, which commandoth us To know ourselves, search into our own nature, and examine withal our nouriture and education: when we find there an infinire number of defects, and many vanities, imperfections and faults, mixed untowardly in our words, deeds, thoughts and passions, we would not so easily suffer these flatterers to tread us under their feet, and make a bridge of us as they do at their pleasure. King Alexander the great was wont to say, that two things there were especially which moved him to have less belief in them, who saluted and greeted him by the name of a God: The one was Sleep, & the other the use of Venus: in both which he found that he was worse than himself, that is to say, subject to infirmities and passions more than in any thing else:  
But if we would look into ourselves and ever and anon consider, how many gross vices, troublesome passions, imperfections and defects we have, surely we shall find that we stood in great need, not of a false friend to flatter us in our follies, and to praise and extol us; but rather of one that would frankly find fault with our doings, and reprove us in those vices that each one privately and in particular doth commir. But very few there be among many others, who dare freely and plainly speak unto their friends, but rather soothe them up and seek to please them in every thing: And even in those, as few as they be, hardly shall you find any that know how to do it well, but for the most part they think that they speak freely, when they do nothing but reprove, reproach and rail. Howbeit, this liberty of speech where of I speak, is of the nature of a medicine, which if it be not given in time convenient and as it ought to be, beside, that it doth no good at all, it troubleth the body, worketh greevance, and in stead of a remedy proveth to be a mischief: For even so, he that doth reprehend and find fault unseasonably, bringeth forth the like effect with pain, as flatterer doth with pleasure. For men are apt to receive hurt and damage, not only by overmuch praise; but also by inordinate blame when it is out of due time: for it is the only thing that of all others maketh them soon to turn side unto flatterers, and to be most easily surprised by them; namely, when from those things that stand most opposite and highest against them, they turn aside like water, and run down those ways that be more low, easy, and hollow. In which regardit behoveth that this liberty in fault finding, be tempered with a cettaine amiable affection, and accompanied with the judgement of reason, which may take away the excessive vehemency and force of sharp words, like the over-bright shining of some glittering light, & for fear lest their friends being dazzled as it were and frighted with the flashing beams of their rebukes, seeing themselves so reproved for each thing, and blamed every while, may take such a grief and thought thereupon, that for sorrow they be ready to fly unto the shadow of some flatterer, and turn toward that which will not trouble them at all. For we must avoid all vice, (o Philopappus) and seek to correct the same by the means of virtue (& not by another vice contrary unto it) as some do; who for to shun foolish and rustical bashfulness, grow to be overbold and impudent; for to eschew rude incivility, fall to be ridiculous jesters and pleasants; and then they think to be farthest off from cowardice and effeminate tenderness, when they come nearest to extreme audacity and boasting bravery. Others there be, who to prove themselves not to be superstitious, become mere Atheists; and because they would not be though and reputed idiots and fools, prove artificial conny-catchers. And surely in redressing the enormities of their manners, they do as much as those, who for want of knowledge and skill to set a piece of wood straight that twineth and lieth crooked one way, do curb and bend it as much another way. But the most shameful means to avoid & shun the suspicion of a flatterer, is to make a man's self odious & troublesome without profit; and a very rude and rustical fashion this is, of seeking to win favour, and that with favour of no learning, skill, and civility, to become unpleasant, harsh, and sour to a friend, for to shun that other extreme, which in friendship seemeth to be base and servile; which is as much, as if a freed slave newly franchised, should in a Comedy think that he could not use and enjoy his liberty of speech, unless he might be allowed licentiously to accuse another without controlment. Considering then, that it is a foul thing to fall to flattery, in studying to please, as also for the avoiding of flattery, by immoderate liberty of speech, to corrupt and mar, aswell the grace of amity and winning love, as the care of remedying and reforming that which is amiss: and seeing that we ought to avoid both the one and the other: and as in all things else, so free speaking, is to have the perfection from a mean and mediocrity; reason would, and by order it were requisite, that toward the end of this Treatise, we should add somewhat in manner of a corollary and complement, as touching that point.  
Forasmuch as therefore we see that this liberty of language and reprehension hath many vices following it, which do much hurt: let us assay to take them away one after another, and begin first with blind self-love and private regards: where we ought especially to take heed that we be not seen to do any thing for our own interest, and in respect of ourselves; and namely, that we seem not, for wrong that we have received ourselves, or upon any grief of our own, to reproach, upbraid, or revile other men: for they will never take it as done for any love or good will that we bear unto them, but rather upon some discontentment and heartburning that we have, when they see that our speech tendeth unto a matter wherein we are interessed ourselves; neither will they repute our words spoken by way of admonition unto them, but rather interpret them as a complaint of them. For surely the liberty of speech whereof we treat, as it respecteth the welfare of our friend, so it is grave and venerable; whereas complaints savour rather of self-love and a base mind. Hereupon it is that we reverence, honour and admire those who for our good deliver their minds frankly unto us: chose, we are so bold as to accuse, challenge and charge reciprocally, yea, and contemn those that make complaints of us. Thus we read in Homer, That Agamemnon, who could not bear and endure Achilles, when he seemed to tell him his mind after a moderate manner; but he was well enough content to abide and suffer Ulysses, who touched him near, and bitterly rebuked him in this wise: 
Ah wretch, would God some abject host beside us, by your hand  
Conducted were; so that in field you did not us command.  As sharp a check as this was, yet being delivered by a wise man, proceeding from a careful mind, and tendering the good of the common weal, he gave place thereto, and kicked not again: for this Ulysses had no private matter, nor particular quarrel against him, but spoke frankly for the benefit of all Greece: whereas Achilles seemed to be offended and displeased with him principally, for some private matter between them twain. And even Achilles also himself, although he was never known for to be a man of a gentle nature and of a mild spirit, 
But rather of a stomach full, and one who would accuse  
A guiltless person for no cause, and him full soon abuse.  endured Patroclus patiently, and gave him not a word again, notwithstanding he taunted and took him up in this wise: 
Thou merciless and cruel wretch, sir Peleus valiant knight  
Was never (sure) thy father true,  
〈◊〉 yet dame Thetis bright  
Thy mother kind: but sea so green, or rocks so steep and hard  
Thee bare, (thy heart of pity hath so small or no regard.)  For like as Hyperides the Orator required the Athenians (who complained that his orations were bitter) to consider of him, not only whether he were sharp & eager simply, but whether he were so upon no cause, nor taking any fee; even so, the admonition and reprehension of a friend, being sincere and cleansed pure from all private affection, aught to be reverenced: it carrieth (I say) authority with it, and no exceptions can well be taken, nor a man dare lift up an eye against it: in such sort, as if it appear that he who chideth freely, and blameth his friend, doth let pass and reject all those faults which he hath committed against him, and maketh no mention thereof, but toucheth those errors & misdemeanours only which concern others, and they spare him not, but pierce & bite to the quick: the vehemency of such free speech is invincible, and can not be challenged, for the mildness & good will of the chastiser, doth fortify the austerity & bitterness of the chastisement. Well therefore it was said in old time; That whensoever we are angry, or at some jar & variance with our friends, than most of all we ought to have an eye unto their good, and to study how to do somewhat that is either profitable unto them, or honourable for them. And no less material is this also to the maintenance of friendship, if they that think themselves to be despised and not well regarded of their friends, do put them in mind, and tell them frankly of others, who are neglected by them, and not accounted of as they should be. Thus dealt Plato with Denys, at what time he was in disgrace, and saw how he made no reckoning at all of him: For he came unto the Tyrant upon a time, and requested that he might have a day of audience and leave to confer with him: Denys granted his request, supposing verily that Plato had a purpose to complain and expostulat with him in his own behalf, and thereupon to discourse with him at large: But Plato reasoned and debated the matter with him in this manner: Sir (quoth he) o Denys, if you were advertised and knew that some enemy or evil willer of yours were arrived and landed in Sicily, with a full intention to do you some displeasure, although he had no opportunity or means to execute and effect the same, would you let him fail away again & depart from Sicily, with impunity, and before he were talked withal? I trow not o Plato (quoth Denys) but I would look to him well enough for that: For we ought to hate & punish not the actions only, but the very purposes and intentions also of enemies. But how and if (quoth Plato again) on the contrary side; some other being expressly and of purpose come for mere love and affection that he beareth unto you, and fully minded to do you some pleasure, or to advice you for your good, you will give him neither time nor opportunity therefore; is it meet (think you) that he should be thus unthankfully dealt withal, or hardly entreated at your hands? With that Dionysius was somewhat moved, and demanded who that might be? Aeschines (quoth Plato) is he, a man fair conditioned, and of as honest carriage and behaviour, as any one that ever came out of Socrates' school, or daily and familiarly conversed with him; sufficient and able by his eloquence and pithy speech to reform the manners of those with whom he keepeth company: This Aeschines (I say) having taken a long voyage over sea and arrived here, intending for to confer with you philosophically is nothing regarded, nor set by at all. These words touched Denys so to the very quick, that presently he not only took Plato in his arms, embracing him most lovingly, and yielding him great thanks for that kindness, & highly admiring his magnanimity; but also from that time forward, entreated Aeschines right courteously, and did him all the honour that he could.  
Secondly, this liberty of speech which now is in hand, we ought to clear and purge clean from all contumelious and injurious words, from laughter, scoffs, and scurrile taunts, which are the hurtful and unwholesome sauces (as I may say) wherewith many use to season their free language. For like as a Chirurgeon, when he maketh incision and cutteth the flesh of his patient, had need to use great dexterity, to have a nimble hand and an even; yea and every thing neat and fine belonging to this work and operation of his: as for all dancing, gesticulations beside of his singers, toyish motions, and superfluous agitation thereof, to show the agility of his hand, he is to forbear for that time: So this liberty of speech unto a friend, doth admit well a certain kind of elegancy and civility, provided, always that the grace thereof retain still a decent and comely gravity, whereas if it chance to have audacious bravery, sancie impurity, and insolency, to the hurt or hindrance of credit, it is utterly marred and looseth all authority. And therefore it was not an unproper and unelegant speech, wherewith a physician upon a time stopped King Philip's mouth that he had not a word to say again: For when he was about to have disputed and contested against the said minstrel, as touching good fingering, and the sound of the several strings of his instrument: Oh sir (quoth he) God forbid that ever you should fall to so low an estate, as to be more cunning in these matters than I. But chose Epicharmus spoke not so aptly and to the purpose in this behalf: For when King Hiero who a little before had put to death some of his familiar acquaintance, invited him not many days after to supper. Yea marry sir, but the other day when you sacrificed, you bade not your friends to the feast. And as badly answered Antiphon, who upon a time when there was some question before Denys the Tyrant, what was the best kind of brass: Marry that (quoth he) whereof the Athenians made the Statutes of Harmodius and Aristogiton. Such speeches as these, are tart, and biting, and no good can come thereof, neither hath that scurrilite and scoffing manner any delight, but a kind of intemperance it is of the tongue, mingled with a certain maliciousness of mind, implying a will to do hurt and injury, and showing plain enmity, which as many as use, work their own mischief and destruction, dancing (as the Proverb saith) a dance untowardly about a pits brink, or jesting with edged tools. For surely it cost Antiphon his life, who was put to death by the said Denys. And Timagenes lost for ever the favour and friendship of Augustus Caesar, not for any frank speech and broad language that ever he used against him: but only because he had taken up a foolish fashion at every feast or banquet, whereunto the Emperor invited him, and whensoever he walked with him, eftsoons and to no purpose he would come out with these verses in Homer, 
For nought else but to make some sport  
Among the greeks he did resort.  pretending that the cause of that favour which he had with the Emperor, was the grace and gift that he had in flouting and reviling others: and even the very comical Poets in old time, exhibited and represented to the theatres, many grave, austere and serious remonstrances, and those pertaining to policy & government of State: but there be scurrile speeches intermingled among, for to move laughter, which (as one unsavoury dish of meat among many other good viands) mar all their liberty of speech and the benefit thereof; so as it is vain and doth no good at all: And even so the Authors and Actors of such broad jests get nothing thereby, but an opinion and imputation of a malicious disposition and impure scurrility: and to the hearers there accrueth no good nor profit at all. At other times and in other places, I hold well with it, and grant, that to jest with friends and move laughter is tolerable enough: but surely the liberty of speech then, aught to be serious and modest, showing a good intention without any purpose to gall or sting. And if it do concern weighty affairs indeed, let the words be so set and couched, the affection so appear, the countenance be so composed, and the gesture so ordered, and the voice so tuned, that all concurring together may win credit to the speech, and be effectual to move. But as in all things else, fit opportunity overslipped and neglected doth much hurt; so especially it is the occasion that the fruit of free speech is utterly lost, in case it be omitted and forgotten. Moreover this is evident, that we must take heed how we speak broad at a table where friends be met together to drink wine liberally and to make good cheer: for he that amid pleasant discourses and merry talk moveth a speech that causeth bending and knitting of brows, or others, maketh men to frown and be frowning, he doth as much as overcast fair weather with a black and dark cloud; opposing himself unto that God 
* Some read Lydius.  Lyaeus, who by good right hath that name, as Pindarus the Poet saith, 
For that the cord he doth untie  
Of cares that breed anxiety.  Besides, this neglect of opportunity bringeth with it great danger; for that our minds and spirits, kindled once with wine, are easy inflamed with choler; yea and oftentimes it falleth out, that a man after he hath taken his drink well, when he thinketh but to use his freedom of tongue for to give some wholesome advertisement and admonition, ministereth occasion of great enmity. And to say all in few words, it is not the part of a generous, confident, and resolute heart, but rather of a craven kind and unmanly, to forbear plain speech when men are sober, and to keep a barking at the board, like unto those cowardly cur dogs who never snarl but about a bone under the table. And now of this point, needless it is to discourse any longer.  
But forasmuch as many men neither will nor dare control and reform their friends when they do amiss, so long as they be in prosperity; as being of opinion that such admonition can not have access nor reach into a fortunate state that standeth upright; and yet the same persous when men are falling, are ready to lay them along, and being once down, to make a football of them, or tread them under feet, or else keep them so when they be once under the hatches, giving their liberty of speech full scope to run over them all at once; as a brooke-water which having been kept up perforce against the nature and course thereof, is now let go, and the flood-gates drawn up; rejoicing at his change and infortunity of theirs, in regard as well of their pride and arrogancy, who before disdained and despised them; as also of themselves, who are but in mean and lowestate: it were not impertinent to this place for to discourse a little of this matter, and to answer that verse of Euripides, 
When fortune doth upon men smile,  
What need have they of friends the while?  Namely, that even then when as they seem to have fortune at command, they stand in most necessity, and aught to have their friends about them, to pluck down their plumes and bring under their haughtiness of heart, occasioned by prosperity: for few there be who with their outward felicity continue wise and sober in mind, breaking not forth into insolence; yea & many there are who have need of wit, discretion and reason to be put into them from without, to abate and depress them being set a gog and puffed up with the favours of fortune: But say, that the Divine power do change and turn about, and overthrow their state, or clip their wings and diminish their greatness and authority, than these calamities of themselves are scourges sufficient, putting them in mind of their errors, and working repentance: and then in such distress there is no use at all either of friendsto speak unto them frankly, or of pinching and biting speeches, to molest, and trouble them, but to say a truth, in these mutations 
It greatly doth content our minds  
To see the face of pleasant friends.  who may yield consolation, comfort and strength to a distressed heart, like as Xenophon doth write, that in battles and the greatest extremities of danger, the amiable visage and cheerful countenance of Clearchus being once seen of the soldiers, encouraged them much more to play the men and fight lustily: whereas he that useth unto a man distressed, such plain speech as may gall and bite him more, doth as much as one who unto a troubled and inflamed eye applieth some quick eie-salve or sharp drug that is proper for to clear the sight: by which mean he cureth not the infirmity before said, neither doth he mitigate or allay the pain, but unto sorrow and grief of mind already addeth anger moreover, and doth exasperate a wounded heart. And verily so long as a man is in the latitude of health, he is not so testy, froward, and impatient, but that he will in some sort give ear unto his friend, and think him neither rough nor altogether rude and uncivil, in case he tell him of his looseness of life, how he is given too much either unto women or wine; or if he find fault with his idleness and sitting still, or chose his excessive exercise; if he reprove him for haunting so often the baines or hothouses, and never lying out of them, or blame him for gourmandise and belly cheer, or eating at undue hours. But if he be once sick, than it is a death unto him and a grief insupportable, which doth aggravate his malady, to have one at his bedside sounding ever in his ears; See what comes of your drunkenness, your idleness, your surfeiting and gluttony, your wenching and lechery, these are the causes of your disease. But what will the sick man say again: Away good sir with these unseasonable words of yours: you trouble me much, and do me no good iwis: I am about making my last will and testament; my Physicians are busy preparing and tempering a potion of Scammony, or a drink of Castorium for me: and you come preaching unto me with your Philosophical reasons and admonitions to chastise me: I have no need of them now, nor of such friends as you. Semblably it fareth with those who are fallen to decay & be down the wind; for capable they be not of sententious saws; they have no need as the case now stands of free reprehensions: then lenity and gentle usage, aid and comfort are more meet for them. For even so, kind nurses when their little babes and infants have caught a fall, run not by and by to rate or chide them, but to take them up, wash and make them clean where they were bewrayed, and to still them by all means that they can; afterwards, they rebuke and chastise them for looking no better to their feet. It is reported of Demetrius the Phalerian, when being banished out of his country, he lived at Thebes in mean estate and very obscurely, that at the first he was not well pleased to see Crates the Philosopher who came to visit him, as looking ever when he would begin with some rough words unto him, according to that liberty of speech which those Cynic Philosophers then used: but when he heard Crates once speak kindly unto him, and discoursing after a mild manner, of the state of his banishment; namely, That there was no misery fallen unto him by thatmeanes, not any calamity at all, for which he should vex and torment himself; but rather that he had cause to rejoice, in that hewas sequestered and delivered from the charge and management of such affairs as were ticklish, mutable and dangerous; and withal exhorting him to pluck up his heart, and be of good cheer, yea, and repose all his comfort in his own self and a clear conscience. Then Demetrius being more lightsome, and taking better courage, turned to his friends and said, Shame take those affairs and businesses; out upon those troublesome and restless occupations, which have kept me from the knowledge and acquaintance of such a worthy man: For 
If men be in distress and grief,  
Sweet words of friends do bring relief:  
But foolish sots in all their actions,  
Have need eft 'zounds of sharp corrections.  And verily this is the manner of generous and gentle friends; but other base minded and abject fellows, who flatter and fawn whiles fortune doth smile; like unto old ruptures, spasnes and cramps (as Demosthenes saith) do then stir and show themselves, when any new accident happeneth unto the body, so they also stick close to every change and alteration of fortune, as being glad thereof, and taking pleasure and contentment therein. For, say that a man afflicted, were to be put in mind of his fault and misgovernment of himself, by reason that he hath taken lewd courses and followed ill counsel, and so fallen into this or that inconvenience, it were sufficient to say thus unto him, 
You never took by mine advice this course,  
Against the same how oft did I discourse?   
In what cases and occurrences then, ought a friend to be earnest and vehement? and when is he to use his libcrtie of speech, and extend it to the full? even then, when occasion is offered, and the time serveth best to repress excessive pleasure, to restrain unbridled choler, to refrain intolerable pride and insolency, to stay insatiable avarice, or to stand against any foolish habitude and inconsiderate motion. Thus Solon spoke freely unto king Croesus, when he saw how he was clean corrupted, and grown beyond all measure arrogant upon the opinion that he had of his felicity in this world, which was uncertain, advertising him to look unto the end. Thus Socrates clipped the wings of Alcibiades, and by convincing his vice and error, caused him to weep bitterly, and altered quite the disposition of his heart. Such were the remonstrances and admonitions of Cyrus to Cyaxares, and of Plato to Dion, even when he was in his greatest ruff, in the very height of his glory: when (I say) all men's eyes were upon him, for his worthy acts and great success in all affairs, willing him even then to take heed and beware of arrogancy and selfe-conceiet, as being the vice that dwelleth in the same house together with solitude, (that is to say) which maketh a man to live apart from the whole world. And to the same effect wrote Speusippus also unto him, when be bad him look to himself, and not take a pride and presume much upon this; That there was no talk among women and children, but of him; rather that he should have care so to adorn Sicily with religion and piety towards the gods, with justice and good laws in regard of men, that the school of the Academy might have honour and credit by him. chose, Euctaeus and Eulaeus, two minions and favourites of king Perseus, who followed his vein and pleased his humour in all things, like other courtiers of his, all the while that he flourished, and so long as the world went on his side: but after he had lost the field in a battle against the Romans, fought near the city Pydna, and was fled, they let fly at him gross terms and reproachful speeches, bitterly laying to his charge all the misdemeanours and faults that he had before committed, casting in his dish those persons whom he had evil entreated or despised; which they ceased not to do so long, until the man (partly for sorrow, and partly for anger) was so moved, that he stabbed them both with his dagger, and slew them in the place. Thus much in general may suffice, to determine and define as touching the opportunity of free speech to friends: mean while a faithful and careful friend must not reject such occasions as many times are presented unto him by them, but to take hold thereof quickly, and make good use of them: for otherwhiles it falleth out, that a demand or question asked, a narration related, a reprehension or commendation of like things in other persons, open the door and make way for us to enter, and giveth us leave to speak frankly. After this manner it is said, that Demaratus took his vantage to utter his mind freely: who coming upon a time from Corinth to Macedon, when as King Philip was in some terms of dissension with his wife and son, was friendly received by Philip and bidden kindly welcome. Now after salutations and other compliments passed between; the King asked him whether the greeks were at accord and unity one with another? Demaratus, as he was a friend very inward with him, and one that loved him heartily, answered thus; It becometh you well in deed sir to inquire of the concord and agreement between the Athenians and the Peloponnesians, when in the mean while you suffer your own house to be full of domestical quarrels and debates. Well did Diogenes likewise, who being come into the camp of King Philip, when he had an expedition or journey against the greeks, was taken and brought before the King, who not knowing what he was, demanded of him, If he were not a spy: Yes marry (quoth he) and come I am to spy out your inconsiderate folly (o Philip) and want of forecast, who being not urged nor compelled by any man, are come thus far to hazard in one hour the State of your kingdom and your own life, and to lay all upon the chance and cast of adie. But some man peradventure will say, This was a speech somewhat with the sharpest, and too much biting Moreover, another fit time and occasion there is of admonition, when those whom we mind to reprove, having been reproached and taunted already by others for some faults which they committed, are become submiss and cast down to our hands. Which opportunity a wise and skilful friend will not omit, but make especial good use of: namely, by seeming in open place to check those that thus have slandered them, yea and to repulse and put back such opprobrious imputations, but privately he will take his friend apart by himself, and put him in mind to live more warily and give no such offence, if for no other thing else; yet because his enemies should not take vantage, and bear themselves insolently against him: For how shall they be able to open their mouths against you, & what mis-word can they have to say unto you, if you would leave these things and cast them behind you, for which you hear ill and are grown to some obloquy? In this sort if the matter be handled, all the offence that was taken shall light upon the head of the first slanderer, and the profit shall be attributed unto the other that gave the friendly advertisement, and he shall go away with all the thanks.  
Some there be moreover who after a more cleanly and fine manner in speaking of others, admonish their own familiar friends: for they will accuse strangers in their hearing for those faults which they know them to commit, and by this means reclaim them from the same. Thus Ammontus our master perceiving when he gave lecture in the afternoon that some of us his scholars, had taken a larger dinner, and eat more than was meet for students, commanded a servant of his franchised, to take up his own some and to beat him, and why so? He cannot for sooth make his dinner (quoth he) but he must have some vinegar to his meat. And in saying so, he cast his eye upon us, in such sort, that as many as were culpable, took themselvesto be rebuked, & thought that he meant them. Furthermore, this good regard would be observed, that we never use this fashion of free speech, and reproving our friend in the presence of many persons, but we must remember that which befell unto Plato: for when upon a time, Socrates in a disputation held at the table, inveighed somewhat too bitterly against against one of his familiars before them all: had it not been better (quoth Plato) to have told him of this privately, but thus to shame him before all this company? But Socrates taking him presently therewith. And you also might have done better to have said this to myself, when you had found me alone. Pythagor as report gave such hard terms by way of reproose to one of his scholars, and acquaintance in the hearing of many, that the young man for very grief of heart was weary of his life and hanged himself. But never would Pythagor as after to his dying day, reprove or admonish any man, if another were in place. And to say a truth, as well the detection as the correction of a sin ought to be secret, and not in public place, like as the discovery and cure also of some filthy and foul disease: it must not I say be done in the view of the world (as if some show or pomp were to be exhibited unto the people) with calling witnesses or spectators thereto. For it is not the part of a friend, but a trick of some Sophister, to seek for glory in other men's faults, and affect outward show and vain ostentation in the presence of others: much like to these Mount-bank Chirurgeons, who for to have the greater practice, make show of their cunning casts, and operations of their art in public Theatres, with many gesticulations of their handiwork. Moreover, besides that there should no infamy grow to him that is reproved (which in deed is not to be allowed in any cure or remedy) there ought also to be some regard had of the nature of vice and sin, which for the most part of it selft is opinionative, contentious, stubborn and apt to stand to it, and make means of defence. For as Euripides saith, 
We daily see not only wanton love  
Doth press the more, when one doth it reprove.  But any vice whatsoever it be and every imperfection, if a man do reprove it in public place before many, and spare not at all, putteth on the nature of impudence and turneth to be shameless: like as therefore Plato giveth a precept, that elder folk, if they would imprint shame and grace in their young children, ought themselves first to show shamefast behaviour among them; even so, the modest and bashful liberty of speech which one friend useth, doth strike also a great shame in another. Also to come and approach by little and little unto one that offendeth, and after a doubting manner with a kind of fear to touch him, is the next way to undermine the vice that he is prone and given unto, and the same, whiles he can not choose but be modestly disposed, who is so modestly and gently entreated. And therefore it would be always very good in those reprehensions to observe what he did, who in like case reproving a friend, 
Held head full close unto his ear,  
That no man else but he might hear.  But less seemly and convenient it is for to discover the fault of the husband before his wife; of a father in the presence of his sons; of a lover before his love; or of a schoolmaster in the hearing of his scholars: that were enough to put them beside their right wits, for anger and grief when they shall see themselves checked and discredited before those of whom they desire to be best esteemed. And verily of this mind I am, hat it was not the wine so much that set king Alexander in such a chafe & rage against Clitus when he reproved him, as for that he did it in the presence and hearing of so many. Aristomenes also, the master and tutor of king Ptolomaeus, for that in the sight of an ambassador he awaked him out of a sleep, & willed him to give ear unto the embassage that was delivered, ministered unto his evilwillers and the flatterers about the court great vantage, who thereupon took occasion to seem discontented in the king's behalf, and thus to say: What if after so many travels that your Majesty doth undergo, and your long watching for out sakes, some sleep do overtake you otherwhiles; our part it were to tell you of it privately, & not thus rudely to lay hand as it were upon your person in the presence of so many men. Whereupon Ptolomaeus being moved at these suggestions, sent unto the man a cup of poison, with commandment that he should drink it off. Aristophanes also, casteth this in Cleon his teeth, 
For that when strangers were in place  
The town with terms he did disgrace,  and thereby provoke the Athenians & bring their high displeasure upon him. And therefore this regard would be had especially above all others, that when we would use our liberty of speech, we do it not by way of ostentation in a vain glory to be popular, and to get applause, but only with an intention to profit and do good, yea and to cure some infirmity thereby. Over and beside that which Thucydides reporteth of the Corinthians, how they gave out of themselves and not unfitly, that it belonged unto them, and meet men they were to reprove others; the same ought they to have in them that will take upon them to be correctors of other persons. For like as Lysander answered to a certain Megarian who put himself forward in an assembly of associates and allies to speak frankly for the liberty of Greece: These words of yours (my friend) would beseem to have been spoken by some puissant State or city; even so it may be said to every one that will seem freely to reprehend another, that he had need himself to be in manners well reform. And this most truly aught to be inferred upon all those that will seem to chastise and correct others, namely, to be wiser and of better government than the rest: for thus Plato protested that he reform Speusippus by example of his own life: and Xenocrates likewise casting but his eye upon Polemon, who was come into his school like a Ruffian, by his very look only reclaimed him from his loose life: whereas on the contrary side, if a light and lewd person, one that is full of bad conditions himself, would seem to find fault with others and be busy with his tongue, he must be sure always to hear this on both sides of his ears, 
Himself all full of sores impure  
Will others seem to heal and cure.  Howbeit, forasmuch as oftentimes the case standeth so, that by occasion of some affairs we be driven to chastise those with whom we converse, when we ourselves are culpable and no better than they: the most cleanly & least offensive way to do it, is this, To acknowledge in some sort that we be likewise faulty and to include and comprehend our own persons together with them: after which manner is that reproose in Homer, 
Sir Diomedes what aileth us? how is it come about?  
That we should thus forget to fight,  
who erst were thought so stout?   
Also in another place: 
And now we all unwoorthy are  
With Hector only to compare.  Thus Socrates mildly and gently would seem to reprove young men, making semblance as if himself were not void of ignorance, but had need also to be instructed in virtue, and professing that he had need with them to search for the knowledge of truth: for such commonly do win love and credit, yea and sooner shall be believed, who are thought subject to the same faults, and seem willing to correct their friends like as they do their own selves; whereas he who spreadeth and displaieth his own wings, in clapping other men's, justifying himself as if he were pure, sincere, faultless, and without all affections and infirmities, unless he be much elder than we, or in regard of some notable and aprooved virtue in far higher place of authority and in greater reputation than ourselves, he shall gain no profit nor do any good, but be reputed a busy body and troublesome person. And therefore it was not without just cause that good Phoenix in speaking to Achilles alleged his own misfortunes, and namely how in a fit of choler he had like one day to have killed his own father, but that suddenly he bethought himself and changed his mind, 
Lest that among the greeks I should be named  
A parricide and ever after shamed:  which he did no doubt to this end, because he would not seem in childing him to arrogate this praise unto himself, that he was not subject to anger, nor had ever done amiss by occasion of that infirmity and passion. Certes such admonitions as these enter and pierce more effectually into the heart, for that they are thought to proceed from a tender compassion; and more willing are we to yield unto such as seem to have suffered the like, than to those that despise and contemn us. But forasmuch as neither the eye when it is inflamed can abide any clear and shining light, nor a passionate mind endure frank speech, or a plain and bare reprehension, one of the best and most profitable helps in this case, is to intermingle there with a little praise, as wereade thus in Homer, 
Now (sure) me thinks you do not well, thus for to leave the field,  
Who all are known for doughty knights, and best with spear and shield.  
A coward if I saw to slay, him would I not reprove:  
But such as you, thus for to shrink, my heart doth greatly move.   
Likewise, 
O Pander, where is now thy bow, where are thine arrows flight:  
Where is that honour, in which none with thee dare strive in fight?  And verily such oblique reprehensions also as these, are most effectual and wonderful in reclaiming those that be ready to run on end, and fall to some gross enormities: as for example, 
What is become of wise Oedipus,  
In riddles areeding who was so famous.   
Also, 
And Hercules, who hath endured such pain,  
Speaks he these words, so foolish and so vain?  For this kind of dealing doth not only assuage and mitigate the roughness and commanding power that is in a reprehension and rebuke, but also breedeth in the party in such sort reproved, a certain emulation of himself, causing him to be abashed and ashamed for any follies and dishonest pranks, when he remembreth and calleth to mind his other good parts and commendable acts, which by this means he setteth before his eyes, as examples, and so taketh himself for a pattern and precedent of better things: But when we make comparison between him and others, to wit, his equals in age, his fellow-citizens, or kinsefolks; then his vice, which in the own nature is stubborn and opinionative enough, becometh by that means more froward and exasperated, and often times he will not stick in a sum and chase to fling away, and grumble in this wise, Why go you not then to those that are so much better than I? why can you not let me alone, but thus trouble me as you do? And therefore we must take heed especially, that whiles we purpose to tell one plainly of his faults, we do not praise others, unless haply they be his parents: as Agamemnon did unto Diomedes, 
A son (iwis) sir Tideus left behind,  
Unlike himself, and much grown out of kind.  And ulysses in the Tragedy entitled Scyrij, 
You sir, whose father was a knight, the best that ever drew  
A sword, of all the Greeks, in field, and many a captain slew,  
Sat you here carding like a wench,  
And spinning wool on rock,  
Thereby the glorious light to quench of your most noble stock?  But most unseemly it were and undecent of all other, if when one is admonished by his friend, he should fall to admonish him again; and being told freely of his fault, serve him the like, and quit him with as much: for this is the next way to kindle coals, and to make variance and discord; and in one word verily, such a rejecting & spurning again as this, may seem in effect to bewaray, not a reciprocal liberty of rendering one for another, but rather a peevish mind that can abide no manner of reproof. Better therefore it is, to endure patiently for the time, a friend that telleth us plainly of our faults; and if himself afterwards chance to offend and have need of the like reprehension, this after a sort giveth free liberty unto him that was rebuked afore, to use the same liberty of speech again unto the other: For calling to mind by this occasion, without any remembrance of old grudge and former injury, that himself also was wont not to neglect his friends when they did amiss and forgot themselves, but took pains to reprove, redress, and teach them how to amend, he will the sooner yield a fault, and receive that chastisement and correction, which he shall perceive to be a retribution of like love and kindness, and not a requital of complaint and anger. Moreover, like as Thucydides saith, That the man is wise and well advised, who incurreth the envy of men for matters of greatest weight and importance; even so we say: That if a friend will adventure the danger and heavy load and ill will for blaming his friends, he must make choice of such matters as be of great moment and much consequence: for if he will take exceptions at every trifle and little thing indifferent; if he will seem evermore to be finding fault, and carry himself not like a kind and affectionate friend, but a precise, severe and imperious schoolmaster, to spy all faults, and correct every point and tittle; certes he shall find afterwards, that his admonitions even for the greatest offences, shall not be regarded, nor any whit effectual: for that he hath used already to no purpose, his frank reprehension (the sovereign remedy for gross and main faults) in many others that are but slight, and not worthy reproof: much like unto a Physician, who hath employed and spenta a medicine that is strong and bitter, howbeit, necessary and costly, in small infirmities, and of no reckoning to speak of. A friend therefore is to look unto this; That it be not an ordinary matter with him to be always quarrelsome, and desirous to find one fault or other. And if peradventure he meet with such a companion as is apt to search narrowly into all light matters, to cavil and wrangle for every thing, and ready to raise calumniations like a petty Sycophant for toys and trifles, he may take the better advantage and occasion thereby for to reprove him again, in case he chance to fail in greater and more gross faults.  
Philotimus the Physician answered prettily unto one, who having an imposthume grown to suppuration about his liver, showed unto him a finger that was fore, and troubled with some blister or whitflaw, and desired his counsel for the same: My good friend (quoth he) the disease that you are to look unto, is not a whitflaw nor about your nail root; even so, there may be occasion and opportunity offered unto a friend, to say unto one that ever and anon is finding fault, and reproving small errors not worth the noting, to wit, sports and pastimes, feasting and merry meeting, or such like trifling tricks of youth: Good sir, let us find the means rather, that this man whom you thus blame, may cast off the harlot that he keeps, or give over his dice playing; for otherwise, he is a man of excellent and wonderful good parts. For he that perceiveth how he is tolerated or winked at, yea and pardoned in small matters, will not be unwilling, that a friend should use his liberty in reproving his greater vices: whereas he that is evermore urgent upon one, pressing and lying hard unto him; always bitter and unpleasant, prying and looking into every corner, and taking knowledge of all things: such an one (I say) there is neither child nor brother will endure; nay, he is intolerable to his very servants: But like as Euripides saith, 
All is not nought that old age brings,  
We may in it find some good things.  No more is the folly of friends so bad but that we may pick some goodness out of them: we ought therefore to observe diligently, not only when they do amiss, but also when they do well: and verily at the first to be willing and most ready to praise: but afterwards we must do as the Smiths who temper iron: For when they have given it a fire, and made it by that means soft, loose and pliable, they drench and dip it in cold water, whereby it becometh compact and hard, taking thereby the due temperature of stiff steel; even so, when we perceive that our friends be well heat and relaxed (as it were) by hearing themselves praised by us, than we may come upon them by little and little with a tincture (as I may so say) of reproof, and telling them of their faults. Then will it be a fit time to speak unto a friend thus: How say you, are these pranks worthy to be compared with those parts? See you not the fruits that come of virtue? Lo what we your friends require of you: these are the duties and offices which are beseeming your person: for these hath nature made and framed you. As for those lewd causes, fie upon them, 
Send such away, confine them far, unto the mountain wild,  
Or into roaring sea, from land let them be quite exiled.  For like as an honest minded and discreet Physician, will choose rather to cure the malady of his patient by rest and sleep, or by good nutriture & diet, than by Castorium or Scammonium: even so, a kind & courteous friend, a good father and gentle schoolmaster, taketh pleasure and joyeth more to use praises than reproofs, in the reformation of manners. For there is nothing that maketh the man, who boldly findeth fault with his friends to be so little offensive unto them, or to do more good and cure them better, than to be void of anger, and to seem after a mild sort in all love and affectionate good will to address himself unto them, when they do amiss. And therefore neither ought he to urge them overmuch, and seem too eagerly to convince them if they deny the thing, ne yet to debar them of liberty to make their answer and clear themselves: but rather to help them out, and after a sort to minister unto them some honest and colourable pretences, to excuse and justify their facts: and when a man seeth them do amiss by reason of some worse cause indeed, to lay the fault upon another occasion that is more tolerable: As Hector when he said unto Paris, 
Unhappy man, alas, you do not well  
To bear in breast a heart so fell.  As if his brothers retire out of battle and refusal to combat with Menclaus, had not been a mere flight and running away, but very anger and a cursed slomake. Likewise Nestor unto Agamemnon, 
But you gave place unto your haughty mind:  
And feed those fits which come to you by kind.  For in mine advice a more mild reprehension is this than to have said: This was injuriously done of you, or this was a shameful and villainous part of yours; As also to say unto one, You could not tell what you did; you thought not of it; or you were altogether ignorant what would come thereof, is better and more civil, than bluntly to charge him and say: This was a mere wrong, and a wicked act of yours. Also thus, Do not contest and quarrel in this wise with your brother, is less offensive than to say: Deal not thus enviously and spitefully against your brother: Likewise it were a more gentle manner of reproof to say unto a man: Avoid this woman that spoileth and abuseth you; than thus: Give over this woman, spoil and abuse her no more. Thus you see what means are to be used in this liberty of speech, when a friend would cure a malady.  
But for to prevent the same, there would be practised a clean contrary course: for when it behoveth to avert and turn our friends from cominitting a fault, whereto they are prone and inclined; or to withstand some violent and disordinate passion, which carrieth them a clean contrary way; or when we are desirous to incite and stir them forward unto good things, being of themselves slow and backward: when, I say, we would give an edge unto them, who are otherwise dull, and heat them being could, we ought to transfer the thing or act in hand to some absurd causes, and those that be unseemly and undecent. Thus Ulysses pricked on Achilles in a certain Tragedy of Sophocles, when he said thus unto him: It is not for a supper Achilles that you are so angry, but 
For that you have already seen  
The walls of Troy, your fearful teen.  And when upon these words Achilles took greater indignation, and chafed more and more, saying, that he would not sail forward but be gone back again, he came upon him a second time with this rejoinder: 
I wot well why you gladly would depart:  
'tis not because at checks or taunts you chafe,  
But Hector is not far: he kills your hart;  
For dread of him to stay it is not safe.  By this means when we scar a valiant and hardy man with the opinion of cowardice; an honest, chaste and civil person, with the note of being reputed loose & incontinent; also a liberal and sumptuous Magnifico, with the fear to be accounted a niggard or a mechanical micher; we do mightily incite them to well doing, and chase them from bad ways. And like as when a thing is done and passed, and where there is no remedy, there should be borne a modest and temperate hand, in such sort that in our liberty of speech we seem to show more commiseration, pity and fellow-griefe of mind for the fault of a friend, than eager reprehension; so chose where it stands upon this point that should not fault, where (I say) our drift is to fight against the motion of his passions, there we ought to be vehement, inexorable and never to give over nor yield one jot unto them. And this is the very time when we are to show that love of ours and good will which is constant, settled, and sure, and to use our true liberty of speech to the full. For to reprove faults already committed, we see it is an ordinary thing among arrant enemies. To which purpose said Diogenes very well; That a man who would be an honest man ought to have either very good friends, or most shrewd and bitter enemies: for as they do teach and instruct; so these are ready to find fault and reprove. Now far better it is for one to abstain from evil doing, in believing and following the sound counsel of his friends, than to repent afterwards of ill doing, when he seeth himself blamed and accused by his enemies. And therefore if it were for nothing else but this, great discretion and circumspection would be used in making remonstrances & speaking freely unto friends: and so much the rather, by how much it is the greater and stronger remedy that friendship can use, and hath more need to be used in time and place convenient, and more wisely to be tempered with a mean and mediocrity. Now forasmuch as I have said sundry times already, that all reprehensions whatsoever are dolorous unto him that receiveth them; we ought in this case to imitate good Physicians and Chirurgeons: for when they have made incision or cut any member, they leave not the place in pain and toment still, but use certain fomentations and lenitive infusions to mitigate the anguish: No more do they that after a civil manner have chid or rebuked, run away presently so soon as they have bitten and pricked the party, but by changing their manner of speech, entertain their friends thus galled and wounded, with other more mild and pleasant discourses; to assuage their grief and refresh their hart again that is cast down and discomforted: and I may well compare them to these cutters and carvers of images, who after they have wrought hewn and scabbled over certain pieces of stone for to make their statures of, do polish and smooth them fair, yea and give them a lightsome lustre. But if a man be stung and nipped once, or touched to the quick by some objurgatorie reprehension, and so left rough, uneven, disquieted, swelling and puffing for anger, he is ever after hardly quieted or reclaimed, and no consolation will serve the turn to appease and comfort him again. And therefore they who reprove & admonish their friends, aught to observe this rule above all others; Not to forsake them immediately when they have so done, nor to break off their conference suddenly, or to conclude their speech with any word that might grieve and provoke them.    

OF MEEKNESS, OR HOW A MAN SHOULD REFRAIN CHOLER. A TREATISE IN MANNER of a Dialogue.  
The persons that be the Speakers: SCYLLA and FUNDANUS.  

The Summarie of the Dialogue.  
AFter we are taught how to discern a flatterer from a friend, it seemeth that this Treatise, as touching Mildness and how we ought to bridle Anger, was set here in his proper place. For like as we may soon err grossly in choice of those whom we are willing and well content to have about us, and in that respect are to be circum spect, and to stand upon our guard: so we have no less cause to consider how we should converse among our neighbours. Now of all those vices andimperfections which defame man's life, and cause the race & course thereof to be difficult & wondrous painful to pass, anger is one of those which are to be ranged in the first rank; in such sort, that it booteth not to be provided of good friends, if this furious humour get the mastery over us: like as chose flatterers & such other pestilent plagues have not so easy entrance into us, nor such ready means to be possessed of us, so long as we be accompanied with a certain wise and prudent mildness. In this discourse then, our author doing the part of an expers Physician, laboureth to purge our minds from all choler, and would train them to modesty and humanity, so far forth as Philosophy moral is able to perform. And for to atraine unto so great a benefit, he showeth in the first place, that we ought to procure our friends for to observe and mark our imperfections, that by long continuance of time we may accustom ourselves to hold in our judgement by the bit of reason. After certain proper similitudes serving for this purpose, and a description of the mconventences and harms that come by wrath, he proveth, that it is an easy matter to restrain and repress the same: to which purpose be setteth down diverse means, upon which he discourseth after his usual manner, that is to say, with reasons and inductions, enriched with notable similitudes and examples: afterwards, having spoken of the time and manner of chastising and correcting those who are under our power and governance, he proposeth aswell certain remedies to cure choler, as preservatives to keep us from relapse into it again: Which done, he representet hire lively, as in a painted able, to the end that those who suffer themselves to be surprised therewith, may be abashed and ashamed of their unhappy state: and therewith he giveth five not able advertisements for to attain thereto, which be as it were preservatives: by means whereof we should not feel ourselves attaint any more with this malady.   

OF MEEKNESS, OR HOW A man should refrain choler. A TREATISE IN MANNER of a Dialogue.  SCYLLA. 
IT seemeth unto me (o Fundanus) that painters do very well and wisely, to view and consider their works often and by times between, before they think them finished and let them go out of their hands: for that by setting them so out of their sight, and then afterwards having recourse thither again to judge thereof, they make their eyes (as it were) new judges, to spy and discern the least fault that is, which continual looking thereupon, and the ordinary view of one and the same thing doth cover and hide from them. But forasmuch as it is not possible that a man should depart from himself for a time, and after a certain space return again; not that he should break, interrupt and discontinue his understanding and sense within (which is the cause that each man is a worse judge of himself than of others.) A second means and remedy therefore in this case would be used: namely, to review his friends sundry times, and eftsoons likewise to yield himself to be seen and beheld by them; not so much to know thereby whether he aged apace and grow soon old; or whether the constitution of his body be better or worse than it was before, as to survey and consider his manners and behaviour, to wit, whether time hath added any good thing, or taken away aught that is bad and nought. For mine own part, this being now the second year since I came first to this city of Rome, and the fifth month of mine acquaintance with you, I think it no great wonder, that considering your towardness and the dexterity of your nature, those good parts which were already in you, have gotten so great an addition and be so much increased, as they are: but when I see how that vehement inclination, and ardent motion of yours to anger, whereunto by nature you were given, is by the guidance of reason become so mild, so gentle and tractable, it cometh into my mind to say thereunto, that which I read in Homer, 
O what a wondrous change is here?  
Much milder are you than you were.  And verily this gentleness and meekness of yours is not turned into a certain sloth, and general dissolution of your vigour: but like as a piece of ground well tilled, lieth light and even, and beside more hollow than before, which maketh much for the fertility thereof; even so, your nature hath gotten in stead of that violent disposition and sudden propension unto choler, a certain equality and profundity, serving greatly to the management of affairs, whereby also it appeareth plainly that it is not long of the decaying strength of the body, by reason of declining age; neither yet of the own accord, that your hastiness and choleric passion is thus faded, but rather by means of good reasons and instructions well cured. And yet verily (for unto you I will be bold to say the truth) at the first I suspected and could not well believe Eros our familiar friend, when he made this report of you unto me; as doubting that he was ready to give this testimony of you in regard of affection and good will, bearing me in hand of those things which were not indeed in you, but aught to be in good and honest men: and yet (as you know well enough) he is not such a man, as for favour of any person, and for to please, can be easily persuaded and brought to say otherwise than he thinketh. But now as he is freed and acquit from the crime of bearing false witness: so you (since this journey and travel upon the way affordeth you good leisure) will (I doubt not) at my request, declare and recount unto us the order how you did this cure upon yourself; and namely what medicines and remedies you used, to make that choleric nature of yours, so gentle, so tractable, so soft and supple, so obeisant (I say) and subject wholly to the rule of reason?  FUNDANUS. 
But why do you not yourself (o Sylla) my dearest and most affectionate friend, take heed, that for the amity and good will which you bear unto me, you be not deceived and see one thing in me for another? As for Eros, who for his own part hath not always his anger steadfastly stayed with the cable and anchor of Homer's Peisa (that is, obedient and abiding firm in one place) but otherwhiles much moved and out of quiet, for the hatred that he hath of vice and vicious men it may very well be, and like it is that unto him I seem more mild and gentle than before: like as we see in changing and altering the notes of pricksong, or the Gam-ut in music, certain Netae or notes which are the base in one 8. being compared which other Netae morelow and base, become Hypatae, that is, the Trebles.  SCYLLA. 
It is neither so nor so (o Fundanus) but of all loves, do as I desire you, for my sake.  FUNDANUS. 
Since it is so (Sylla) among many good advertisements of Musonius which come to my mind, this is one; That whosoever would live safe and in health, ought all their life time to look to themselves, and be as it were in continual Physic. For I am not of this mind, neither do I think it convenient that like as Elleborus, after it hath done the deed within a sick man's body and wrought a cure, is cast up again together with the malady; so reason also should be sent out after the passion which it hath cured, but it ought to remain still in the mind for to keep and preserve the judgement. For why? reason is not to be compared with medicines and purgative drugs, but rather to wholesome and nourishing meats, engendering mildly in the minds of them unto whom it is made familiar, a good complexion and fast habit together with some perfect health: whereas admonitions and corrections applied or ministered unto passions when they swell and rage, and be in the height of their heat and inflammation, hardly and with much ado work any effect at all, and if they do, it is with much pain. Neither differ they in operation from those strong odours which well may raise out of a fit those who are fallen and be subject to the Epilepsy or falling sickness; but they cure not the disease, nor secure the patient for falling again: True it is that all other passions of the mind, if they be taken in hand at the very point and instant when they are in their highest fury, do yield in some sort, and they admit reason coming from without into the mind for to help and succour, but anger not only, as Melanthius saith, 
Commits lewd parts, and reason doth displace  
Out of her seat, and proper resting place.  but also turneth her clean out of house & home, shutteth and locketh her out of doors for altogether; nay it fareth for all the world like to those who set the house on fire over their own heads, and turn themselves and it together: it filleth all within full of trouble, smoke, and confused noises, in such sort that it hath neither eye to see, nor ear to listen unto those that would, & might assist and give aid: and therefore sooner will a ship abandoned of her master in the mids of the sea, and there hulling dangerously in a storm and tempest receive a pilot from some other ship without; than a man tossed with the waves of fury and anger, admit the reason and remonstrance of a stranger; unless his own reason at home were before hand well prepared: But like as they who look for no other but to have their city besieged, gather together and lay up safe their own store and provision, and all things that might serve their turn, not knowing nor expecting any aid or relief abroad during the siege; even so ought we to have our remedies ready and provided long before, and the same gathered out of all parts of Philosophy and conveyed into the mind for to withstand the rage of choler: as being assured of this, that when need and necessity requireth to use them, we shall not easily admit the same, and suffer them to have entrance into us. For surely at such a time of extremity, the soul heareth not a word that is said unto it without, for the trouble and confusion within, unless her own reason be assistant ready both to receive and understand quickly every commandment and precept, and also to prompt the same accordingly unto her. And say that she doth hear: look what is said unto her after a mild, calm, and gentle manner, that she despiseth; again, if any be more instant, and do urge her somewhat roughly, with those she is displeased, and the worse for their admonitions for wrath being of the own nature proud, audacious, unruly, and hardly suffering itself to be handled or stirred by another, much like unto a tyrant attended with a strong guard about his person, aught to have something of the own which is domestical, familiar, and (as it were) in bred together with it, for to overthrow and dissolve the same. Now the continual custom of anger and the ordinary or often falling into a chafe, breedeth in the mind an ill habit called wrathfulness, which in the end groweth to this pass, that it maketh a man choleric and hasty, apt to be moved at every thing; and beside, it engendereth a bitter humour of revenge, and a testiness implacable, or hardly to be appeased; namely, when the mind is exulcerate once, taking offence at every small occasion, quarrelling and complaining for toys and trifles, much like unto a thin or a fine edge that entereth with the least force that the graver putteth it to. But the judgement of reason opposing itself streightwaies against such motions and sits of choler, and ready to suppress & keep them down, is not only a remedit for the present mischief, but also for the time to come doth strengthen and fortify the mind, causing it to be more firm and strong to resist such passions when they arise. And now to give some instance of myself: The same happened unto me after I had twice or thrice made head against choler, as befell sometimes to the Thebans; who having ones repelled and put to flight the Lacedæmonians (warriors thought in those days invincible) were never in any one battle afterward defeated by them. For from that time forward I took heart and courage, as seeing full well, that conquered it might be with the discourse of reason. I perceived moreover, that anger would not only be quenched with cold water powered and cast upon it, as Aristotle hath reported unto us, but also that it would go out and be extinguished, were it never so light a fire before, by presenting near unto it some object of fear: nay (I assure you) by a sudden joy coming upon it unlooked for, in many a man, according as Homer saith, choler hath melted, dissolved & evaporated away. And therefore this resolution I made, that anger was a passion not incurable, if men were willing to be cured: for surely the occasions and beginnings thereof are not always great and forcible; but we see that a jest, a scoff, some sport, some laughter, a wink of the eye, or nod of the head, and such small matters, hath set many in a pelting chafe: even as Lady Helena saying no more but thus unto her niece or brother's daughter at their first meeting, 
Electra virgin, long time since I you saw etc.  drove her in such a fit of choler, that therewith she was provoked to break off her speech with this answer, 
Wise now at last, though all too late, you are I may well say,  
Who whilom left your husband's house, and ran with shame away.   
Likewise Calisthenes mightily offended Alexander with one word, who when a great bowl of wine went round about the table, refused it as it came to his turn, saying: I will not (I trow) drink so to your health Alexander, that I shall have need thereby of Aesculapius (i. a Physician.) A fire that newly hath caught a flame with hares or coneys hair, dry leaves, hurds and light straw, stubble and rakings, it is an easy matter to put out and quench; but if it have once taken to sound fuel and such matter as hath solidity, substance and thickness in it, soon it burneth and consumeth as Aeschylus saith: 
By climbing up and mounting hie  
The stately works of Carpentry.  Semblably, he that will take heed unto choler at the beginning, when he seeth it once to smoke or flame out by occasion of some merry speech, flouting scoffs, and foolish words of no moment, needs not to strive much about the quenching of it: for many times if he do no more but hold his peace, or make small account or none at all of such matters, it is enough to extingnish and make it go out. For he that ministereth not fuel to fire, putteth it out; and whosoever feedeth not his anger at the first, and bloweth not the coals himself, doth cool and repress the same. And therefore Hieronimus the Philosopher, although otherwise he have taught us many good lessons and instructions; yet in this point he hath not pleased and satisfied me, when he saith; That a man is not able to perceive in himself the breeding of anger, (so quick and sudden it is) but only when it is bred, than it may be felt: for surely, there is no vice or passion in us, that giveth such warning, or hath either so evident a generation or so manifest an augment whiles it is stirred and moved, as anger, according as Homer himself right skilfully, and as a man of good experience, giveth us to understand, who bringeth in Achilles sore moved to sorrow and grief of heart, even with a word, and at the very instant, when he heard the speeches of Agamemnon: for thus reporteth the Poet of him: 
Out of the king his sovereigns mouth, the word no sooner passed,  
But strait a black and misty cloud of 〈◊〉 him over cast.  But of 〈◊〉 himself, he saith, that it was long ere he was angry; namely, after he had been kindled with many hard speeches, that were dealt to and fro, which if any third person stepping between, would have stayed or turned away, certes their quarrel and debate had not grown to such terms of extremity as it did. And therefore Socrates so often as he felt himself somewhat declining and more moved than he should, against any one of his friends, and avoiding as it were a rock in the sea, before the tempest came and the billows arose, would let fall his voice, show a smiling countenance, and compose his look and visage to mirth and lenity, and thus by bending and drawing another away to that whereunto his affection inclined, and opposing himself to a contrary passion, he kept upright on his feet, so that he fell not, nor was overthrown. For there is (my good friend) a ready neanes in the very beginning, to break the force of choler, like as there is a way to dissolve a tyrannical rule and dominion, that is to say, not to obey at the first, not to give ear and be ruled by her commandment, when she shall bid thee to speak & cry out aloud, or to look with a terrible countenance, or to knock or beat thyself; but to be still and quiet, and not to reinforce and increase the passion, as men do exasperate a sickness with struggling, striving, tossing and roaring out aloud. For those things which ordinary lovers and amorous young men practise, that is to say, to go in a wanton and merry mask, to sing and dance at the doors of their sweet hearts and mistresses, to bedeck their windows with coronets & floure-garlands, bring some ease and alleviation (such as it is) of their passions, and the same not altogether undecent and uncivil, according to that which we read in the Poet: 
And when I came, aloud I cried not,  
And asked who she was, or daughter whose?  
But kissed my love full sweetly, that I wot:  
If this be sin? but sin I can not choose.  Also that which we permit those to do who are in sorrow, namely, to mourn, to lament and weep for losses or mishaps; certainly with their sighs which they fetch, & tears that they shed, they do send out and discharge a good part of their grief and anguish. But it is not so with the passion of anger: for surely, the more that they stir and speak who are surprised there with the more hot it is, and the flame burneth out the rather; and therefore the best way is, for a man to be quiet, to fly and keep him out of the way, or else to retire himself into some haven of surety and repose, when he perceiveth that there is a fit of anger toward, as if he felt an access of the falling evil coming. This (I say) we ought to do, for fear lest we fall down, or rather run and rush upon some one or other. But who be they that we run upon? Surely our very friends, for the greatest part, & those we wrong most. As for our affection of love, it standeth not to all things indifferently, neither do we hate ne yet fear we every thing alike: But what is it that ire setteth not upon? nothing is there but it doth assail and lay hands on; we are angry with our enemies; we chafe with our friends; with children, with parents are we wrath; nay, the very gods themselves we forbear not in our choleric mood; we fly upon dumb and brute beasts; we spare not so much as our utensil vessels and implements which have neither sense nor life at all, if they stand in our way, we fare like Thamyris the Musician, 
Who broke his cornet, finely bound  
And tipped with gold: his lute he hent,  
Well strung and tuned to pleasant sound,  
And it anon to fitters rend.  Thus did Pandarus also, who cursed, and betook himself to all the fiends in hell, if he did not burst his bow and arrows with his own hands, and throw them into the fire when he had so done. As for Xerxes, he stuck not to whip, to lash and scourge the sea, and to the mountain Athos he sent his minatory letters in this form; Thou wretched and wicked Athos, that bearest up thy head aloft into the sky; see thou bring forth no great craggy stones, I advise thee, for my works, and such as be hard to be cut and wrought: otherwise, if thou do, I shall cut thee through and tumble thee into the main sea. Many fearful and terrible things there be that are done in anger, and as many for them again, as foolish and ridiculous, and therefore of all passions that trouble the mind, it is both hated and despised most. In which regards expedient it were, to consider diligently aswell of the one as the other: for mine own part, whether I did well or ill, I know not; but surely, when I began my cure of choler in myself, I did as in old time the Lacedæmonians were wont to do by their Ilotes, men of base and servile condition: For as they taught their children what a soul vice drunkenness was, by their example when they were drunk, so I learned by observing others, what anger was, and what beastly effects it wrought. First and foremost therefore, like as that malady according to Hypocrates, is of all others, worst and most dangerous, wherein the visage of the sick person is most disfigured and made unlikest itself; so, I seeing those that were possessed of choler, and (as it were) beside themselves thereby, how their face was changed, their colour, their countenance, their gate and their voice quite altered, I imagined thereupon unto myself a cerreine form and image of this malady, as being mightily displeased in my mind, if haply at any time I shoule be seen of my friends, my wife and the little girls my daughters, so terrible and so far moved and transported beside myself: not only fearful and hideous to behold, and far otherwise than I was wont, but also unpleasant to be heard; my voice being rough, rude and churlish: like as it was my hap to see some of my familiar friends in that case, who by reason of anger could not retain and keep their ordinary fashions and behaviour, their force of visage, nor their grace in speech, ne yet that affability and pleasantness in company and talk as they were wont.  
This was the reason that Caius Gracchus the Orator, a man by nature blunt, rude in behaviour, and withal over-earnest and violent in his manner of pleading, had a little flute or pipe made for the nonce, such as Musicians are wont to guide and rule the voice gently by little and little up and down, between base to triple, according to every note as they would themselves, teaching their scholars thereby to have a tuneable voice. Now when Gracchus pleaded at the bar at any time, he had one of his servants standing with such a pipe behind him: who observing when his master was a little out of tune, would sound a more mild and pleasant note unto him, whereby he reclaimed and called him back from that loud exclaiming, and so taking down that rough and swelling accent of his voice, 
Like as the Neat-heards pipes so shrill made of the marrishreeds so light;  
The joints whereof with wax they fill, resound a tune for their delight:  
Which while the heard in field they keep,  
Brings them at length to pleasant sleep.  dulced and allayed the choleric passion of the orator. Certes myself, if I had a pretty page to attend upon me, who were diligent, necessary and handsome about me, would not be offended but very well content, that when he saw me angry he should by and by present a mirror or looking glass unto me, such a one as they use to bring and show unto some that newly are come out of the bane, although no good or profit at all they have thereby. But certainly for man to see himself at such a time, how disquieted he is, how far out of the way and beside the course of nature, it were no small means to check this passion, and to set him in hatred therewith for ever after. They who are delighted in tales and fables, do report by way of merry speech and pastime, that once when Minerva was a piping, there came a Satire and admonished her, that it was not for her to play upon a flute; but she for the time took no heed to that advertisement of his, notwithstanding he spoke thus unto her: 
This form of face becomes you not, lay up your pipes, take arms in hand:  
But first this would not before got, your cheeks to lay, that puffed now stand.  But afterwards when she had seen her face in a certain river, what a pair of cheeks she had gotten with her piping, she was displeased with herself and flung away her pipes: And yet this art and skill of playing well upon the pipe, yieldeth some comfort and maketh amends for the deformity of disfigured visage, with the melodious tune and harmony that it affordeth; yea and afterwards, Marsyas the Minstrel (as it is thought) devised first with a certain hood and muzzle fastened round about the mouth, as well to restrain and keep down the violence of the blast enclosed thus by force, as also to correct and hide the deformity and undecent inequality of the visage; 
With glittering gold both cheeks as far as temples he did bind:  
The tender mouth with thongs likewise, fast knit the neck behind.  But anger chose, as it doth puff up and stretch out the visage after an unseemly manner, so much more it sendeth out undecent and unpleasant voice, 
And stirs the strings at secret note of heart  
Which touched should not be, but by a part.  The sea verily, when being troubled and disquieted with blustering winds, it casteth up moss, reits, and such like weeds (they say) it is cleansed andpurged thereby: but the dissolute, bitter, scurrile, and foolish speeches, which anger sendeth out of the mind when it is turned upside down, first pollute and defile the speakers themselves, and fill them full of infamy, for that they be thought to have their hearts full of such ordure and filthiness at all times; but the same lurketh there, until that choler discovereth it: And therefore, they pay most dearly for their speech, the lightest matter of all others (as Plato saith) in that they suffer this heavy and grievous punishment, to be held and reputed for malicious enemies, cursed speakers, and ill conditioned persons. Which I seeing and observing well enough, it falleth out that I reason with myself, & always call to mind, what a good thing it is in a fever, but much better in a fit of choler to have a tongue fair, even and smooth: For in them that be sick of an ague, if the tongue be not such as naturally it ought to be, an ill sign it is, but not a cause of any harm or indisposition within. Howbeit, if their tongues who are angry, be once rough, foul, and running dissolutely at random to absurd speeches, it casteth forth outrageous and contumelious language, the very mother and workmistresse of irreconcilable enmity, and bewrayeth an hidden and secret maliciousness. As for wine, if a man drink it, of itself undelaied with water, it putteth forth no such wantonness, no disordinate and lewd speeches, like to those that proceed of ire. For drunken talk serveth to make mirth, and to procure laughter rather than any thing else: but words of choler are tempered with bitter gall and rancour. Moreover, he that sitteth silent at the table when others drink merrily, is odious unto the company and a trouble: whereas in choler there is nothing more decent and beseeming gravity, than to be quiet and say nothing: according as Sapph doth admonish, 
When furious choler once is up, dispersed and spread in breast,  
To keep the tongue then apt to bark, and let it lie at rest.   
The consideration of these things collected thus together, serveth not only to take heed always unto them that are subject to ire and therewith possessed, but also beside to know thoroughly the nature of anger: how it is neither generous or manful, nor yet hath any thing in it that savoreth of wisdom and magnanimity. Howbeit the common people interpret the turbulent nature thereof to be active and meet for action: the threats and menaces thereof, hardiness and confidence, the peevish and froward unruliness to be fortitude and strength. Nay some there be who would have the cruelty in it, to be a disposition and dexterity to achieve great matters; the implacable malice thereof to be constancy and firm resolution: the morosity and difficulty to be pleased; to be the hatred of sin and vice; howbeit herein they do not well but are much deceived, for surely the very actions, motions, gestures, and countenance of choleric persons do argue and bewray much baseness and imbecility: which we may perceive not only in these brainsick fits that they fall upon little children, and them pluck, twitch, and misuse; fly upon poor silly women, and think that they ought to punish and beat their horses, hounds and mules, like unto Ctesiphon that famous wrestler and professed champion, who stuck not to spurn and kick his mule; but also in their tyrannical and bloudly murders, wherein their cruelty and bitterness which declareth their pusillanimity & base mind; their actions which show their passions & their doing to others, bewraying a suffering in themselves, may be compared to the stings and bitings of those venomous serpents which be very angric, exceeding dolorous and burn most themselves when they do inflict the greatest inflammation upon the patients, and put them to most pain: For like as swelling is a symptom or accident following upon a great wound or hurt in the flesh: even so it is in the tenderest and softest minds, the more they give place and yield unto dolour and passion, the more plenty of choler and anger they utter forth as proceeding from the greater weakness. By this you may see the reason why women ordinarily be more waspish, cursed and shrewd than men; sick folk more testy than those that are in health; old people more wayward and froward than those that be in the flower and vigour of their years; and finally such as be in adversity and upon whom fortune frowneth, more prone to anger than those who prosper and have the world smiling upon them. The covetous miser and pinching peni-father is always most angry with his steward that layeth forth his money; the glutton is ever more displeased with his cook and cater; the jealous husband quickly falleth out and brawleth with his wife; the vainglorious fool is soon offended with them that speak any thing amiss of him; but the most bitter and intolerable of all others, are ambitious persons in a city, who lay for high places and dignities, such also as are the heads of a faction in a sedition; which is a trouble and mischief (as Pindarus saith) conspicuous and honourable. Lo, how from that part of the mind which is wounded, grieved, suffereth most and especially upon infirmity and weakness, ariseth anger, which passion resembleth not (as one would have it) the sinews of the soul, but is like rather to their stretching spreines and spasmatick convulsions, when it straingeth and striveth overmuch in following revenge.  
Well, the examples of evil things yield no pleasant sight at all, only they be necessary and profitable, and for mine own part supposing the precedents given by those who have carried themselves gently and mildly in their occasions of anger, are most delectable, not only to behold, but also hear: I begin to contemn and despise those that say thus: 
To man thou hast done wrong: be sure  
At man's hand wrong for to endure.   
Likewise 
Down to the ground with him, spare not his coat,  
Spurn him and set thy foot upon his throat,  and other such words which serve to provoke wrath and whet choler; by which some go about to remove anger out of the nursery, and women's chamber into the hall where men do sit and keep; but herein they do not well: For prowess and fortitude according in all other things with justice, and going fellowlike with her, me thinks is at strife and debate with her about meekness and mildness only, as if she rather became her, and by right appertained unto her: For otherwhiles it hath been known that the worst men have gone beyond and surmounted the better. But for a man to erect a Trophy and set up a triumphal monument in his own soul against ire (with which as Heraclnus saith the conflict is hard and dangerous: for what a man would have he buyeth with his life) it is an act of rare valour and victorious puissance, as having in truth the judgement of reason, for sinews, tendons, and muscles to encounter and resist passions. Which is the cause that I study, and am desirous always to read and gather the sayings and doings, not only of learned clerks and Philosophers; who as our Sages and wise men say, have no gall in them, but also and much rather of Kings, Princes, Tyrants, and Potentates: As for example, such as that was of Antigonus, who hearing his soldiers upon a time revile him behind his pavilion, thinking that he heard them not, put forth his staff from under the cloth unto them and said: A whoreson knaves, could you not go a little farther off, when you meant thus to rail upon us. Likewise when one Arcadian an Argive or Achaean never gave over reviling of King Philip, and abusing him in most reproachful terms, yea and to give him warning 
So far to fly, until he thither came  
Where no man knew nor heard of Philip's name.  And afterwards the man was seen (I know not how) in Macedonia; the friends and courtiers of king Philip were in hand with him to have him punished, and that in any wise he should not let him go and escape: Philip chose having him once in his hands, spoke gently unto him, used him courteously, sending unto him in his lodging gifts and presents, and so sent him away. And after a certain time he commanded those courtiers of purpose to inquire what words he gave out of him unto the greeks: but when every one made report again and testified that he was become another man, and ceased not to speak wonderful things in the praise of him; Lo (quoth Philip) then unto them: Am not I a better Physician than all you, and can I not skill how to cure a foul tongued fellow? Another time at the great solemnity of the Olympian games, when the greeks abused him with very bad language, his familiar friends about him said they deserved to be sharply chastised and punished, for so miscalling and reviling him, who had been so good a benefactor of theirs: what would they do and say then (quoth he) if I should deal hardly by them and do them shrewd turns? Semblably, notable and excellent was the carriage of Pisistratus to Thrasibulus: of king Porsenna to Mutius and of Magas to Philemon, who in a public and frequent Theatre, had mocked and scoffed at him in this manner, 
Magas, there are some letters come unto you from a king  
But letter Magas none can read, nor write for any thing.  Now it chanced afterwards that by a tempest at sea he was cast upon the Port-towno Paraetonium, whereof Magas was governor, and so fell into his hands, who did him no other harm, but commanded one of his guard or officers about him, only with his naked sword to touch his bare neck, and so gently to go his ways and do no more to him: marry afterwards, he sent unto him little bones for cock-all, and a pretty ball to play withal, as if he had been a child that had no wit nor discretion, and so sent him home again in peace. King Ptolomaus upon a time jesting and scoffing at a simple and unlearned Grammarian, asked him, who was the father of Peleus: I will answer you sir (quoth he) if you tell me first who was the father of Lagus: This was a dry flout and touched King Ptolomaus very near, in regard of the mean parentage from whence he was descended: whereat, all about the King were mightily offended, and thought it was too broad a jest and frump intolerable. But Ptolomaeus, if it be not seemly for a King to take and put up a scorn: surely as little decent it is for his person to give a scorn 
* It seemeth that here 12 somewhat wanung.  Alexander the Great was more bitter and cruel (than otherwise his ordinatie manner was to others) towards calisthenes and Clitus. But King Porus being taken prisoner by him in a battle, besought that he would use him royally, or like a King. And when King Alexander demanded moreover what he had more to say, and what he would have else? No more (quoth he) for under this word Royally is comprised all. And therefore I suppose it is, that the Greeks call the King of the gods, by the name of Milichiüs, that is to say, Mild and sweet as honey. And the Athenians named him Mumactes, which is as much as, Ready to help and succour: For to punish and torment, pertaineth to devils and the furious fiends of hell: there is no celestial, divine, and heavenly thing in it. And like as one said of King Philip, when he had razed & destroyed the city Olynthus: Yea marry, but he is not able to set up such another city in the place: even so, a man may well say unto Anger; Thou canst overthrow, demolish, mar and pull down: but to rear and erect again, to save, to pardon, and to endure; be the properties of meekness, clemency, mildness, patience, and moderation: they be the parts (I say) of Camillus, Metellus, Aristides and Socrates: whereas to stick close unto the flesh, to pinch, prick and bite, are the qualities of pismires, flies and mice. Moreover and beside, when I look unto Revenge, and the manner thereof, I find for the most part, that if men proceed by way of choler, they miss of their purpose: for commonly all the heat & desire of revenge is spent in biting of lips, gnashing and grating of teeth, vain running to and fro, in railing words with foolish threats and menaces among, that favour of no wit at all: By which means it fareth with them afterwards, as with little children in running of a race, who for feebleness being not able to hold out, fall down before they come unto the goal, whereunto they made such ridiculous and foolish haste. And therefore in my conceit, it was not an improper answer which a certain Rhodian made unto one of the Lictours and officers of a Roman General or Lord Praetor, who with wide mouth bauled at him, and made a glorious bragging and boasting. I pass not (quoth he) one whit what thou sayst; I care rather for that which he thinketh there, that saith nothing. In like manner Sophocles when he had brought in Eurypylus and Neoptolemus all armed, speaketh bravely in their commendation thus, 
They dealt no threats in vain, no taunts they made, nor boasting words:  
But to't they went and on their shields they laid on load with swords.  And verily, some barbarous nations there arewho use to poison their swords, & other weapons of iron; but valour hath no need at all of the venom of choler, for dipped it is in reason & judgement; whereas whatsoever is corrupted with ire and fury is brittle, rotten, and easy to be broken into pieces. Which is the reason that the Lacedæmonians do allay the choler of their soldiers, when they are fight with the melodious sound of flutes and pipes; whose manner is also before they go to battle, to sacrifice unto the Muses, to the end that their reason and right wits may remain in them still, and that they may have use thereof: yea, and when they have put their enemies to flight, they never pursue after nor follow the chase, but reclaim and hold their furious anger within compass, which they are able to wield and manage as they list; no less than these daggers or courtlaces which are of a mean size and reasonable length. chose, anger hath been the cause that many thousands have come short of the execution of vengeance, and miscarried by the way. As for example, Cyrus and Pelopidas the Theban among the rest. But Agathocles endured patiently to hear himself reproached and reviled, by those whom he besieged: and when one of them said: You Potter there? Hear you? Where will you have silver to pay your mercenary soldiers and strangers their wages? He laughed again and made answer; Even out of this city when I have once forced it. Some there were also that mocked and scorned Antigonus from the very walls, and twitted him with his deformity and evil favoured face. But he said no more than thus, Why! And I took myself before to have been very fair and well favoured. Now when he had won the town he sold in open port-sale those that had so flouted him, protesting withal unto them, that if from that time forward they mocked him any more, he would tell their masters of them and call them to account.  
Moreover, I do see that hunters, yea, and orators also commit many faults in their choler. And Aristotle doth report, that the friends of Satyrus the Orator, in one cause that he had to plead for them, stopped his ears with wax, for fear lest that he, when he heard his adversaries to rail upon him in their pleas, should mar all in his anger. And do not (I pray you) we ourselves many times miss of punishing our servants by this means, when they have done some faults: for when they hear us to threaten, and give out in our anger, that we will do thus and thus unto them, they be so frighted that they run away far enough off from us. Like as nurses therefore, are wont to say unto their little children: Cry not, and you shall have this or that; so we shall do very well, to speak unto our choler in this wise; Make no such haste, soft and fair, keep not such a crying, make not so loud a noise, be not so eager and urgent upon the point: so shall you see every thing that you would have, sooner done and much better. And thus a father, when he seeth his child going about to cut or cleave any thing with a knife or edge tool, taketh the tool or knife out of his hand, and doth it himself; even so he that doth take revenge out of the hands of choler, punisheth not himself, but him that deserveth it: and thus he doth surely, putting his own person in no danger, without damage and loss, nay, with great profit and commodity. Now, whereas all passions whatsoever of the mind had need of use and eustome, to tame (as it were) and vanquish by exercise, that which in them is unruely, rebellious and disobedient to reason: certes, in no one point beside had we need to be more exercised, (I mean as touching those dealings that we have with our household servants) than in anger: for there is no envy & emulation that ariseth in us toward them, there is no fear that we need to have of them, neither any ambition that troubleth or pricketh us against them; but ordinary and continual fits of anger we have every day with them, which breed much offence and many errors, causing us to tread awry, to slip and do amiss sundry ways, by reason of that licentious liberty unto which we give ourselves, all the while that there is none to control, none to stay, none to forbid and hinder us: and therefore being in so ticklish a place, and none to sustain and hold us up, soon we catch a fall, and come down at once. And a hard matter it is (I may say to you) when we are not bound to render an account to any one, in such a passion as this, to keep ourselves upright, and not to offend; unless we take order beforehand to restrain and impale (as it were) round about, so great a liberty with meekness and clemency, unless (I say) we be well enured and acquainted to bear and endure many shrewd and unhappy words of our wives, much unkind language of friends and familiars, who many times do challenge us for being too remiss, overgentle, yea, and altogether careless and negligent in this behalf. And this in truth, hath been the principal cause that I have been quick and sharp unto my servants, for fear lest they might prove the worse for not being chastised. But at the last, though late it were, I perceived; First, that better it was by long sufferance and indulgence, to make them somewhat worse, than in seeking to reform and amend others, to disorder and spoil myself with bitterness and choler: Secondly, when I saw many of them oftentimes, even because they were not so punished, fear and shame to do evil, and how pardon and forgiveness was the beginning of their repentance and conversion, rather than rigour and punishment; and that I asture you, they would serve some more willingly with a nod or wink of the eye, and without a word spoken, than others with all their beating and whipping: I was at last persuaded in my mind and resolved, that reason was more worthy to command and rule as a master, than ire and wrath. For true it is not that the Poet saith: 
Where ever is fear,  
Shame also is there:  but clean contrary: Look who are bashful and ashamed; in them there is imprinted a certain fear that holdeth them in good order: whereas continual beating and laying on without mercy, breedeth not repentance in servants for evil doing, but rather a kind of forecast and providence, how they should not be spied nor taken in their evil doing. Thirdly, calling to remembrance, and considering evermore with myself, that he who taught us to shoot, forbade us not to draw a bow or to shoot an arrow, but to miss the mark: no more will this be any let or hindrance, but that we may chastise and punish our servants, if we be taught to do it in time and place, with moderation and measure, profitably, and decently as it appertaineth. And verily I do enforce myself, and strive to master my choler and subdue it principally, not denying unto them who are to be punished, the liberty and means to justify themselves, but in hearing them to speak what they can for their excuse. For as time and space doth in the mean time find the passion occupied another way, and withal bring a certain delay, which doth slack and let down (as it were) the vehemency and violence thereof; so judgement of reason, all the while meeteth both with a decent manner and also with a convenient mean and measure of doing punishment accordingly. And beside, this course and manner of proceeding, leaveth him that is punished, no cause, occasion or pretence at all, to resist and strive again, considering that he is chastised and corrected not in choler and anger, but being first convinced, that he had well deserved his correction: and (which were yet worse than all the rest) the servant shall not have vantage to speak more justly and to better reason than his master. Well then, like as Photion after the death of Alexander the great, having a care not to suffer the Athenians to rise oversoone, or make any insurrection before due time, ne yet to give credit rashly unto the news of his death: My masters of Athens (quoth he) if he be dead to day, he will be dead to morrow also, and three days hence to; even so should a man (in mine opinion) who by the impulsion and instigation of anger, maketh haste to take punishment, thus suggest and secretly say to himself: If this servant of mine hath made a fault to day, it will be as true to morrow, and the next day after that he hath done a fault; neither will there be any harm or danger at all come of it, if he chance to be punished with the latest: but believe me, if he be punished oversoone, it will be always thought that he had wrong, and did not offend: a thing that I have known to happen full often. For which of us all is so cursed & cruel, as to punish and scourge a servant, for burning the roast five or ten days ago? or for that so long before he chanced to overthrow the table? or was somewhat with the slowest in making answer to his Master; or did his errand or other business not so soon as he should? and yet we see these & such like be the ordinary causes for which (whiles they be fresh and new done) we take on, we stamp and stare, we chafe, we frown, we are implacable and will hear of no pardon: And no marvel, for like as any bodies seem bigger through a mist; even so every thing appeareth greater than it is, through anger. And therefore at these and such like faults, we should wink for the time, and make as though we sawthem not, and yet think upon them nevertheless, and bear them in mind. But afterwards when the storm is well overblowen, we are with out passion, & do not suspect ourselves, than we may do well to consider thereof: and then if upon mature deliberation, when our mind is stayed and our senses settled, the thing appear to be nought, we are to hate and abhor it, and in no wise either to for-let and put of, or altogether to omit and forbear correction, like as they refuse meats who have no stomach nor appetite to eat. For certainly it is not a thing so much to be blamed, for to punish one in anger, as not to punish when anger is past and allayed, and so to be reckless and desolute: doing as idle mariners, who so long as the sea is calm and the weather fair, loiter within the harbour or haven, but afterwards when a tempest is up, spread sails and put themselves into danger. For even so we, condemning and neglecting the remissness and calmness of reason in case of punishment, make haste to execute the same during the heat of choler, which no doubt is a blustering and turbulent wind. As for meat he calleth for it in deed, and taketh it naturally who is a hungry: but surely he executeth punishment best, who neither hungereth nor thirsteth after it: neither hath he need to use choler as a sauce or dainty dish for to get him a stomach and appetite to correct: but even when he is farthest off from desire of revenge, then of necessity he is to make use of reason and wisdom to direct him: for we ought not to do, as Aristotle writeth in his time the manner was in Tuskane; To whip servants with sound of flutes and hautboys; namely to make a sport and pastime of punishing men, and to solace ourselves with their punishment for pleasures sake, and then afterwards when we have done, repent us of it: for as the one is brutish and beastlike; so the other is as womanish and unmanly: but without grief and pleasure both, at what time as reason and judgement is in force, we ought to let justice take punishment, and leave none occasion at all for choler to get advantage. But peradvenure some one will say, that this is not properly the way to remedy or cure anger; but rather a putting by or precaution that we should not commit any of those faults which ordinarily follow that passion: Unto whom I answer thus; That the swelling of the Spleen is not the cause but a symptom or accident of a fever: howbeit if the said humour be fallen and the pain mitigated, the fever also will be much eased, according as Hieronymus saith. Also when I consider by what means choler is engendered: I see that one falleth into it upon this cause, another upon that: but in all of them, it seemeth this general opinion there is, that they think themselves to be despised and nought set by. And therefore we ought to meet with such as seem to defend and maintain themselves, as being angry for just cause, and to cure them after this manner; namely, by diverting and removing from them, as far as ever we can, all suspicion of contempt and contumacy in those that have offended them and moved their anger; in laying the fault upon inconsiderate folly, necessity, sickness, infirmity and misery, as Sophocles did in these verses, 
For those my Lords whose state is in distress,  
Have not their spirits and wits as heretofore:  
As fortune frowns, they waxen ever less,  
Nay go are quite, though fresh they were before.  And Agamemnon, albeit he laid the taking away of Briseis from Achilles upon Ate (that is to say) some fatal infortunity, yet 
He willing was and priest, him to content,  
And unto him rich gifts for to present.  For to beseech and entreat, are signs of a man that despiseth not, and when the party who hath given offence becometh humble and lowly, he removeth all the opinion that might be conceived of contempt. But he that is in a fit of choler must not attend and wait until he see that, but rather help himself with the answer of Diogenes. These fellows here said one unto him, do deride thee Diogenes; but I (quoth he again) do not find that I am derided; even so ought a man who is angry not to be persuaded that he is contemned of another, but rather that himself hath just cause to contemn him, and to think that the fault committed did proceed of infirmity, error, heady-rashnesse, sloth and idleness, a base and illiberal mind, age or youth. And as for our servants and friends we must by all means quit them hereof, or pardon them at leastwise: For surely they cannot be thought to contemn us, in regard that they think us unable to be revenged, or men of no execution if we went about it: but it is either by reason of our remissness and mildness, or else of our love and affection that we seem to be smally regarded by them, whiles our servants presume of our tractable nature, easy to be pacified, and our friends of our exceeding love that cannot be soon shaken off. But now we are provoked to anger, not only against our wives, or servitors and friends, as being contemned by them; but also many times in our choler we fall upon Innkeepers, Mariners and Muleteers, when they be drunk, supposing that they despise us. And that which more is, we are offended with dogs when they bay or bark at us; and with asses if they chance to fling out and kick us. Like unto him who lifted up his hand to strike and beat him that did drive an ass; and when the man cried that he was an Athenian: But thou I am sure art no Athenian (quoth he) to the ass, and laid upon the poor beast as hard as he could, and gave him many a blow with his cudgel. But that which chiefly causeth us to be angry, and breedeth a continual disposition thereto in our minds, causing us so often to break out into fits of choler, which by little and little was engendered and gathered there before, is the love of our own selves, and a kind of froward surliness hardly to be pleased, together with a certain daintiness and delicacy, which all concurring in one, breed and bring forth a swarm (as it were) of bees, or rather a wasps nest in us. And therefore there cannot be a better means for to carry ourselves mildly and kindly, towards our wives, our servants, familiars and friends, than a contented mind, and a singleness or simplicity of heart, when a man resteth satisfied with whatsoever is present at hand, and requireth neither things superfluous nor exquisite, 
But he that never is content  
With roast or sod, but cook is shent:  
How ever he be serve; d, I mean  
With more, with less, or in a mean:  
He is not pleased nor one good word  
Can give of viands set on board,  
Without some snow who drinks no draft,  
Nor eateth bread in market bought.  
Who tastes no meat, be't never so good,  
Served up in dish of earth or wood:  
And thinks no bed nor pillow soft,  
Unless with down like sea aloft  
Stirred from beneath it strut and swell;  
For otherwise he sleeps not well.  who with rods and whips plieth and hasteneth the servitors at the table, making them to run until they sweat again, crying and bawling at them to come away apace, as if they were not carrying dishes of meat, but plasters and cataplasms for some inflammation or painful imposthume: subjecting himself after a slavish manner to a servile kind of diet and life, full of discontentment, quarrels and complaints: little knoweth such an one how by a continual cough, or many concussions & distemperatures, he hath brought his soul to an ulcerous and rheumatic disposition about the seat and place of anger. And therefore we must use the body by frugality to take up and learn to be content with a competent mean (forasmuch as they who desire but a little, can never be disappointed nor frustrate of much) finding no fault, nor keeping any stir at the beginning about meat, but standing satisfied without saying a word, with that which God sendeth whatsoever it be, not fretting, vexing and tormenting ourselves at the table about every thing, and in so doing, serving both ourselves and our company about us of friends, with the most unsavoury mess of meat, that is to wit, choler: 
A supper worse than this I do not see  
How possibly one can devised be.  Namely, whiles the servants be beaten, the wife chidden and reviled for the meat burnt, for smoke in the parlour, for want of salt, or for the bread over stale and dry. But Arcesilaus upon a time with other friends of his, feasted certain strangers and hosts of his abroad, whose guest he had been; and after the supper was come in, and meat set upon the board, there wanted bread, by reason that his servants had forgotten and neglected to buy any: for such a fault as this, which of us here would not have cried out that the walls should have burst withal, and been ready to have thrown the house out of the window? And he laughing at the matter: He had need be a wise man (quoth he) I see well, that would make a feast and set it out as it should be. Socrates also upon a time, when he came from the wrestling school, took Euthydemus home with him to supper: but Xantippe his wife fell a chiding and scolding with him at the board, reviling him with most bitter terms, so long, until at last in an anger down went table and all that was upon it: Whereupon Euthydemus arose, and was about to depart; but Socrates: Will you be gone (quoth he?) Why, do you not remember that the other day as we sat at supper in your house, there flew up to the board a hen and did as much for you? and yet were not we offended nor angry for the matter. And in very truth, we must entertain our friends and guests, with courtesy, mirth, a smiling countenance, and affectionate love: and not to browbeat them, not yet put the servitors in a fright, and make them quake and tremble with our frowning looks. Also we ought so to accustom ourselves that we may be content to be served with any kind of vessels whatsoever, and not upon a daintiness to have a mind to this, rather than to that, but to like all indifferently. And yet there be some so diyers, that although there be many cups and goblets standing upon the board, choose onefrom the rest, and cannot drink forsooth but out of that one: according as the Stories do report of Marius, who loved one mazzard, and could drink out of no other. Thus they do by their oil cruets and currying combs or rubbers, when they are at the baines or stouphes, taking a fancy and affection to some one above the rest but if it chance that one of them be cracked, broken, or be lost and miscarry any way; then they are exceeding angry and fall to beating of their servants. Such men therefore as find themselves to be choleric, should do well to forbear all rare and exquisite things, to wit, pots, cups, seal rings of excellent workmanship and precious stones. For that such costly jewels if they be marred or lost, breed more anger and set men out of order, more than those which be ordinary and easy to be come by. And therefore when Nero the Emperor had caused to be made a certain pavilion or tabemacle eight square, which was both for the beauty and cost, exceeding fair and sumptuous, and indeed an admirable piece of work. In this Tabernacle (quoth Seneca) unto him, you have bewrayed o Caesar that you are but a poor man: for if you lose this once, you shall never be able to recover and get the like again. And so it fell out indeed, for the ship, whetein the same Tabernacle was, chanced to be cast away upon the sea, and all was drowned. But Nero calling to mind the words of Seneca, took the loss more patiently.  
Moreover, this contentment of mind, and easiness to be pleased with any thing in the house, causeth a man also to be more gentle, mild, and better contented with his servants and people about him: now if it work this effect in us toward our household servants, evident it is that we shallbe likewise affected to our friends & those that be under our government. We see also, that slaves new bought, are inquisitive as touching him who hath bought them; not whether he be superstitious and envious; but whether he be choleric and hasty or no. And to be brief, neither can husbands endure the pudicity and honesty of their wives; nor wives the love of their husbands; ne yet friends the mutual conversation one with another, if there do an angry and choleric humour go withal. Thus we see, that neither marriage nor amity be tolerable with choler. chose, if anger be away, even drunkenness itself is tolerable and we can easily abide it: for the very ferula of god Bacchus is a sufficient punishment of drunkenness, if so be there be not choler therewith, which may cause Bacchus, that is, Strong wine, in stead of Lyaeus and Chorius, that is to say, The Loser of cares and Leader of dances (which are his surnames) to be called Omestes and Maenoles, which signify Cruel and Furious. As for simple madness of itself alone, the Ellebore growing in Antycira, is sufficient to cure: but if it be mingled with choler, it causeth Tragical fits, and those so strange, that a man would repute them for mere fables. And therefore we must not give place to anger, neigher in sport and pastime; for in am of good will it breedeth enmity: nor in conference and disputations; for it turneth the love and desire of knowledge into debate and contention: nor in deciding and judging causes; because to authority it addeth violence and insolency: nor in the teaching and instruction of our children; for it maketh them desperate and haters of learning: nor in prosperity; for it increaseth the envy and grudge of men: ne yet in adversity, because it taketh away pity and compassion, when they who are fallen into any misfortune, show themselves testy, froward and quarrelous to those who come to moan and mourn with them. This did Priamus, as we read in Homer: 
Avaunt (quoth he) you chiding guests, you odious mates be gone:  
Have you no sorrows of your own, but you come me to moan?  On the other side, fair conditions and mild behaviour, yieldeth succour and help in some cases; composeth and ordereth matters aright in others; dulceth and alaieth that which is tart and sour: and in one word, by reason of that kind, meek and gentle quality, it overcometh anger and all wayward testiness whatsoever. Thus it is reported of Euclides in a quarrel or variance between him and his brother: For when his brother had contested and said unto him; I would I might die, if be not revenged of thee: he inferred again; Nay, let me die for it, if I persuade thee not otherwise before I have done; by which one word he presently won his brother's heart, so that he changed his mind, and they parted friends. Polemon likewise, at a certain time, when one who loved precious stones, & was sick for fair & costly rings & such like curious jewels, did rail at him outrageously; answered not a word again, but looked very wistly upon one of the signets that the other had, and well considered the fashion and workmanship thereof: which when the party perceived, taking as it should seem no small contentment, and being very well pleased that he so porused his jewel; Not so Polemon (quoth he again) but look upon it thus, between you and the light, and then you will think it much more beautiful. Aristippus fell out upon a time (I know not how) with Aeschines, and was in a great choler and fit of anger: How now Aristippus (quoth one who heard him so high & at such hot words) where is your amity & friendship all this while? Mary, asleep (quoth he) but I will waken it anon. With that he stepped close to Atschines, and said: Think you me so unhappy every way and incurable, that I deserved not one admonishment at your hands? No marvel (quoth Aeschines again) if thought you (who for natural wit in all things else excel me) to see better in this case also than I, what is meet and expedient to be done. For true it is that the Poet saith; 
The boar so wild, whose neck with hristles strong  
Is thick beset, the tender hand and soft  
Of woman nice, yea and of infant young,  
By stroking fair, shall bend and turn (full oft)  
Much sooner far, and that with greater case  
Than wrestler's strong with all their force and poise.  And we ourselves can skill how to tame wild beasts, we know how to make young wolves gentle, yea, and lions whelps otherwhiles we carry about with us in our arms: but see, how we again afterwards in a raging fit of choler, be ready to fling from us and cast out of our sight, our own children, our friends and familiars, and all our household servants, our fellow citizens and neighbours, we let lose our ire like some savage and furious beast, and this rage of ours we disguise and cloak forsooth with a colourable and false name, call it Hatred of vice. But herein (I suppose) we do no otherwise than in the rest of our passions and diseases of the mind; terming one, Providence and forecast; another Liberality; and a third Piety and religion: and yet for all these pretences of goodly names, we can not be cured of the vices which they palliate; to wit, Timorousness, Prodigality and Superstition.  
And verily, like as our natural seed (as Zeno said) is a certain mixture and composition, derived and extracted from all the powers and faculties of the soul; even so, in mine opinion, a man may say that choler is a miscellane feed (as it were) and a dreg, made of all the passions of the mind: for plucked it is from pain, pleasure and insolent violence: Of envy it hath this quality to joy in the harms of other men: it standeth much upon murder, but worse it is simply than murder: for the wrathful person striveth and laboureth not to defend and save himself from taking harm; but so he may mischief and overthrow another, he careth not to come by a hurt and shrewd turn himself. It holdeth likewise of concupiscence and lust, and taketh of it the worse and more unpleasant part, in case it be (as it is indeed) a desire and appetite to grieve, vex, and harm another. And therefore when we approach and come near to the houses of luxurious and riotous persons, we hear betimes in the morning a minstrel-wench, sounding and playing the Morrow-watch by break of day: we see the muddy-grounds and dregs (as one was wont to say) of the wine, to wit, the vomits of those who cast up their stomachs: we behold the pieces and fragments of broken garlands and chaplets: and at the door we find the lackeys and pages of them who are within, drunken and heavy in the head with tippling strong wine. But the signs that tell where hasty, choleric, and angry persons dwell, appear in the faces of their servants, in the marks and wales remaining after their whipping, and in their clogs, irons, and fetters about their feet. For in the houses of hasty and angry men, a man shall never hear but one kind of music; that is to say, the heavy note of wailing groans and piteous plaints; whiles either the stewards within are whipped and scourged, or the maidens racked & put to torture, in such sort that you would pity to see the dolours & pains of ire which she suffereth in those things that she lusteth after & taketh pleasure in. And yet as many of us as happen to be truly & justly surprised with choler oftentimes, for the hearted & detestation that we have of vices, aught to cut off that which is excessive therein and beyond measure, together with our overlight belief and credulity of reports concerning such as converse with us: For this is one of the causes that most of all doth engender and augment choler; when either he whom we took for an honest man proveth dishonest, and is detected for some naughtiness, or whom we reputed our friend is fallen into some quarrel and variance with us: as for myself, you know my nature and disposition, what small occasions make me both to love men effectually, and also to trust them confidently; and therefore (just as it falleth out with them who go over a false floor where the ground is not fast, but hollow under their feet) where I lean most and put my greatest trust for the love that I bear, there I offend most and soon catch a fall: there (I say) am I grieved most also, when I see how I was deceived: As for that exceeding inclination and frowardness of mind, thus to love and affect a man, could I never yet to this day wean myself from, so inbred it is and settled in me: mary to stay myself from giving credit over-hastily and too much, I may peradventure use that bridle which Plato speaketh of, to wit, wary circumspection: for in recommending the Mathematician Helicon, I praise him (quoth he) for a man, that is as much to say, as a creature by nature mutable and apt to change. And even those who have been well brought up in a city, to wit, in Athens, he saith that he is afraid likewise of them, lest being men, and coming from the seed of man, they do not one time or other bewray the weakness and infirmity of human nature: and Sophocles when he speaketh thus, 
Who list to search through all deeds of mankind  
More had then good he shall be sure to find.  seemeth to clip our wings, and disable us wonderfully. Howbeit this difficulty and caution in judging of men and pleasing ourselves in the choice of friends, will cause us to be more tractable and moderate in our anger: for whatsoever cometh suddenly and unexpected, the same soon transporteth us beside ourselves. We ought moreover as Panatius teacheth us in one place to practise the example of Anaxagoras, and like as he said when news came of his son's death; I know well (quoth he) that I begat him a mortal man; so in every fault of our servants or others that shall whetten our choler, each one of us may sing this note to himself: I knew well that when I bought this slave, he was not a wise Philosopher: I wist also, that I had gotten formy friend not one altogether void of affections and passions: neither was I ignorant when I took a wife, that I wedded a woman. Now if withal a man would evermore when he seeth others do amiss, add this more unto the ditty as Plato teacheth us, and sing thus: Am not I also such an other? turning the discursion of his judgement from things abroad, to those which are with in himself, and among his complaints and reprehensions of other men, come in with a certain caveat of his own, and fear to be reproved himself in the like; he would not haply be so quick & forward in the hatred and detestation of other men's vices, seeing that himself hath so much need of pardon. But on the contrary side, every one of us when he is in the heat of choler and punisheth another, hath these words of severe Aristides and precise Cato ready enough in his mouth: Steal not Sirrah: Make no more lies: Why art thou so idle then? etc. To conclude (that which of all others is most unseemly and absurd) we reprove in anger, others for being angry; and such faults as were committed in choler, those ourselves will punish in choler; not verily as the Physicians useto do, who 
A bitter medicine into the body pour,  
When bitter choler they mean to purge and scour.  But we rather do increase the same with our bitterness, and make more trouble than was before. And therefore when I think and discourse with myself of these matters, I endeavour withal and assay to cut off somewhat from needless curiosity. For surely this narrow searching and straight looking into every thing, for to spy and find out a fault; as for example to sift thy servant and call him into question for all his idle hours; to pry into every action of thy friend; to see where about thy son goeth, and how he spendeth all his time; to listen what whispering there is between thy wife and another, be the very means to breed much anger, daily brawls, and continualljarres, which grow in the end to the height of curstness and frowardness, hard to be pleased with any thing whatsoever. For according as Euripides saith in one place, we ought in some forto do: 
All great affatres God ay himself directeth,  
But matters small, to Fortune he committeth.  For mine own part, I do not think it good to commit any business to Fortune; neither would I have a man of understanding to be reckless in his own occasions: But with some things to put his wife in trust; others to make over unto servants, and in some matters to use his friends. Herein to bear himself like a Prince and great commander, having under him his Deputies, Governors, Receivers, Auditors, and Procurators; reserving unto himself and to the disposition of his own judgement, the principal affairs, and those of greatest importance. For like as little letters or a small print do more offend and trouble the eyes then greater, for that the eyes be very intentive upon them; even so, small matters do quickly move choler, which thereupon soon getteth an ill custom in weightier matters. But above all, I ever reckon that saying of Empedoles to be a divine precept and heavenly oracle, which admonisheth us To fast from sin. I commended also these points and observations, as being right honest, commendable, and beseeming him, that maketh profession of wisdom and philosophy, which we use to vow unto the gods in our prayers: Namely, To forbear both wine and women, and so to live sober and chaste a whole year together, and in the mean while to serve God with a pure and undefiled heart: Also, to limit and set out a certain time, wherein we would not make a lie, observing precisely not to speak any vain and idle word, either in earnest or in board. With these and such like observations also, I acquainted and furnished my soul, as being no less affected to teligion and godliness, than studious of learning and philosophy: Namely, first enjoined myself to pass a certain few Holidays without being angry, or offended upon any occasion whatsoever; no less than I would have vowed to forbear drunkenness, and abstain altogether from wine, as if I sacrificed at the feast Nephalta [wherein no wine was spent] or celebrated the solemnity Melisponda, [in which Honey only was used.] Thus having made an entrance; I tried afterwards a month or two by little and little what I could do, and ever I gained more and more time, exercising myself still to forbear sin with all my power and might. Thus I proceeded and went forward daily, blessing myself with good words and striving to be mild, quiet and void of malice, pure and clean from evil speeches awed lewd deeds: but principally from that passion which for a little pleasure, and the same not very lovely, bringeth with it great troubles and shameful repentance in the end. Thus with the grace of God, assisting me somewhat (as I take it) in this good resolution and course of mine, experience itself approved and confirmed my first intenr and judgement, whereby I was taught, That this mildness, clemency, and debonair humanity, is to none of our familiars who live and converse daily with us, so sweet, so pleasant and agreeable, as to ourselves who have these virtues and good qualities within us.    

OF CURIOSITY.  

The Summarie.  
THE former Treatise hath showed unto us, how many mischiefs and inconveniences Anger causeth, teaching us the means how to beware of it. Now Plutarch dealeth with another vice, no less dangerous than it, which bendeth to the opposite extremity. For where as ire doth so bereave aman of the use of reason during the access and fit thereof, that the choleric and furious persons aiffer not one from another, but in the space of time. This curiosity which now is in hand, being masked under the name of wisdom and ability of spirit is (to say a truth) a covert and hidden fury, which carrieth the mind of the curious person past himself, for to gather and heap from all parts the ordure and filthiness of another, and afterwards to bring the same into himself, and to make thereof a very storehouse, for to infect his own self first, and then others, according as themalignitie and malice, the follies, backbiting, and slanders of these curious folk do sufficiently declare. To the end therefore that every man who loveth virtue, should divert from such a malady, our author showeth that the principal remedy for to preserve us from it, is to turn this curiosity to our own selves; namely, to examine our own persons more diligently than others. Which point he amplifieth by setting down on the contrary side, the blindness of those who are over-busy and curious. Then cometh he to declare, why a curious person goeth forth always out of his own house for to enter into another man's; to wit, because of his own filthiness, which by that means he cannot smell and perceive; but whiles he will needs go to stir and rake into the life of others, he snareth and entangleth himself, and so perisheth in his own folly and indiscretion. Afterwards proceeding to prescribe the remedies for the cure of curiosity, when he had deciphered the villainies and indignities thereof, together with the nature of curious persons, and the enormous viees which accompany them, he requireth at our hands, that we should not be desirous to know things which be vile, base, lewd or unprofitable; that we should hold in our eyes, and not cast them at random and aventure within the house of another, that we should not seek after the bruit and rumours that are spread in meetings and companies; that we otherwhiles should forbear even such things, whereof the use is lawful and permitted: also to take heed that we do not enter nor sound too deep into our own affairs; Finally, not to be rash and heady in those things that we do, be they never so small. All these points premised, he adorneth with inductions, similitudes and choice examples, and knitteth up all with one conclusion, which proveth, that curious solk ought to be ranged among the most mischievous and dangerous persons in the world.   

OF CURIOSITY.  
THe best way haply it were altogether to avoid an house and not therein at all to dwell, which is close without fresh air, dark, standing bleak and cold, or otherwise unhealthful: Howbeit, if a man by reason that he hath been long used to such an house, delight in that seat, and will there abide, he may either by altering the prospects and removing the lights, or by changing the stairs into another place, or else by opening the doors of one side, & shutting them upon another, make the house more lightsome, better exposed to the wind for to receive fresh air, & in one word more wholesome than before. And verily some have much amended whole cities by the like alterations: as for example, men say that one Chaeron in times past turned my native city and place of nativity Chaeronea to lie eastward, which before looked toward the western wind Zephyrus, and received the sun setting from the mount Parnassus. And Empedocles the natural Philosopher, by stopping up the mouth or deep chink of a certain mountain between two rocks, which breathed out a noisome and pestilent southern wind upon all the champain country and plain underneath, was thought to have put by the plague, which by occasion of that wind reigned ordinarily before in that country. Now forasmuch as there be certain hurtful and pestiferous passions, which send up into our soul tempestuous troubles and darkness, it were to be wished, that they were chased out quite, and thrown down to the very ground; whereby we might give ourselves a free prospect, an open and clear light, a fresh and pure air; or if we be not so happy, yet at leastwise endeavour, we ought by all means possible to change, alter, translate, transpose and turn them so about, as they may be found more fit and commodious to serve our turns. As for example, and to go no farther for the matter, Curiosity, which I take to be a desire to know the faults and imperfections in other men, is a vice or disease which seemeth not clear of envy and maliciousness: And unto him that is infected therewith may very well be said, 
Most spiteful and envious man, why dost thou ever find  
With piercing eyes thy neighbour's faults, and in thine own art blind?  avert thine eyes a little from things without, and turn thy much meddling and curiosity to those that be within. If thou take so great a pleasure and delight to deal in the Knowledge and History of evil matters, thou hast work enough iwis at home, thou shalt find plenty thereof within to occupy thyself; 
For look what water runs along an Isthus or Isle we see,  
Or leaves lie spread about the Oak, which numbered cannot be.  Such a multitude shalt thou find of sins in thy life, of passions in thy soul, and of oversights in thy duties. For like as Xenophon saith, That good stewards of an household have one proper room by itself for those utensiles or implements which serve for sacrifice; another for vessel that cometh to the table; in one place he layeth up the instruments & tools for tillage and husbandry, and in another apart from the rest, he bestoweth weapons, armour, and furniture for the wars; even so shalt thou see within thyself a number of manifold vices how they are digested: some proceeding from envy, others from jealousy; some from idleness, others from nigardise: take account of these (I advise thee) survey and peruse them over well: shut all the doors and windows that yield prospect unto thy neighbours: stop up the avennes that give access and passage to Curiosity: But set open all other doors that lead into thine own bedchamber, and other lodgings for men, into thy wife's cabinet & the nourcery, into the rooms where thy servants keep: There shalt thou meet wherewith to amuse and busy thyself: there may curiosity and desire to know every thing be employed in exercises, neither unprofitable nor malicious: nay, in such as be commodious, wholesome and tending to salvation: namely, whiles every one calleth himself to account, saying thus, 
Where have I been, what good I have done, or what have I misdone?  
Where have I slipped, what duty begun is left by me undone?  But now according as fables make report, that Lamia the Witch whiles she is at home is stark blind, & doth nothing but sing, having her eyes shut up close within a little box; but when she means to go abroad, she takes them forth, and setteth them in their right place, and seeth well enough with them; even so, every one of us when we go forth, set unto that evil meaning and intention which we have to others, an eye to look into them, and that is curiosity and overmuch meddling; but in our own errors, faults and trespasses we stumble and fail through ignorance, as having neither eyes to see, nor light about them whereby they may be seen. And therefore it is, that a busy fellow and curious meddler, doth more good to his enemies than to himself; for their faults he discovereth & bringeth to light, to them he showeth what they ought to beware of, and what they are to amend: but all this while he overseeth, or rather seeth not the most things that are done at home, so deeply amused he is and busy in spying what is amiss abroad. Howbeit wise Ulysses would not abide to speak and confer with his own mother, before he had inquired of the Prophet those things for which he went down into hell; and when he had once heard them, than he turned to his mother and other women also, ask what was Tyro? what was Chloris? and for what was the occasion and cause that Eperaste came by her death? 
Who knit her neck within a deadly string,  
And so from beam of lofty house did hang.  But we quite contrary, sitting still in supine idleness and ignorance, neglecting and never regarding that which concerneth ourselves, go to search into the genealogy and pedigrees of others; and we can tell readily, that our neighbour's grandfather was no better than a base and servile Syrian; that his nurse came out of barbarous Thracia; that such an one is in debt, and oweth three talents, and is behind hand beside, and in arrearages for nonpaiment of interest for the use thereof. Inquisitive also we are in such matters as these: From whence came such a man's wife? what it was that such a one and such a one spoke when they were alone together in an odd corner? Socrates was clean of another quality; he would go up and down inquiring and casting about what were the reasons wherewith Pythagoras persuaded men to his opinion. Aristippus likewise, at the solemnity of the Olympian games, falling into the company of Ischomachus, asked of him, what were the persuasions that Socrates used to young folk, whereby they became so affectionate unto him; and after he had received from him some small seeds (as it were) and a few samples of those reasons & arguments, he was so moved and passionate therewith, that presently his body fell away, he looked pale, poor and lean, until he having failed to Athens in this wonderful thirst and ardent heat, had drunk his fill at the fountain and wellhead itself, known the man, heard his discourses and learned his Philosophy; the sum and effect whereof was this: That a man should first know his own maladies, and then the means to be cured and delivered of them. But some there be, who of all things can not abide to see their own life, as being unto them the most unpleasant sight of all others; neither love they to bend and turn their reason as a light to their own selves: but their mind being full of all sorts of evil, fearing and ready to quake for to behold what things are within, leapeth forth (as one would say) out of doors, and goeth wandering to and fro, searching into the deeds and words of other men, and by this means feedeth and fatteth (as it were) her own malicious naughtiness. For like as a hen many times having meat enough within house set before her, loveth to go into some corner, and there keepeth a pecking and scraping of the ground, 
To find perhaps one silly barley corn  
As she was wont on dung hill heertoforne;  even so these busy Polypragmons, passing by those ordinary speeches and matters which are exposed and open for every man; not regarding (I say) the reports and narrations which are free for each one to discourse of, and which neither any man hath to do, to forbid and warn them for to ask and inquire of, nor will be displeased if peradventure he should be demanded and asked the question of them, go up and down in the mean time to gather and learn all the secret and hidden evils of every house. Certes, a pretty answer it was of an Egyptian, and pertinent to the purpose, who when one asked him, what it was that he carried covered all over, and so enwrapped within a cloth: Mary (quoth he) covered it is even for this cause, that thou shouldest not know what it is: And thou likewise, that art so busy, why dost thou intermeddle in that which is concealed? Be sure, that if there were no evil therein, kept close it should not be. And verily, it is not the manner and custom for any body to enter boldly into the house of another man, without knocking at the door; for which purpose we use Porters in these days; whereas in old time there were rings and hammers which served the turn, and by rapping at the gates, gave warning to those within, to the end that no stranger might meet the mistress at unawares in the hall or mids of the house; or come suddenly upon a virgin or young damosel her daughter, and find her out of her chamber; or take some of the servants a beating, or the wenches and chambermaids chiding and scolding aloud: whereas a busy fellow loveth alive to step secretly into a house, for to see and hear such disorders; and you shall never know him willingly to come and see an honest house and well governed (though one should call and pray him never so fair,) but ready he is to discover and set abroad in the view of the whole world such things; for which we use locks, keys, bolts, bars, portals and gate-houses. Those winds (saith Ariston) are we most troubled and offended with, which drive open our cloaks and garments that cover us, or blow and whisk them over our heads: but busy Polypragmons doth lay abroad and display not the cloaks of their neighbours nor their coats; but discovereth their walls, setteth wide open their doors, and like a wind, pierceth, creepeth and entereth so far, as to the tender bodied and soft skinned maiden, searching and enquiring in every bacchinall, in all dancings, wakes and night feasts, for some matter to raise slanders of her. And as one Cleon was noted by an old Comical Poet upon the State, 
Whose hands were both in Aetolie,  
But heart and mind in Clopidie;  Even so the spirit of a curious and busy person, is at one time in the stately palaces of rich and mighty men, in the little houses of mean and poor folk, in King's Courts, and in the bedchambers of new wedded wives; it is inquisitive in all matters, searching aswell the affairs of strangers and travelers, as negotiations of Lords and Rulers, and other-while not without danger of his own person. For much like as if a man upon a kind of wanton curiosity, will needs be tasting of Aconite or Libardbaine, to know (forsooth) the quality of it, cometh by a mischief, & dieth of it before he can know any thing thereof; so they that love to be prying into the faults of great persons, many times overthrow themselves before they come to any knowledge, For such as can not be content with the abundant rays and radiant beams of the Sun which are spread so clear over all things, but will needs strive and force themselves impudently to look full upon the circle of his body, and audaciously will presume and venture to pierce his brightness, and enter into the very minds of his inward light, commonly dazzle their eyes, and become stark blind. And therefore well and properly answered Philippides the writer of Comedies upon a time when King Lysimachus spoke thus unto him; What wouldst thou have me to impart unto thee of my goods, Philippides? What it pleaseth your Majesty (quoth he) so it be nothing of your secrets. For to say a truth, the most pleasant and beautiful things simply, which belong to the estate of Kings, do show without, and are exposed to the view and sight of every man; to wit, their sumptuous feasts, their wealth and riches, their magnificent port and and pomp in public places, their bountiful favours, and liberal gifts: But is there any thing secret and hidden within. Take heed I advise thee how thou approach and come near, beware (I say) that thou do not stir and meddle therein.  
The joy and mirth of a Prince in prosperity can not be concealed; he cannot laugh when he is disposed to play and be merry but it is seen; neither when he mindeth and doth prepare to show some gracious favour or to be bountiful unto any is his purpose hidden; but mark what thing he keepeth close and secret, the same is terrible, heavy, stern, unpleasant, yea ministering no access nor cause of laughter: namely the treasure house (as it were) of some rancour and festered anger; a deep design or project of revenge; Jealousy of his wife, some suspicion of his own son; or diffidence and distrust in some of his minions, favourites and friends. Fly from this black cloud that gathereth so thick; for when soever that which is now hidden shall break forth, thou shalt see what cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning will ensue thereupon. But what be the means to avoid it? mary (even as I said before) to turn and to withdraw thy curiosity another way; and principally to set thy mind upon matters that are more honest and delectable: Advise thyself and consider curiously upon the creatures in heaven, in earth, in the air, & in the sea. Art thou delighted in the contemplation of great or small things? if thou take pleasure to behold the greater, busy thyself about the Sun; seek where he goeth down, and from whence he riseth? Search into the cause of the mutations in the Moon, why it should so change and alter as it doth, like a man or woman? what the reason is that she looseth so conspicuous a light? and how it cometh to pass that she recovereth it again? 
How is it, when she hath been out of sight  
That fresh she seems and doth appear with light?  
First young and fair while that she is but new  
Till round and full we see her lovely hue:  
No sooner is her beauty at this height  
But fade she doth anon, who was so bright,  
And by degrees she doth decrease and wain  
Until at length she comes to nought again.  And these truly are the secrets of nature, neither is she offended and displeased with those who can find them out. Distrustest thou thyself to attain unto these great things? then search into smaller matters, to wit, what might the reason be that among trees and other plants, some be always fresh and green, why they flourish at all times, and be clad in their gay clothes, showing their riches in every season of the year; why others again be one while like unto them in this their pride and glory; but afterward you shall have them again like unto an ill husband in his house; namely, laying out all at once, and spending their whole wealth and substance at one time, until they be poor, naked, and beggarly for it? Also what is the cause that some bring forth their fruit long-wise, others cornered, and others round or circular? But peradventure thou hast no great mind to busy thyself and meddle in these matters, because there is no hurt nor danger at all in them. Now if there be no remedy, but that Curiosity should ever apply itself to search into evil things after the manner of some venomous serpent, which loveth to feed, to live and converse in pestilent woods, let us lead & direct it to the reading of histories, and present unto it abundance and store of all wicked acts, lewd and sinful deeds. There shall Curiosity find the ruins of men, the wasting and consuming of their state, the spoil of wives and other women, the deceitful trains of servants to beguile their masters, the calumniations and slanderous surmises raised by friends, poisoning casts, envy, jealousy, shipwreck and overthrow of houses, calamities and utter undoing of princes and great rulers: Satisfy thyself herewith to the full, and take thy pleasure therein as much as thou wilt; never shalt thou trouble or grieve any of thy friends & acquaintance in so doing. But it should seem that curiosity delighteth not in such naughty things that be very old and long since done; but in those which be fresh, fire new, hot and lately committed, as joying more to behold new Tragedies. As for Comedies and matters of mirth, she is not greatly desirous to be acquainted with such. And therefore, if a man do make report of a marriage, discourse of a solemn sacrifice, or of a goodly show or pomp that was set forth, the curious busybody, (whom we speak of) will take small regard thereto and hear it, but coldly and negligently. He will say that the most part of all this he heard already by others, and bid him who relateth such narrations, to pass them over or be brief, and cut off many circumstances. Marry if one that sits by him chance to set tale on end, and begin to tell him there was a maiden deflowered, or a wife abused in adultery: if he recant of some process of law or action commenced, of discord and variance between two brethren; you shall see him then not to yawn and gape as though he had list to sleep; you shall not perceive him to nod; he will make no excuse at all that his leisure will not serve to hear out the tale, 
But bids say on, and tell us more:  
And close he holds his ear therefore.   
So that this sentence, 
How sooner much are ill news understood,  
And heard by men (alas) than tidings good!  is well and truly verified of these curious Polypragmons. For like as cupping glasses, boxes, and ventoses, draw the worst matter out of the flesh; even so, the ears of curious and busy folk, are willing to receive and admit the most lewd and haughtiest speeches that are: or rather, to speak more properly, as towns and cities have certain cursed and unlucky gates, at which they send out malefactors to execution, carry and throw forth their dung, ordure, filthiness, and cleansings whatsoever, but never cometh in or goeth out that way, any thing that pure is and holy; semblably, the ears of these curious intermedlers be of the same nature: for there entereth and passeth into them nothing that is honest, civil and lovely; but the bruit and rumours of cruel murders have access unto them, and there make abode, bringing there with wicked, abominable, profane and cursed reports: and as one said: 
The only bird that in my house doth ever sing  
Both night and day, is doleful moan, much sorrow and wailing.  So this is the Muse, Siren, & Meremaid alone, that Busy folk have; neither is there any thing that they harken to more willingly: for Curiosity is an itching desire to hear secrets and hidden matters: and well you wot that no man will lightly conceal any good thing that he hath; considering that many times we make semblance of good parts that be not in us. And therefore the busy intermeddler who is so desirous to know and hear of evils, is subject to that which the greeks call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a vice, cousin germane or sister rather to envy and eie-biting. Forasmuch as envy is nothing else, but the grief for another man's good: and the foresaid 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the joy for his harm: and verily both these infirmities proceed from an untoward root, even another untamed vice and savage disposition, to wit, malignity or malice. And this we know well, that so irksome and odious it is to every man for to bewray and reveal, the secrets, evils and vices which he hath, that many men have chosen to die, rather than to discover and open unto Physicians any of their hidden maladies, which they carry about them. Now suppose that Heraclitus or Erosistratus the physicians; nay AEsculapius himself whiles he was a mortal men, should come to an house furnished with drugs, medicines and instruments requisite for the cure of diseases, and ask whether any man their had a Fistula in Ano, that is, an hollow and hidden ulcer within his fundament? Or if she be a woman, whether she have a cankerous sore within her matrice: (albeit in this art such inquisitive curiosity is a special means, making for the good and the health of the sick) each one I suppose would be ready to hunt and chase away from the house such a Physician, who unsent for, and before any need required, came upon his own accord and motion in a bravery to inquire and learn other folk's maladies. What shall we say then to these busy meddlers, who inquire of another the self same infirmities and worse too? Not of any mind at all to cure and heal the same, but only to detect and set them abroad; In which respect they are by good right the most odious persons in the world. For we hardly can abide Publicans, Customers, and Tol-gatherers, but are mightily offended with them, not when they exact of us, and cause us to pay toll for any commodities or wares that are openly brought in; but when they keep a firetting and searching for such things as be hidden, and meddle with the wares and carriages of other men: notwithstanding that law granteth and public authority alloweth them so to do; yea and if they do it not, they sustain loss and damage themselves. But chose, these curious fellows let their own business alone, and pass not which end go forward, caring not to hinder themselves, whiles they be intentive to the affairs of other men. Seldom go they into the country, for that they cannot endure the quietness and still silence of the wild and solitary fields. But if haply after long time they make a cast thither, they cast an eye to their neighbour's vines, rather than to their own; they inquire how many beefs or oxen of his died? or what quantity of wine soured under his hand? and no sooner are they full of these news, but into the city they trudge and make haste again. As for the good farmer and painful husbandman indeed, he is not very willing to give ear unto those news, which without his hearkening after come from the city of the own accord, and are brought unto him, for his saying is: 
My ditcher will anon both tell and talk upon what points concluded was the peace,  
For now the knave about such news doth walk,  
And busy he, to listen doth not cease.  But in truth, these busy-bodies, avoiding country life and husbandry, as a vain trade and foolish occupation, a cold manner of living, which bringeth forth no great and tragical matter, intrude and thrust themselves into the high courts of Justice, the tribunal seats, the market place and public pulpits where speeches be made unto the people, great assemblies, and the most frequented quarter of the haven where the ships ride at anchor, what: No news? saith one of them. How now? Were you not this morning at the market or in the common place? What then: How think you, is not the city mightily changed and transformed within these three hours? Now if it chance that some one or other make a overture, and have something to say as touching those points, down he alights on foot from his horse, he embraceth the man, kisseth him, and there stands attending and giving care unto him. But say that the party whom he thus encountereth and meeteth upon the way, tell him that he hath no news to report: what sayst thou? (will he infer again and that in displeasure and discontentment:) Wert not thou in the market place of late? Didst not thou pass by the Prince's court? Hadst thou no talk or conference at all with those that came out of Italy? In regard of such therefore as these, I hold well with the Magistrates of the city Locri, and commend a law of theirs: That if any citizen had been abroad in the country, and upon his return home demanded what news? he should have a fine set on his head. For like as Cooks pray for nothing, but good store of fatlings to kill for the the kitchen, and Fishmonger's plenty of fishes; even so curious and busy people wish for a world of troubles and a number of affairs, great news, alterations and changes of State: to the end that they might evermore be provided of gain, to chase and hunt after, yea and to kill. Well and wisely therefore did the Lawgiver of the Thurians, when he gave order and forbade expressly, That no citizen should be taxed, noted by name, or scoffed at upon the Stage in any Comedy, save only adulterers and these busy persons. For surely adultery may be compared well to a kind of curiosity, searching into the pleasures of another: seeking (I say) and inquiring into those matters which are kept secret, and concealed from the view of the whole world. And as for curiosity, it seemeth to be a resolution or looseness, like a palsy or corruption, a detection of secrets and laying them naked: For it is an ordinary thing with those who be inquisitive and desirous of many news, for to be blabs also of their tongues, and to be prattling abroad; which is the reason that Pythagor as enjoined young men five years silence, which he called Echemychia, Abstinence from all speech, or holding of their tongue.  
Moreover, it can not otherwise be chosen, but that foul and cursed language also should accompany curiosity; for look what thing soever busy bodies hear willingly, the same they love to tell and blurt out as quickly; and such things as with desire and care they gather from one, they utter to another with joy: Whereupon it cometh to pass, that over and above other inconveniences which this vice ministereth unto them that are given to it, an impediment it is to their own appetite. For as they desire to know much, so every man observeth them, is beware of them, and endeavoureth to conceal all from them. Neither are they willing to do any thing in their sight, nor delighted to speak aught in their hearing, but if there be any question in hand to be debated, or business to be considered and consulted of, all men are content to put off the conclusion and resolution unto another time; namely, until the curious and busy person be out of the way. And say, that whiles men are in sad and secret conference, or about some serious business, there chance one of these busy bodies to come in place, presently all is hushed, and every thing is removed aside and hidden, no otherwise than folk are wont to set out of the way victuals where a cat doth haunt, or when they see her ready to run by; insomuch as many times those things which other men may both hear and see safely, the same may not be done or said before them only. Therefore also it followeth by good consequence, that a busy and curious person is commonly so far out of credit, that no man is willing to trust him for any thing; in such sort, that we commit our letters missive and sign manuel, sooner to our servants and mere strangers, than to our friends and familiars, if we perceive them given to this humour of much meddling. But that worthy knight Bellerophontes was so far from this, that he would not break open those letters which he carried, though they were written against himself, but forbore to touch the King's epistle, no less than he abstained from the Queen his wife, even by one and the same virtue of Continence. For surely, curiosity is a kind of incontinency, aswell as is adultery; and this moreover it hath beside, that joined there is with it, much folly and extreme want of wit: For were it not a part (think you) of exceeding blockish senselessness, yea, and madness in the highest degree, to pass by so many women that be common, and every where to be had; and then to make means with great cost and expense, to some one kept under lock and key, and beside sumptuous: notwithstanding it fall out many times that such an one is as ill-favoured as she is foul? Semblably, and even the same do our curious folk. they omit and cast behind them many fair and goodly sights to behold, many excellent lectures worth the hearing, many disputations, discourses, honest exercises and pastimes; but in other men's letters they keep a puddering, they open and read them, they stand like eavesdroppers under their neighbour's walls, hearkening what is done or said within, they are ready to intrude themselves to listen what whispering there is between servants of the house; what secret talk there is among silly women when they be in some odd corner, and, as many times they are by this means not free from danger; so always they meet with shame and infamy. And therefore very expedient it were for such curious folk, if they would shift off and put by this vice of theirs, eftsoons to call to mind (as much as they can) what they have either known or heard by such inquisition: for if (as Simonides was wont to say) that when he came (after some time between) to open his desks and coffers, he found one which was appointed for gifts and rewards always full, the other ordained for thanks and the graces void and empty: so, a man after a good time passed, set open the storehouse of curiosity, and look into it what is therein, and see it top full of many unprofitable, vain and unpleasant things; peradventure the very outward sight and face thereof will discontent and offend him, appearing in every respect so lovelesse and toyish as it is. Go to then: if one should set in hand to turn over leaf by leaf the books of ancient writers, and when he hath picked forth and gathered out the worst, make one volume of all together, to wit, of those headless and unperfect verses of Homer, which haply begin with a short fyllable, and therefore be called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or of the solaecismes and incongruities which be found in Tragedies: or of the undecent and intemperate speeches which Archilochus framed against women, whereby he defamed and shamed himself: were he not (I pray you) worthy of this Tragical curse: 
A Fowl ill take thee, thou lewd wretch, that lovest to collect  
The faults of mortal men now dead, the living to infect.  but to let these maledictions alone, certes this treasuring and scoring up by him of other men's errors and misdeeds, is both unseemly, and also unprofitable: much like unto that city which Philip built of purpose, and peopled it with the most wicked, graceless, and incorrigible persons that were in his time, calling it Poneropolis when he had so done. And therefore these curious medlars in collecting and gathering together on all sides the errors, imperfections, defaults, and solaecismes (as I may so say) not of verses or Poëmes, but of other men's lives, make of their memory a most unpleasant Archive or Register, and uncivil Record, which they ever carry about them. And like as at Rome, some there be who never cast eye toward any fine pietures, or goodly statures, no nor so much as make any account to cheapen beautiful boys and fair wenches which there stand to be sold, but rather go up and down the market where monsters in nature are to be bought, seeking and learning out where be any that want legs, whose arms and elbows turn the contrary way like unto cars; or who have three eyes apiece in their heads, or be headed like unto the Ostrich: taking pleasure (I say) to see if there be borne 
Amungrell mixed of diverse sorts,  
False births, unkind or strange aborts.  But if a man should bring them to see such sights as these ordinarily, the very thing itself would soon give them enough, yea and breed a loathing in them of such ugly monsters; even so it fareth with those who busy themselves and meddle in searching narrowly into the imperfections of other men's lives, the reproaches of their stocks and kindred, the faults, errors, and troubles that have happened in other houses; if they call to mind what like defects they have found and known before time, they shall soon find that their former observations have done them small pleasure, or wrought them as little profit.  
But the greatest means to divert this vicious passion, is use and custom; namely, if we begin a great way off, and long before to exercise and acquaint ourselves in a kind of continency in this behalf, and so learn to temper and rule ourselves; for surely use it was and custom that caused this vice to get such an head, increasing daily by little and little, and growing from worse to worse: But how and after what manner we should be enured to this purpose, we shall see and understand as we treat of Exercise withal.  
First and foremost therefore, begin we will at the smallest and most slender things, and which most quickly may be effected. For what matter of difficulty is it for a man in the way as he traveleth, not to enuse and busy his head in reading Epitaphs or inscriptions of Sepulchers? or what pain is it for us as we walk along the galleries, to pass over with our eyes the writings upon the walls; supposing thus much secretly within ourselves, as a maxim or general rule: That there is no goodness, no pleasure, nor profit at all in such writings: for there you may read, That some one doth remember another, and make mention of him by way of hearty commendations in good part; or such an one is the best friend that I have, and many other such like mottoes, are there to be seen and read, full of toys and vanities, which at first seem not to do any hurt if one read them, but in truth, secretly they do much harm, in that they breed in us a custom and desire to seek after needless and impertinent matters. For like as hunters suffer not their hounds to range out of order, not to follow every sent, but keep them up and hold them in by their collars, reserving by that means their smelling pure and neat, altogether for their proper work, to the end that they should be more eager and hot to trace the footing of their game, and as the Poet saith, 
With sent most quick of nostrils after kind,  
The tracts of beast so wild, in chase to find;  even so, we ought to cut off these excursions and foolish trains that curious folk make to hear and see every thing; to keep them short (I say) and turn them another way to the seeing and hearing only of that which is good and profitable. Also, as we observe in Eagles and Lions, That whiles they go upon the ground they draw their talons and claws inward, for fear lest they should dull the sharp edge and wear the points thereof; so considering that curiosity hath a certain quick conceit and fine edge (as it were) apt to apprehend and know many things, let us take heed that we do not employ and blunt the same in the worst and vilest of all others.  
Secondly, we are to accustom ourselves as we pass by another man's door, not to look in, nor to cast our eyes to any thing whatsoever that there is: for that the eye is one of the hands that curiosity useth. But let us always have in readiness and think upon the apothegm of Xenocrates, who was wont to say, That it skilled not, but was all one, whether we set our feet, or eyes within the house of another man. For it is neither meet and just, nor an honest and pleasant sight, according to the old verse, 
My friend or stranger, what ever you be,  
You shall within, all things deformed see.  And what be those for the most part which are seen in houses? dishes, trenchers, and such like utensiles and small vessels lying on the bare ground, or one upon another disorderly: the wenches set and doing just nothing: and lightly a man shall not find ordinarily aught of importance or delight. Now the very cast of the eye upon such things, doth therewith turn away the mind; the intentive looking thereupon is unseemly, and the using thereof stark nought. Diogenes verily upon a time seeing Dioxippus, when he entered in his triumphant chariot into the city for winning the best prize at the Olympian games, how as he road he could not choose but set his eye upon a certain fair damozell, who was in place to behold this pomp and solemn entrance of his, but evermore his eye followed her, whether she were before or behind him: Behold (quoth he) our victorious and triumphant champion, how a young wench hath him sure enough by the neck, and doth writhe him which way she list! Semblably, see you not how these curious folk have their necks bended aside at every foolish sight, and how they turn about with each vanity that they hear and see, after once they have gotten an habit or custom, to look every way and to carry a rolling eye in their heads? But in mine opinion, it is not meet that our senses should gad and wander abroad, like a wild and untaught girl, but when reason hath sent it forth to some business; after it hath been there employed and done the errand about which it was set, to return speedily again unto her mistress the soul, and make report how she hath sped and what she hath done? and then afterwards to stay at home decently like a modest waiting maiden, giving attendance upon reason, and ready always at her command. But now happeneth that which Sophocles saith, 
The head strong jades that will no bit abide,  
Hate him perforce who should them rain and guide.  The senses having not met with good instructions (as I said before) nor been trained to right ways, run before reason upon their own accord, and draw with them many times the understanding, and send it headlong after such things as are not seemly and decent. And therefore false is that which is commonly reported of Democritus the Philosopher: namely, that willingly he dimmed and quenched (as it were) his own sight, by fixing his eyes fast upon a fiery and ardent mirror, to take the reverberation of the light from thence, to the end that they should not disturb the mind, by calling out eftsoons the inward intelligence, but suffer it to keep house within, and to be employed in objects intellectual, as if the windows that regard to the secret and high way were shut up. Howbeit most true it is, that those who for the most part occupy their understanding have least use of their senses: which is the reason that in old time they both builded the temples of the Muses, that is to say, houses ordained for students, which they named Musaea, as far as they could from cities and great towns: and also called the night Euphrone, as one would say, friend to sage advice and counsel; as supposing that quiet rest, repose, and stillness from all disturbance make very much for contemplation, and invention of those things that we study and seek for.  
Moreover, no harder matter is it nor of greater difficulty than the rest, when in the open market place or common hall, men are at high words, reproaching & reviling one another, not to approach and come near unto them. Also if there be any great concourse and running of people together upon some occasion, not to stir at all but sit still, or if thou art not able to contain and rule thyself, to rise up and go thy ways. For surely gain thou shalt no good at all by intermeddling with such busy and troublesome persons; but chose, much fruit mayst thou reap by turning away such curiosity, in repressing the same and constraining it by use and custom to obey reason. Having made this good entrance & beginning, to proceed now unto farther and stronger exercise, it were very good, whensoever there is any play exhibited upon the Stage in a frequent Theatre, where there is assembled a great audicnce to hear and see some worthy matter for to pass by it, and to put back thy friends who solicit thee to go thither with them, for to see either one dance excellent well, or to act a Comedy; nor so much as to turn back when thou hearest some great shout and outcry, either from out of the race or the grand-cirque, where the horserunning is held for the prize. For like as Socrates gave counsel to forbear those meats which provoke men to eat when they are not hungry, and those drinks which incite folk to drink when they have no thirst; even so, we ought to avoid and beware, how we either see or hear any thing whatsoever, which may either draw or hold us thereto, when there is no need at all thereof. The noble Prince Cyrus would not so much as see fair Lady Panthea, and when Araspes one of his courtiers and minions made report unto him, that she was a woman of incomparable beauty, and therefore worthy to be looked on: Nay rather (quoth he) for that cause I ought to forbear the sight of her; for if by your persuasion I should yield to go and see her, it may peradventure fall out so, that she herself might tempt and induce me again to repair unto her; even then haply when I shall not have such leisure, yea and sit by her and keep her company, neglecting in the mean time the weighty affairs of the State. In like manner Alexander the Great, would not come within the sight of King Dartus his wife, notwithstanding that she was reported unto him for to be a most gallant and beautiful Lady: Her mother an ancient Dame and elderly matron he did not stick to visit, but the young gentlewoman her daughter (fresh, fair and young) he could not be brought so much as once to see. As for us, we can cast a wanton eye secretly into the coaches and horse-litters of wives and women as they ride, we can look out of our windows, and hang with our bodies half forth, to take the full view of them as they pass by: and all this while we think that we commit no fault, suffering our curious eye and wandering mind to slide and run to every thing.  
Moreover, it is meet and expedient for the exercise of justice, otherwhiles to omit that which well and justly might be done; to the end that by that means a man may acquaint himself to keep far off from doing or taking any thing unjustly. Like as it maketh much for temperance and chastity, to abstain otherwhiles from the use of a man's own wife, that thereby he might be never moved to lust after the wife of his neighbour; taking this course likewise against curiosity, strive and endeavour sometimes to make semblance as though thou didst neither hear nor see those things that properly concern thyself: And if a man come and bring thee a tale of matters concerning thine own household, let it pass, and put it over, yea, and those words which seem to have been spoken as touching thine own person, cast them behind, and give no ear thereto. For default of this discretion, it was the inquisitive curiosity of King Oedipus, which entangled and enwrapped him in exceeding great calamities and miseries: for when he would needs know who himself was, as if he had been not a Corinthian, but a stranger, and would needs go therefore to the Oracle for to be resolved, he met with Laius his own father by the way, whom he slew, and so espoused his own mother, by whose means he came to be King of Thebes: and even then when he seemed to be a most happy man, he could not so stay, but proceeded further to inquire concerning himself, notwithstanding his wife did what she possibly could dissuade him from it; but the more earnest she was with him that way, the more instant was he with an old man who was privy to all, using all means to enforce him for to bewray that secret: at length when the thing itself was so pregnant, that it brought him into farther suspicion, and withal when the said old man cried out in this manner, 
Alas how am I at the point perforce  
To utter that which will cause remorse?  the king surprised still with his humour of curiosity, notwithstanding he was vexed at the very heart, answered, 
And I likewise for my part am as near  
To bear as much, but yet I must it hear.  So bitter-sweet is that itching-smart humour of curiosity, like unto an ulcer or sore, which the more it is rubbed and scratched, the more it bleedeth and bloodieth itself. Howbeit he that is delivered from this disease and beside of nature mild and gentle, so long as he is ignorant and knoweth not any evil accident, may thus say, 
O blessed Saint, when evils are past and gone  
How sage and wise art thou, oblivion.  And therefore we must by little and little accustom ourselves to this, that when there be any letters brought unto us, we do not open them presently and in great haste, as many do, who if their hands be not quick enough to do the feat, set their teeth to, and gnaw in sunder the threads that sewed them up fast. Also if there be a messenger coming toward us from a place with any tidings, that we run not to mere him, nor so much as once rise and stir for the matter; and if a friend come unto thee saying, I have some news to tell you of: yea mary (must you say again) but I had rather that you brought me something indeed that were profitable, fruitful and commodious. I remember upon a time when I declaimed and read a lecture at Rome, that Orator Rustius whom afterwards Domitian put to death for envy that he bore to his glory, happened to be there to hear me: Now in the mids of my lecture there came into the place a Soldier with letters from the Emperor, which he delivered to Rustius aforesaid, whereupon there was great silence in the school, and I myself made some pause, whiles he might read the letter, but he would not read it then, nor so much as break it open before I had made an end of my discourse, and dismissed the auditory: for which all the company there present, highly praised and admired the gravity of the man. Now if one do feed and nourish all that he can, (be it but in lawful and allow able things) this vein and humour of curiosity, so as thereby it becometh in the end mighty and violent, it will not be an easy matter to restrain and hold it in when it shall break out & run on end to such things as be unlawful & forbidden, by reason that it is so used already to intermeddle & be doing. But such men as these, break open and unseal letters (as I said) intrude themselves into the secret counsels of their friends; they will needs discover and see those sacred mysteries, which it is not lawful for to see; in place whereunto there is no lawful access they love to be walking; inquire they do into the secret deeds and words of kings and princes; and notwithstanding there be nothing in the world that causeth tyrants, who must of necessity know all, so odious as this kind of people, who be called their cares; (promoters I mean, and spies) who hear all and bring all unto their ears. The first that ever had about him these Otaconstes (as a man would say, Princes ears) was Dartus the younger; a ptince distrusting himself, suspecting also and fearing all men. As for those which were called Prosagogidae, that is to say, Courries, Spies, and Informers, the Dionysil, tyrants of Sicily, intermingled such among the Syracusians; whereupon, when the State was altered, those were the first that the Syracusians apprehended and massacred. Also those whom we call Sycophants, are of the confraternity, house and lineage of these curious persons, save only this difference there is, that Sycophants inquire what evil any man hath either disseigned or committed; whereas our Polypragmons harken after and discover the very calamities and misadventures of their neighbours, which happen even against their will and purpose: and when they have so done, set them abroad to the view of the whole world. Furthermore, it is said, that the name Aliterius came up first by occasion of this overmuch meddling, called Curiosity. For when there was (by all likelihood) a great famine at Athens they that had corn, kept it in and would not bring it abroad to the market, but privily & in the night, ground the same into meal within their houses: Now these fellows, named Aliterij, would go up and down closely hearkening where the querne or mill went, and thereupon took the said name. Semblably, as it is reported, the name of Sycophants arose upon the like occasion: for when there was a law made, forbidding that any figs should be carried forth out of the land, such promoters as bewrayed the delinquents, and gave information against those that conveyed figs away, were also thereupon called Sycophants. To conclude therefore, it were not unprofitable for these curious Polypragmons (of whom we have discoursed all this while) to know thus much; That they might be ashamed in themselves to be noted for manners and profession to be like unto those who are accounted the most odious and hateful persons in the world.    

OF THE TRANQVILLITY AND CONTENTMENT OF MIND.  

The Summarie.  
IN this Treatise a man may see the excellent discourses and most sound arguments of Moral Philosophy; the scope whereof is to make the scholars and students therein resolute, and to keep them from wavering and tottering to and fro; notwithstanding that either the sky were ready to fall upon their heads, or the earth to chink and open under their feet. True it is, that in this place Plutarch showeth sufficiently what blindness there is in human wisdom, when the question is to pronounce and speak precisely, Wherein consisteth true repose and assured felicity? For to teach a man whom he calleth virtuous, to search for contentment and quiet rest in his own reason, were as much as to fetch light out of darkness. and life out of death itself. And therefore (for this time) needless it is to treat long upon this point, considering that we mind not to dispute or declare how infufficient humane learning and Philosophy is, in comparison of true Divinity & Theology. For the present, this may suffice, that seeing he was no better than a pagan, who hath disputed of this theme, let us receive both this discourse and other such, wherein he endeavoureth to withdraw us from vice, and bring us unto virtue, as written and penned by a man, guided and conducted by a dim and dark light: in which notwithstanding appear certain sparks of the truth, which as they are not able to show the way sufficiently, so they give them to understand, who be far remote from the true light, how miserable and wretched they are every way. Proved he had before, that Flattery, Choler, and Curiosity are vices that overturn the soul upside down, and transsport it so far off that it is not at home, nor mistress of herself: and after he had taught how a man might reclaim and reduce her again to her own house, he treateth now of those means, whereby she may be kept quiet, peaceable, joious and contented within. For the effecting hereof, at the very entry of this Treatise, he proposeth one expedient mean to attain thereto, requiring that a man should fortify and defend his mind with reasons against the evils and dangers to come: then he confuteth the Epicureans, who for to set a man in peace, would make him blockish, senseless and good for nothing: he answereth likewise to those who are of opinion that a man may find a certain kind of vacation and impassibility without all trouble and molestation: which done, he showeth that reason well ruled & ordered, is the foundation and ground of our tranquillity: and all in one and the same train, he teacheth how a man may be furnished & assisted with this reason. Having thus sufficiently in general terms discoursed of these premises, he doth particularise and decipher the same point by point, giving fifteen several counsels, whereby a man may attain to this contentment and repose of Spirit; the which we have distinguished particularly, and showed in each one the substance of them, which I thought not good to insert in this place, because the Summary should not exceed overmuch. Furthermore, the said counsels be enriched with notable examples, similitudes and sentences; which (no doubt) would have 〈◊〉 much more forcible and effectual, if the principal in deed had been joined therewith, to wit, true piety and religion: which hath been clean omitted by the aut hour, who in deed never knew what was the only true and perfect tranquility of the soul. Howbeit, wonderful it is, how he should proceed so far as he doth, having no other help and means but his own self: which may so much the better serve our turns, considering that we have aids and guides far more excellent to bring us so far, as to make entry, and take assured possession of that sovereign good and felicity, whereof he here speaketh.   

OF THE TRANQVILLITY AND contentment of mind.  
PLUTARCH to PACCIUS sendeth greeting:  
OVerlate it was before I received your letter, wherein you requested me to write somewhat as touching the Tranquillity of the Soul, and withal of certain places in Plato's Dialogue Timaeus, which seem to require more exact exposition: but so it happened, that at the very same time, your friend and mine Eros, had occasion to sail with speed to Rome, upon the receipt of certain letters from that right worshipful gentleman Fundanus, by virtue whereof he was to depart suddenly and to repair unto him with all expedition. By which occasion having not sufficient time and leisure to perform your request in such manner as I purposed, & yetunwilling that the man coming from me, should be seen of you emptie-handed; I have collected certain notes, chosen out of those commentaries, which for mine own memory & private use I had compiled long before, concerning this argument, to wit, The Tranquillity & contentment of spirit: supposing that you also demand this present discourse, not for any pleasure that you take to read a treatise penned curiously, and affecting or hunting after fine phrases and exquisite words; but only in regard of some doctrine that may serve your turn and help you to the framing of your life as you ought; knowing withal full well (for the which I do congratulate and rejoice heartily on your behalf) that notwithstanding your inward acquaintance, friendship and favour with the best and principal persons of the city, and that for eloquence you come behind none that plead causes at the bar in open court, but are reputed a singular Orator, yet for all that, you do not as that Tragical Merops, suffer yourself foolishly and beyond the course of nature to be carried away as he was with the vainglory and applause of the multitude, when they do admire and account you happy therefore; but still you keep in memory that which oftentime you have heard from us; That it is neither a rich patricians shoe that cureth the gout in the feet; nor a costly and precious ring that healeth the whitflaw or fellow in the fingers; nor yet a princely diadem that easeth the headache. For what use is there at all of goods and riches to deliver the soul from grief and sorrow, or to lead a life in rest and repose without cares and troubles? What good is there of great honours, promotions, and credit in court? unless they that have them know how to use the same well and honestly; and likewise if they be without them, can skill how to find no miss of them, but be always accompanied with contentment; never coveting that which is not? And what is this else but reason accustomed and exercised before hand, quickly to restrain and eftsoons to reprehend the passionate and unreasonable part of the soul, which is given oftentimes to break out of her bounds: and not to suffer her to range and vague at her pleasure, and to be transported by the objects presented unto her? Like as therefore Xenophon giveth us good counsel: Always to remember the gods, and most of all to worship and honour them when we are in prosperity, to the end that whensoever we stand in need, we may more boldly invocate and call upon them, with full assurance that they will supply our necessities, being thus beforehand made propitious and gracious unto us; even so, wisemen and such as are of good conceit, ought always to be furnished and well provided of reasons sufficient to serve their turn for to encounter their passions before they arise, to the end that being once laid up in store, they may do most good when time serveth. For as cursed and angry mastiffs by nature, which at every noise that they hear keep an eager baying and barking as if they were affrighted, become quiet and appeased by one only voice which is familiar unto them, and wherewith they have been acquainted; so it is no small pain and trouble to still and compose the passions of the mind (shittish as they be and grown wild) unless a man have ready at hand proper and familiar reasons to repress the same so soon as ever they begin to stir and grow out of order.  
Now as touching those who affirm that if a man would live in tranquillity and rest, he ought not to meddle nor deal in many affairs, either in public or private: First and foremost thus I say, that they would make us pay dear for tranquility of mind, when they would have us buy when he was bidden to stand up, but cavilled with him after a mocking and jesting manner, what (quoth he) and if you sold a fish would you bid it rise up? Likewise Socrates discoursed familiarly with his fellows and followers as touching Philosophy, even when he was in prison. Whereas Phaethon, notwithstanding he was mounted up into heaven, wept for anger and despite that no man would give him the rule and regiment of the charriot-steeds belonging to the sun his father. And as a shoe is wrested and turned according to the fashion of a crooked or splay-foot, but never doth the foot writhe to the form of a shoe; even so it is for all the world with the dispositions of men's minds; they frame their lives and make them like thereto. For it is not use and custom that causeth the best life to be pleasant also unto them that have made choice thereof, as some one haply is of opinion; but wisdom rather and discretion maketh that life which is best to be also sweetest and most pleasant. Since that therefore the source and fountain of all tranquility and contentment of spirit is in ourselves, let us cleanse and purify the same spring, as clean as possibly we can, that all outward and casual occurrences whatsoever, may be made familiar and agreeable unto us, knowing once how to use them well.  

If things go cross, we ought not, iwis,  
To fret; for why? such choler will not boot:  
But he that knows when ought is done amiss,  
To set all strait, shall chieve full well, I wot.   
Plato therefore compared our life to a game at Tables; wherein the player is to wish for the luckiest cast of the dice, but whatsoever his chance is, he must be sure to play it well, and make the best of it: Now of these two points, the former, to wit, a good throw, is not in our power and choice; but the other resteth in us, namely, whatsoever our lot is, to take in good worth, and to dispose every thing in that place where it may profit most if it fortuned well: and contraand chose, if it fell out cross, where it may do least harm. This (I say) is our part and duty to perform, if we be as wise as we should be. As for brainsick fools, and such as know not how to carry themselves in this life (like unto those that have crazy and diseased bodies, who neither can abide burning heat nor chilling cold) as in prosperity they spread and set up their sails too high, so in adversity they strike them as low. Troubled they are mightily with both extremities; or to speak more truly, with themselves, as much in the one as the other, and no less in that state which yieldeth those things that we call and repute Goods. Theodorus that infamous Philosopher, who for his profane opinion was surnamed Atheos', that is to say, The Atheist, was wont to say: That he delivered his speeches with the right hand to his auditors and scholars, but they took the same with their left; even so ignorant and untaught persons many times when fortune presenteth herself unto them on the right hand, receive her awkly, turning to the left side undecently, and by that means commit many untoward & lewd parts. But those that be wise do far better: for as Thyme yieldeth unto Bees the quickest and driest honey; even so they out of the most unfortunate accidents that be, can skill oftentimes to get somewhat which is agreeable and commodious unto themselves. This is then the first and principal point, wherein a man ought to be trained and exercised, upon this must he study and meditate. And like as that fellow, when he flung a stone at a cursed bitch, miss her, and chanced to hit his stepmother, saying withal: It makes no matter; for it hath not light amiss; even so we, may turn all our fortune to our own purpose, and make the best use of it, in case things fall out otherwise than we would or meant. Diogenes his hap was to be banished and driven out of his own country; yet this exile of his proved not ill to him; for by that means and thereupon he began to study and profess Philosophy. Zeno the Cittiaean had but one frigate or flieboat left him, and hearing news that both it and all therein was cast away, drowned and perished in the mids of the sea: o Fortune (quoth he) thou hast done well, to drive us again to put on our poor and simple scholars habit, and to send us to our gallery and school of Philosophy. What should hinder us then, but that we may follow the examples of these men. Art thou deprived and put out of some public office or magistracy which thou didst exercise? Go and live in the country; there follow thine own business, and ply thy private affairs. Hast thou made suit and great means to be entertained in the Court, and to wind into speciallfavour with some Prince and Potentate, and after all thy travel suffered repulse? Well, thou shalt live privately at home, without danger, without trouble. Again, Art thou entered into action, and dost thou manage State affairs, wherein thou hast cares enough, and no time to breath thyself? 
The wholesome waters and hot baines  
Do not so much allay our pains:  
And if our limbs be dull or sick,  
Refresh the same and make them quick:  
As when a man himself doth see  
Advanced to honour and high degree,  
His glory, care and pain doth ease,  
No travel then will him displease.  as Pindarus saith very well: Art thou in some disgrace, and cast out of favour with reproach, by reason of some slanderous calumniation or envy? Thou hast a gale of forewind at the poop, which will soon bring thee directly to the Muses and to the Academy; that is to say, to follow thy book, and study Philosophy: for this was Plato's help, when he was in disfavour with Denys the tyrant. And therefore one means this is (of no small importance) to work contentment in a man's mind; namely, to look back unto the state of famous and renowned persons, and to see whether they (haply) have not suffered the like at any time; as for example: Art thou discontented with thy childless estate, for that thy wife hath brought thee no children? Do but mark the Kings of Rome, how there was not one of them that left the crown unto his son. Is it poverty that pincheth thee, so as thou art not able to endure it? Tell me which of all the Boeotians wouldst thou choose to resemble, sooner than Epaminondas? or what Roman wouldst thou be like unto, rather than Pabricius? But say thy wife hath played false by thee, and made thee wear horns? Didst thou never read that Epigram of King Agis at Delphos? 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
* Not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is it is commonly printed, & according to which 〈◊〉 hath translated it, and made no sense at all in Latin. But in Homer the same manner of phrase is used 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 land and sea.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Agis, of sea and land a crowned king,  
Gave me sometime a sacred offering.  And yet as mighty a Prince as he was, you have heard (I am sure) that Alcibiades lay with his wife Tunaea, and she would not bash to call the son that she had by him in adultery, Alcibiades, especially amongst her women & waiting-maidens, whispering and speaking as much softly unto them: But what of all that? This crooked cross was no bar unto K. Agis, but that he proved the greatest and most renowned parsonage of all the Greeks in his time. No more was it any hindrance to Stilpo, but that he lived all the days of his life most merrily, and no Philosopher like to him in those days, notwithstanding he had a daughter that played the harlot: and when Metrocles the Cynic reproached him therewith; Is this (quoth he) my fault or hers? To which when Metrocles answered again: The fault is indeed hers, but the infortunity and mishap is yours: What now, (replied Stilpo again) how can that be? Are not (I pray you) all faults rightly named Slips or falls? Yes truly, said the other: And are not falls (quoth Stilpo) mischances or misfortunes? Metrocles could not deny it: Why then (inferred Stilpo at last) what are mischances or misfortunes, other than infortunities and mishaps to them whose mischances they are. By this mild kind of Sorites and Philosophical reasoning thus from point to point, he showed that the reproachful language of this Cynical Metrocles, was nothing else, but a vain and foolish baying and barking of a cur-dog. But on the contrary side, the most part of men are provoked and troubled not only for the vices of their friends, familiars, and kinsfolk, but also of their very enemies. For reproachful taunts, anger, envy, malice, and spiteful jealousies, are the mischiefs and plagues (I must needs say) of such especially that have them; howbeit they molest and vex those also that are witless and without discretion, no otherwise than the hasty and choleric fits of our neighbours, the peevish and froward dispositions of our familiar acquaintance, and some shrewd demeanours of our servants in that they go about: with which me thinks you also troubling and disquieting yourself as much as with any thing else, like unto those Physicians of whom Sophocles thus writeth; 
Who bitter choler cleanse and scour  
With Drugs as bitter and as sour.  do unseemly and not iwis for the credit of your person, thus to chafe and fret at their passions and imperfections beyond all reason, and show yourself as passionate as they. For surely the affairs and negotiations wherewith you are put in trust, and which be managed by your direction, are not executed ordinarily by the ministery of such persons whose dealings be plain, simple and direct, as instruments most meet and fit for such a purpose; but for the most part by crooked, rough, and crabbed pieces. To reform and amend these enormities, I would not have you think that it is either your work and duty, or an enterprise otherwise easily performed. But if you making use of these, being such by nature as the Chirurgeons do of tooth-drawing pincers, and those instruments wherewith they do bring the edges of a wound together; will show you self mild, moderate, and tractable in every respect, according as the present occasion will give leave; surely you shall not receive so much discontentment and displeasure at the untoward and unhappy dealings of others, as joy in the conscience of your own good disposition, as making this account, that such ministers of yours do but their kind, like as dogs when they bark: But if you feed and cherish this pusillanimity and weakness of yours, as other follies, you shall be sure to heap up many troubles and follies of other men ere you be aware, which will be ready to fall and run as into some low ground and hollow trench, unto that weakness of yours. For what should I say, that some Philosophers reprove the pity and commiseration which we have for them that are in distress & misery, acknowledging that it is a good and charitable deed to help and succour such as be in calamity, but not commending that condolence and fellow-feeling with our neighbours, as if we yielded with them unto Fortune? And more than so, the same Philosophers will not permit and give us leave, in case we be subject to some vice and ill disposed, for to be seen and known for to grieve and sorrow therefore: but rather to correct and amend what is amiss, without any show at all of sad cheer and heaviness; which being so, consider then how little reason and small cause we have, nay how absurd it were, that we should suffer ourselves to be troubled, vexed and angry, in case all those who commerce and converse with us, deal not so well and kindly as they should? But above all things my good friend Paccius, let us see to this, that ourself love deceive and seduce us not; let us beware (I say) that we do not so much show an hatred and detestation of wickedness and sin in general; as bewray some private and particular regard of our own, in that we seem so to abhor and dread the naughtiness of those that have to do with us. For to be exceeding much moved and beyond all measure affectionate at some time to such and such affairs; to covet (I say) and pursue the same over-hotly, and otherwise than is meet and beseeming; or chose, to loath, despise, and abhor the same, must needs breed discontentments, suspicions, and offences in those persons by whom we seem either to have been prevented & disappointed of some things, or to have run and fallen too soon upon other: But he that is used to carry himself cheerfully and with moderation in his affairs, (fall out as they will) and can frame to their events, he will soon learn to negotiate and converse with any man in all dexterity and gentle behaviour. Well then, let us set in hand again to discourse of those matters which we have intermitted for a while: for like as in a fever all things that we taste seem at the first bitter and unsavoury; but when we see others take without any show and signification of dislike the same which we spit out, than we blame no more either meats or drinks, but lay the fault upon our disease; even so, when we perceive that other men have entered upon and gone through the same affairs with great alacrity, and without any pain at all, whereof we complained and made much ado; let us for shame cease to find fault and be offended so much at the things. And therefore if at any time there shall befall unto us some adverse and crooked accident against our wills, it will be very good for the working of our contentment in mind, not to pass over but to regard such things as at other times have happened to our minds and as we could wish them; but to confer them together, and by a good medley of them both to darken and dor the worst with laying the better to. But now, whereas we are wont when our eyes be dazzeled and offended with beholding that which is too bright & glittering, we refresh & comfort our sight again with looking upon pleasant colours of flowers, and green grass; herein chose we direct our minds and cogitations upon heavy and dolorous objects, and violently force our thoughts to be amused upon the remembrance of calamities and adverse fortunes, plucking them perforce as it were from the consideration of better. And here in this place me thinks I may very fitly apply that sentence to our present purpose, which was said to a busy and curious person, 
Ah spiteful mind and most envious hart  
Why others faults dost thou so quickly spy  
With eagle's sight, but in thine own thou art  
Stark blind or else dost wink with howlets eye?   
Even so good sir, How is it that you regard and advise so wistly your own misery and calamity, making it always apparent and fresh in remembrance, but upon your present prosperity you set not mind? And like as ventoses, cupping glasses or boxes draw the must corrupt humours to them out of the flesh; even so you gather against yourself the worst things you have, being no better than the merchant of Chios, who when he sold to others a great quantity of the best wine, sought up and down tasting every vessel until he met with that for his own dinner, which began to sour and was little better than stark nought. This man had a servant who ran away, and being demanded what his man had done unto him, for which he should show him a pair of heels? Because (quoth he) when he had plenty of that which was good, he would needs seek for nought. And most men verily are of the same nature, who passing by good and desirable things, which be (as a man would say) the pleasant and potable liquors that they have, betake themselves to those that be harsh, bad, and unsavoury. But Aristippus was of another humour; for like a wise man and one that knew his own good, he was always disposed to make the best of every occurrence, raising and lifting up himself to that end of the balance which mounted aloft, and not to that which went downward. It fortuned one day that he lost a fair manor or Lordship of his own, and when one of his friends above the rest made most semblance to lament with him, and to be angry with Fortune in his behalf; Hear you (quoth he) know you not that yourself have but one little farm in the whole world, and that I have yet three houses more left, with good lands lying to them? Yes marry do I (quoth the other:) Why then (quoth Aristippus again) wherefore do not we rather pity your case, and condole with you? For it is mere madness to grieve and sorrow for those things that are lost and gone, and not to rejoice for that which is saved. And like as little children, if a man chance to take from them but one of their gauds, among many other toys that they play withal, throw away the rest for very curst-heart, and then fall a puling, weeping and crying out aright; semblably, as much folly and childishness it were, if when fortune thwarteth us in one thing, we be so far out of the way and disquieted therewith, that with our plaints and moans we make all her other favours unprofitable unto us. But will some one say, What is it that we have? Nay, What is it that we have not? might he rather say: One man is in honour, another hath a fair and goodly house; one hath a wife to his mind, and another a trusty friend.  
Antipater of Tarsus the Philosopher, when he drew toward his end and the hour of his death, in recounting and reckoning up all the good and happy days that ever he saw in his life time, left not out of this roll so much as the Bon-voiage that he had when he sailed from Cilicia to Athens. And yet we must not forget nor omit those blessings and comforts of this life which we enjoy in common with many more, but to make some reckoning & account of them: and namely to joy in this, that we live; that we have our health; that we behold the light of the sun; that we have neither war abroad nor civil sedition and dissension at home; but that the land yieldeth itself arable and to be tilled, and the sea navigable to every one that will, without fear of danger; that it is lawful for us to speak, and keep silence at our pleasure; that we have liberty to negotiate and deal in affairs, or to rest and be at our repose. And verily the enjoying of these good things present, will breed the greater contentment in our spirit, if we would but imagine within ourselves that were absent; namely, by calling to mind eftsoons, what a miss and desire those persons have of health, who be sick and diseased? How they wish for peace, who are afflicted with wars? How acceptable it is either to a stranger or a mean person and unknowen, for to be advanced unto honour, or to be friended in some famous and puissant city? And chose, what a great grief it is to forego these things when a man once hath them? And surely a thing can not be great or precious when we have lost it, and the same of no valour and account all the while we have and enjoy it: for the not being thereof, addeth no price and worth thereto. Neither ought we to hold these things right great and excellent, whiles we stand always in fear and trembling to think that we shall be deprived and bereft of them, as if they were some worthy things: and yet all the time that they be sure and safe in our possession, neglect and little regard them as if they were common and of no importance. But we ought to make use of them whiles they be ours, and that with joy, in this respect especially, that the lose of them if it shall so fall out, we may bear more meekly and with greater patience. Howbeit, most men are of this opinion (as Arcesilaus was wont to say) that they ought to follow diligently with their eye and cogitation the Poems, Pictures, and Statues of others, and come close unto them for to behold and peruse exactly each of them; yea, and consider every part and point therein from one end to the other: whiles in the mean time they neglect and let alone their own lives and manners; notwithstanding there be many unpleasant sights to be spied and observed therein: looking evermore without, and admiring the advancements, welfare and fortunes of others: much like as adulterers who have an eye after their neighbour's wives, but loath and set nought by their own. And verily this one point also is of great consequence, for the settling of a man's mind in sure repose; namely, to consider principally himself, his own estate and condition; or at least wise (if he do not so) yet to look back unto those that be his inferiors and under him; and not as the most sort do, who love always to look forward and to compare themselves with their betters and superiors. As for example, slaves that are bound in prison and lie in irons, repute them happy who are abroad at liberty; such as be abroad and at liberty, think their state blessed who be manumised and made free; being once a franchised, they account themselves to be in very good case if they were citizens; and being citizens they esteem rich men most happy; the rich imagine it a gay matter to be Lords and Princes; Lords and Princes have a longing desire to be Kings and Monarches; Kings and Monarches aspire still higher and would be Gods; and yet they rest not so, unless they may have the power to flash lightnings and shoot thunderbolts, aswell as Jupiter. Thus whiles they evermore come short of that which is above them and covet still after it, they enjoy no pleasure at all of those things that they have, nor be thankful therefore.  

The treasures great I care not for of Gyges' King so rich in gold;  
Such avarice I do abhor, nor money will I touch untold.  
I never longed with gods above, in their high works for to compare:  
Grand seignories I do not love, far from mine eyes all such things are.  A Thracian he was that protested thus. But some other, that were a Chian, a Galatian or a Bithynian (I dare warrant you) not contenting himself with his part of honour, credit & authority in his own country and among his neighbours and fellow-citizens, would be ready to weep and expostulate the matter with tears, if he might not also wear the habit and ornaments of a patrician or Senator of Rome. And say it were granted and allowed him to be a noble Senator, he would not be quiet until he were a Roman Lord Praetor: Be he Lord Praetor, he will aspire to a Consulship; and when he is created Consul, whine he will and cry if he were not nominated and pronounced the former of the twain, but elected in the second place. And I pray you what is all this? What doth a man herein but gather pretended excuses of ingratitude to Fortune, in punishing and chastising himself after this manner? But the man who is wise and of sound judgement, in case some one or two among so infinite thousands of us mortal men 
Whom sun from heaven so daily doth behold,  
Who feed on fruits of earth so manifold,  be either more honoured or richer than himself, will not therefore be cast down strait way, and sit mourning and lamenting for sorrow: but rather in the way as he goeth, and whensoever he cometh abroad, salute & bless with praise and thanksgiving, that good fortune of his and blessed angel that guideth his life, for that his lot is to live far better, more at hearts ease, and in greater reputation than many millions of millions of other men. For true it is, that in the solemn games at Olympia, no champion may choose his concurrents with whom he is to wrestle or enter into combat for a prize: but in this life, our state standeth so, and our affairs be in that manner composed, that every man hath means to match, yea and excel many others, and so to bear himself aloft, that he be rather envied than envious; unless haply he be such an one, as will presume to deal with Briareus or Hercules for the Mastery. Well, when thou shalt behold some great Lord or honourable parsonage borne aloft in a litter upon men's shoulders, stand not wondering so much at him, but rather cast thine eyes down a little lower, & look upon the poor porters that carry him. Again, when thou shalt repute that great Monarch Xerxes a right happy man, for that he made a bridge of ships over the straits of Hellespont; consider with all, those painful slaves who under the very whip and for fear of scourging, digged through the mountain Atlas, and made passage that way for an arm of the sea; as also those miserable wretches, who had their ears cropped and their noses cut off, for that the foresaid bridge by a mighty tempest was injointed and broken; and therewith imagine with thyself what those silly souls might think, and how happy they would repute thy life and condition in comparison of their own. Socrates upon a time when one of his familiar friends seemed to complain and say: What a costly place is this? How dear are things sold in this city? The wine of Chios will cost a pound; purple is sold for three, and a pint of honey is held at five drams: took him by the hand and led him to the Meale-hall. Lo (quoth he) you may buy here half a sextare of good meal for an halfpenny. The market (God be thanked) is cheap: from thence he brought him into an Olie-cellar, and where they sold Olives: Here you shall have (quoth he) a measure called Chaenix, for two brazen dodkins (a good market believe me.) He took him then with him to the Broker's shops that sold clothes, where a man might buy a suit of apparel for ten drams. You see (quoth he) that the peni-woorths are reasonable, and things be bought and sold good cheap throughout the city; even so we, when we shall hear other men say; Our state is but mean, we are exceeding bare, & our condition is passing base: For why? We can not come to be Consuls, we shall never be rulers & governors ofProvinces, nor rise to the highest places of authority. We may very well answer in this wise; Nay marry, but our case is right good; we live gallantly, and lead a blessed and happy life: we beg not; we go not from door to door to crave folk's alms; we are no porters; we bear no burdens; neither like parasites and smell-feasts, do we get our bread by flattery. But forasmuch as we are for the most part grown to this folly, that we are accustomed to live rather according to others than ourselves, and our nature is so far corrupted with a kind of jealous affectation and envy, that it joyeth not so much in her own proper goods, as grieveth at the welfare of another) I would advise you not only to regard those things that be resplendent, glorious and renowned in those whom you admire and esteem so happy; but also to set open and lift up the vail a little, and to draw (as it were) that glittering courtaine of outward show, appearance and opinion that men have of them which covereth all, and so to look in. Certes, you shall find that they have within them many matters of trouble, many grievances and discontentments. That noble Pittacus, so famous for his valour and fortitude, and as much renowned also for wisdom and justice, feasted upon a time certain of his friends that were strangers: and his wife coming in at mids of the dinner, being angry at somewhat else, overthrew the table, and there lay all under foot. Now when his guests and friends were woonderously dismayed and abashed hereat: Pittacus made no more ado at the matter, but turning unto them. There is not one of us all (quoth he) but he hath his cross, and one thing or other to exercise his patience: and for mine own part this is the only thing that checketh my felicity: for were it not for this shrew my wife, I were the happiest man in the world: So that of me may these verses be well verified: 
This man who while he is in street or public place is happy thought,  
No sooner sets in house his feet but woe is him: and not for nought.  
His wife him rules and that's a spite  
She chides, she fights, from morn to night.  Well my masters, you have many occasions (I am sure) that vex you: as for myself I grieve at nothing. Many such secret sores there be that put them to anguish and pain who are rich and in high authority, yea and trouble Kings and Princes themselves; howsoever the common people see no such matter; and why, their pomp and outward glory covereth and hideth all. For when we read thus in Homer, 
O happy King, sir Agamemnon height  
The son of Atreus that 〈◊〉 knight  
Borne in good hour, and 〈◊〉 in fortune's lap,  
Most puissant, rich, and thr all to no mishap.  This is a rehearsal surely of an outward beatitude only, in regard of his arms, horses, and men of war about him: for the voices which are breathed out and uttered from his passions, which do 〈◊〉 that opinion of him, and bear witness of the contrary: as may appear by this testimony of himself in Homer, 
Great Jupiter god Saturn's son,  
Hath 〈◊〉 me deep in woe begun.  
Euripides also to the like effect;  
Your state, old sir, I happy deem, and his no less I do admire  
Who led his life unknown, unseen, from dinger far from vain desire,  By these and such like meditations, a man may by little & little spend & diminish that quarrelsome and complaining discontentment of the mind against Fortune, in debasing and casting down his own condition with the wonderful admiration of his neighbours state. But there is nothing that doth so much hurt unto our tranquility of mind as this, when our affection and will to a thing is disproportioned unto our might and power; as if we set up greater sails than our vessel will bear, building our hopes and desires as castles in the air without a sound foundation, and promising ourselves more than reason is; for afterwards when by proof we see, that we cannot reach thereto, and find that the success is not answerable to our conceit, we grumble by and by against fortune, and we blame our destiny; whereas we should accuse our own sollie and rashness. For neither he that would seem to shoot an arrow out of a plough; or ride upon an Ox back to hunt the Hare; can say that he is unlucky; nor he that goeth about to catch the Hart and Hind with fisher's dragnets, or with grins, snares and traps, may justly find fault with his fortune, and give out that some wicked angel doth cross him, or malignant spirit haunt him, if he fail and miss of his purpose: but surely such are to condemn their own foolishness and inconsiderate temerity, in attempting things impossible. And what might be the cause of such errors and gross oversight? surely our fond and blind self-love. This is it that causeth men to affect ever to be foremost; this moveth them to strive and contend for the highest place; this maketh them opinonative in every thing, aiming and reaching at all things unsatiably, and never rest contented. For it sufficeth them not to be both rich and learned; eloquent withal and mighty; good fellows at the table and pleasant companions; minions and favourites of Kings and Princes; rulers of cities and governors of provinces; unless they may be masters also of the swiftest and hottest hounds for running; the principal horses for service and stomach; quails and cocks of the best game for fight; If they fail in any of these, they be cast down, and their hearts are done. Denys the elder of that name, not being contented and satisfied in mind that he was the most mighty and puissant tyrant in his time; but because he was not a better Poet than Philoxenus; nor able to discourse and dispute so learnedly as Plato; in great choler and indignation, he cast the one into a dungeon within the Stone quarries, where malefactors, felons, and slaves were put to punishment; and confined the other as a caitiff, and sent him away into the Isle Aegine. Alexander the great was not of that disposition, who when Brison the famous runner in the race contended with him for the best game in footman ship, and for the nonce to please the King, seemed to faint and lag behind, and so to yield the honour of the course unto him; being advertised thereof, was mightily offended and displeased with him for it. Very wisely therefore and aptly to this purpose the Poet Homer when he had given this commendation of Achilles, 
Like unto him there is not one in field  
Of all the greeks that serve with spear and shield.   
He inferred presently upon it, 
In feats of arms: but for to speak and plead  
Others there be who can him teach and lead.  Megabyzus the Persian, a great lord, went up one day into the shop of Apelles, where he used to paint; and when he was about to speak (I wot not what) as touching painting-craft, Apelles not enduring to hear him talk so foolishly, stayed him and stopped his mouth, saying prettily thus unto him: So long sir as you held your tongue, you were taken to be some great man, by reason of your chains, corquans, and brooches of gold; your purple robes also, which together with your silence commended your person: but now the very prentice boys here, who grind ochre and such like colours, are ready to laugh at you, hearing you talk so foolishly, you know not what. And yet some there be who think that the Stoics do but mock and jest when they hear them hold this opinion: That the wise man (such as they imagine to themselves) is not only Prudent, Just and Valiant, but aught also to be called an Orator, a Captain and a Poet, a rich and mighty man, yea and a very King, whiles they themselves will needs be invested in these titles, and if they be not, than they are displeased and miscontent by and by; what reason they have so to be let them answer. Sure I am that among the gods themselves, some have power one way, and some another; and thereupon took their sundry denominations accordingly, & rest contented therewith: as for example, one is, surnamed Eugalius, i. the god of war, another Mantous, i. the precedent of Prophecies; and a third Cerdous, which is as much to say, as the patron of those that gain by traffic. And hereupon it is that jupiter in Homer forbidding Venus to meddle in warlike and martial affairs, as nothing pertinent unto her, sendeth her to weddings and bride-chambers, and bids her attend them. Moreover some qualities and things there be, that we seem to affect and wish; the which are in nature contrary, and will not concur and sort well together: as for example, the profession of eloquence, and the study of Arts Mathematical require rest and quietness, neither have the students therein need to be employed in any affairs. chose, policy and managing of the State and weal public, the favours of princes and potentates, are not compassed without much ado; neither can a man be idle at any time, who either is employed in the service of his country, or attendant in the Court. Much feeding upon flesh and liberal drinking of wine, maketh (I must needs say) the body able and strong, but the mind feeble and weak. Likewise, the continual and excessive care both in getting and keeping goods, may well augment riches and increase our substance; but surely it is the contempt and despisement of worldly wealth, that is a great help and means to learning and Philosophy. And therefore we may well conclude; that every man is not fitfor every thing: but herein each one must be ruled by the sage sentence of Pythius Apollo, and first learn, To know himself; then mark and observe to what one thing he is most framed and inclined; and thereto both apply and employ his wits, and not to offer violence to nature, and draw her perforce, as it were, against the hair, to this or that course of life, which she liketh not.  

The horse serves best in chariot at the thill,  
The ox at plough, the ground to ear and till:  
Ships under sail the dolphin's when they spy,  
Most swiftly then do swim their sides fast by:  
Who would in wood the wild bore chase and slay,  
Must bring with him the hardy hound away.   
Now if there be one that shall be angry with himself and displeased, that he is not at once both a savage lion of the forest, bold and venturous of his own strength, and withal a dainty fine puppy of Malta, cherished and fostered in the lap and bosom of some delicate dame and rich widow; commend me to him for a senseless fool of all fools, and to say a sooth, I hold him also as very an ass and doltish fop, who will needs be such an one as Empedocles, Plato and Democritus; namely, to write of the world, of the nature and true essence of all things therein, and withal, to keep a rich old trot and sleep with her every night, as Euphorion did; or else like unto those who kept company with Alexander the great, in drinking and gaming (as one Medius did) and yet think it a great abuse and indignity (forsooth) if he may not be as much admired for his wealth as Ismenias, and esteemed no less for his virtue than Epaminondas. We see that the runners in a race be not discontented at all, if they wear not the garlands and coronets of wrestlers, but rest pleased with their own rewards, and therein delight and rejoice, It is an old said saw, and a common proverb: Sparta is thy lot and Province, look well to it, and adorn the same. For it is a saying also of wise Solon; 
And yet we will not change our boon  
With them, for all their wealth and gold:  
Goods pass from man to man full soon,  
Ours virtue is, a sure free hold.   
Strato the natural Philosopher, when he heard that Menedemus his Concurrent had many more scholars by far than he: What marvel is that (quoth he) if there more that desire to be washed and bathed, than are willing to be anointed & rubbed. Aristotle writing to Antipater: It is not meet (quoth he) that Alexander alone should think highly of himself, in that he is able to command so many men; but they also have good cause to be aswell conceited of themselves, who have the grace to believe of the gods as they ought. For surely, they that thus can make the best use of their own estate, shall never be vexed, nor at their neighbour's welfare pine away for very envy. Which of us now doth require or think it fit, that the vinetree should bear figs, or the olive grapes? and yet we ourselves, if we may not have all at once, to wit, the superiority and pre-eminence among rich men, among eloquent orators and learned clerks, both at home and abroad, in the schools among Philosophers, in the field among warriors; aswell among flattering clawbacks as plain spoken and teltroth friends: to conclude, unless we may go before all pinching peny-fathers' in frugality; yea, and surpass all spendthrifts in riot and prodigality; we are out of our little wits; we accuse ourselves daily like sycophants; we are unthankeful; we repine and grumble as if we lived in penury and want. Over and beside, do we not see that Nature herself doth teach us sufficiently in this point? For like as she hath provided for sundry kinds of bruit and wild beasts, diverse sorts of food: for all feed not upon flesh, all peck not upon seeds and grains of plants, neither do all live upon roots which they work from under the ground; even so she hath bestowed upon mankind many means to get their living, while some live by graffing and feeding of cattle, others by tillage, some be Fowlers, others Fishers: and therefore ought every man to choose that course of life which sorteth best with his own nature, and wholly to apply and set his mind thereto; leaving unto others that which pertaineth to them, and not to reprove and convince Hesiodus when he thus speaketh, although not to the full and sufficiently to the point: 
The Potter to Potter doth bear envy,  
One Carpenter to another hath a spiteful eye.  For jealous we are not only of those who exercise the same art, and follow that course of life which we do; but the rich also do envy the learned and eloquent; noble men the rich; advocates and lawyers, captious and litigious sophisters; yea, and (that which more is) gentlemen freeborn, and descended from noble and ancient houses, envy Comedians when they have acted well and with a good grace upon the stage in great theatres; dancers also and jesters in the court, whom they see to be in favour and credit with Kings and Princes; and whiles they do admire these, and think them happy for their good speed and success in comparison of their own doings, they fret and grieve, and out of measure torment themselves. Now, that every one of us hath within himself treasuries laid up of contentment and discontentment, and certain tons of good things and evil; not bestowed as Homer said: Unto the doore-sill and entry of Jupiter's house; but placed in each of our own minds, the diverse passions whereunto we are subject do sufficiently prove and show. For such as are foolish and unadvised, do neglect and let go the very good things that presently they have, and never care to enjoy them, so intentive and earnestly bend are their minds and spirits always to that which is coming, and future expectation: whereas wise men on the contrary side, call to their fresh remembrance those things that are past, so as they seem to enjoy the same as if they were present, yea and in make that which is no more, to be as beneficial unto them, as if they were ready and at hand. For surely that which is present, yielding itself to be touched by us but the least moment of time that is, & immediately passing our senses, seemeth unto fools to be none of ours, nor any more to concern us. But like as the Roper which is painted in the temple of Pluto, or description of Hell, suffereth an ass behind him to gnaw & eat a rope as fast as he twisteth it of the Spartbroome; even so the unthankful and senseless oblivion of many ready to catch and devour all good things as they pass by, yea and to dissipate and cause to vanish away every honest and notable action, all virtuous deeds, duties, delectable recreations and pleasant pastimes, all good fellowship and mutual society, and all amiable conversation one with another, will not permit, that the life be one and the same, linked (as it were) and cheined by the coppulation of things passed and present; but dividing yesterday from to day, and this day from the morrow, as if they were sundry parts of our life, bringeth in such a forgetfulness, as if things once past had never been. As for those verily who in their disputations and Philosophical discourses admit no augmentation of bodies, affirming that every substance continually fadeth and vanisheth, would make us believe in word, that each one of us every hour altereth from himself, and no man is the same to day, that he was yesterday: but these for fault of memory not able to retain and keep those things that are done and passed, no nor to apprehend and eftsoons call them again to mind, but suffer every thing to pass away and run as it were through a sieve, do not in word but in deed and effect, make themselves void and empty every day more than other, depending only upon the morrow, as if those things which were done the year past, of late, and yesterday, nothing appertained unto them, nor ever were at all. This is therefore one thing that hindereth & troubleth that equanimity & repose of spirit which we seek for: & yet there is another that doth it more; and that is this; Like as flies creeping upon the smooth places of glasses or mirrors, cannot hold their feet but must needs fall down, but contrariwise they take hold where they meet with any roughness, & stick fast to rugged flaws, that they can find; even so these men gliding & glancing over all delectable & pleasant occurrences, take hold of any adverse & heavy calamities, those they cleave unto & remember very well; or rather as (by report) there is about the city Olynthus a certain place, into which if any flies called Beetles enter in once, they can not get forth again, but after they have kept a turning about, and fetching compasses round to no purpose a long time, they die in the end, whereupon it took the name of Cantharolethron; semblably, men after they fall to the reckoning up & commemoration of their harms & calamities past, are not willing to retire back, not to breathe themselves and give over multiplying thereupon still. And yet chose, they ought to do after the manner of Painters, who when they paint a table to lay upon the ground, or by a course of dead and duskish colours such as be fresh, gay and gallant, for to palliate & in some sort to hide the unpleasantnes of the other, they ought (I say) to smother and keep down the heaviness of the heart occasioned by some cross mishaps, with those that have fallen out of their mind, for to obliterate and wipe them out of their mind quite, and to be freed clean from them it is not possible: and surely the harmony of this world is reciprocal and variable, compounded (as it were) of contraries, like as we do see in an harp or bow; neither is any earthly thing under the cope of heaven, pure, simple, and sincere without mixture. But as Music doth consist of base and treble sounds; and Grammar of letters, which be partly vocal, & partly mute, to wit, vowels and consants, and he is not to be counted a Grammarian and Musician, who is offended and displeased with either of those contrary elements of the art, but he that affecteth the one as well as the other, and knoweth how to use and mix both together with skill for to serve his purpose; even so considering that in the occurrences of man's life there be so many contrarieties, and one weigheth against another in manner of counterpoise; for (according to Eurypides) 
It cannot stand with our affairs, that good from bad should parted be:  
A medley then of mixed pairs doth well, and serves in each degree.  It is not meet that we should let our hearts fall and be discouraged with the one sort whensoever it happeneth, but we ought according to the rules of harmony in Music, to stop the point always of the worst, with strokes of better, and by overcasting misfortunes (as it were) with a vail and curtain of good haps, or by setting one to the other, to make a good composition and a pleasant accord in our life, fitting and sorting our own turns. For it is not as Menander said, 
Each man so soon as he is borne, one spirit good or angel hath,  
Which him assists both even and morn, and guides his steps in every path.  but rather according to Empedocles: No sooner are we come into the world, but each one of us hath two angels, called Daemons: two Destinies (I say) are allotted unto us, for to take the charge and government of our life, unto which he attributeth diverse and sundry names, 
Here Chthonie was a downward look that hath,  
Heliope eke, who turneth to the sun,  
And Deris she, that loves in blood to hath,  
Harmony smiles ever and anon,  
Calisto fair and Aeschre foul among,  
Thoosa swift, Dinaea stout and strong,  
Nemertes who is lovely white and pure,  
But Asaphie with fruit black and obscure.  Insomuch, as our Nativity receiving the seeds of each of all these passions blended and confused together, and by reason thereof the course of our life not being uniform, but full of disordered and unequal dispositions, a man of good and sound judgement ought to wish and desire at God's hand the better, to expect and look for the worse, and to make an use of them both, namely by abridging and cutting off thatwhich is excessive and too much: For not he only (as Epicurus was wont to say) shall come with most delight and pleasure to see the morrow-sunne, who made least account thereof on the even; but riches also, glory, authority and rule doth most rejoice their hearts who least feared the contrary: for the vehement and ardent desire that a man hath to any of these things, doth imprint likewise an exceeding fear of foregoing and losing the same, and thereby maketh the delight of enjoying them to be feeble and nothing firm and constant; even as the blaze and flame of the fire which is blown and driven to and fro with the wind. But the man who is so much assisted with reason, that he is able without fear and trembling to say unto Fortune: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Well come to me, if good thou bringest aught,  
Andif thou fail, I will take little thought.   
Or thus: 
Well mayst thou take from me some joy of mind,  
But little grief, thou shalt me leave behind.  hath this benefit by his confidence and resolution: that as he taketh most joy of his good fortunes when they are present; so he never feareth the loss of them, as if it were a calamity insupportable. And herein we may aswell imitate as admire the disposition and affection of Anaxagoras, who when he heard the news of his son's death I know full well (quoth he) when I begot him that die he must: and after his example, whensoever any infortunity happeneth, to be ready with these & such like speeches: I know that riches were not permanent, but transitory and for a day: I never thought other, but that they who conferred these dignities upon me both might and could deprive me of them I wist: that I had a good wife and vertnous dame, but withal a woman and no more: I was not ignorant that my friend was a man (that is to say) a living creature by nature mutable, as Plato used to say. And verily, such preparations and dispositions of our affections as these, if peradventure there shall befall unto us any thing against our intent and mind, but not contrary to our expectation, as they will never admit such passionate words as these (I never thought it would have fallen out so, I was in great hope of other matters, and little looked I for this) so they shall be able to rid us of all sudden pant and leapings of the hart, of unquiet & disorderly beating of the pulses, and soon stay and settle the furious & troublesome motions of impatience. Carneades was wont in time of greatest prosperity to put men in mind of a change; for that the thing which happeneth contrary to our hope and expectation, is that which altogether and wholly doth breed sorrow and grief. The kingdom of the Macedonians was not an handful to the Roman Empire and dominion; and yet king Perseus when he had lost Macedon, did not only himself lament his own fortune most piteously, but in the eyes also of the whole world he was reputed a most unfortunate and miserable man. But behold Paulus Aemelius whose hap it was to vanquish the said Perseus, when he departed out of that Province, and made over into the hands of another his whole army, with so great command both of land and sea, was crowned with a chaplet of flowers, and so did sacrifice unto the gods with joy and thanksgiving in the judgement of all men, worthily extolled and reputed as happy. For why? when he received first that high commission and mighty power withal, he knew full well, that he was to give it over and resign it up when his time was expired; where as Perseus on the contrary side, lost that which he never made account to lose. Certes even the Poet Homer hath given us very well to understand, how forcible that is, which happeneth beside hope and unlooked for, when he bringeth in Ulysses upon his return, weeping for the death of his dog; but when he sat by his own wife who shed tears plentifully, wept not at all; for that he had long before at his leisure against this coming home of his, prevented and brought into subjection (as it were) by the rule of reason, that passion which otherwise he knew well enough would have broken out; whereas, looking for nothing less than the death of his dog, he fell suddenly into it, as having had no time before to repress the same. In sum, of all those accidents which light upon us contrary to our will; some grieve and vex us by the course and instinct of nature; other, (and those be the greater part) we are wont to be offended and discontented with, upon a corrupt opinion and foolish custom that we have taken: and therefore we should do very well, against such temptations as these, to be ready with that sentence of Menander: 
No harm nor loss thou dost sustain:  
But that thou list so for to feign.  And how (quoth he) can it concern thee? 
For if no flesh without it wound,  
Nor soul within, than all is sound.  As for example, the base parentage and birth of thy father; the adultery of thy wife; the loss or repulse of any honour, dignity or pre-eminence: for what should let, notwithstanding all these crosses, but that thy body and mind both may be in right good plight and excellent estate? And against those accidents which seem naturally to grieve and trouble us, to wit, maladies, pains and travels; death of dear friends and toward children, we may oppose another saying of Euripides the Poet: 
Alas, alas and well aday:  
But why alas, and well away?  
Nought else to us hath yet been dealt,  
But that who daily men have felt.  For no remonstrance nor reason is so effectual to restrain and stay this passionate and sensual part of our mind. when it is ready to slip and be carried headlong away with our affections, as that which call 〈◊〉 remembrance the common and natural necessity; by means whereof a man in 〈◊〉 his body, being mixed and compounded, doth expose and offer this handle (as it were) 〈◊〉 vantage whereby fortune is to take hold when she wrestleth against him; for otherwise, a the greatest and most principal things, he abideth fast and sure. King Demetrius having 〈◊〉 and won the city Megara, demanded of Stilpo the wise Philosopher, whether he 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 any goods in the sackage and pillage thereof? Sir (quoth he) I saw not so much as one man carrying any thing of mine away; semblably, when fortune hath made what spoil nee can, and taken from us all other things, yet somewhat there remaineth still within ourselves, 
Which Greeks do what they can or may,  
Shall neither drive nor bear away.  In which regard we ought altogether so to depress, debase and throw down our humane nature, as if it had nothing firm, stable and permanent, nothing above the reach and power of fortune: but chose, knowing that it is the least and worst part of man, and the same frail, brittle, and subject to death, which maketh us to lie open unto fortune and her assaults; whereas in respect of the better part we are masters over her, and have her at command, when there being seated and founded most surely the best and greatest things that we have, to wit, sound and honest Opinions, Arts and Sciences, good discourses tending to virtue, which be all of a substance incorruptible, and whereof we can not be robbed: we (I say) knowing thus much, aught in the confidence of ourselves to carry a mind invincible and secure against whatsoever shall happen, & be able to say that to the face of Fortune, which Socrates addressing his speech indeed covertly to the Judges, seemed to speak against his two accusers, Anytus and Melitus: Well may Anytus and Melitus bring me to my death, but hurt or harm me they shall never be able. And even so Fortune hath power to bring a disease or sickness upon a man, his goods she can take away, raise she may a slander of him to tyrant, prince or people, and bring him out of grace and favour; but him that is virtuous, honest, valiant and magnanimous, she can not make wicked, dishonest, baseminded, malicious & envious: and in one word, she hath not power to take from him a good habitude, settled upon wisdom and discretion, which wheresoever it is always present, doth more good unto a man for to guide him how to live, than the pilot at sea for to direct a ship in her course; for surely the pilot, be he never so skilful, knoweth not how to still the rough and surging billows when he would, he can not allay the violence of a tempest, or blustering wind, neither put into a safe harbour and haven, or gain a commodious bay to anchor in at all times and in every coast, would he never so feign, nor resolutely without fear and trembling when he is in a tempest, abide the danger and undergo all; thus far forth only his art serveth, so long as he is in no despair, but that his skill may take place; 
To strike main-saile, and down the lee  
To let ship hull, until he see  
The foot of mast no more above  
The sea: while he doth not remove,  
But with one hand in other fast  
Quaketh and panteth all aghast.   
But the disposition and stayed mind of a prudent man, over and beside that it bringeth the body into a quiet and calm estate, by dissipating and dispatching for the most part the occasions and preparatives of diseases, and that by continent life, sober diet, moderate exercises, and travels in measure; if haply there chance some little beginning or indisposition to a passion, upon which the mind is ready to run itself, as a ship, upon some blind rock under the water, it can quickly turn about his nimble and light crosse-saile yard, as Asclepiades was wont to say, and so avoid the danger.  
But say there come upon us some great and extraordinary accident, such as neither we looked for, nor be able by all the power we have, either to overcome or endure; the haven is near at hand, we may swim safely thither out of the body, (as it were) out of a vessel that leaketh and taketh water, and will no longer hold a passenger: as for foolish 〈◊〉, it is the fear of death, and not the love of life that causeth them to cling and stick so close to the body, hanging and clasping thereunto no otherwise than Ulysses to the wild fig tree, why he feared with great horror, the gulf Charybdis roaring under him; 
Whereas the winds would not permit to stay,  
Nor suffer him to row or sail away:  displeased infinitely in the one, and dreading fearfully the other. But he that some measure (be it never so little) knoweth the nature of the soul, and casteth this with himself: That by death there is a passage out of this life, either to a better state, or at leastwise not a worse: certes he is furnished with no mean wayfaring provision to bring him to the securit of mind in this life, I mean the fearless contempt of death: for he that may (so long as virtue 〈◊〉 the better part of the soul (which indeed is proper unto man) is predominant) live pleasantly; 〈◊〉 when the contrary passions, which are enemies to nature, doeprevaile, depart resolutely 〈◊〉 without fear, saying thus unto himself: 
God will me suffer to be gone  
When that I will myself, anon.  What can we imagine to happen unto a man of this resolution, that should encumber, trouble or terrify him? for whosoever he was that said: I have prevented thee (o Fortune) I have stopped up all thy avenewes, I have intercepted and choked all the ways of access and entry; surely he fortified himself, not with bars and barricadoes, not with locks and keys, ne yet with mures and walls, but with Philosophical and sage lessons, with sententious saws, and with discourses of reason, whereof all men that are willing, be capable. Neither ought a man to discredit the truth of these and such like things which are committed in writing, and give no belief unto them, but rather to admire, and with an affectionate ravishment of spirit embrace and imitate them; yea, and withal to make a trial and experiment of himself; first in smaller matters, proceeding afterwards to greater, until he reach unto the highest, and in no wise to shake off such medirations, nor to shift off and seek to avoid the exercise of the mind in this kind, and in so doing, he shall haply find no such difficulty as he thinketh. For as the effeminate delicacy and niceness of our mind, amused always and loving to be occupied in the most easy objects, and retiring eftsoones from the cogitation of those things that fall out cross, unto such as tend unto greatest pleasure, causeth it to be soft and tender, and imprinteth a certain daintiness not able to abide any exercise; so if the same mind would by custom learn and exercise itself in apprehending the imagination of a malady, of pain, travel, and of banishment, and enforce itself by reason to withstand and strive against each of these accidents, it will be found and seen by experience, that such things which through an erroneous opinion were thought painful, grievous, hard and terrible, are for the most part but vain in deed, deceitful and contemptible: like as reason will show the same if a man would consider them each one in particular. Howbeit the most part mightily fear and have in horror that verse of Menander, 
No man alive can safely say,  
This case shall never me assay.  as not knowing how material it is to the exempting and freeing of a man from all grief and sorrow, to meditate beforehand, and to be able to look open-eied full against fortune, and not to make those apprehensions and imaginations in himself soft and effeminate, as if he were fostered and nourished in the shadow, under many foolish hopes which ever yield to the contrary, and be not able to resist so much as any one. But to come again unto Menander, we have to answer unto him in this manner: True it is indeed, there is no man living able to say: This or this shall never happen unto me; howbeit, thus much may a man that is alive say and affirm: So long as I live I will not do this, to wit, I will not lie; I will never be a cousiner, nor circumvent any man; I will not defraud any one of his own; neither will I forelay and surprise any man by a wile. This lieth in our power to promise and perform, and this is no small matter, but a great means to procure tranquility and contentment of mind. Whereas chose, the remorse of conscience when as a man is privy to himself, and must needs confess and say: These and these wicked parts I have committed, festereth in the soul like an ulcer and fore in the flesh, and leaveth behind it repentance in the soul, which fretteth, galleth, gnaweth, and setteth it a bleeding fresh continually. For, whereas all other sorrows, griefs, and anguishs, reason doth take away; repentance only it doth breed and engender, which together with shame biteth and punisheth itself; for like as they who quiver and shake in the fevers called Epioli; or chose burn by occasion of other agues, are more afflicted and more at ease than those who suffer the same accidents by exterior causes, to wit, winter's cold or summer's heat; even so all mischances and casual calamities, bring with them lighter dolours and pains as coming from without. But when a man is forced thus to confess, 
myself I may well thank for this,  
None else for it blame worthy is.  which is an ordinary speech of them who lamentably bewail their sins from the bottom of their hearts, it causeth grief and sorrow to be so much more heavy, and it is joined with shame and infamy: whereupon it cometh to pass, that neither house richly and sinely furnished, nor heaps of gold and silver; no parentage or nobility of birth, no dignity of estate and authority how high soever, no grace in speech; no force and power of eloquence; can yield unto a man's life such a calm (as it were) and peaceable tranquility; as a soul and conscience clear from wicked deeds, sinful cogitations and lewd designs, which having the source & fountain of life (I mean the inward disposition of the heart) not troubled & polluted, but clear and cleansed; from whence all good and laudable actions do flow and proceed, and the same do give a lively, cheerful, and effectual operation, even by some divine instinct and heavenly inspiration, together with a bold courage and haughty mind, and withal yield the remembrance of a virtuous and well led life, more sweet, pleasant, firm and permanent, than is that hope whereof Pindarus writeth, the nurse and fostress of old age: for we must not think, that (as Carneades was wont to say) the 
* Or Rosemary banks after they be cut down and left word, as some expound.  Censers or perfuming pans wherein sweet incense is burned, retain and render the pleasant odor along time after they be empty, and that the virtuous deeds of a wise and honest man, should not always leave behind them in the soul an amiable, delightful, and fresh remembrance thereof; by means whereof, that inward joy being watered, is ever green, buddeth and flourisheth still, despising the shameful error of those who with their plaints, moans, and wail, diffame this life of ours; saying: It is a very hell and place of torments, or else a region of confined and exiled souls, into which they were sent away and banished forth of heaven. And here I cannot choose but highly commend that memorable saying of Diogenes, who seeing once a certain stranger at Lacedaemon dressing and trimming himself very curiously against a festival & high day: What means all this (quoth he) my good friend? to a good and honest man is not every day in the year a feast and holy day? yes verily, and if we be wise we should think all days double feasts, and most solemn gaudie-days: for surely this world is a right sacred and holy temple, yea and most divine, beseeming the majesty of God, into which man is inducted and admitted at his nativity, not to gaze and look at statues and images cut and made by man's hand, and such as have no motion of their own, but to behold those works and creatures which that divine spirit and almighty power in wonderful wisdom and providence hath made and showed unto us sensible; and yet (as Plato saith) representing and resembling intelligible powers, from whence proceed the beginnings of life and moving, namely the sun, the moon, the stars; what should I speak of the rivers which continually send out fresh water still; and the earth which bringeth forth nourishment for all living creatures, and yieldeth nutriment likewise to every plant? Now if our life be the imitation of so facred mysteries, and (as it were) a profession & entrance into so holy a religion of all othersmost perfect, we must needs esteem it to be full of contentment & continual joy: neither ought we (as the common multitude doth) attend & wait for the feasts of Saturn, Bacchus, or Minerva, and such other high days wherein they may solace themselves, make merry and laugh, buying their mirth and joy for money, giving unto players, jesters, dancers, & such like their hire and reward for to make them laugh. In which feasts and solemnities, we use to sit with great contentment of mind, arrayed decently according to our degree and calling, (for no man useth to mourn and lament, when he is professed in the mysteries of Ceres, and received into that confraternity; no man sorroweth when he doth behold the goodly sights of the Pythian games; no man hungereth or fasteth during the Saturnals:) what an indignity and shame is it then that in those feasts which God himself hath instituted, and wherein (as a man would say) he leadeth the dance, or is personally himself to give institution and induction, men should contamminate, pollute and profane as they do, dishonouring their life for the most part, with weeping, wailing, sighing and groaning, or at the leastwise in deep thoughts & pensive cares. But the greatest shame of all other is this; that we take pleasure to hear the organs and instruments of music sound pleasantly; we delight to hear birds singing sweetly; we behold with right good will, beasts playing, sporting, dancing, and skipping featly; and chose we are offended when they howl, roar, snarl, and gnash their teeth, as also when they show a fierce, stern, and hideous look; and all this while seeing our own lives heavy, sad, travailed and oppressed with most unpleasant passions, most intricate and inexplicable affairs, and overwhelmed with infinite and endless cares; yet we will not afford ourselves some rest and breathing time; nay (that which more is) we will not admit the speech and remonstrances of our friends and familiars, whom if we would give ear unto, we might without faultfinding receive the present, remember with joy and thanksgiving that which is past, and without distrust, suspicion and fear, expect with joyful and lightsome hope that which is to come.    

OF UNSEEMLY AND NAUGHTY BASHFULNESS.  

The Summarie.  
ALthough it be needless to stand curiously upon the concatenation and coherence of these matters handled by Plutarch, how they be knit and linked together, considering that he penned these discourses of his at sundry times; and both they who have reduced them into one volume; and those also who have translated them out of Greek into other languages, have not all followed one order: yet I think verily that this present Treatise, as concerning Naughty Bashfulness, is fitly joined next to the former, as touching the repose and tranquility of the spirit. For one of the greatest shaking cracks that our soul can receive in her tranquility, is when she secretly and by stealth may be lifted from her seat, for to drive a man to those things which may trouble him immediately, and much more afterwards. Now this evil bashfulness hath this vicious and dangerous quality, to know how to seduce and draw us by fair semblant, and nevertheless to trouble & confound after a strange fashion the contentment of our spirits, as appeareth plainly in this little book, which deserveth to be well perused and considered by all sorts of people. Now after he hath showed what this evil shamefastness is; he declareth that it is no less pernicious and hurtful than impudency; adding moreover that we ought to take good heed, lest in avoiding it, we fall into contrary extremities, as they do who are envious, shameless, obstinate, idle and dissolute. Then he proceedeeh to teach us, that the first and principal preservative against this poison is, to hold it for to be most dangerous and deadly, which he doth verify and prove by notable examples. Which done, he describeth particularly and from point to point, the incommodities, perils, and misfortunes that come by naughty bashfulness, applying thereto good and proper remedies, giving withal many sage and wise counsels drawn out of philosophy, tending to this stop and mark; that neither the regard of our friends, kinsfolk and familiars, nor yet the respect of any thing else beside, aught to draw from our thought, our mouth or hands, any thing contrary to the duty of an honest man: which both for the present, and also all the rest of our life may leave in our soul, the cicatrice or scar of repentance sorrow and heaviness. In conclusion, to the end that we should not commit those deeds in haste, which afterwards we may repent at leisure; he showeth that we ought to have before our eyes the hurts and inconveniences caused before by evil bashfulness, that the consideration thereof might keep us from falling into fresh and new faults.   

OF UNSEEMLY AND naughty bashfulness.  
AMong those plants which the earth bringeth forth, some there are which not only by their own nature be wild and savage, and withal bearing no fruit at all; but (that which worse is) in their growth do hurt unto good seeds and fruitful plants: and yet skilful gardiner's and husbandmen, judge them to be arguments and signs, not of bad ground, but rather of a kind and fat soil; semblaby the passions and affections of the mind, simply and in themselves are not good, howbeit they spring as buds and flowers from a towardly nature, and such as gently can yield itself to be wrought, framed, and brought into order by reason. In this kind I may range that which the greeks call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which is as much to say, as a foolish and rustical shamefastness; no evil sign in itself, howbeit the cause and occasion of evil and naughtiness. For they that be given to bash and shame overmuch and when they should not, commit many times the same faults that they do, who are shameless and impudent: here only is the difference, that they, when they trespass and do amiss, are displeased with themselves, and grieve for the matter; where as these take delight & pleasure therein: for he that is graceless and past shame, hath no sense or feeling of grief when he hath committed any foul or dishonest act; chose, whosoever be apt to bash & be ashamed quickly, are soon moved & troubled anon, even at those things which seem only dishonest, although they be not indeed. Now, lest the equivocation of the word might breed any doubt, I mean by Dysopia immoderate bashfulness, whereby one blusheth for shame exceedingly and for every thing, whereupon such an one is called in Greek Dysopetus, for that his visage and countenance together with his mind changeth, falleth and is cast down: for like as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek is defined to be a sacred heaviness, which causeth a downe-looke; even so, that shame and dismaiednesse which maketh us that we dare not look a man in the face as we should and when we ought, the call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 And hereupon it was that the great Orator Demosthenes said of an impudent fellow, that he had in his eyes not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 i harlots, playing prettily upon the ambiguity of the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which signifieth both the round apple in the eyes, and also a maiden or virgin: but chose the over-bashfull person (whom we speak of) showeth in his countenance a mind too soft, delicate and effeminate, and yet he flattereth himself therein, and calleth that fault (wherein the impudent person surpasseth him) Shamefastness. Now Cato was wont to say, That he loved to see young folk rather to blush than to look pale; as having good reason to acquaint and teach youth to dread shame and reproach more than blame and reproof; yea, and suspicion or obloquy, rather than peril or danger.  
Howbeit, we must abridge & cut off the excess and overmuch, which is in such timidity and fear of reproach; for that oftentimes it cometh to pass in some, who dreading no less to hear ill and be accused, than to be chastised or punished; for false hearts are frighted from doing their duty, and in no wise can abide to have an hard word spoken of them. But as we are not to neglect these that are so tender, nor aught to feed them in their feebleness of heart; so again, we must not praise their disposition who are stiff and inflexible: such as the Poet describeth, when he saith: 
Who fearless is, and basheth not all men fast to behold;  
In whom appears the dogged force of Anaxarchus bold:  but we ought to compound a good mixture and temperate medley of both extremities, which may take away this excessive obstinacy which is impudence, and that immoderate modesty which is mere childishness and imbecility. True it is that the cure of these two maladies is difficult; neither can this excess both in the one and the other be cut off without danger. For like as the skilful husbandman when he would rid the ground of some wild bushes and fruitless plants, he layeth at them mainly with his grubbing hook or mattock, until he have fetched them up by the root; or else sets fire unto them and so burneth them; but when he comes to proine or cut a vine, an appletree, or an olive, he carrieth his hand lightly for fear of wounding any of the sound wood, in fetching off the superfluous and rank branches, and so kill the heart thereof; even so the Philosopher, intending to pluck out of the mind of a young man, either envy, an unkind and savage plant, which hardly or unneath at all may be made gentle and brought to any good use; or the unseasonable and excessive greediness of gathering good, or dissolute and disordinate lust; he never feareth at all in the cutting thereof, to draw blood, to press and pierce hard to the bottom, yea and to make a large wound and deep scar. But when he setteth to the keen edge of remonstrance and speech, to the tender and delicate part of the soul, for to cut away that which is excessive or overmuch, to wit, wherein is seated this unmeasurable and sheepish bashfulness, he hath a great care and regard, lest ere he be aware he cut away therewith, that ingenuous and honest shamefastness that is so good and commendable. For we see that even nurses themselves when they think to wipe away the filth of their little infants, and to make them clean; if they rub any thing hard, otherwhiles fetch off the skin withal, make the flesh raw and put them to pain. And therefore we must take heed, that in seeking by all means to do out this excessive bashfulness utterly in young people, we make them not brazen faced, such as care not what is said unto them, and blush thereat no more than a blackdog, and in one word standing stiff in any thing that they do; but rather we ought to do, as they, who demolish and pull down the dwelling houses that be near unto the temples of the gods; who for fear of touching any thing that is holy or sacred, suffer those ends of the edifices and buildings to stand still, which are next and joined close thereto; yea and those they underprop and stay up, that they should not fall down of themselves; even so (I say) beware and fear we must, whiles we be tempering about this immoderate shamefacedness for to remove it, that we do not draw away with it grace and modesty, gentleness and debonarity which be adjacents and lie close unto it; under which qualities lieth lurking and sticketh close to, the foresaid naughty bashfulness, flattering him that is possessed therewith, as if he were full of humanity, courtesy, civility and common sense; not opinionative, severe, inflexible and untractable: which is the reason, that the Stoic Philosophers when they dispute of this matter, have distinguished by several names, this aptness to blush or overmuch bashfulness, from modesty and shamefacedness indeed: for fear lest the equivocation and ambiguity of one common word, might give some occasion and vantage to the vicious passion itself to do some hurt. As for us, they must give us leave to use the terms without calumniation, or rather permit us to distinguish according to Homer, when he saith, 
Shame is a thing that doth much harm, and profiteth as much.  neither without good cause is it, that in the former place he putteth down the harm and discommodity thereof: for surely it is not profitable but by the means of reason, which cutteth off that which is superfluous, and leaveth a mean behind.  
To come then unto the remedies thereof; it behoveth him first and foremost, who is given to blushing at every small matter, to believe & be persuaded, that he is possessed with such an hurtful passion: (now there is nothing hurtful, which is good and honest) neither ought he to take pleasure and delight when he shall be tickled in the ear with praises and commendations, when he shall hear himself called gentle, jolly and courteous, in steed of grave, magnanimous and just; neither let him do as Pegasus the horse in Euripides, who 
When mount his back Bellerophontes should,  
With trembling stooped more than his own self would.  that is to say, give place and yield after a base manner to the demands and requests of every man; or object himself to their will and pleasure, for fear (forsooth) lest one should say of him Lo what a hard man is this? See how inexorable he is. It is reported of Bocchorus a king of Egypt, that being rough, fell & austere, the goddess Isis sent the serpent called Aspis, for to wind and wreath about his head, and so to cast a shadow over him from above, to the end that he might be put in mind to judge aright: but this excessive shamefastness which always overspreadeth and covereth them, who are not manly but fainthearted and effeminate, not suffering them once to dare, to deny, or gainsay any thing, surely, would avert and withdraw judges from doing justice close up their mouths, that in counsels and consultations should deliver their opinion frankly; yea and cause them both to say and do many things inconsiderately against their mind, which otherwhiles they would not. For look whosoever is most unreasonable and importunate, he will ever tyrannize and domineer over such an one, forcing by his impudency the bashfulness of the other: by which means, it cometh to pass that this excessive shame, like unto a low piece of soft ground which is ready to receive all the water that comes, and apt to be overflowed and drowned, having no power to withstand and repulse any encounter, nor say a word to the contrary whatsoever is proposed, yieldeth access to the lewdest designs, acts and passions that be. An evil guardian and keeper of childhood and young age, is this excessive bashfulness, as Brutus well said, who was of this mind, that neither he nor she could well and honestly pass the flower of their fresh youth, who had not the heart and face to refuse and deny any thing; even so likewise, a bad governess it is of the bridebed and women's chamber, according to that which she said in Sophocles to the adulterer, who repented of the fact, 
Thy flattering words have me seduced,  
And so persuaded, I am abused.  In such sort as this bashfulness, over and beside, that it is vicious and faulty itself, spoileth and marreth clean the intemperate & incontinent person, by making no resistance to his appetites and demands, but letting all lie unfortified, unbard, and unlocked, yielding easy access and entrance to those that will make assault and give the attempt, who may by great gifts and large offers catch and compass the wickedest natures that be: but surely by persuasions and inductions, and by the means withal of this excessive bashfulness, they oftentimes conquer and get the mastery even of such as are of honest and gentle disposition. Here I passe-by the detriments and damages that this bashfulness hath been the cause of, in many matters and that of profit and commodity: namely, how many men having not the heart to say nay, have put forth and lent their money even to those whose credit they distrust; have been sureties for such as otherwise they would have been loath and unwilling to engage themselves for, who can approve and commend this golden sentence (written upon the temple of Apollo) Be surety thou mayst, but make account then to pay: howbeit, they have not the power to do themselves good by that warning, when they come to deal in the world. And how many have come unto their end and died by the means of this foolish quality, it were hard to reckon. For Creon in Euripides when he spoke thus unto Medea, 
For me Madam, it were much better now by flat denial your mind to discontent,  
Than having once thus yielded unto you sigh afterwards full sore, and ay repent.  gave a very good lesson for others to follow; but himself overcome at length through his foolish bashfulness, granting one day longer of delay at her request, overthrew his own state, and his whole house. Some there were also who doubting and suspecting that they were laid for, to be bloodily murdered, or made away by poison, yet upon a foolish modesty not refusing to go into the place of danger, came to their death and were soon destroyed. Thus died Dion; who notwithstanding he knew well enough that calippus laid wait for him to take away his life, yet (forsooth) abashed he was to distrust his friend and host, and so to stand upon his guard. Thus was Antipater the son of Cassander massacred; who having first invited Demetrius to supper, was bidden the morrow after to his house likewise; and for that he was abashed to mistrust Demetrius, who the day before had trusted him, refused not to go, but after supper he was murdered for his labour. Moreover, when Polysperchon had undertaken and promised unto Cassander for the sum of one hundred talents to kill Hercules (a base son of king Alexander by lady Barsine) he sent and requested the said Hercules to sup with with him in his lodging, the young gentleman had no liking at all to such a bidding, but mistrusting and fearing his courtesy, alleged for his excuse that he was not well at ease: whereupon Polysperchon came himself in person unto him, and in this manner began to persuade: Above all things my good child (quoth he) study and endeavour to imitate the humanity and sociable nature of your noble father, unless haply you have me in jealousy and suspicion as if I went about to compass your death. The youth was abashed to hear him say so, and went with him; well, supper was no sooner ended, but they made an end of the young gentleman also, and strangled him outright: so that it is no ridiculous and foolish advertisement (as some let not to say) but a wise and sage advice of Hesiodus when he saith; 
Thy friend and lover to supper do invite,  
Thy foe leave out, for he will thee requite.  Be not in any wise bashful and ashamed to refuse his offer whom thou knowest to hate thee: but never leave out and reject him once who seemeth to put his trust and confidence in thee: for if thou do invite, thou shalt be invited again; and if thou be bidden to a supper and go, thou canst not choose but bid again; if thou abandon once thy distrust and diffidence, which is the guard of thy safety, and so mar that good tincture and temperature by a foolish shame that thou hast, when thou darest not refuse.  
Seeing then that this infirmity and malady of the mind, is the cause of many inconveniences, assay we must to chase it away with all the might we have by exercise, beginning at the first like as men do in other exercises, with things that are not very difficult, nor such as a man may boldly have the face to deny: as for example, if at a dinner one chance to drink unto thee, when thou hast drunk sufficiently already; be not abashed to refuse for to pledge him, neither force thyself, but take the cup at his hand and set it down again on the board; again, there is another perchance that amids his cups challengeth thee to hazard or to play at dice; be not ashamed to say him nay, neither fear thou although thou receive a flout and scoff at his hands for denial: but rather do as xenophanes did, when one Lasus the son of Hermiones called him coward, because he would not play at dice with him: I confess (quoth he) I am a very dastard in those things that be lewd and nought, and I dare do nothing at all; moreover, say thou fall into the hands of a prattling & talkative busy body, who catcheth hold on thee, hangeth upon thee and will not let thee go? be not sheepish and bashful; but interrupt and cut his tale short, shake him off I say, but go thou forward and make an end of thy business whereabout thou goest: for such refusals, such repulses, shifts and evasions in small matters, for which men cannot greatly complain of us, exercising us not to blush and be ashamed when there is no cause, do enure and frame us well beforehand unto other occasions of greater importance. And here in this place, it were not amiss to call unto remembrance a speech of Demosthenes: for when the Athenians being solicited and moved to send aid unto Harpalus, were so forward in the action, that they had put themselves in arms against king Alexander, all on a sudden they discovered upon their own coasts Philoxenus, the lieutenant general of the king's forces, and chief admiral of his Armada at sea: now when the people were so astonished upon this unexpected occurrent, that they had not a word to say for very fear: What will these men do (quoth Demosthenes) when they shall see the sun, who are so afraid that they dare not look against a little lamp; even so I say to thee that art given much to blush and be abashed: What wilt thou be able to do in weighty affairs, namely, when thou shalt be encountered by a king; or if the body of some people or state be earnest with thee to obtain aught at thy hand that is unreasonable? when thou hast not the heart to refuse for to pledge a familiar friend if he chance to drink unto thee & offer thee a cup of wine? or if thou canst not find means to escape and wind thyself out of the company of a babbling busy body, that hath fastened and taken hold of thee, but suffer such a vain prating fellow as this to walk and lead thee at his pleasure up and down, having not so much power as to say thus unto him: I will see you again hereafter at some other time, now I have no leisure to talk with you.  
Over and beside, the exercise and use of breaking yourselves of this bashfulness in praising others for small and light matters, will not be unprofitable unto you; as for example: Say, that when you are at a feast of your friends, the harper or minstrel do either play or sing out of tune; or haply an actor of a Comedy, dearly hired for a good piece of money, by his ill grace in acting, mar the play and disgrace the author himself Menander, and yet nevertheless, the vulgar sort do applaud, clap their hands, and highly commend and admire him for his deed: in mine advice it would be no great pain or difficulty for thee to give him the hearing with patience and silence, without praising him after a servile and flattering manner, otherwise than you think it meet and reason: for if in such things as these, you be not master of yourself, how will you be able to hold, when some dear friend of yours shall read unto you either some foolish rhyme or bad poesy that himself hath composed? if he shall show unto you some oration of his own foolish and ridiculous penning? you will fall a praising of him, will you? you will keep a clapping of your hands with other flattering jacks? I would not else. And if you do so, how can you reprove him when he shall commit some gross fault in greater matters? how shall you be able to admonish him, if he chance to forget himself in the administration of some magistracy or in his carriage in wedlock, or in politic government? And verily, for mine own part, I do not greatly allow and like of that answer of Pericles, who being requested by a friend to bear false witness in his behalf, and to bind the same with an oath, whereby he should be forsworn: I am your friend (quoth he) as far as the altar; as if he should have said: Saving my conscience and duty to the gods: for surely he was come too near already unto him. But he, who hath accustomed himself long before, neither to praise against his own mind, one who hath made an oration, nor to applaud unto him who hath sung, nor to laugh heartily at him who came out with some stale or poor jest which had no grace; he will (I trow) never suffer his friend and familiar to proceed so far, as to demand such a request of him, or once be so bold as to move him (who before had refused in smaller trifles to satisfy his desire) in this manner: Be perjured for me; bear false witness for my sake; or pronounce an unjust sentence for the love of me.  
After the same manner we ought to be prepared and provided beforehand against those that be instant to borrow money of us, namely, if we have been used to deny them in matters that neither be of great moment nor hard to be refused. There was one upon a time, who being of this mind, that there was nothing so honest as to crave and receive, begged of Archelaus the king of Macedon (as he sat at supper) the cup of gold whereout he drunk himself; the king called unto his page that waited at his trencher, and commanded him to give the said cup unto Euripides, who sat at the board; and withal, casting his eye wistly upon the party who craved it: As for you sir (quoth he) worthy you are for your ask to go without; but Euripides deserveth to have, though he do not crave. A worthy speech, importing thus much, that the judgement of reason ought to be the best master and guide to direct us in our gifts and free liberality, and not bashfulness and shame to deny. But we chose, neglecting and despising many times those that be honest and modest persons, yea, our very familiar friends, who have need of our help, and seem to request the same, are ready to bestow our bounty upon such as incessantly importune us with their impudent craving, not for any affection that we have to pleasure them, but because we can not find in our heart to say them nay. Thus did king Antigonus the elder to Bias, after he had been a long time an importunate beggar: Give this Bias (quoth he) a talon, for me thinks he will have it perforce: and yet this Antigonus, of all princes and kings that ever were, had the best grace and most dexterity to put by, and shift off such unreasonable beggars: for when a beggarly Cynical Philosopher craved once at his hands a drachm: It is not for a king (quoth he) to give a drachm: Why then (quoth the other again) give me a talon: Neither is it meet (quoth the king) for a Cynic to receive a talon. Diogenes as he walked otherwiles along the Ceranicum (that is, a street in Athens, where stood erected the statues of worthy personages) would ask alms of those images; and when some marveled at him therefore: I do it (quoth he) to learn how to take a repulse and denial. Semblably, we ought first to be trained in small matters, and to exercise ourselves in denying slight requests unto such as would seem to demand and have at our hands that which is not fit and requisite, to the end that we may not be to seek for an answer when we would deny them in matters of greater importance: for as Demosthenes was wont to say: He who hath spent and bestowed that which he had otherwise than he should, will never employ those things which he hath, not as he ought, if peradventure he should be furnished again therewith. And look how often we do fail, and be wanting in honest things, and yet abound in superfluities, it is a sign that we are in a great fault, and many ways shame groweth to us by that means.  
Moreover, so it is, that this excessive bashfulness is not only a bad and undiscreet steward to lay out and disperse our money, but also to dispose of our serious affairs and those of great consequence, wherein it will not admit the advice and counsel that reason giveth; for oftentimes it falleth out, that when we be sick, we send not for the best and most expert Physicians, in respect of some friend, whom we favour and reverence so, as we are loath to do otherwise than he would advise us: likewise we choose for masters and teachers of our children, not those always who are best and meetest, but such as make suit and means unto us for to be entertained; yea, and many times, when we have a cause to be tried in the law, we choose not always the most sufficient & expert Advocates or Barristers for our counsel to plead for us; but for to gratify a son of some familiar friend or kinsman of our own, we commit the cause to him for to practise and learn to plead in court to our great cost and loss. To conclude we may see many of those that make profession of Philosophy, to wit, Epicureans, Stoics, and others, how they follow this or that sect, not upon their own judgement and election; but for that they were importuned by some of their kinsfolk or friends thereto, whom they were loath to deny. Come on then, let us long before be exercised against such gross faults in vulgar, small & common occasions of this life; as for example, let us break ourselves from using either a barber to trim us, or a 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Erasmus seemeth to read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 i. a Fuller.  painter to draw our picture, for to satisfy the appetite of our foolish shamefacedness; from lodging also in some bad Inn or hostelry where there is a better near at hand, because haply our host the goodman of the house hath oftentimes saluted us kindly; but rather make we a custom of it, (although there be but small difference and odds between one and another) always to choose the better: and like as the Pythagoreans observed evermore 〈◊〉 not to cross the right leg with the left, neither to take an odd number for an even, though otherwise all things else were equal and indifferent; even so are we to draw this into an ordinary practice, that when we celebrate any solemn sacrifice, or make a wedding dinner, or some great feast, we invite not him, who is wont with reverence to give us the gentle greeting and good morrow, or who seeing us a great way off useth to run unto us, rather than him whom we know to be an honest man and a well-willer of ours; for whosoever is thus enured and exercised long before, shall be hardly caught and surprised; nay rather he shall never be once assailed and set upon in weighty matters. And thus much may suffice as touching exercise and custom.  
Moreover to come unto other profitable instructions which we have gathered for this purpose, the principal in mine advice is this, which showeth & teacheth us, that all the passions and maladies of the mind be ordinarily accompanied with those inconveniences which we would seem to avoid by their means: as for example, ambition and desire of honour hath commonly attending upon it dishonour; pain usually followeth the love of pleasures; labour and travel ensueth upon ease and delicacy; repulse, overthrows, and condemnations are the ends that ensue daily upon those that are given to be litigious, contentious, and desirous to cast, foil, and conquer others; semblably it happeneth unto excessive bashfulness, which seeming to fly and shun the smoke of blame, casteth itself into the very fire and flame of infamy. For those who be abashed to gainsay and deny them, who importune them unreasonably, and will take no nay in things unjust, are constrained afterwards to bear both shame and blame at their hands who justly call them to their answer and accuse them worthily; and whiles they fear some light check or private rebuke, many times they are feign to incur and sustain open disgrace and reproach: for being abashed to deny a friend who craveth to borrow money, as being loath to say they have none, within a while after (with shame enough) they blush, when they shall be convinced to have had none; and having promised to assist and stand to some who have suit in law, by that means are forced to contend with others, and afterwards being ashamed thereof, are driven to hide their heads and fly out of the way. Also there be many whom this foolish modesty hath caused to enter into some disadvantageous promise as touching the marriage either of daughter or sister, and being entangled therewith have been constrained afterwards upon change of mind to break their word and fail in their promise; as for him who said in old time, that all the inhabitants of Asia served as slaves unto one man; for that they knew not how to pronounce one only negative syllable that is, No; he spoke not in earnest but by way of board, and was disposed to jest: but surely these bashful persons may if they list without one word spoken, by knitting and bending their brows only, or nodding downward to the ground, avoid and escape many offices and absurd inconveniences, which oftentimes they do unwillingly and only upon importunity. For as Euripides said very well, 
Wise men do know how things to take:  
And of silence an answer to make.  And haply we have more cause to take that course with such as be senseless and unreasonable: for to those who be honest, sensible, and of more humanity, we need not fear to make excuse and satisfy them by word of mouth. And for this purpose it were not amiss to be furnished with many answers and notable apothegms of great and famous persons in times past; and to have them ready at hand to allege against such importunate & impudent fellows. Such was that saying of Photion to Antipater: You can not have me to be your friend and a flatterer to; likewise the answer which he made unto the Athenians, who were earnest with him to contribute and give somewhat toward the charges of solemnising a great feast, and withal applauded and clapped their hands: It were a shame (quoth he) that I should give any thing over and above unto you, and not to pay that which I owe to him yonder, pointing therewith to Callicles the usurer: for as Thucydides said; It is no shame to confess and acknowledge poverty; but more shameful it is indeed not to avoid and eschew it. But he who by reason of a faint, feeble, and delicate heart dare not for foolish shame answer thus unto one that demandeth to borrow money, 
My friend, I have in house or purse  
No silver white, for to disburse.  and then suffereth to pass out of his mouth a promise (as it were) an earnest penny or pawn of assurance, 
Is tied by foot with fetters not of brass  
Nor iron wrought; but shame, and cannot pass.  But Perseus when he lent forth a sum of money to one of his familiar friends and acquaintance, went into the open market place to pass the contract at the very bank or table of exchangers and usurers; being mindful of that rule and precept of the Poet Hesiodus, which teacheth us in these words, 
How ever thou laugh with brother more or less,  
With him make no contract without witness.  now when his friend marveiled hereat and said; How now Perseus, so formally and according to law? Yea (quoth he) because I would receive my money again of you friendly, & not require it by course and suit of law. For many there be, who at the first upon a kind of foolish modesty, are abashed to call for assurance & security, but afterward be forced to proceed by order of law, & so make their friends their enemies. Again, Cato sending commendatory letters unto Denis the Tyrant, in the behalf and favour of one Helicona Cyzicena, as of a kind, modest, and courteous person, subscribed in manner of a post-date under his letter thus: That which you read above, take it as written in the commendation of a man, that is to say, of a living creature by nature mutable. chose Xenocrates, although he were otherwise in his behaviour austere, yet being overcome and yielding to a kind of foolish modesty of his own, recommended in his letters unto Polysperchon, a man of no worth or quality, as it proved afterwards by the sequel: Now when as that Macedonian Lord bade the party welcome, and friendly gave him his hand, and withal used some words of course and complement, demanding whether he had need of aught, and bidding him call for what he would; he made no more ado but craved a whole talon of silver at his hands; which Polysperchon caused presently indeed to be weighed out unto him; but he dispatched his letters withal unto Xenocrates to this effect: That from thenceforth he should be more circumspect, and consider better whom he recommended unto him: and verily, herein only was the error of Xenocrates, for that he knew not the man for whom he wrote: but we oftentimes knowing well enough that they be lewd and naughty persons, yet are very forward with our commendatory letters; yea and that which more is, our purse is open unto them; we are ready to put money into their hands to our own binderance and damage; not with any pleasure that we take, nor upon affection unto them, as they do, who bestow their silver upon courtesanes, pleasants, and slatterers to gratify them; but as displeased and discontented with their impudency, which overturneth our reason upside down, and forceth us to do against our own judgement, in such sort, that if ever there were cause beside, we may by good reason say unto these bold and shameless beggars, that thus take vantage of our bashfulness: 
I see that I must for your sake,  
Lewd courses ever undertake.  namely, in bearing false witness; in pronouncing wrong judgement; in giving my voice at any election for an unworthy and unmeet person; or in putting my money into his hands, whom I know unsufficient, and who will never repay it. And therefore of all passions, this lewd and excessive modesty is that, which is accompanied presently with repentance, and hath it not following afterwards as the rest: for at the very instant when we give away our money, we grieve; when we bear such witness, we blush; when we assist them and set to our helping hand, we incur infamy; and if we furnish them not with that which they require, we are convinced as though we were not able. And forasmuch as our weakness is such, that we cannot deny them simply that which they would have; we undertake and promise many times unto those who do importune & lie upon us uncessantly, even those things that we are not able to compass & make good; as namely, our commendatory letters for to find favour in princes courts; to be mediators for them unto great rulers and governors, and to talk with them about their causes; as being neither willing nor so hardy as thus to say; The king knoweth not us; he regardeth others more, and you were better go to such and such. After this manner, when Lysander had offended king Agesilaus and incurred his heavy displeasure, and yet was thought worthy to be chief in credit above all those that were about him, in regard of the great opinion and reputation that men had of him for his noble acts, he never bashed to repel and put back those suitors that came unto him, making excuse and bidding them to go unto others, and assay them, who were in greater credit with the king than himself. For it is no shame not to be able to effect all things, but for a man to be driven upon a foolish modesty to enterprise such matters, as he is neither able to compass nor meet to manage; besides that it is shameful, I hold it also a right great corrosive to the heart.  
But now to go unto another principle, we ought willingly and with a ready heart to do pleasure unto those that request at our hands such things as be meet and reasonable; not as forced thereto by a rustical fear of shame, but as yielding unto reason and equity. chose, if their demands be hurtful, absurd, and without all reason, we ought evermore to have the saying of Zeno in readiness, who meeting with a young man one of his acquaintance, walking close under the town wall secretly as if he would not be seen; asked of him the cause of his being there, and understanding by him that it was because he would avoid one of his friends, who had been earnest with him to bear false witness in his behalf: What sayst thou (quoth Zeno) sot that thou art? Was thy friend so bold and shamelesseto require that of thee which is unreasonable, unjust and hurtful unto thee? And darest thou not stand against him in that which is just and honest? For whosoever he was that said, 
A crooked wedge is fit to cleave a knotted knurry tree,  
It well be seems against lewd folk with lewdness armed to be.  teacheth us an ill lesson, to learn to be nought ourselves, when we would be revenged of naughtiness. But such as repulse those who impudently and with a shameless face do molest and trouble them, not suffering themselves to be overcome with shamefacedness, but rather shame to grant unto shameless beggars those things that be shameful, are wise men and well advised, doing herein that which is right and just. Now as touching those importunate and shameless persons, who otherwise are but obscure, base and of no worth, it is of no great matter to resist them when they be troublesome unto us. And some there be who make no more ado but shift them off with laughter or a scoff: like as Theocritus served twain who would seem to borrow of him his rubber or currying comb in the very bane; of which two, the one was a mere stranger unto him, the other he knew well enough for a notorious thief: I know not you (quoth he) to the one; and to the other, I know what you are well enough; and so he sent them both away with a mere frump. Lysimache the priestresse of Minerva in Athens, surnamed Polias, that is, the patroness of the city; when certain Muletters who brought sacrifices unto the temple, called unto her for to power them out drink freely: No (quoth she) my good friends, I may not do so, for fear you will make a custom of it.  
Antigonus had under him in his retinue a young gentleman, whose father in times past had been a good warrior, and lead a band or company of soldiers, but himself was a very coward, and of no service, and when he sued unto him (in regard of his birth) to be advanced unto the place of his father, late deceased: Young man (quoth he) my manner is to recompense and honour the prowess and manhood of my soldiers, and not their good parentage. But if the party who assaileth our modesty, be a noble man, of might and authority (and such kind of persons of all other will most hardly endure a repulse, and be put off with a denial or excuse, and namely, in the case of giving sentence or award in a matter of judgement, or in a voice at the election of magistrates) preadventure it may be thought neither easy nor necessary to do that which Cato sometimes did, being then but of young years, unto Catulus; now this Catulus was a man of exceeding great authority among the Romans, and for that time bore the Censureship, who came unto Cato, (than Lord high treasurer of Rome that year) as a mediator and intercessor for one, who had been condemned before by Cato in a round fine, pressing and importuning him so hard with earnest prayer and entreaty, that in the end Cato seeing how urgent and unreasonable he was, and not able to endure him any longer, was forced to say thus unto him: You would think it a foul disgrace and shame for you Catulus, Censor as you are, since you will not receive an answer and be gone, if my sergeant and officers here should take you by the head and shoulders, and send you away: with that, Catulus being abashed and ashamed, departed in great anger and discontentment. But consider rather and see, whether the answer of Agesilaus and that which Themistocles made, were not more modest, and savoured of greater humanity: for Agesilaus, when his own father willed him to give sentence in a certain cause that was brought before him, against all right, and directly contrary to the laws: Father (quoth he) yourself have taught me from my very childhood to obey the laws; I will be therefore obedient still to your good precepts, and pass no judgement against law. As for Themistocles, when as Simontdes seemed to request of him some what which was unjust and unlawful: Neither were you Simonides (quoth he) a good Poet, if you should not keep time and number in your song, nor I a good Magistrate, if I should judge against the law. And yet (as Plato was wont to say) it is not for want of due proportion between the neck and body of the lute, that one city is at variance with another city, and friends fall out and be at difference, doing what mischief they can one to another, and suffering the like again; but for this rather, that they offend and fail in that which concerneth law and justice. Howbeit, you shall have some, who themselves observing the precise rules most exactly according to art in Music, in Grammatical orthography, and in the Poetical quantity of syllables and measures of feet, can be in hand with others, and request them to neglect and forget that which they ought to do in the administration of government, in passing of judgements, and in their other actions. And therefore with such as these be, I would have you take this course which I will now tell you: Is there an Advocate or Rhetorician that doth importune you sitting as judge upon the bench? or is there an Orator that troubleth you with an unreasonable suit as you sit in counsel? grant them both, that which they request, upon condition that the one in the entry of his plea will commit a soloecism or incongruity, and the other in the beginning of his narration come out with some barbarism: but it is all to nothing, that they will never do so, it would be thought such a shame; and in very truth, we see that some of them are so fine eared, that they can not abide in a speech or sentence that two vowels should come together: again, Is he one of the nobility, or a man of honour and authority, that troubleth you with some unhonest suit? will him likewise for your sake to pass thorough the market place hopping and dancing, making mows, and writhing his mouth; but if he deny so to do, then have you good occasion and fit opportunity to come upon him with this revie, and demand of him; whether of the twain be more dishonest? to make incongruity in speech, and to make mows, and set the mouth awry; or to break the laws, commit perjury, and beside all right, equity and conscience, to award and adjudge more unto the lewd and wicked, than to good and honest persons. Moreover, like as Nicostratus the Argive answered unto Archidamus, who solicited him with a good sum of money (promising him beside in marriage what Lady he would himself choose in all Lacedaemon) to betray and render up by treason the town Cromnum: I see well (quoth he) o Archidamus, that you are not descended from the race of Hercules, for that he traveled thorough the world, killing wicked persons whom he had vanquished, but your study is to make them wicked who are good and honest; even so we ought to say unto him, who would be thought a man of worth and good mark, and yet cometh to press and force us to commit those deeds which are not befitting, that he doth that which beseemeth not his nobility or opinion of virtue.  
Now if they be mean and base persons to account, who shall thus tempt you, go this way to work with such: If he be a covetous miser, and one that loveth his money too well; see and try whether you can induce and persuade him by all importunity to credit you with a talon of silver upon your bare word, without schedule, obligation or specialty for his security; or if he be an ambitious and vainglorious person; try if you can prevail with him so much, as to give you the upper hand or higher seat in public place; or if he be one that desireth to bear rule and office; assay him, whether he will give over his possibility that he hath to such a magistracy, especially when he is in the ready way to obtain it? Certes, we may well think it a very strange and absurd thing, that such as they in their vices and passions should stand and continue so stiff, so resolute and so hard to be removed; and we who profess and would be reputed honest men, lovers of virtue, justice and equity, can not be masters of ourselves, but suffer virtue to be subverted, and cast it at our heels. For if they who by their importunity urge our modesty, do it either for their own reputation or their authority, it were absurd and beside the purpose, for us to augment the honour, credit and authority of another, and to dishonour, discredit and disgrace ourselves; like unto those, who be in an ill name, and incur the obloquy of the world, who either in public and solemn games defraud those of the prizes and rewards who have achieved victory, or who at the election of magistrates, deprive those of their right of suffrages and voices to whom it doth belong, for to gratify others that deserve it not, thereby to procure to the one sort, the honour of sitting in high places, and to the other the glory of wearing coronets, and so by doing pleasure unto others, falsify their own faith, defame themselves, and lost the opinion and reputation they had of honesty and good conscience. Now if we see that it is for his own lucre and gain, that any one urge us beyond all reason to do a thing; how is it that we do not presently consider, that it is absurd and without all sense to hazard and put to compromise (as it were) our own reputation and virtue for another man, to the end that the purse of some one (I know not who) should thereby be more weighty and heavy?  
But certainly many there be unto whom such considerations as these are presented, and who are not ignorant that they tread aside and do amiss; much like to them, who being challenged to drink off great bowls full of wine, take pains to pledge them with much ado, even so long till their eyes be ready to start out of their heads, changing their countenance, and panting for want of wind, and all to pleasure those that put them to it. But surely this feebleness of mind and faint heart of theirs, resembleth the weak constitution and temperature of the body, which cannot away either with scorching heat or chilling cold. For be they praised by those who set upon them thus impudently, they are ready to leap out of their skins for joy; and say they doubt for to be accused, checked, rebuked or suspected, if haply they deny, than they are ready to die for woe and fear. But we ought to be well defended & fortified against the one & the other, that we yield neither to them that terrify us, nor to those that flatter us. Thucydides verily supposing it impossible for one to be great or in high place & not envied, saith, That the man is well advised & led by good counsel who shooteth at the greatest & highest affairs, if he must be subject unto envy. For mine ownepart, thinking as I do, that it is no hard matter to escape envy, but to avoid all complaints & to keep ourselves from being molested by some one or other that converse with us & keep our company, a thing impossible: I suppose it good counsel for us, & the best thing we can do for our own safety, to incur rather the ill will and displeasure of lewd, importunate, and unreasonable people, than of those who have just cause to blame and accuse us, if against all right and justice we satisfy their minds and be ready to do them service and pleasure: as for the praises and commendations which proceed from such lewd & shameless persons, being as they are in every respect counterfeit and sophistical, we ought to beware and take heed of; neither must we suffer ourselves as swine to be rubbed, scratched, or tickled, and all the whiles stand still and gently, letting them do with us what they will, until they may with ease lay us all along, when we have once yielded to be so handled at their pleasure: for surely they that give care to flatterers, differ in no respect from those who set out their legs of purpose to be supplanted and to have their heels tripped up from under them; save only in this, that those are worse foiled and catch the more shameful fall, I mean aswell such as remit punishment to naughty persons, because forsooth they love to be called merciful, mild and gentle; as those on the contrary side, who being persuaded by such as praise them, do submit themselves to enmities and accusations needless, but yet perilous; as being borne in hand & made believe they were the only men, & such alone as stood invincible against all flattery, yea and those whom they stick not to term their very mouths & voices; and therefore Bion likened them most aptly to vessels that had two ears, for that they might be carried so easily by the ears which way a man would: like as it is reported of one Alexinus a Sophister, who upon a time as he walked with others in the gallery Peripatos, spoke all that nought was of Stilpo the Megarean: & when one of the company said unto him, What mean you by this, considering that of late & no longer since than the other day, he gave out of you all the good that may be: I wot well (quoth he) for he is a right honest gentleman, and the most courteous person in the world. chose Menedemus when he heard that Alexinus had praised him many a time; But I (quoth he) do never speak well of Alexinus; & therefore a bad man he must needs be, that either praiseth a naughty person, or is dispraised of an honest man: So hard it was to turn or catch him by any such means, as making use, and practising that precept which Hercules Atistheneus taught his children, when he admonished and warned them that they should never con those thank who praised them: and this was nothing else, but not to suffer a man's self to be overcome by foolish modesty, nor to flatter them again who praised him. For this may suffice in mine opinion which Pindarus answered upon a time to one who said unto him: That in every place and to all men he never ceased to commend him: Grand mercy (quoth he) and I will do this favour unto you again that you may be a true man of your word, & be thought to have spoken nothing but the truth.  
To conclude, that which is good and expedient against all other affections and passions, they ought surely to remember who are easily overcome by this hurtful modesty, whensoever they giving place soon to the violence of this passion, do commit a fault and tread awry against their mind: namely to call to remembrance the marks and prints of remorse and repentance sticking fast in their mind, and to repent eftsoons and keep the same a long time. For like as wayfaring men, after they have once stumbled upon a stone; or pilots at sea when they have once split their ship upon a rock and suffered shipwreck, if they call those accidents to remembrance, for ever after do fear and take heed not only of the same, but of such like; even so they that set before their eyes continually the dishonours and damages which they have received by this hurtful and excessive modesty, and represent the same to their mind once wounded and bitten with remorse and repentance, will in the like afterwards reclaim themselves, and not so easily another time be perverted and seduced out of the right way.    

OF BROTHERLY LOVE OR AMITY.  

The Summarie.  
A Man should have profited but badly in the school of virtue, if endeavouring to carry himself honestly toward his friends and familiars, yea and his very enemies, he continue still in evil demeanour with his own brethren, unto whom he is joined naturally, by the straightest line andlinke that can be devised. But for that ever since the beginning of the world, this proverbial sentence from time to time hath been currant and found true; that the Unity of Brethren is a rare thing: Plutarch after he had complained in the very entrance of this little book, that such a malady as this, reigned mightily in his time, goeth about afterwards to apply a remedy thereto. And to this effect he showeth, that since brotherly amity is taught and prescribed by nature, those who love not their brethren, be blockish, unnatural, enemies to their own selves; yea, and the greatest Atheists that may be found. And albeit the obligation wherein we are bound to our parents, amounteth to so high a sum as we are never able fully to discharge; he proveth notwithstanding, that brotherly love may stand for one very good payment toward that debt: whereupon he concludeth, that hatred between brethren ought to be banished; for that if it once creep in and get between, it will be a very hard matter to rejoin and reconcile them again. Afterwards he teacheth a ready and compendious way, how a man ought to manage and use a brother ill disposed. In what manner brethren should carry themselves one to another, both during the life of their father and also after his decease; discoursing at large upon the duty of those who are the elder, or higher advanced in other respects; as also what they should do, who are the younger; namely, that as they are not equal to their other brethren in years, so they be their inferiors in place of honour and in wealth; likewise what means as well the one as the other are to follow, for to avoid envy and jealousy. Which done, he teacheth brethren who in age come very near, their natural duty and kindness that they ought to show one unto another; to which purpose he produceth proper examples of brotherly amttie among the Pagans: In the end, since he can not possibly effect thus much, that brethren should evermore accordwell together, he setteth down what course they are to take in their differences and disagreements; and how their friends ought to be common between them; and for a final conclusion, he treateth of that honest care and respective regardone of another that they ought to have, and especially of their kinsfolk, which he enricheth with two other notable examples.   

OF BROTHERLY LOVE or amity.  
THose ancient statues representing the two brethren Castor and Pollux, the inhabitants of the city Sparta, were wont in their language to call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 And two parallel pieces of timber they are of an equal distance asunder, united and joined together by two other pieces overthwart: now it should seem, that this was a device fitting very well and agreeable to the brotherly amity of the said two gods, for to show that undivisible union which was between them; and even so, I also do offer and dedicate unto you, o Nigrinus and Quintus, this little treatise as touching the amity of brethren, a gift common unto you both as those who are worthy of the same: for seeing, that of your own accord you practise that already, which it teacheth and exhorteth unto, you shall be thought not so much to be admonished thereby, as by your example to confirm and testify the same which therein is delivered; and the joy which you shall conceive to see that approved and commended which yourselves do, shall give unto your judgement a farther assurance to continue therein; as if your actions were allowed and praised by virtuous and honest beholders of the same.  
Aristarchus verily, the father of Theodectes, scoffing at the great number of those Sophisters or counterfeit sages in his days, said: That in old time hardly could be found seven wise men throughout the world; but in our days (quoth he) much ado there is to find so many fools or ignorant persons. But I may very well and truly say: That I see in this age wherein we live, the amity of brethren to be as rare, as their hatred was in times past. The examples whereof being so few as they were among our ancients, were thought by men in those days living, notable arguments to furnish Tragedies and theatres with, as matters very strange and in a manner fabulous. But chose, all they that live in this age if haply they meet with two brethren, that be good and kind one to another, wonder and marvel thereat as much as if they saw those Molionides (of whom Homer speaketh) whose bodies seemed to grow together in one: and as incredible and miraculous do they think it, that brethren should use in common the patrimony, goods, friends and slaves which their fathers left behind unto them, as if one and the same soul alone ruled the feet, hands and eyes of two bodies. And yet nature herself hath set down a lively example of that mutual behaviour and carriage that ought to be among brethren, and the same not far off, but even within our own bodies, wherein she hath framed and devised for the most part those members double, and as a man would say, brethren-like and twins, which be necessary, to wit, two hands, two feet, two eyes, two ears, and two nose thrills; showing thereby, that she hath thus distinguished them all, not only for their natural health and safety, but also for a mutual and reciprocal help, and not for to quarrel and fight one with another. As for the hands when she parted them into many fingers, and those of unequallength and bigness, she hath made them of all other organical parts, the most proper artificious and workemanlike instruments; insomuch as that ancient Philosopher Anaxagoras ascribed the very cause of man's wisdom and understanding unto the hands. Howbeit, the contrary unto this should seem rather to be true; for man was not the wisest of all other living creatures in regard of his hands, but because by nature being eudued with reason, given to be witty and capable of arts and sciences, he was likewise naturally furnished with such instruments as these. Moreover, this is well known unto every man, that nature hath form of one and the same seed, as of one principle of life, two, three, and more brethren; not to the end that they should be at debate and variance, but that being apart and asunder, they might the better and more commodiously help one another. For those men with three bodies and a hundred arms apiece, which the Poets describe unto us (if ever there were any such) being joined and grown together in all their parts, were not able to do any thing at all when they were parted asunder, or as it were, without themselves: which brethren can do well enough, namely, dwell and keep within house and go abroad together, meddle in affairs of State, exercise husbandry and tillage one with another, in case they preserve and keep well that principle of amity and benevolence which nature hath given them. For otherwise they should (I suppose) nothing differ from those feet which are ready to trip or supplant one another, and cause them to catch a fall: or they should resemble those hands and fingers which enfolded and clasp one another untowardly against the course of nature. But rather according as in one and the same body, the cold, the hot, the dry, and the moist, participating likewise in one and the same nature and nourishment, if they do accord and agree well together, engender an excellent temperature and most pleasant harmony, to wit, the health of the body, without which, neither all the wealth of the world, as men say, 
Nor power of royal majesty,  
Which equal is to deity.  have any pleasure, grace or profit: but in case these principal elements of our life, covet to have more than their just proportion, and thereupon break out into a kind of civil sedition, seeking one to surcrease and overgrow another, soon there ensueth a filthy corruption and confusion which overthroweth the state of the body and the creature itself; semblably, by the concord of brethren, the whole race and house is in good case and flourisheth, the friends and familiars belonging to them (like a melodious choir of muscicians) make a sweet consent and harmony: for neither they do, nor say not think any thing that jarreth or is contrary one to the other, 
Where as in discord such and taking part,  
The worse est 'zounds do speed, whiles better smart.  to wit, some ill-tongued varlet and pickthank carrie-tale within the house, or some flattering claw-back coming between, and entering into the house, or else some envious and malicious neighbour in the city. For like as diseases do engender in those bodies which neither receive nor stand well affected to their proper & familiar nourishment, many appetites of strange and hurtful meats; even so, a slanderous calumniation of jealousy being gotten once among those of a blood & kindred, doth draw and bring withal evil words and naughty speeches, which from without are always ready enough to run thither where as a breach lieth open, and where there is some fault already. That divine master and soothsayer of Arcady, of whom Herodotus writeth, when he had lost one of his own natural feet, was forced upon necessity to make himself another of wood: but a brother being fallen out and at war with a brother, and constrained to get some stranger to be his companion, either out of the market place and common hall of the city as he walketh there, or from the public place of exercise, where he useth to behold the wrestlers and others; in my conceit doth nothing else but willingly cut-off a part or limb of his own body made of flesh, and engrafted fast unto him, for to set another in the place which is of another kind and altogether a stranger. For even necessity itself which doth entertain, approve and seek for friendship and mutual acquaintance, teacheth us to honour, cherish and preserve that which is of the same nature and kind; for that without friend's society and fellowship we are not able to live solitary and alone as most savage beasts, neither will our nature endure it: and therefore in Menander he saith very well and wisely: 
By jolly cheer and banquets day by day,  
Think we to find (o father) trusty friends,  
To whom ourselves and life commit we may?  
No special thing for cost to make amends;  
I found he hath, who by that means hath met  
With shade of friends; for such I count no bet.  For to say a truth, most of our friendships be but shadows, semblances and images of that first amity, which nature hath imprinted and engrafted in children toward their parents, in brethren toward their brethren: and he who doth not reverence nor honour it, how can he persuade and make strangers believe that he beareth sound and faithful good will unto strangers. Or what man is he who in his familiar greetings and salutations, or in his letters, will call his friend and companion Brother, and can not find in his heart so much as to go with his brother in the same way? For as it were a point of great folly and madness, to adorn the statue of a brother, and in the mean time to beat and maim his body; even so, to reverence and honour the name of a brother in others, and withal to shun, hate and disdain a brother indeed, were the case of one that were out of his wits, and who never conceived in his heart and mind, that Nature is the most sacred and holy thing in the world. And here in this place, I can not choose but call to mind, how at Rome upon a time I took upon me to be umpire between two brethren, of whom the one seemed to make profession of Philosophy; but he was (as after it appeared) not only untruly entitled by the name of a Brother; but also as falsely called a Philosopher: for when I requested of him that he should carry himself as a Philosopher toward his brother, and such a brother as altogether was unlettered and ignorant: In that you say (ignorant quoth he) I hold well with you, and I avow it a truth; but as for Brother, I take it for no such great and venerable matter, to have sprung from the same loins, or to have come forth of one womb. Well (said I again) It appears that you make no great account to issue out of the same natural members; but all men else besides you, if they do not think and imagine so in their hearts; yet I am sure they do both sing and say that Nature first, and then Law (which doth preserve and maintain Nature) have given the chief place of reverence and honour next after the gods, unto father and mother; neither can men perform any service more acceptable unto the gods, than to pay willingly, readily and affectionately unto parents who begat and brought them forth, unto nurses and fosters that reared them up, the interest and usury for the old thanks, besides the new which are due unto them. And on the other side again, there is not a more certain sign & mark of a very Atheist; than either to neglect parents, or to be any ways ungracious or defective in duty unto them: and therefore whereas we are forbidden in express terms by the law, to do wrong or hurt unto other men: if one do not behave himself to father and mother both in word and deed, so as they may have (I do not say no discontentment and displeasure but) joy and comfort thereby, men esteem him to be profane, godless and irreligious. Tell me now, what action, what grace, what disposition of children towards their parents, can be more agreeable and yield them greater contentment, than to see good will, kind affection, fast and assured love between brethren? the which a man may easily gather by the contrary in other smaller matters. For seeing that fathers and mothers be displeased otherwhiles with their sons, if they misuse or hardly entreat some home-born slave whom they set much store by: if I say, they be vexed and angry, when they see them to make no reckoning & care of their woods and grounds wherein they took some joy and delight; considering also that the good kindhearted old folk of a gentle and loving affection that they have, be offended if some hound or dog bred up within house, or an horse be not well tended and looked unto; last of all, if they grieve when they perceive their children to mock, find fault with, or despise the lectures, narrations, sports, sights, wrestlers, and others that exercise feats of activity, which themselves sometime highly esteemed: Is there any likelihood that they in any measure can endure to see their children hate one another? to entertain brawls and quarrels continually? to be ever snarling, railing and reviling one another? and in all enterprises and actions always crossing, thwarting and supplanting one another? I suppose there is no man will so say. Then on the contrary side, if brethren love together and be ready one to do for another; if they draw in one line and carry the like affection with them; follow the same studies and take the same courses; and how much nature hath divided and separated them in body, so much to join for it again in mind; lending one another their helping hands in all their negotiations and affairs; following the same exercises; repairing to the same disputations; and frequenting the same plays, games and pastimes, so as they agree and communicate in all things: certainly this great love and amity among brethren, must needs yield sweet joy and happy comfort to their father and mother in their old age: and therefore parents take nothing so much pleasure, when their children prove eloquent orators, wealthy men, or advanced to promotions and high places of dignities; as loving and kind one to another; like as a man shall never see a father so desirous of eloquence, of riches, or of honour, as he is loving to his own children. It is reported of Queen Apollonis the Cyzicen, mother to King Eumenes, and to three other Princes, to wit, Atalus, Philetaerus and Athenaeus, that she reputed and reported herself to be right happy, and rendered thanks unto the immortal gods, not for her riches, nor royal port and majesty; but that it was her good fortune to see those three younger sons of hers, serving as Pensioners and esquires of the body to Eumenes their elder brother, and himself living fearless and in as security in the mids of them, standing about his person with their pollaxes, halberds, and partisanes in their hands, and girded with swords by their sides. On the other side, King Xerxes perceiving, that his son Ochus set an ambush and laid trains to murder his brethren, died for very sorrow and anguish of heart. Terrible and grievous are the wars, said Euripides, between brethren; but unto their parents above all others most grievous; for that whosoever hateth his own brother, and may not vouchsafe him a good eye and kind look, can not choose but in his heart blame the father that begat him, and the mother that bore him. We read that Pisistratus married his second wife, when his sons whom he had by the former were now men grown, saying: That since he saw them prove so good and towardly, he gladly would be the father of many more that might grow up like them; even so, good and loyal children will not only affect and love one another for their parents sakes, but also love their parents so much the more, in regard of their mutual kindness, as making this account, thinking also and saying thus to themselves; That they are obliged and bounden unto them in many respects, but principally for their brethren, as being the most precious heritage, the sweetest and most pleasant possession that they inherit by them. And therefore Homer did very well, when he brought in Telemachus among other calamities of his, reckoning this for one, that he had no brother at all; and saying thus: 
For Jupiter my father's race in me alone,  
Now ended hath, and given me brother none.  As for Hesiodus he did not well to wish & give advice to have an only begotten son, to be the full heir and universal inheritor of a patrimony; even that Hesiodus who was the disciple of those Muses, whom men have named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as it were 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for that by reason of their mutual affection and sisterlike love they keep always together. Certes, the amity of brethren is so respective to parents, that it is both a certain demonstration that they love father and mother, & also such an example & lesson unto their children to love together, as there is none other like unto it, but chose, they take an ill precedent to hate their own brethren from the first original of their father: for he that liveth continually & waxeth old in suits of law, in quarrels and dissensions with his own brethren, and afterward shall seem to preach unto his children for to live friendly & lovingly together, doth as much as he, who according to the common proverb: 
The sores of others will seem to heal and cure  
And is himself of ulcers full impure.  and so by his own deeds doth weaken the efficacy of his words. If then Eteocles the Theban, when he had once said unto his brother Polynices, in Euripides, 
To stars about sun-rising would I mount,  
And under earth descend as far again,  
By these attempts, if I might make account  
This sovereign royalty of gods to gain.  should come afterwards again unto his sons, and admonish them 
For to maintain and honour equal state,  
Which knits friends ay in perfect unity,  
And keeps those linked who are confederate,  
Preserving cities in league and amity:  
For nothing more procures security,  
In all the world, than doth equality.  who would not mock him and despise his admonition? And what kind of man would Atreus have been reputed, if after he had set such a supper as he did before his brother, he should in this manner have spoken sentences and given instruction to his own children? 
When great mishap and cross calamity  
Upon a man is fallen suddenly,  
The only meed is found by amity  
Of those whom blood hath joined perfectly.  Banish therefore we must, and rid away clean, all hatred from among brethren, as a thing which is a bad nurse to parents in their old age, and a worse fostress to children in their youth; beside, it giveth occasion of slander, calumniation and obloquy among their fellow-citizens and neighbours, for thus do men conceive and deem of it: That brethren having been nourished and brought up together so familiarly from their very cradle, it can not be that they should fall out and grow to such terms of enmity and hostility, unless they were privy one to another of some wicked plots and most mischievous practices. For great causes they must be, that are able to undo great friendship and amity, by means whereof hardly or unneath afterwards they can be reconciled and surely knit again. For like as sundry pieces which have been once artificially joined together by the means of glue or solder, if the joint be loose or open, may be rejoined or soldered again; but if an entire body that naturally is united and grown in one, chance to be broken or cut and slit asunder, it will be an hard piece of work to find any glue or solder so strong as to reunite the same and make it whole and sound, even so those mutual amities which either for profit or upon some need were first knit between men, happen to cleave and part in twain, it is an easy matter to reduce them close together; but brethren if they be once alienated and estranged, so as that the natural bond of love can not hold them together, hardly will they piece again or agree ever after: and say they be made friends and brought to atonement, certainly such reconciliation maketh in the former rent or breach an ill favoured and filthy scar, as being always full of jealousy, distrust, and suspicion. True it is that all jars and enmities between man and man, entering into the heart, together with those passions which be most troublesome and dangerous of all others, to wit, a peevish humour of contention, choler, envy, and remembrance of injuries done and passed, do breed grief, pain, and vexation; but surely that which is fallen between brother and brother, who of necessity are to communicate together in all sacrifices and religious ceremonies belonging to their father's house, who are to be interred another day in one and the same sepulchre, and live in the mean time otherwhiles under one roof, and dwell in the same house, and enjoy possessions, lands, and tenements confining one upon another, doth continually present unto the eye that which tormenteth the heart, it putteth them in mind daily and hourly of their folly and madness; for by means thereof that face and countenance which should be most sweet, best known, and of all other likest, is become most strange hideous, and unpleasant to the eye; that voice which was wont to be even from the cradle friendly and familiar, is now become most fearful & terrible to the ear; and whereas they see many other brethren cohabit together in one house, sit at one table to take their repast, occupy the same lands, and use the same servants, without dividing them; what a grief is it, that they thus fallen out, should part their friends, their hosts and guests, and in one word, make all things that be common among other brethren, private, and whatsoever should be familiar & acceptable, to become contrary & odious? Over and beside, here is another inconvenience and mischief, which there is no man so simple, but he must needs conceive and understand: That ordinary friends and table companions may be gotten and stolen (as it were) from others; alliance and acquaintance there may be had new, if the former be lost, even as armour, weapons and tools may be repaired, if they be worn, or new made, if the first be gone; but to recover a brother that is lost, it is not possible, no more than to make a new hand, if one be cut away, or to set in another eye in the place of that which is plucked out of the head: and therefore well said that Persian lady, when she chose rather to save the life of her brethren than of her children: For children (quoth she) I may have more, but since my father and mother be both dead, brother shall I never have.  
But what is to be done, will some man say, in case one be matched with a bad brother? First, this we ought evermore to remember, that in all sorts of amities there is to be found some badness; and most true is that saying of Sophocles; 
Who list to search throughout mankind,  
More bad than good is sure to find.  No kinted there is, no society, no fellowship, no amity and love, that can be found sincere, sound, pure and clear from all faults. The Lacedaemonian who had married a wife of little stature: We must (quoth he) of evils choose ever the least; even so in mine advice, a man may very well and wisely give counsel unto brethren, to bear rather with the most domestical imperfections and the infirmities of their own blood, than to try those of strangers; for as the one is blameless, because it is necessary, so the other is blameworthy, for that it is voluntary: for neither table-friend and fellow gamester, nor playfere of the same age, ne yet host or guest 
Is bound with links (of brass by hand not wrought)  
Which shame by kind hath forged, and cost us nought,  but rather that friend, who is of the same blood, who had his nourishment and bringing up with us, begotten of one father, and who lay in the same mother's womb; unto whom it seemeth that 
* 〈◊〉 Odysy. 331.  Virtue herself doth allow connivency and pardon of some faults, so as a man may say unto a brother when he doth a fault, 
Witless, stark nought, yea wretched though thou be,  
Yet can I not forsake and cast off thee.  lest that (ere I be well aware) I might seem in my hatred towards thee, for to punish sharply, cruelly, and unnaturally in thy person, some infirmity or vice of mine own father or mother instilled into thee by their seed. As for strangers and such as are not of our blood, we ought not to love first, and afterwards make trial and judgement of them; but first we must try and then trust and love them afterwards; whereas chose, nature hath not given unto proof and experience the precedence and prerogative to go before love, neither doth she expect according to that common proverb; That a man should eat a 
* Medinonus is a measure containing 6. modij, which is about 6. pecks with 〈◊〉  bushel or two of salt with one whom he minded to love and make his friend; but even from our nativity hath bred in us and with us the very principle and cause of amity, in which regard we ought not to be bitter unto such, nor to search too nearly into their faults and infirmities.  
But what will you say now if chose some there be, who if mere aliens and strangers otherwise, yet if they take a foolish love and liking unto them, either at the tavern or at some game and pastime, or fall acquainted with them at the wrestling or fensing school, can be content to wink at their faults, be ready to excuse and justify them, yea and take delight and pleasure therein; but if their brethren do amiss, they be exceeding rigorous unto them and inexorable; nay, you shall have many such, who can abide to love churlish dogs, & skittish horses, yea and find in their hearts to feed and make much of fell ounces, shrewd cats, cursed unhappy apes, and terrible lions; but they cannot endure the hasty and choleric humour, the error and ignorance, or some little ambitious humour of a brother. Others again there be, who unto their concubines and harlots will not stick to assign over and pass away goodly houses and fair lands lying thereto; but with their brethren they will wrangle and go to law, nay they will be ready to enter the lists and combat for a plot of ground whereupon a house standeth, about some corner of a messsage or end of a little tenement, and afterwards attributing unto this their hatred of brethren, the colourable name of hating sin and wickedness, they go up & down cursing, detesting and reproaching them fortheir vices, whiles in others they are never offended nor discontented therewith, but are willing enough daily to frequent and haunt their company. Thus much in general terms by way of preamble or proem of this whole treatise.  
It remaineth now that I should enter into the doctrine and instructions thereto belonging: wherein I will not begin as other have done at the partition of their heritage or patrimony; but at the naughty emulation, hart burning and jealousy which ariseth between them during the life of their parents. Agesilaus king of Lacedaemon was wont always to send as a present unto each one of the ancients of the city, ever as they were created Senators, a good ox, in testimony that he honoured their virtue: at length the lords called Ephori, who were the censurers & overseers of each man's behaviour, condemned him for this in a fine to be paid unto the State, subscribling and adding a reason withal; for that by these gifts and largesses he went about to steal away their hearts and favours to himself alone, which ought indifferently to regard the whole body of the city; even so a man may do well to give this counsel unto a son, in such wise to respect & honour his father and mother, that he seek not thereby to gain their whole love, nor seem to turn away their favour and affection from other children wholly unto himself; by which practice many do prevent, undermine and supplant their brethren, and thus under a colourable and honest pretence in show, but in deed unjust and unequal, cloak and cover their avarice and covetous desire; for after a cautelous and subtle manner they insinuate themselves and get between them and home, and so defraud and cousin them ungentlemanly of their parents love, which is the greatest and fairest portion of their inheritance, who espying their time, and taking the opportunity and vantage when their brethren be otherwise employed, and least doubt of their practices, than they bestir them most, and show themselves in best order, obsequious, double-diligent, sober and modest, and namely in such things as their other brethren do either fail or seem to be slack and forgetful. But brethren ought to do clean contrary, for if they perceive their father to be angry and displeased with one of them, they should interpose themselves and undergo some part of the heavy load, they ought to case their brother, and by bearing a part, help to make the burden lighter: then (I say) must they by their service and ministery gratify their brother so much, as to bring him in some sort in grace and favour again with their father, and when he hath failed so far forth in neglecting the opportunity of time, or omitting some other business which hardly will afford excuse, they are to lay the fault and blame upon his very nature and disposition, as being more meet and fitted for other matters. And hereto acordeth well that speech of Agamemnon in Homer, 
He faulted not through idleness, nor yet for want of wit,  
But looked on me, and did expect my motive unto it.  even so one good brother may excuse another and say; He thought I should have done it, and left this duty for me to do: neither are fathers themselves straight laced, but willingly enough to admit such translations and gentle inversions of names as these; they can be content to believe their children, when they term the supine negligence of their brethren plain simplicity, their stupidity and blockishness, upright dealing and a good conscience; their quarrelous and 〈◊〉 nature, a mind loath to be trodden underfoot and utterly despised. In this manner he that will proceed with an intent only to appease his father's wrath, shall gain thus much morcover; That not only his father's choler will thereby be much diminished toward his brother, but his love also much more increased unto himself: howbeit, afterwards when he hath thus made all well, and satisfied his father to his good contentment, then must he turn and address himself to his brother apart, touch him to the quick, spare him never a whit, but with all liberty of language tell him roundly of his fault, and rebuke him for his trespass; for surely it is not good to use indulgency and connivency to a brother, no more than to insult over him too much, and tread him under foot if he have done amiss, (for as this bewrayeth a joy that one taketh at his fall; so that implieth a guiltiness with him in the same transgression: but in this rebuke and reproof, such measure would be kept, that it may testify a care to do him good, and yet a displeasure for his fault; for commonly he that hath been a most earnest advocate and affectionate intercessor for him to his father and mother, will be his sharpest accuser afterwards when he hath been alone by himself. But put the case, that abrother having not at all offended, be blamed notwithstanding and accused to father and mother, howsoever in other things, it is the part of humanity and dutiful kindness to sustain and bear all anger and froward displeasure of parents; yet in this case, the allegations and desenses of one brother in the justification of an other, when he is innocent, unjustly traduced, and hardly used or wronged by his parents, are not to be blamed, but allowable and grounded upon honesty: neither need a brother fear to hear that reproach in Sophocles: 
Thou graceless imp so far grown out of kind,  
As with thy Sire, a counter plea to find.  when frankly & freely he speaketh in the behalf of his brother, seeming to be unjustly condemned and oppressed. For surely by this manner of process and pleading, they that are convicted take more joy in being overthrown, than if they had gained the victory and better hand.  
Now after that a father is deceased, it is well beseeming and fit, that brethren should more affectionaly love than before, and stick more close together: for then presently their natural love unto their father which is common to them all, aught to appear indifferently in mourning together and lamenting for his death: then are they to reject and cast behimde them all suspicions surmised or buzzed into their heads by varlets & servants, all slanderous calumniations and false reports, brought unto them by pickthanks and carrie-tales on both sides, who would gladly sow some diffension between them: then are they to give ear unto that which fables do report of the reciprocal love of Castor and Pollux; and namely, how it is said, That Pollux killed one with his fist for rounding him in the ear, and whispering a tale against his brother Castor. Afterwards, when they shall come to the parting of their patrimony and father's goods among them, they ought not (as it were) to give defiance and denounce war one against another, as many there be who come prepared for that purpose ready to encounter, singing this note, 
O Alal Alala, now harken and come fight,  
Who art of war so fell the daughter right.  But that very day of all others they ought to regard and observe most, as being the time which to them is the beginning either of mortal war and enmity irreconcilable, or else of perfect friendship and amity perdurable: at which instant they ought among themselves alone, to divide their portions if it be possible; if not, then to do it in the presence of one indifferent and common friend between them, who may be a witness to their whole order and proceeding; and so when after a loving and kind manner, and as becometh honest and well disposed persons they have by casting lots gotten each one that which is his right: by which course (as Plato said) they ought to think that there is given and received that which is meet and agreeable for every one, and so to hold themselves therewith contented: this done, I say they are to make account that the ordering, managing, and administration only of the goods and heritage is parted and divided; but the enjoying, use and possession of all remaineth yet whole in common between: them. But those that in this partition and distribution of goods, pluck one from another the nurses that gave them 〈◊〉; or such youths as were fostered and brought up together with them of 〈◊〉, and with whom always they had lived and loved familiarly; well may they pervaile so far forth with eager pursuing their wilfulness, as to go away with the gain of a slave, perhaps of greater price: but in stead thereof, they lose the greatest and most pretions things in all their patrimony and inheritance, and utterly betray the love of a brother, and the confidence that otherwise they might have had in him. Some also we have known, who upon a peevish wilfulness only, and a quarrelous humour, and without any gain at all, have in the partition of their father's goods, carried themselves no better nor with greater modesty and respect, than if it had been some booty or pillage gotten in war. Such were Charicles and Antiochus, of the city Opus, two brethren, who ever as they met with a piece of silver plate, made no more ado but cut it quite through the mids, and if there came a garment into their hands, in two pieces it went, slit (as near as they could aim) just in the middle, and so they went either of them away with his part, dividing (as it were) upon some tragical curse and execration. 
Their house and all the goods therein  
By edge of sword so sharp and keen.  Others there be who make their boast and report with joy unto others, how in the partition of their patrimonic they have by cunning casts, connie-catched their brethren, and overwrought them so by their cautelous circumvention, fine wit and sly policies, as that they have gone away with the better part by odds: whereas indeed they should rejoice rather and please themselves, if in modesty, courtesy, kindness, and yielding of their own right they had surpassed and gone beyond their brethren. In which regard Athenodorus deserveth to be remembered in this place; and indeed there is not one here in these parts but remembreth him well enough. This Athenodorus had one brother elder than himself, named Zenon, who having taken upon him the management of the patrimony, left unto them both by their father, had embezzled and made away a good part of it; and in the end, for that by force he had carried away a woman and married her, was condemned for a rape, and lost all his own and his brother's goods, which by order of law was forfeit and confiscate to the Exchequer of the Emperor: now was Athenodorus abovesaid, a very beardlesse-boystill, without any hair on his face; and when by equity and the court of conscience, his portion out of his father's goods was awarded and restored unto him, he forsook not his brother, but brought all abroad and parted the one half thereof with him again; and notwithstanding that he knew well enough that his brother had used no fair play, but cunningly defrauded him of much in the division thereof, yet was he never angry with him nor repent of his kindness, but mildly, cheerfully, and patiently endured that unthanksulnes and folly of his brother, so much divulged and talked of throughout all Grecce. As for Solon when he pronounced sentence and determined in this manner as touching the government of the weal-public; That equality never bred sedition; seemed very confusedly to bring in the proportion Arithmetical which is popular, in place of that other fair and good proportion called Geometrical. But he that in an house or family would advise brethren (as Plato did the citizens of his Commonwealth) above all, if possible it were to take away these words, Mine and Thine; Mine and not Mine; or at leastwise (if that may not be) to stand contented with an equal portion, and to maintain and preserve equality; certes, he should lay a notable and singular foundation of amity, concord and peace, and always build thereupon the famous examples of most noble and renowned personages, such as Pittachus was, who when the King of Lydia demanded of him whether he had money and goods enough? I may have (quoth he) more by one half if I would, by occasion of my brother's death whose heir I am.  
But forasmuch as not only in the possession, augmentation and diminishing of goods, the less is evermore set as an adverse and cross enemy to the more, but also (as Plato said) simply and universally there is always motion and stirring in unequallitie, but rest and repose in equality; and so all uneven dealing and unequal partition is dangerous for breeding dissension among brethren: and possible it is, that in all respects they should be even and equal; for that either Nature at sirst from their very nativity, or Fortune afterwards, hath not divided with even hand their several graces and favours among them, whereupon proceed envy and jealousy, which are pernicious maladies and deadly plagues, aswell to houses and families as also to States and Cities: in these regards (I say) therefore, a great regard and heed would be taken, both to prevent and also to remedy such mischiefs with all speed, when they begin first to engender. As for him who is endued with better gifts, and hath the vantage over his other brethren, it were not amiss to give him counsel, first to communicate unto them those gifts wherein he seemeth to excel and go beyond them; namely, in gracing and honouring them aswell as himself by his credit and reputation, in advancing them by the means of his great friends, and drawing them unto their acquaintance; and in case he be more eloquent than they, to offer them the use thereof, which although it be employed (as it were) in common, is yet nevertheless his own still: then let him not show any sign of pride and arrogancy, as though he disdained them, but rather in some measure by abasing, submitting and yielding a little to them in his behaviour, to preserve himself from envy, unto which his excellent parts do lie open; and in one word, to reduce that inequality which fortune hath made, unto some equality, as far forth as possible it is to do, by the moderate carriage of his mind. Lucullus verily would never deign to accept of any dignity or place of rule, before his brother, notwithstanding he was his elder, but letting his own time slip, expected the turn and course of his brother. Neither would Pollux take upon him to be a god alone by himself, but chose rather with his brother Castor to be a demie-god, and for to communicate unto him his own immortality, thought it no disgrace to participate with his mortal condition; and even so may a man say unto one whom he would admonish: My good friend, it lies in you without diminishing one whit of those good things which you have at this present, to make your brother equal unto yourself, and to join him in honour with you, giving him leave to enjoy (as it were) your greatness, your glory, your virtue, and your fortune; like as Plato did in times past, who by putting down in writing, the names of his brethren, and bringing them in as persons speaking in his most noble and excellent Treatises, caused them by that means to be famous and renowned in the world. Thus he graced Glaucus and Adamanius in his books of Policy: thus he honoured Antiphon the youngest of them all, in his Dialogue named Parmenides.  
Moreover, as it is an ordinary thing to observe great difference and odds in the natures and fortunes of brethren; so it is in manner impossible, that in all things and in every respect any one of them should excel the rest. For true it is, that the four elements, which they say were created of one and the same matter, have powers and qualities altogether contrary; but surely it was never yet seen, that of two brethren by one father and mother, the one should be like unto that wise man, whom the Stoics do feign and imagine, to wit, fair, lovely, bountiful, honourable, rich, eloquent, studious, civil and courteous; and the other, foul, ill-favoured, contemptible, illiberal, needy, notable to speak and deliver his mind, untaught, ignorant, uncivil and unsociable. But even in those that are more obscure, base and abject than others, there is after a sort some spark of grace, of valour, of aptness and inclination to one good thing or other: for as the common proverb goeth; 
With Calthrap thistles rough and keen, with Prickyrest-harow,  
Close Zion's fair and soft, yea, White-walflowers are seen to grow.  These good parts therefore, be they more or less in others, if he that seemeth to have them in far better and in greater measure, do not debase, smother, hide and hinder them, nor deject his brother (as in some solemnity of games for the prize) from all the principal honours, but rather yield reciprocally unto him in some points, and acknowledge openly that in many things he is more excellent, and hath a greater dexterity than himself, withdrawing always closely all occasions and matter of envy, as it were fuel from the fire, shall either quench all debate, or rather not suffer it at all to breed or grow to any head and substance. Now he that always taketh his brother as a colleague, counsellor and coadjutor with him, in those causes wherein himself is taken to be his superior: as for example; If he be a professed Rhetorician and Orator, using his brother to plead causes; if he be a Politician, ask his advice in government; if a man greatly friended, employing him in actions and affairs abroad; and in one word, in no matter of consequence and which may win credit and reputation, leaving not his brother out, but making him his fellow and companion in all great and honourable occasions, and so giving out of him, taking his counsel if he be present, and expecting his presence if he be absent; and generally, making it known that he is a man not of less execution than himself, but one rather that loveth not much to put himself forth, nor stands so much upon winning reputation in the world, and seeking to be advanced in credit; by this means he shall lose nothing of his own, but gain much unto his brother. These be the precepts and advertisements that a man may give unto him that is the better and superior.  
To come now to him who is the inferior, he ought thus to think in his mind: That his brother is not one alone that hath no fellow, nor the only man in the world who is richer, better learned, or more renowned and glorious than himself, but that oftentimes he also is inferior to a great number, yea, and to many millions of us men, 
Who on the earth so large do breed,  
Upon her fruits who live and feed.  but if he be such an one as either goeth up and down, bearing envy unto all the world; or if he be of so ill a nature, as that among so many men that are fortunate, he alone and none but he troubleth him, who ought of all other to be dearest, and is most nearly joined unto him by the obligation of blood, a man may well say of him; That he is unhappy in the highest degree, and hath not left unto another man living, any means to go beyond him in wretchedness. As Metellus therefore thought that the Romans were bound to render thanks unto the gods in heaven, for that Scipio so noble and brave a man was borne in Rome, and not in any other city; so every man is to wish and pray unto the gods, that himself may surmount all other men in prosperity, if not, yet that he might have a brother at leastwise to attain unto that power and authority so much desired; but some there be so infortunate and unlucky by nature, in respect of any goodness in them, that they can rejoice and take a great glory in this, to have their friends advanced unto high places of honour, or to see their hosts and guests abroad, princes, rulers, rich and mighty men, but the resplendent glory of their brethren they think doth eclipse and darken their own renown; they delight and joy to hear the fortunate exploits of their fathers recounted, or how their great grandsires long ago had the conduct of armies, and were lord praetours and generals in the field, wherein they themselves had never any part, nor received thereby either honour or profit; but if there have fallen unto their brethren any great heritage's or possessions, if they have risen unto high estate and achieved honourable dignities, if they are advanced by rich and noble marriages, than they are cast down and their hearts be done. And yet it had behoved and right meet it were in the first place, to be envious to no man at all; but if that may not be, the next way were to turn their envy outward, and eie-bite strangers, and to show our spite unto aliens who are abroad, after the manner of those who to rid themselves from civil seditions at home, turn the same upon their enemies without, and set them together by the ears, and like as Diomedes in Homer said unto Glaucus, 
Of trojans and their allies both, who aid them for goodwill  
Right many are beside yourself for me in fight to kill:  
And you likewise have Greeks enough with whom in bloody field  
You may your prowessetry, and not meet me with spear and shield.  even so it may be said unto them; There be a number beside of concurrents upon whom they may exercise their envy and jealousy, and not with their natural brethren; for a brother ought not to be like unto one of the balance scales, which doth always contrary unto his fellow, for as one riseth the other falleth; but as small numbers do multiply the greater, and serve to make both them bigger, and their selves too; even so an inferior brother by multiplying the state of his brother who is his superior, shall both augment him and also increase and grow himself together with him in all good things: mark the fingers of your hand, that which holdeth not the pen in writing, or striketh the string of a lute in playing (for that it is not able so to do, nor disposed and made naturally for those uses) is never a whit the worse for all that, nor serveth less otherwise, but they all stir and move together, yea and in some sort they help one another in their actions, as being framed for the nonce, unequal & one bigger & longer than other, that by their opposition and meeting as it were round together, they might comprehend, clasp, and hold any thing most sure, strong, and fast. Thus Craterus being the natural brother of king Antigonus who reigned and swayed the sceptre: Thus Perilaus also the brother of Cassander who ware the crown, gave their minds to be brave warriors and to lead armies under their brethren, or else applied themselves to govern their houses at home in their absence; whereas on the contrary side, the Antiochi and Seleuci, as also certain Grypi and Cyziceni and such others, having not learned to bear a lower sail than their brethren, and who could not content themselves to sing a lower note, nor to rest in a second place, but aspiring to the ensigns and ornaments of royal dignity, to wit, the purple mantle of estate with crown, diadem and sceptre, filled themselves and one another with many calamities, yea and heaped as many troubles upon all Asia throughout. Now forasmuch as those especially who by nature are ambitious and disposed to thirst after glory, be for the most part envious & jealous toward those who are more honoured & renowned than they; it were very expedient for brethren if they would avoid this inconvenience, not to seek for to attain either honour or authority and credit all by the same means, but some by one thing and some by another: for we see by daily experience, it is an ordinary matter that wild beasts do fight and war one with another, namely when they feed in one and the same pasture; and among champions and such as strive for the mastery in feats of activity, we count those for their adversaries and concurrents only, who profess and practise the fame kind of game or exercise; for those that go to it with fists and buffers, are commonly friends good enough to such sword-fencers as fight at sharp to the utterance, and well-willers to the champions called Pancratiastae: likewise the runners in a race agree full-well with wrestlers: these I say, are ready to aid, assist and favour one another, which is the reason, that of the two sons of Tyndarus Pollux won the prize always at buffets, but Castor his brother went away with the victory in the race. And Homer very well in his Poem feigned that Teucer was an excellent archer, and became famous thereby, but his brother Ajax was best at close fight and handstrokes, standing to it heavily armed at all pieces, 
And with his shield so bright and wide  
His brother Teucer he did hide.  And thus it is with them that govern a State and common weal; those that be men of arms and manage martial affairs, never lightly do envy them much who deal in civil causes and use to make speeches unto the people; likewise among those that profess Rhetoric and eloquence, advocates who plead at bar, never fall out with those Sophisters that read lectures of oratory; among professors of Physic, they that cure by diet envy not the chirurgeons who work by hand; whereas they who endeavour and seek to win credit and estimation by the same art, or by their faculty and sufficiency in any one thing, do as much (especially if they be badly minded withal) as those rivals who loving one mistress, would be better welcome and find more grace and favour at her hands one than another. True it is I must needs confess; that they who go diverse ways, do no good one to another; but surely such as choose sundry courses of life do not only avoid the occasions of envy, but also by that means the rather have mutual help one by the other: thus Demosthenes and Chares sorted well together; Aeschines likewise and Eubulus accorded; Hyperides also and Leosthenes were lovers and friends; in every which couple, the former employed themselves in pleading and speaking before the people, & were writers and penmen, whereas the other conducted armies, were warriors and men of action. Brethren therefore who cannot communicate in glory and credit together without envy, aught to set their desires and ambitious minds as far remote one from another, and turn them full as contrary as they can, if they would find comfort, and not receive displeasure by the prosperity and happy success one of another: but above all, a principal care and regard they must have of their kindred and alliance, yea and otherwhiles of their very wives and namely, when they be ready with their perilous speeches many times to blow more coals, and thereby enkindle their ambitious humour. Your brother (quoth one) doth wonders; he carrieth all before him; he beareth the sway; no talk there is but of him; he is admired, and every man maketh court to him: whereas, there is no resort to you; no man cometh toward you; nothing is there in you that men regard or set by. When these suggestions shall be thus whispered, a brother that is wise and well minded, may well say thus again: I have a brother in deed whose name is up and carrieth a great side; and verily the greater part of his credit and authority is mine and at my commandment. For Socrates was wont to say, that he would choose rather to have Darius his friend, than his 
* An ancient piece of come with his image, worth 2. shillings 4. pence, or a 〈◊〉 Attic.  Daricks. And a brother who is of found and good judgement, will think that he hath no less benefit, when his brother is placed in great estate of government, blessed with riches, or advanced to credit and reputation by his gift of eloquence, than if himself were a ruler, wealthy, learned and eloquent. Thus you may see the best and readiest means that are to qualify and mitigate this unequalitie between brethren. Now there be other disagreements beside, that grow quickly between, especially if they want good bringing up and are not well taught, and namely, in regard of their age. For commonly the elder, who think that by good right they ought to have the command, rule and government of their younger brethren in every thing, and who held it great reason that they should be honoured, and have power and authority always above them, commonly do use them hardly and are nothing kind and lightsome unto them: the younger again being stubborn, wilful and unruly, ready also to shake off the bridle, are wont to make no reckoning of their elder brethren's prerogative, but set them at nought and despise them; whereby it cometh to pass, that as the younger of one side envied, are held down with envy, and kept under always by their elder brethren, and so shun their rebukes and scorn their admonitions; so these on the other side desirous to hold their own and maintain their pre-eminence and sovereignty over them, stand always in dread lest their younger brethren should grow too much, as if the rising of them were their fall. But like as the case standeth in a benefit or good turn that is done, men say it is meet that the receiver should esteem the thing greater than it is, and the giver make the least of it; even so, he that can persuade the elder, that the time whereby he hath the vantage of his other brethren is no great thing; and likewise the younger, that he should reckon the same birthright for no small matter, he shall do a good deed between them, in delivering the one from disdain, contempt and suspicion, and the other from irreverence and negligence. Now forasmuch as it is meet, that the elder should take care and charge, teach and instruct, admonish and reprove the younger; and as fit likewise the younger should honour, imitate and follow the elder: I could wish that the solicitude and care of the elder, savoured rather of a companion and fellow, than of a father; that himself also would seem not so much to command as to persuade, and to be more prompt and ready to joy for his younger brothers well-doing, and to praise him for it, than in any wise take pleasure in reprehending and blaming him if haply he have forgotten his duty; and in one word, to do the one not only more willingly, but also with greater humanity than the other. Moreover, the zeal and emulation in the younger ought rather to be of the nature of an imitation, than either of jealousy or contention; for that imitation presupposeth an opinion of admiration, whereas jealousy and contention implieth envy, which is the reason that they affect and love those who endeavour to resemble, and be like unto them; but chose, they are offended at those and keep them down, who strive to be their equals. Now among many honours, which it beseemeth the younger to render unto his elder, obedience is that which deserveth most commendation, and worketh a more assured and hearty affection accompanied with a certain reverence, which causeth the elder reciprocally and by way of requital to yield the like and to give place unto him. Thus Cato having from his infancy honoured and reverenced his elder brother Caepion, by all manner of obeisance and silence before him; in the end gained thus much by it, that when they were both men grown, he had so won him and filled him (as it were) with so great a respect and reverence of him, that he would neither say nor do aught without his privity and knowledge. For it is reported, that when Caepion had one day signed and sealed with his own signet a certain letter testimonial; Cato his brother coming afterwards would not set to his seal; which when Caepio understood, he called for the foresaid testimonial and plucked away his own seal, before he had once demanded for what occasion his brother would not believe the deed, but suspected his testimony? It seemeth likewise, that the brethren of Epicurus showed great respect and reverence unto him, in regard of the love and careful good will that he bore unto them; which appeared in this, that as to all other things else of his; so to his Philosophy especially, they were so wedded, as if they had been inspired therewith. For albeit they were seduced and deceived in their opinion, giving out and holding always (as they did) from their infancy, that never was any man so deep a clerk, nor so great a Philosopher as their brother Epicurus: yet it is wonderful to consider as well him that could so frame and dispose them, as themselves also for being so disposed and affectionate unto him. And verily even among the more modern Philosophers of later time, Apollonius the Peripatetic, had convinced him of untruth (whosoever he was) that said Lordship and glory could like no fellowship, for he made his brother Sotion more famous and renowned than himself. For mine own part, to say somewhat of myself; albeit that fortune hath done me many favours, in regard whereof I am bound to render unto her much thanks; there is not any one for which I take myself so much obliged and beholden unto her, as for the love that my brother Timon hath always showed and doth yet show unto me; a thing that no man is able to deny, who hath never so little been in our company, and you least of all others may doubt who have conversed so familiarly with us.  
Now there be other occasions of trouble which ought to be taken heed of, among those brethren which are of like age or somewhat near in years; small passions (I wot well) they be, but many they are, and those ordinary and continual; by means whereof they bring with them an evil custom of vexing, fretting and angering one another ever and anon for small things, which in the end turn into hatred and enmity irreconcilable: for when they have begun to quarrel one with another at their games and pastimes, about the feeding and fight of some little creatures that they keep, to wit, quails or cocks, and afterwards about the wrestling of their boys and pages at the school, or the hunting of their hounds in the chase, or the caparison of their horses; they can no more hold and refrain (when as they be men) their contentious vein and ambition in matters of more importance: thus the greatest and mightiest men among the Greeks in our time, banding at the first one against another in taking parts with their dancers, and then in sliding with their minstrels, afterwards by comparing one with another who had the better ponds or bathing pools in the territory of Edepsus, who had the fairet galleries and walking places, the statelier halls and places of pleasure, evermore changing and exchanging, and fight (as it were) for the vantage of a place, striving still by way of odious comparison, cutting and diverting another way the conduct pipes of fountains, are become so much exasperate one against another, that in the mean time they are utterly undone; for the tyrant is come, and hath taken all from them; banished they are out of their own native country; they wander as poor vagabonds thorough the world, and I may be bold (well near) to say, they are so far changed from that they were afore, that they be others quite, this only excepted, that they be the same still in hatred one to another. Thus it appeareth evidently, that brethren ought not a little to resist the jealousy and contentions which breed among them upon small trifles, even in the very beginning, & that by accustoming themselves to yield & give place reciprocally one to another, suffering themselves to be overcome & take the foil, and joying rather to pleasure and content one another, than to win the better hand one of another: for the victory which in old time they called the Cadmian victory, was nothing else but that victory between brethren about the city of Thebes, which is of all other the most wicked and mischievous.  
What shall we say moreover? do not the affairs of this life minister many occasions of disagreement and debate even among those brethren which are most kind and loving of all other? yes verily. But even therein also, we must be careful to let the said affairs to combat alone by themselves, and not to put thereto any passion of contention or anger, as an anchor or hook to catch hold of the parties, and pull them together for to quarrel, and enter into debate; but as it were in a balance, to look jointly together, on whether side right and equity doth incline and bend, and so soon as ever we can, to put matters in question to the arbitrement and judgement of some good and indifferent persons, to purge and make clear all, before they are grown so far, as that they have gotten a stain or tincture of cankered malice, which afterwards will never be washed or scoured out: which done, we are to imitate the Pythagoreans, who being neither joined in kindred or consanguinity, nor yet allied by affinity, but the scholars in one school, and the fellows of one and the same discipline, if peradventure at any time they were so far carried away with choler, that they fell to interchange reproachful & reviling taunts, yet before the sun was gone down they would shake hands, kiss and embrace one another, be reconciled, and become good friends again. For like as if there be a fever, occasioned by a botch or rising in the share, there is no danger thereof, but if when the said botch is gone, the fever still continue, than it seemeth to be a malady proceeding from some more inward, secret and deeper cause; even so the variance between two brethren, when it ceaseth together with the deciding of a business, we must think dependeth upon the same business & upon nothing else, but if the difference remain still when the controversy is ended, surely than it was but a colourable pretence thereof, and there was within some root of secret malice which caused it. And here in this place it would serve our purpose very well, to hear the manner of proceeding in the decision of a controversy between two brethren of a barbarous nation, and the same not for some little parcel of land, nor about poor slaves or silly sheep, but for no less than the kingdom of Persia: for after the death of Darius some of the Persians would have had Ariamenes to succeed and we are the crown, as being the eldest son of the King late deceased; others again stood earnestly for Xerxes, aswell for that he had to his mother Atossa the daughter of that great Cyrus, as because he was begotten by Darius when he was a crowned king. Ariamenes then came down out of Media, to claim his right; not in arms, as one that minded to make war, but simply and peaceably, attended only with his ordinary train & retinue, minding to enter upon the kingdom by justice & order of law. Xerxes' in the mean while, & before his brother came, being present in place, ruled as king, & exercised all those functions that appertained thereto: his brother was no sooner arrived, but he took willingly the diadem or royal frontlet from his head, & the princely chaplet or coronet which the Persian kings are wont to wear upright, he laid down, & went toward his brother to meet him upon the way, & with kind greeting embraced him: he sent also certain presents unto him, with commandment unto those that carried them, to say thus: Xerxes thy brother honoureth thee now with these presents here, but if by the sentence and judgement of the peers and lords of Persia he shall be declared king, his will and pleasure is, that thou shalt be the second person in the realm, and next unto him. Ariamenes answered the message in this wise: These presents I receive kindly from my brother, but I am persuaded that the kingdom of Persia by right belongeth unto me; as for my brethren, I will reserve that honour which is meet and due unto them next after myself, and Xerxes shallbe the first and chief of them all. Now when the great day of judgement was at hand, when this weighty matter should be determined; the Persians by one general and common consent declared Artabanus the brother of Darius late departed, to be the umpire and competent judge for to decide and end this cause. Xerxes was unwilling to stand unto his award, being but one man, as who reposed more trust and confidence in the number of the princes and nobles of the realm; but his mother Atossa reproving him for it: Tell me (quoth she) my son, wherefore refusest thou Artabanus to be thy judge, who is your uncle, and beside, the best man of all the Persians? and why dost thou fear so much the issue of his judgement, considering that if thou miss, yet the second place is most honourable, namely, to be called the king's brother of Persia? Then Xerxes persuaded by his mother, yielded; and after many allegations brought and pleaded on both sides judicially, Artabanus at length pronounced definitively, that the kingdom of Persia appertained unto Xerxes: with that Artamenes incontinently leapt from his seat, went and did homage unto his brother, and taking him by the right hand, enthronised and installed him king: from which time forward he was always the greatest person next unto his brother; and showed himself so loving and affectionate unto him, that in his quarrel he fought most valiantly in the naval battle before Salaminas, where in his service and for his honour he lost his life. This example may serve for an original pattern of true benevolence and magnanimity, so pure and uncorrupt, as it cannot in any one point be blamed or stained. As for Antiochus as a man may reprehend in him his ambitious mind, and excessive desire of rule; so he may aswell wonder that considering his vainglorious spirit, all brotherly love was not in him utterly extinct; for being himself the younger, he waged war with Seleucus for the crown, and kept his mother sure enough for to side with him and take his part: now it happened that during this war and when it was at the hottest, Seleucus struck a battle with the Galatians, lost the field, and was himself not to be found, but supposed certainly to have been slain and cut in pieces, together with his whole army, which by the Barbarians were put to the sword and massacred; when news came unto Antiochus of this defeature, he laid away his purple robes, put on black, caused the court gates to be shut, and mourned heavily for his brother, as if he had been dead: but being afterwards advertised that he was alive safe & sound, and that he went about to gather new forces and make head again; he came abroad, sacrificed with thanksgiving unto the gods, & commanded all those cities & states which were under his dominion to keep holiday, to sacrifice & wear chapplets of flowers upon their heads in token of public joy. The Athenians when they had devised an absurd and ridiculous fable as touching the quarrel between Neptune and Minerva, intermeddled withal another invention, which soundeth to some reason, tending to the correction of the same, and as it were to make amends for that absurdity, for they suppress always the second of August, upon which day happened (by their saying) that debate aforesaid between Neptune and Minerva. What should let and hinder us likewise, if it chance that we enter into any quarrel or debate with our allies and kinsfolk in blood, to condemn that day to perpetual oblivion, and to repute and reckon it among the cursed and dismal days: but in no wise by occasion of one such unhappy day to forget so many other good and joyful days wherein we have lived and been brought up together; for either it is for nothing and in vain that nature hath endued us with meekness, and harmless long sufferance, or patience the daughter of modesty and mediocrity, or else surely we ought to use these virtues and good gifts of her principally to our allies and kinsfolk; and verily to crave and receive pardon of them when we ourselves have offended and done amiss, declareth no less love and natural affection than to forgive them if they have trespassed against us. And therefore we ought not to neglect them if they be angry and displeased; nor to be strait laced and stiffly stand against them when they come to justify or excuse themselves; but rather both when ourselves have saulted, oftentimes to prevent their anger by excuse, making or ask for givenesse, and also by pardoning them before they come to excuse if we have been wronged by them. And therefore Euclides that great scholar of Socrates is much renowned and famous in all schools of Philosophy, for that when he heard his brother break out into these beastly and wicked words against him, The soul ill take me if I be not revenged and meet with thee; and a mischief come to me also (quoth he again) if I appease not thine anger, & persuade thee to love me as well as ever thou didst. But king Eumenes not in word but in deed & effect surpassed all others in meekness and patience: for Perseus' king of the Macedonians being his mortal enemy, had secretly addressed an ambush, and set certain men of purpose to murder him about Delphos, espying their time when they saw him going from the sea side to the said town for to consult with the oracle of Apollo: now when he was gone a little past the ambush, they began to assail him from behind, tumbling down and throwing mighty stones upon his head and neck, wherewith he was so astonished that his sight failed, and he fell withal, in that manner as he was taken for dead: now the rumour hereof ran into all parts, insomuch as certain of his servitors and friends made speed to the city Pergamus, reporting the tidings of this occurrent, as if they had been present and seen all done; whereupon Attalus the eldest brother next unto himself, an honest and kind hearted man, one also who always had carried himself most faithfully and loyally unto Eumenes, was not only declared king, and crowned with the royal diadem; but that which more is, espoused and married Queen Stratonice his said brother's wife, and lay with her. But afterwards, when counter-newes came that Eumenes was alive and coming homeward again, Attalus laid aside his diadem, and taking a partisan or javelin in his hand (as his manner before time was) with other pensioners and squires of the body, he went to meet his brother: king Eumenes received him right graciously, took him lovingly by the hand, embraced the Queen with all honour, and of a princely and magnanimous spirit put up all; yea and when he had lived a long time after without any complaint, suspicion, and jealousy at all, in the end at his death made over and assigned both the crown and the Queen his wife unto his brother the aforesaid Attalus: and what did Attalus now after his brother's decease? he would not foster and bring up (as heir apparent) so much as one child that he had by Stratonice his wife, although she bore unto him many; but he nourished and carefully cherished the son of his brother departed, until he was come to full age, and then himself in his life time with his own hands set the imperial diadem and royal crown upon his head, and proclaimed him king. But Cambyses chose frighted upon a vain dream which he had; That his brother was come to usurp the kingdom of Asia, without expecting any proof or presumption thereof, put him to death for it; by occasion whereof, the succession in the empire went out of the race of Cyrus upon his decease, and was devolved upon the line of Darius who reigned after him; a Prince who knew how to communicate the government of his affairs, and his regal authority, not only with his brethren, but also with his friends.  
Moreover, this one point more is to be remembered & observed diligently in all variances and debates that are risen between brethren: namely, then especially, and more than at any time else, to converse and keep company with their friends; and on the other side to avoid their enemies and evill-willers, and not to be willing so much as to vouchsafe them any speech or entertainment. Following herein the fashion of the Candiots, who being oftentimes fallen out and in civil dissension among themselves, yea and warring hot one with another, no sooner hear news of foreign enemies coming against them, but they rank themselves, banding jointly together against them; and this combination is that, which thereupon is called Syncretesmos. For some there be, that (like as water runneth always to the lower ground, and to places that chink or cleave asunder) are ready to side with those brethren or friends that be fallen out, and by their suggestions buzzed into their cares, ruinated and overthrow all acquaintance, kindred and amity, hating indeed both parties, but seeming to bear rather upon the weaker side, and to settle upon him, who of imbecility soon yieldeth and giveth place. And verily those that be simple and harmless friends, such as commonly young folk are, apply themselves commonly to him that affecteth a brother, helping & increasing that love what he may; but the most malicious enemies are they, who espying when one brother is angry or fallen out with another, seem to be angry and offended together with him for company; and these do most hurt of all others. Like as the hen therefore in Aesop answered unto the cat, making semblance as though he heard her say she was sick, and therefore in kindness and love ask how she did? I am well enough (quoth she) I thank you, so that you were farther off; even so, unto such a man as is inquisitive and entereth into talk as touching the debate of brethren to sound and search into some secrets between them, one ought to answer thus: Surely there would be no quarrel between my brother and me, if neither I nor he would give care to carrie-tales and pickthanks between us. But now it cometh to pass (I wot not how) that when our eyes be sore and in pain, we turn away our sight from those bodies and colours which make no reverberation or repercussion back again upon it, but when we have some complaint and quarrel, or conceive anger or suspicion against our brethren, we take pleasure to hear those that make all worse, and are apt enough to take any colour and infection, presented to us by them, where it were more needful and expedient at such a time to avoid their enemies and evil willers, and to keep ourselves out of the way from them; and chose to converse with their allies, familiars and friends; and with them to bear company especially, yea and to enter into their own houses for to complain and blame them before their very wives frankly and with liberty of speech. And yet it is a common saying, That brethren when they walk together, should not so much as let a stone to be betwixt them; nay they are discontented and displeased in mind, in case a dog chance to run overthwart them; and a number of such other things they fear, whereof there is not one able to make any breach or division between brethren; but in the mean while, they perceive not how they receive into the mids of them, and suffer to traverse and cross them, men of a currish and dogged nature, who can do nothing else but bark between, and sow false rumours and calumniations between one and another, for to provoke them to jar and fall together by the ears: and therefore to great reason and very well to this purpose said Theophrastus; That if all things (according to the old proverb) should be common among friends, than most of all they ought to entertain friends in common; for private familiarities and acquaintances apart one from another, are great means to disjoin and turn away their hearts; for if they fall to love others, and make choice of other familiar friends, it must needs follow by consequence to take pleasure and delight in other companies, to esteem and affect others, yea and to suffer themselves to be ruled and led by others. For friendships and amities frame the natures and dispositions of men; neither is there a more certain and assured sign of different humours and diverse natures, than the choice & election of different friends, in such sort as neither to eat and drink, not to play, not to pass and spend whole days together in good fellowship and company, is so effectual to hold and maintain the concord and good will of brethren, as to hate and love the same persons; to joy in the same acquaintance; and chose to abhor and shun the same company; for when brethren have friends common between them, the said friends will never suffer any surmises, calumniations & quarrels to grow between; and say that peradventure there do arise some sudden heat of choler or grudging fit of complaint, presently it is cooled, quenched, and suppressed by the mediation of common friends; for ready they will be to take up the quarrel and scatter it so as it shall vanish away to nothing if they be indifferently affectionate to them both, and that their love incline no more to the one side than to the other: for like as tin-soder doth knit and rejoin a cracked piece of brass, in touching and taking hold of both sides and edges of the broken pieces, for that it agreeth and fort as well to the one as to the other, and suffereth from them both alike; even so ought a friend to be fitted and suitable indifferently unto both brethren, if he would knit surely, and confirm strongly their mutual benevolence and good will. But such as are unequal, and cannot intermeddle and go between the one as well as the other, make a separation and disjunction, and not a sound joint, like as certain notes or discords in music. And therefore it may well be doubted and question made whether Hesiodus did well or no when he said, 
Make not a fear I thee advise  
Thy brother's peer in any wise.  For a discreet and sober companion common to both (as I said) before, or rather incorporate (as it were) into them, shall ever be a sure knot to fasten brotherly love. But Hesiodus (as it should seem) meant and feared this in the ordinary and vulgar sort of men, who are many of them nought, by reason that so customably they be given to jealousy and suspicion, yea and to self-love which if we consider and observe, it is well; but with this regard always, that although a man yield equal good will unto a friend as unto a brother; yet nevertheless in case of concurrence, he ought to reserve ever the pre-eminence and first place for his brother, whether it be in preferring him in any election of Magistrates, or to the managing of State affairs; or in bidding and inviting him to a solemn feast, or public assembly to consult and debate of weighty causes; or in recommending him to princes & great lords. For in such cases which in the common opinion of the world are reputed matters of honour and credit, a man ought to render the dignity, honour, and reward, which is beseeming and due to blood by the course of nature. For in these things the advantage and prerogative will not purchase so much glory and reputation to a friend, as the repulse and putting-by, bring disgrace, discredit and dishonour unto a brother. Well, as touching this old said saw and sentence of Hestodus, I have treated more at large elsewhere; but the sententious saying of Menander full wisely set down in these words: 
No man who loves another, shall you see  
Well pleased, himself neglected for to be.  putteth us in mind and teacheth us to have good regard and care of our brethren, and not to presume so much upon the obligation of nature, as to despise them. For the horse is a beast by nature loving to a man, and the dog loves his master; but in case you never think upon them, nor see unto them (as you ought) they will forego that kind affection, estrange themselves & take no knowledge of you. The body also is most necrely knit and united to the soul by the greatest bond of nature that can be; but in case it be neglected and contemned by her, or not cherrished so tenderly as it looketh to be, unwilling shall you see it to help and assist her, nay full untowardly will it execute, or rather give over it will altogether every action. Now to come more near and to particularise upon this point, honest and good is that care and diligence which is employed and showed to thy brethren themselves alone; but better it would be far, if thy love and kind affections be extended as far as to their wife's fathers and daughters husbands, by carrying a friendly mind and ready will to pleasure them likewise, and to do for them in all their occasions; if they be courteous and affable in saluting their servants, such especially as they love and favour; thankful and beholding to their Physicians who had them in cure during sickness and were diligent about them; acknowledging themselves bound unto their faithful and trusty friends, or to such as were willing and forward to take such part as they did in any long voyage and expedition, or to bear them company in warfare. And as for the wedded wife of a brother whom he is to reverence, repute and honour no less than a most sacred and holy relic or monument, if at any time he happen to see her, it will be come him to speak all honour and good of her husband before her; or to be offended and complain (as well as she) of her husband, if he set not that store by her as he ought, and when she is angered to appease and still her. Say also that she have done some light fault, and offended her husband, to reconcile him again unto her and entreat him to be content and to pardon her; and likewise if there be some particular and private cause of difference between him and his brother, to acquaint the wife therewith, and by her means to complain thereof, that she may take up the matter by composition and end the quarrel.  
Lives thy brother a bachelor and hath no children? thou oughtest in good earnest to be angry with him for it, to solicit him to marriage, yea with chiding, rating, and by all means urge him to leave this single life, and by entering into wedlock to be linked in lawful alliance and affinity: hath he children? then you are to show your good will and affection more manifestly, as well toward him as his wife, in honouring him more than ever before, in loving his children as if they were your own, yea and showing yourself more indulgent, kind and affable unto them; that if it chance they do faults and shrewd turns (as little ones are wont) they run not away, nor retire into some blind and solitary corner for fear of father and mother, or by that means light into some light, unhappy and ungracious company, but may have recourse & refuge unto their uncle, where they may be admonished lovingly, and find an intercessor to make their excuse & get their pardon. Thus Plato reclaimed his brother's son or nephew Spensippus, from his loose life and dissolute riot, without doing any harm or giving him foul words, but by winning him with fair and gentle language (whereas his father and mother did nothing but rate and cry upon him continually, which caused him to run away and keep out of their sight) he imprinted in his heart a great reverence of him, and a fervent zeal to imitate him, and to set his mind to the study of Philosophy, notwithstanding many of his friends thought hardly of him and blamed him not a little, for that he took not another course with the untoward youth, namely, to rebuke, check, and chastise him sharply: but this was evermore his answer unto them: That he reproved and took him down sufficiently, by showing unto him by his own life and carriage, what difference there was between vice and virtue, between things honest and dishonest. Alenas' sometime King of Thessaly, was hardly used and overawed by his father, for that he was insolent, proud, and violent withal; but chose, his uncle by the father's side, would give him entertainment, bear him out and make much of him: Now when upon a time the Thessalians sent unto Delphos certain lots, to know by the oracle of god Apollo who should be their king? The foresaid uncle of Alenas' unwitting to his brother, put in one for him: Then Pythia the Prophetess gave answer from Apollo and pronounced, That Alenas' should be king: The father of Alenas' denied, and said that he had cast in no lot for him; and it seemed unto every man that there was some error in writing of those bills or names for the lottery; whereupon new messengers were dispatched to the Oracle for to clear this doubt; and than Pythia in confirmation of the former choice, answered: 
I mean that youth with radish hear,  
Whom dame Archedice in womb did bear.  Thus Alenas' declared and elected king of Thessaly, by the oracle of Apollo, and by the means withal of his father's brother, both proved himself afterward a most noble prince, excelling all his progenitors and predecessors, and also raised the whole nation and his country a great name and mighty puissance.  
Furthermore, it is seemly and convenient by joying and taking a glory in the advancement, prosperity, honours and dignities of brother's children, to augment the same, and to encourage and animate them to virtue, and when they do well, to praise them to the full. Haply it might be thought an odious and unseemly thing for a man to commend much his own son, but surely to praise a brother's son is an honourable thing, and since it proceedeth not from the love of a man's self, it can not be thought but right, honest, and (in truth) 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 divine 〈◊〉 an uncle.  divine: for surely me thinks the very name itself (of Uncle) is sufficient to draw brethren to affect & love dearly one another, and so consequently their nephews: and thus we ought to propose unto ourselves, for to imitate the better sort, & such as have been immortalised & deified in times past: for so Hercules notwithstanding he had 70 sons within twain of his own, yet he loved jolaus his brother's son no less than any of them; insomuch as even at this day in most places there is but one altar erected for him and his said nephew together, and men pray jointly unto Hercules and jolaus. Also when his brother Iphiclus was slain in that famous battle which was fought near Lacedaemon, he was so exceedingly displeased, and took such indignation thereat, that he departed out of Peloponnesus, and left the whole country. As for Leucothea, when her sister was dead, she nourished and brought up her child, and together with her, ranged it among the heavenly saints: whereupon the Roman dames even at this day, when they celebrate the feast of Leucothea (whom they name Matuta) carry in their arms and cherish tenderly their sister's children, and not their own.    

OF INTEMPERATE SPEECH OR GARRULITIE.  

The Summarie.  
THat which is commonly said, All extremities be nought, requireth otherwhiles an exposition, and namely, in that virtue which we call Temperance, one of the kinds or branches whereof, consisteth in the right use of the tongue, which is as much to say, as the skill and knowledge how to speak as it becometh: now the moderation of speech hath for the two extremes, Silence (a thing more often praiseworthy than reprochable) and Babble; against which, this Discourse is addressed. Considering then, that silence is an assured reward unto wise men, and opposite directly unto much prattling, and comely and seemly speech is in the mids, we call not silence a vice, but say, That a man never findeth harm by holding his peace. But as touching garrulity or Intemperate speech, the author showeth in the very beginning of his Treatise, that it is a malady incurable and against nature; for it doth frustrate the talkative person of his greatest desire, to wit, for to have audience and credit given him; also that it maketh a man inconsiderate, importune and malapert, ridiculous, mocked and hated, plunging him ordinarily into danger, as many events have proved by experience. For to discover this matter the better, he saith consequently: That the nature of virtuous men and those who have noble bringing up, is directly opposite unto that of long-tongued persons; and joining the reasons by which a man ought not to bewray his secret, together with those evils and inconveniences which curiosity & much babble do bring, and confirming all by fine similitudes and not able examples: afterwards, taking in hand again his former speech and argument, he compareth a traiter and busy talker together, to the end that all men should so much the rather detest the vice of garrulity: then he proceedeth immediately to discover and apply the remedies of this mischief, willing us, in the first place and generally to consider the calamities and miseries that much babbling causeth; as also the good & commodity which proceedeth of silence: which done, he discourseth of those particular remedies, which import thus much in effect: That a man ought to frame and accustom himself, either to be silent, or else to speak last; to avoid all hastiness in making his answer; to say nothing, but that which is either needful or civil; to shun and for bear those discourses which please us most, and wherein we may be scone overseen and proceed too far; to find busy praters occupied apart from them; to provide them the company of men who are of authority and aged; In sum, to consider whether that which a man hath said, be convement, meet and profitable, and nevertheless, to think always of this: That otherwhiles a man may repent of some words spoken, but never of keeping silence.   

OF INTEMPERATE speech or garrulity.  
AVery hard and troublesome cure it is that Philosophy hath undertaken, namely, To heal the disease of much prating; for that the medicine and remedy which she useth, be words that must be received by hearing; and these great talkers will abide to hear no man, for that they have all the words themselves, and talk continually; so that the first mischief of those who can not hold their tongue and keep silence, is this; That they neither can nor will give ear to another; insomuch as it is a wilful kind of deafness in men, who seem thereby to control nature, and complain of her, in that where she hath allowed them two ears, she hath given them but one tongue. If then Euripides said very well unto a foolish auditor of his, 
Power I wise words, and counsel what I can  
With all my skill, into a sottish man,  
unneath shall I be able him to fill,  
If hold and keep the same he never will.  a man may more truly and justly say unto (or rather of) a prating fellow, 
power I wise words, and counsel what I can  
With all my skill unto a sottish man,  
unneath I shall be able him to fill,  
In case receive the same he never will.  and in truth, more properly it may be said: That one poureth good advertisements about such an one and beside him rather, than into him, so long as he either speaketh unto him that listeneth not, or giveth no ear unto them that speak: for if a prattling fellow chance to hear some short and little tale, such is the nature of this disease called garrulity, that his hearing is but a kind of taking his wind new, to babble it forth again immediately, much more than it was, or like a whirlpool which whatsoever it taketh once, the same it sendeth up again very often with the vantage. Within the city Olympia there was a porch or gallery called Heptaphonos, for that from one voice by sundry reflections and reverberations it rendered seven echoes: but if some speech come to the ears of a babbler, and enter never so little in, by and by it resoundeth again on every side, 
And stirs the strings of secret heart within,  
Which should he still, and not be moved therein.  insomuch, as a man may well say: That the conducts and passages of their hearing reach not to the brain where their soul and mind is seated, but only to their tongue: by reason whereof, whereas in others, the words that be heard do rest in their understanding, in prattlers they void away and run out presently, and afterwards they go up and down like empty vessels, void of sense and full of sound. Well, as incurable as such seem to be, yet if it may be thought available to leave no experiment untried for to do such good, we may begin our cure, and say thus unto a busy prattler: 
Peace my good son, for Taciturnity  
Bring say with it much good commodity.  But among the rest, these be the two chief and principal, namely: To hear and to be heard; of which twain, our importunate talkers can attain neither the one nor the other, so unhappy they are as to be frustrate of that which they so much desire. As for other passions and maladies of the soul, namely, Avarice, Ambition, Love and Voluptuousness, they do all of them in some sort enjoy their desire; but the thing that troubleth and tormenteth these babbling fellows most, is this: That seeking for audience so much as they do, and nothing more, they can never meet with it, but every man shuneth their company, and flieth away as fast as his legs will carry him; for whether men be set together in a knot, sadly talking in their round chairs, or walking in company, let them espy one of these prattlers coming toward them, away they go every one, that a man would say the retreat were sounded, so quickly they retire. And like as when in some assembly if all be hushed on a sudden so as there is not a word, we use to say that Mercury is come among them; even so when a prating fool entereth into a place where friends are either set at the board to make merry, or otherwise met together in counsel, every man streightwaies is silent and holdeth his peace, as being unwilling to minister occasion unto him of talk; but if himself begin first to open his lips, up they rise all and are soon gone, as mariners suspecting, & doubting by the whistling northern wind from the top of craggy rocks, and promontories, some rough sea, and fearing to be stomacke-sicke, retire betimes into a bay for harbour: whereby it cometh to pass also, that neither at a supper can he meet with guests willing to eat and drink with him, nor yet companions to lodge with him, either in journey by land, or voyage by sea, unless it be by constraint. For so importunate he is always, that one-while he is ready to hang upon a man's cloak wheresoever he goes, another while he takes hold on the side of his beard, as if he knocked at the door with his hand to force him to speak; in which case well fare a good pair of legs, for they are worth much money at such a time; as Archilochus was wont to say, yea and Aristotle also that wise Philosopher: for when upon a time he was much troubled with one of these busy praters, who haunted and wearied him out of measure with cavilling tales and many foolish and absurd discourses, iterating eftsoons these words; And is not this a wonderful thing Aristotle? No iwis (quoth he again) but this were a wonder rather, if a man that hath feet of his own should stand still and abide to hear you thus prate. Unto another also of the same stamp, who after much pritlte prattle and a long discourse, said thus unto him: I doubt I have been tedious unto you Philosopher with my many words; No in good sooth (quoth Aristotle unto him:) for I gave no ear at all unto you. For if otherwhiles men cannot shake such praters off, but must of necessity let their tongues walk, this benefit he hath by the soul, that she retireth inwardly all the while lending the outward ears only for them to beat upon, and dash as it were all about with their jangling bibble babble; for she in the mean time is otherwise occupied, and discourseth to herself of diverse matters within; by which means such fellows can meet with no hearers that take heed what they say, or believe their words. For as it is generally held, that the natural seed of such as are lecherous and much given to the company of women is unfruitful and of no force to engender; even so the talk of these great praters is vain, barren, and altogether fruitless. And yet there is no part or member of our body that nature hath so surely defended (as it were) with a strong rampar, as the tongue: for before it she hath set a pallaisado of sharp teeth, to the end that if peradventure it will not obey reason, which within holdeth it hard as with a strait bridle, but it will blatter out and not tarry within, we might bite it until it bleed again, and so restrain the intemperance thereof. For Euripides said not, that houses unbolted; 
But tongues and mouth's unbrid'led if they be  
Shall find in th'end mishap and miserte.  And those in my conceit who say that houses without doors, and purses without strings, serve their masters in no steed; and yet in the mean time, neither set hatch nor lock unto their mouths, but suffer them run out and overflow continually, like unto the mouth of the sea Pontus, these I say in mine opinion seem to make no other account of words than of the basest thing in the world whereby they are never believed (say what they will) and yet this is the proper end and scope that all speech tendeth to, namely to win credit with the hearers; and no man will ever believe these great talkers, no not when they speak the truth. For like as wheat if be it enclosed within some dank or moist vessel, doth swell and yield more in measure, but for use is found to be worse; even so it is with the talk of a prattling person; well may he multiply and augment it with lying, but by that means it loseth all the force of persuasion. Moreover what modest, civil, and honest man is there, who would not very carefully take heed of drunkenness? for anger (as some say) may well be ranged with rage & madness; and drunkenness doth lodge and dwell with her, or rather is 
* Irasuror brorn est.  madness itself, only in circumstance of time it may be counted less, for that it continueth less while, but surely in regard of the cause it is greater, for that it is voluntary, and we run wilfully into it, and without any constraint. Now there is no one thing for which drunkenness is so much blamed and accused as for intemperate speech and talk without end: for as the Poet saith, 
Wine makes a man who is both wise and grave  
To sing and chant, to laugh full wanton,  
It causeth him to dance, and eke to rave,  
And many things to do undecently.  for the greatest and worst matter that ensueth thereupon is not singing, laughing and dancing; there is another inconvenience in comparison whereof all these are nothing, and that is, 
To blurt abroad, and those words to reveal,  
Which better were within for to conceal.  This is (I say) the mischief most dangerous of all the rest: and it may be that the Poet covertly would assoil that question which the Philosophers have propounded and disputed upon; namely, what difference there might be, between liberal drinking of wine, and stark drunkenness? in attributing unto the former mirth and jocundnesse extraordinary, and to the latter much babbling and foolish prattle: for according to the common proverb, that which is seated in the heart and thought of a sober person, lieth aloft in the mouth and tongue of a drunkard. And therefore wisely answered the Philosopher Bias unto one of these jangling and prating companions: for when he seemed to mark him for sitting still, and saying nothing at a feast, insomuch as he gave him the lob and fool for it: And how is it possible (quoth he) that a fool should hold his peace at the table? There was upon a time a citizen of Athens who feasted the ambassadors of the king of Persia, and for that he perceived that these great Lords would take delight in the company of learned men and Philosophers, upon a brave mind that he carried, invited they were all & met there together: now when all the rest began to discourse in general, and every man seemed to put in some vie for himself, and to hold and maintain one theme or other, Zeno who sat among them was only silent and spoke not a word; whereupon the said Ambassadors and strangers of Persia began to be merry with him and to drink unto him round, saying in the end: And what shall we report of you Sir Zeno unto the King our master? Marry (quoth he) no more but this, that there is an ancient man at Athens who can sit at the board and say nothing. Thus you see that silence argueth deep and profound wisdom; it implieth sobriety, and is a mystical secret and divine virtue; whereas drunkenness is talkative, full of words, void of sense and reason; and indeed thereupon multiplieth so many words, and is ever jangling. And in truth the Philosophers themselves when they define drunkenness say: That it is a kind of raving and speaking idly at the table upon drinking too much wine; whereby it is evident, that they do not simply condemn drinking, so that a man keep himself within the bounds of modesty and silence; but it is excessive and foolish talk, that of drinking wine maketh drunkenness. Thus the drunkard raveth and talketh idly when he is cupshotten at the board; but the prattler and man of many words doth it always and in every place, in the market and common hall, at the theatre, in the public galleries and walking places, by day and by night. If he be a physician and visit his patient, certes he is more grievous, and doth more hurt in his cure than the malady itself; if he be a passenger with others in a ship, all the company had rather be seasick than hear him prate; if he set to praise thee, thou wert better to be dispraised by another; and in a word, a man shall have more pleasure and delight to converse and commune with lewd persons so they be discrect in their speech, than with others that be busy talkers, though otherwise they be good honest men. True it is indeed that old Nestor in a tragedy of Sophocles speaking unto Ajax (who overshot himself in some hot and hasty words) for to appease and pacify him, saith thus after a mild and gracious manner, 
I blame not you sir Ajax for your speech  
nought though it be, your deeds are nothing leech.  But surely we are not so well affected unto a vaine-prating fellow; for his importunate and unseasonable words, mar all his good works, and make them to lose their grace. Lysias upon a time, at the request of one who had a cause to plead unto at the bar, penned an oration for his purpose and gave it him. The party after he had read and read it over again, came unto Lysias heavy and ill-appaied saying; The first time that I perused your oration, me thought it was excellently well written, and I wondered at it; but when I took it a second and third time in hand, it seemed very simply indited & carried no forcible and effectual style with it: Why (quoth Lysias, and smiled withal) know you not that you are to pronounce it but once before the judges? and yet see & mark withal the persuasive eloquence and sweet grace that is in the writing of Lysias, for I may be bold to say and affirm of him, that 
The Muses with their broided violet hair,  
Graced him with favour much and beauty fair.  And among those singular commendations that are given out of any Poet; most true it is that Homer is he alone of all that ever were, who overcame all satiety of the reader; seeming evermore new and fresh, flourishing always in the prime of lovely grace, and appearing young still and amiable to win favour; howbeit in speaking and professing thus much of himself, 
It grieves me much for to rechearse again  
Atale that once delivered hath been plain.  He showeth sufficiently that he avoideth what he can, and feareth that tedious satiety which followeth hard at heels, & layeth wait (as it were) unto all long trains of speech; in which regard he leadeth the reader & hearer of his Poems from one discourse & narration to another, and evermore with novelties doth so refresh and recreate him, that he thinketh he hath never enough; whereas our long-tongued chatterers do after a sort wound and weary the ears of their hearers by their tautologies and vain repetitions of the same thing as they that soil and flourry writing tables when they be fair scoured and cleansed: and therefore let us set this first and foremost before their eyes, that like as they who force men to drink wine out of measure and undelaied with water, are the cause that the good blessing which was given us to rejoice our hearts and make us pleasant and merry, driveth some into sadness, and others into drunkenness and violence; even so they that beyond all reason and to no purpose use their speech (which is a thing otherwise counted the most delightsome and amiable means of conference and society that men have together) cause it to be inhuman and unsociable, displeasing those whom they thought to please, making them to be mocked at their hands, of whom they looked to be well esteemed, and to have their evil will and displeasure, whose love and amity they made reckoning of. And even as he by good right may be esteemed uncourteous and altogether uncivil, who with the girdle and ussue of Venus, wherein are allsorts of kind and amiable allurements, should repel and drive from him as many as desire his company; so he that with his speech maketh others heavy and himself hateful, may well be held and reputed for a graceless man and of no bringing up in the world. As for other passions and maladies of the mind, some are dangerous, others odious, and some again ridiculous and exposed to mockery; but garrulity is subject unto all these inconveniences at once. For such folk as are noted for their lavish tongue, are a mere laughing stock, and in every common and ordinary report of theirs, they minister occasion of laughter; hated they be for their relation of ill news, and in danger they are because they cannot conceal and keep close their own secrets: hereupon Anacharsis being invited one day & feasted by Solon, was reputed wise, for that being asleep he was found and seen holding his right hand to his mouth, and his left upon his privities and natural parts: for good reason he had to think, that the tongue required and needed the stronger bridle and bit to restrain it: and in very truth it were a hard matter to reckon so many persons undone and overthrown by their intemperate and loose life, as there have been cities and mighty States ruinated and subverted utterly, by the revealing and opening of some secrets. It fortuned that while Sylla did inleaguer before the city of Athens, and had not leisure to stay there long and continue the siege, by reason of other affairs and troubles pressed him sore, for of one side king Mithridates invaded and harmed Asia, and on the other side the faction of Marius gathered strength; and having gotten head, prevailed much within Rome: certain old fellows being met in a barbers shop within the city of Athens, who were blabs of their tongues, clattered it out in their talk together, that a certain quarter of the city named Heptacalchon was not sufficiently guarded, and therefore the town in danger to be surprised by that part; which talk of theirs was overheard by certain espies, who advertised Sylla so much; whereupon immediately he brought all his forces to that side, and about midnight gave an hot assault, made entry and went within a very little of forcing the city, and being master of it all, for he filled the whole street called Ceramicum with slaughter and dead carcases, insomuch as the channels ran down with blood. Now was he cruelly bend against the Athenians more for their hard language which they gave him than for any offence or injury otherwise that they did unto him, for they had flouted and mocked Sylla, together with his wife Metella; and for that purpose they would get upon the walls and say; Sylla is a Sycamoore or Mulberry, bestrewed all over with dusty-meale; besides many other such foolish gibes and taunts; and so for the lightest thing in the world (as Plato saith) to wit, words which are but wind, they brought upon their heads a most heavy and grievous penalty. The garrulity and overmuch talk of one man, was the only hindrance that the city of Rome was not set free and delivered from the tyranny of Nero. For there was but one night between the time that Nero should have been murdered on the morrow, and all things were ready and prepared for the purpose: but he who had undertaken the execution of that feat, as he went toward the Theatre, espied one of those persons who were condemned to die, bound and pinioned at the prison door, and ready to be led and brought before Nero; who hearing him to make piteous moan and lamenting his miserable fortune, steps to him and rounding him softly in the ear: Pray to God poor man (quoth he) that this one day may pass over thy head, and that thou die not to day, for to morrow thou shalt con me thanks. The poor prisoner taking hold presently of this enigmatical and dark speech, and thinking (as I suppose) that one bird in hand is better than two in bush, and according to the common saying, that 
A fool is he who leaving that which ready is and sure,  
Doth follow after things that be unready and unsure.  made choice of saving his life by the surer way, rather than by the juster means; for he discovered unto Nero that which the man had whispered secretly unto him: whereupon presently the party was apprehended and carried away to the place of torture, where by racking, scorching and scourging; he was urged miserable wretch, to confess and speak out that perforce, which of himself he had revealed without any constraint at all. Zeno the Philosopher fearing that when his body was put to dolorous and horrible torments, he should be forced even against his will to bewray and disclose some secret plot; bitoff his tongue with his own teeth and spit it in the Tyrant's face. Notable is the example of Leaena, and the reward which she had for containing and ruling her tongue is singular. An harlot she was and very familiar with Harmodius and Aristogiton; by means of which inward acquaintance, privy she was and party as far forth as a woman might be to that conspiracy which they had complotted against the usurping tyrants of Athens, and the hopes that they builded upon (Drunk she had out of that fair cup of Love, and thereby vowed never to reveal the secrets of god Cupid.) Now after that these two paramours and lovers of hers had failed of their enterprise and were put to death; she was called into question and put to torture, and therewith commanded to declare the rest of the complices in that conspiracy, who as yet were unknowen and not brought to light: but so constant and resolute she was, that she would not detect so much as one, but endured all pains and extremities whatsoever; whereby she showed that those two young gentlemen had done nothing unfitting their persons and nobility, in making choice to be enamoured of her. In regard of which rare secrecy of hers, the Athenians caused a Lioness to be made of brass without a tongue, and the same in memorial of her to be erected and set up at the very gate and entry of their Citadel; giving posterity to understand by the generosity of that beast, what an undanuted and invincible heart she had; and likewise of what taciturnity and trust in keeping secrets, by making it tongueless: and to say a truth, never any word spoken served to so good stead as many concealed and held in, have profited. For why? A man may one time or other utter that which he once kept in; but being spoken, it cannot possibly be recalled and unsaid, for out it is gone already and spread abroad sundry ways. And hereupon it is (I suppose) that we have men to teach us for to speak, but we learn of the gods to hold our peace. For in sacrifices, religious mysteries, and ceremonies of divine service we receive by tradition, a custom to keep silence. And even so, the Poet Homer feigned Ulysses (Whose eloquence otherwise was so sweet) to be of all men most silent and of sewest words; his son likewise, his wife and nurse, whom you may hear thus speaking: 
As soon shall stock of sturdy oak it tell,  
Or iron so strong, as I will it reveal.  And Ulysses himself sitting by Penelope, before he would be known unto her who he was, 
Grieved in his mind, and pitted to behold  
His wife by tears to show what heart did feel,  
But all the while his eyes he stiff did hold,  
Which stirred no more than horn or sturdy steel.  so full was his tongue of patience, and his lips of continence. For why? reason had all the parts of his body so obeisant and ready at command, that it gave order to the eyes not to shed tears; to the tongue not to utter a word; to the heart not to pant or tremble, nor so much as to sob or sigh: 
Thus unto reason obeisant was his heart,  
Persuaded all to take in better part.  yea his reason had gotten the mastery of those inward and secret motions which are void and incapable of reason, as having under her hand the very blood and vital spirits in all obeisance: his people also and train about him were for the most part of that disposition; for what wanted this of constancy & loyalty to their lord in the highest degree, to suffer themselves to be pulled & haled, to be tugged & tossed, yea & dashed against the hard ground under foot by the giant Cyclops, rather than to utter one word against Ulysses, or to bewray that log of wood which was burnt at the one end, & an instrument made ready for to put out his only eye that he had? nay they endured rather to be eaten & devoured raw by him, than to disclose any of Ulysses his secrets. Pittacus therefore did not amiss, who when the King of Egypt had sent unto him abeast for sacrifice, and willed him withal to take out and lay apart the best and worst piece thereof, plucked out the tongue and sent it unto him, as being the organ of many good things, and no less instrument of the worst that be in the world. And Lady Ino in Euripides speaking freely of herself, saith that she knew the time, 
When that she ought her tongue to hold,  
And when to speak she might be hold.  For certainly those who have had noble and princely bringing up in deed, learn first to keep silence, and afterwards how to speak. And therefore king Antigonus the great, when his son upon a time asked him, When they should dislodge and break up the camp: What son (quoth he) art thou alone afraid, that when the time comes thou shalt not hear the trumpet sound the remove? Lo, how he would not trust him with a word of secrecy, unto whom he was to leave his kingdom in succession! teaching him thereby, that he also another day should in such cases be wary and spare his speech. Old Metellus likewise, being asked such another secret as touching the army and setting forward of some expedition: If I wist (quoth he) that my shirt which is next my skin, knew this my inward intent and secret purpose, I would put it off and fling it into the fire. King Eumenes, being advertised that Craterus was coming against him with his forces, kept it to himself, and would not acquaint any of his nearest friends therewith, but made semblance and gave it out (though untruly) that it was Neoptolemus who had the leading of that power; for him did his soldiers contemn and make no reckoning of, whereas the glory and renown of Craterus they had in admiration, and loved his virtue and valour: now when no man else but himself knew of Craterus his being in the field, they gave him battle, vanquished him, slew him before they were aware, neither took they knowledge of him before they found him dead on the ground. See how by a stratagem of secrecy and silence the victory was archieved, only by concealing so hardy and terrible an enemy; insomuch, as his very friends about him admired more his wisdom in keeping this secret from them, than complained of his diffidence and distrust of them. And say that a man should complain of thee in such a case, better it were yet to be challenged and blamed for distrusting, all the while thou remainest safe and obtain a victory by that means, than to be justly accused after an overthrow, for being so open and trusting so easily. Moreover, how darest thou confidently and boldly blame and reprove another for not keeping that secret, which thou thyself hast revealed? for if it was behoveful and expedient that it should not be known, why hast thou told it to another? but in case when thou hast let fly a secret from thyself unto a man, thou wouldst have him to hold it in, and not blurt it out, surely it can not be but thou hast berter confidence in another than thyself: now if he be like thyself, who will pity thee if thou come by a mischief? is he better, and so by that means saveth thee harmless beyond all reason and ordinary course? then hast thou met with one more faithful to thee than thou art thyself: but haply thou wilt say: He is my very friend; so hath he another friend (be sure) whom he will do as much for, and disclose the same secret unto, and that friend (no doubt) hath another. Thus one word will get more still, it will grow and multiply by a suit and sequence linked & hanging to an intemperate tongue: for like as Unity, so long as she passeth not her bounds, but continueth and remaineth still in herself, is one and no more, in which respect she is called in Greek, Monas, that is to say, Alone; whereas the number of twain is the beginning of a diversity (as it were) and difference, and therefore indefinite; for straightways is Unity passed forth of itself by doubling, and so turneth to a plurality; even so a word or speech all the while it abideth enclosed in him who first knew it, is truly and properly called a Secret, but after it is once gotten forth and set a going, so that it is come unto another, it beginneth to take the name of a common brute and rumour: for as the Poet very well saith; Words have wings. A bird, if she be let fly once out of our hands, it is much ado to catch again, and even so, when a word hath passed out of a man's mouth, hardly or unneath may we withhold or recover; for it flieth amain, it flappeth her light wings, fetching many a round compass, and spreadeth every way from one quarter to another: well may mariners stay a ship with cables and anchors, when the violence of the wind is ready to drive and carry her an end, or at leastwise they may moderate her swift & flight course; but if a word be issued out of the mouth, as out of her haven, and have gotten sea-room, there is no bay nor harbour to ride in, there is no casting of anchor will serve the turn, away she goes with a mighty noise and hurry, until in the end she runs upon some rock and is split, or else into a great and deep gulf, to the present danger of him who set her forth; 
For in small time, and with a little spark  
Of fire, a man may burn the for rest tall  
Of Ida mount; even so (who list to mark)  
All town will hear, a word to one let fall.   
The Senate of Rome upon a time sat in sad and serious counsel many days together, about a matter of great secrecy: now the thing being so much the more suspected and harkened after, as it was less apparent and known abroad; a certain Roman dame, otherwise a good sober and wise matron (howbeit a woman) importuned her husband and instantly besought him, of all loves to tell her what this secret matter might be upon which they did sit so close in consultation? protesting with many an oath and execrable curse to keep silence and not to utter it to any creature in the world; you must think also, that she had tears at command, lamenting and complaining withal, what an unhappy woman she was, in case her husband would not trust her so much as with a word: the Roman Senator her husband minding to try and reprove her folly: Thou hast overcome me (sweet heart, quoth he) and through thine importunity, thou shalt hear of a strange and terrible occurrent that troubleth us all. So it is, that we are advertised by our Priests, that there hath been a lark of late seen flying in the air, with a golden cop or crest on her head in manner of an helmet, and withal, bearing a javelin: hereupon we do confer and consult with our soothsayers and Diviners, desirous to be certified out of their learning, whether this prodigious token portend good or hurt to the Commonweal? but keep it to thyself (as thou lovest me) and tell it no body. When he had thus said, he went forth toward the Common hall and Market place: his wife incontinently had no sooner spied one of her waiting maidens coming into the room, but she drew her apart, begun to beat and knock her own breast, to rend and tear the hair off her head, and therewith: Ah, woe's me (quoth she) for my poor husband, my sweet native country; alas and welladay, what shall we do, and what will become of us all; as if she taught her maid and were desirous that she should say thus unto her again: Why, what is the matter mistress? Now when the maiden thereupon asked her, What news? she set tale an end and told all, marry she forgot not the common and ordinary burden or clause, that all blabs of their tongue use to come in with: But in any case (quoth she) say nothing, but keep it to thyself. Scarce was she gone out of her mistress sight, but seeing one of her fellows whom she found most at leisure and doing little or nothing, to her she imparted all. That wench again made no more ado, but to her lover she goes, who haply then was come to visit her, and telleth him as much. By this means the tale was bruited abroad, and passed roundly from one to another; insomuch as the rumour thereof was run into the market place, and there went currant before the first author, and deviset thereof himself was gotten thither. For there meets with him one of his familiars and friends: How now (quoth he) are you come but now directly from your house to the market place: No (quoth he again) I am but newly come: Why then belike (saith the other) you have heard no news? News (quoth he) what news should I hear? and what tidings can you tell me off? Why man (answered he again) there hath been of late a Lark seen flying with a golden cop or crest on her head, and carrying beside a javelin; and the Consuls with other Magistrates are ready to call a Senate house for to sit upon this strange occurrent. With that the Senator beforesaid, turning aside & smiling, thus said to himself: Well done wife, I con thee thank for thy quickness & celerity, thou hast quit thyself well indeed, that the word which erewhile I uttered unto thee, is gotten before me into the market place. Well, the first thing that he did was this, To the Magistrates he went straightways, signified unto them the occasion of this speech, and freed them from all fear and trouble: but when he was come home to his own house he fell in hand to chastise his wife: How now Dame (quoth he) how is this come to pass; you have undone me for ever; for it is found and known for a truth, that this secret and matter of counsel which I imparted to you, is divulged and published abroad, and that out of my house: and thus your unbridled tongue is the cause that I must abandon and fly my country, and forthwith depart into exile. Now when at the first she would have senied the thing stoutly, and alleged for her excuse and defence, saying: Are not there three hundred Senators besides yourself, who heard it as well as you? No marvel then if it be known abroad. What tell you me of three hundred (quoth he?) Upon your importunate instance, I devised it of mine own head, in mirth to try your silence, and whether you could keep counsel. Certes, this Senator was a wise man and went safely and warily to work, who to make proof of his wife, whom he took to be no sounder nor surer than a cracked and rotten vessel, would not pour into it either wine or oil, but water only, to see if it would leak & run out. But Fulvius one of the favourites & minions of Augustus the Emperor, when he was now well stepped in years, having heard 〈◊〉 toward his latter days, lamenting and bewailing the desolate estate of his house, in that he had no children of his own body begotten; and that of his three nephews or sisters children two were dead, and Posthumius (who only remained alive) upon an imputation there upon him confined, and living in banishment, whereupon he was enforced to bring in his wife's son, and declare him heir apparent to succeed him in the Empire: notwithstanding upon a tender compassion, he was otherwhiles in deliberation with himself, and minded to recall his foresaid sister's son from exile, and the place whereunto he was confined. Fulvius (I say) being privy to these moans and designs of his, went home and told his wife all that he had heard. She could not hold but goes to the Empress Livia, wife of Augustus, and reported what her husband Fulvius had told her. Whereupon Livia taking great indignation, sharply did contest and expostulate with Caesar in these terms: That seeing it is so (quoth she) that you had so long before projected & determined such a thing, as to call home again your nephew aforesaid; why sent you not for him at the first, but exposed me to hatred, enmity & war with him, who another day should wear the Diadem and be Emperor after your decease? Well the next morning betimes, when Fulvius came, as his manner was, to salute Caesar and give him good morrow, after he had said unto him 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, God save you Caesar. He resaluted him no otherwise but this, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, God make you wise Fulvius. Fulvius soon found him and conceived presently what he meant thereby; whereupon he retired home to his house withal speed, and called for his wife; unto whom: Caesar (quoth he) is come to the knowledge that I have not kept his counsel nor concealed his secrets; and therefore I am resolved to make myself away with mine own hands. And well worthy (quoth she) for justly you have deserved death, who having lived so long with me, knew not the incontinence of my tongue all this while, nor would take heed and beware of it; but yet suffer me first to die upon your sword; and with that catching hold thereof, killed herself before her husband. And therefore Philippides the Comedian, did very wisely in his answer to King Lysimachus, who by way of all courtesy making much of him, and minding to do him honour, demanded of him thus: What wouldst thou have me to impart unto thee of all other treasure and riches that I have? What it shall please your Majesty (quoth he) my gracious Lord, so it be none of your secrets.  
Moreover, there is adjoined ordinarily unto garrulity, another vice no less than it; namely, Busie intermeddling and Curiosity, for men desire to hear and know much news, because they may report and blaze the same abroad, and especially if they be secrets. Thus go they up and down listening, inquiring and searching if they can find and discover some close and hidden speeches, adding as it were some old surcharge of odious matters to their toys and fooleries; which maketh them afterwards to be like unto little boys, who neither can hold ye in their hands, nor yet will let it go; or to say more truly, they clasp and contain in their bosoms secret speeches, resembling serplents, which they are not able to hold and keep long, but are eaten and gnawn by them. It is said that certain fishes called the Sea-needles, yea and the vipers do cleave and burst when they bring forth their young; and even so, secrets when they be let fall out of their mouths who can not contain them, undo and overthrow those that reveal them. King Seleucus (him I mean who was surnamed Callinicus, that is, the victorious Conqueror) in one battle against the Galatians, was defaited he and his whole power; whereupon he took from his head the Diadem or Royal band that he ware, and road away on the spur on horseback with three or four in his company, wandering through deserts and by ways unknowen so long, until both horse and man were done, and ready to faint for weatinesse: at length he came unto a country kearnes or peasant's cottage; and finding (by good fortune) the good man of the house within, asked for bread and water; which the said peasant or cottier gave unto him; and not that only, but look what the field would asoord else beside, he imparted unto him and his company with a willing heart and in great plenty, making them the best cheer that he could devise: in the end he knew the king's face, whereupon he took such joy, in that his hap was to entertain the king in his necessity, that he could not contain himself, nor second the king dissembling his knowledge, who desired nothing more, than to be unknowen: when he had therefore brought the king onward on his way, and was to take his leave of him: Adieu (quoth he) king Seleucus: with that the king reached forth his hand, and drew him toward him, as if he would have kissed him, & withal, beckoned to one of his followers, and gave him a secret token to take his sword and make the man shorter by the head. 
Thus whiles he spoke (I wot not what) his head  
Off goes, and lies in dust when he was dead.  whereas, if he could have held his tongue a little while longer, and mastered himself, when the king afterwards had better fortune and recovered his greatness and puissance, he should in my conceit have gotten more thanks at his hands, and been better rewarded for keeping silence, than for all the courtesy and hospitality that he showed. And yet this fellow had in some sort a colourable excuse for this intemperate tongue of his, to wit, his own hopes and the good will that he bore unto the king: but the most part of these prattlers undo themselves without any cause or pretence at all of reason: like as it befell unto Denys the tyrant's barber: for when (upon a time) there were some talking in his shop as touching his tyrannical government and estate, how assured it was, and as hard to be ruined or overthrown, as it is to break the Diamond: the said barber laughing thereat: I marvel (quoth he) that you should say so of Denys, who is so often under my hands, and at whose throat in a manner every day I hold my razor: these words were soon carried to the tyrant Denys, who fair crucified this barber and hanged him for his foolish words. And to say a truth, all the sort of these barbers be commonly busy fellows with their tongue; and no marvel, for lightly the greatest praters and idlest persons in a country, frequent the barbers shop, and sit in his chair, where they keep such chat, that it can not be, but by hearing them prate so customably, his tongue also must walk with them. And therefore king Archelaus answered very pleasantly unto a barber of his, that was a man of no few words, who when he had cast his linen cloth about his shoulders, said unto him: Sir, may it please your Highness to tell me how I shall cut or shave you: Mary (quoth he) holding thy tongue, and saying not a word. A barber it was, who first reported in the city of Athens, the news of that great discomsiture and overthrow which the Athenians received in Sicily; for keeping his shop (as he did) in that end of the suburbs called Pyraeum, he had no sooner heard the said unlucky news of a certain slave who fled from thence out of the field, when it was lost, but leaving shop and all at six and seven, ran directly into the city, and never rested to bring the said tidings, and whiles they were fresh and firenew, 
For fear some else might all the honour win,  
And he teo late, or second, should come in.  Now upon the broaching of these unwelcome tidings, a man may well think (and not without good cause) that there was a great stir within the city; insomuch, as the people assembled together into the Market place or Common hall, and search was made for the author of this rumour: hereupon the said barber was haled and brought before the body of the people, and examined; who knew not so much as the name of the party of whom he heard this news; But well assured I am (quoth he) that one said so, mary who it was or what his name might be, I can not tell. Thus it was taken for an headless tale, and the whole Theatre or Assembly was so moved to anger, that they cried out with one voice; Away with the villain, have the varlet to the rack, set the knave upon the wheel, he it is only that hath made all on his own singers ends, this hath he and none but he devised; for who else hath heard it, or who besides him hath believed it? Well, the wheel was brought, and upon it was the barber stretched: mean while, and even as the poor wretch was hoist thereupon, behold there arrived and came to the city, those who brought certain news in deed of the said defeature, even they who made a shift to escape out of that infortunate field: then broke up the assembly, and every man departed and retired home to his own house, for to bewail his own private loss and calamity, leaving the silly barber lying along bound to the wheel, and racked out to the length, and there remained he until it was very late in the evening, at what time he was let loose; and no sooner was he at liberty, but he must needs inquire news of the executioner, & namely; what they heard abroad of the General himself Nicias, and in what sort he was slain? So inexpugnable and incorrigible a vice is this, gotten by custom of much talk, that a man can not leave it, though he were going to the gallows, nor keep in those tidings which no man is willing to hear: for certes, like as they who have drunk bitter potions or unsavoury medicines, can not away with the very cups where in they were; even so, they that bring evil and heavy tidings, are ordinarily hated and detested of those unto whom they report the same. And therefore Sophocles the Poet hath very finely distinguished upon this point in these verses: MESSENGER. 

Is it your heart, or else your ear,  
That this offends, which you do hear?   CREON. 

And why dost thou search my disease  
To know what grief doth me displease?   MESSENGER. 

His deeds (I see) offend your heart,  
But my words cause your ears to smart.   Well then, those who tell us any woeful news be as odious as they who work our woe; and yet for all that, there is no restraint and bridling of an untemperate tongue that is given to walk and overreach. It fortuned one day at Lacedaemon, that the temple of juno called there Chalciaecoes was robbed, and within it was found a certain empty flagon or stone bottle for wine: great running there was and concourse of the people thither, and men could not tell what to make of that flagon: at last one of them that stood by; My masters (quoth he) if you will give me leave, I shall tell you what my conceit is of that flagon, for my mind gives me (saith he) that these church-robbers who projected to execute so perilous an enterprise, had first drunk the juice of hemlock before they entered into the action, and afterwards brought wine with them in this bottle, to the end that if they were not surprised nor taken in the manner, they might save their lives by drinking each of them a good draft of mere wine; the nature and virtue whereof (as you know well enough) is to quench as it were and dissolve the vigour and strength of that poison, and so go their ways safe enough, but if it chance that they were taken in the deed doing, than they might by means of that hemlock which they had drunk die an easy death, and without any great pain and torment, before that they were put to torture by the magistrate. He had no sooner delivered this speech, but the whole company who heard his words, thought verily that such a contrived devise, and so deep a reach as this never came from one that suspected such a matter, but rather knew that it was so indeed; whereupon they flocked round about, and hemmed him in, and on every side each one had a saying unto him: And what art thou (quoth one?) From whence art thou saith another? Here comes one and asketh, who knew him? there sets upon him another, saying: And how comest thou by the light of all this that thou hast delivered? to be short, they handled the matter so well, that they forced him to bewray himself in the end, and to confess that he was one of them that committed the sacrilege. Were not they also who murdered the Poet Ibycus, discovered and taken after the same manner? It happened that the said murderers were set at a Theatre to behold the plays and pastimes which were exhibited; and seeing a flight of Cranes over their heads, they whispered one to another: Lo these be they that will revenge the death of Ibycus. Now had not Ibycus been a long time before seen, and much search was made after him, because he was out of the way and miss; whereupon they that sat next unto these men overhearing those words of theirs, and well noting the speech, went directly to the Magistrastes and justices to give intelligence and information of their words. Then were they attached and examined; and thus being convicted, suffered punishment in the end, not by the means of those Cranes that they talked of, but surely by their own blab-tongues; as if some hellish fury had forced them to disclose that murder which they had committed. For like as in our bodies the members diseased and in pain, draw humours continually unto them, and all the corruption of the parts near unto them flow thither; even so, the tongue of a babbling fellow, being never without an Inflammtion and a seaverous pulse, draweth always and gathereth to it one secret and hidden thing or other. In which regard it ought to be well fenced with a rampar, and the bulwark of reason should evermore be set against it, which like unto a bar may stay and stop that overflowing and inconstant lubricity which it hath; that we be not more undiscreet and foolish beasts than geese are, who when they be to take a flight into Cilicia over the mountain Taurus, which is full of eagels, take up every one in their bill a good big stone, which serveth them in stead of a lock or bridle to restrain their gaggling; by which devise they may pass all night long without any noise, and not be heard at all or descried by the said eagles.  
Now if one should demand and ask of me, what person of all others is most mischievous and dangerous? I believe very well there is no man would name any other but a traitor. And yet Euthycrates (as saith Demosthenes) for his treason covered his own house with a rouse made of timber that he had out of Macedon. Philocrates also lived richly and gallant of that great mass of gold and silver, which he had of King Philip for betraying his country, and therewith furnished himself with brave harlots, gallant concubines, and dainty fishes. Euphor bius also and Philagrus who betrayed Eretria, were endowed by the King, with fair lands and possessions: but a prattler is a trasitor voluntary and for nothing, he demandeth no hire at all, neither looketh he to be solicited, but offereth himself and his service; nor betrayeth unto the enemies either horses or walls, but revealeth hidden secrets, and 〈◊〉 speeches which are to be concealed, whether it be in ju iciall matters of law or in seditious discords, or in managing of State affairs, it makes no matter, and no man conneth him thanks; nay he will think himself beholden to others, if they will vouchsafe to give him audience. And therefore, that which is commonly said to a prodigal person, who foolishly mis-spendeth and vainly wasteth his substance he cares not how, to gratify every man: Thou art not liberal; this is no courtesy; a vice it is rather that thou art disposed unto, thus to take pleasure in nothing, but giving and giving still. The same rebuke and reprehension serveth very fitly for a babbler: Thou art no friend nor well-willer of mine, thus to come and discover these things unto me; this is thy fault, and a disease which thou art sick of, that lovest to be clattering and hast no mind but of chatting.  
Now would I have the Reader to think that I write not all this, so much to accuse and blame the vice and malady of garrulity, as to cure and heal the same. For by judgement and exercise we surmount and overcome the vices and passions of the mind; but judgement, that is to say, knowledge, must go before: for no man accustometh himself to void, and (as it were) to weed them out of the soul, unless he hate and detest them first. Now then, and never before, begin we to take an hatred to vices, when by the light of reason we consider and weigh the shame and loss that cometh unto us by them: as for example, we know and see that these great praters, whiles they desire to win love, gain hatred; thinking to do a pleasure, they displease; looking to be well esteemed, are mocked and derided; they lay for lucre, and get nothing; they hurt their friends, aid their enemies, and undo themselves.  
So then, let this be the first receipt and medicine for to cure this malady; even the consideration and reckoning up of the shameful infamies and painful inconveniences that proceed and ensue thereof. The second remedy is, to take a survey of the contrary; that is to say, to hear always, to remember and have ready at hand the praises and commendations of silence, the majesty (I say) the mystical gravity and holiness of taciturnity, to represent always unto our mind and understanding, how much more admired, how much more loved, and how far wiser they are reputed, who speak roundly at once, and in few words, their mind pithily; who in a short and compendious speech comprehend more good matter and substance a great deal, than these great talkers, whose tongues are unbrideled and run at random. Those (I say) be they whom Plato so highly esteemeth, comparing them to skilful and well practised Archers and Darters, who have the feat of shooting arrows and lancing darts; for they know how and when to speak graciously and bitterly, sound, pithily and compactly. And verily, wise Lycurgus framed and exercised his citizens immedialy from their childhood by keeping them down at the first with silence to this short and sententious kind of speech, whereby they spoke always compendiously, and knit up much in a little. For like as they of Biskay or Celtiberia do make their steel of iron, by enterring it and letting it lie first within the ground, and then by purging and refining it from the gross, terrene and earthly substance that it hath; even so the Laconians speech hath no outward bark (as a man would say) or crust upon it, but when all the superfluity there of is taken away, it is steeled (as it were) and tempered, yea, and hath an edge upon it, fit for to work withal and to pierce: and verily that apophthegmaticall and powerful speech of theirs, that grace which they had to answer sententiously and with such gravity, together with a quick and ready gift to meet at every turn with all objections, they attained unto by nothing else but by their much silence. Wherefore, it were very expedient to set ever before the eyes of these great praters, those short and witty speedhes, that they may see what grace and gravity both, they have: as for example; The Lacedæmonians unto Philip, greeting: Dionysius in Corinth. Also another time, when Philip had written unto them to this effect: If I enter once into the confines of Laconia, I will destroy you utterly that you shall never rise again. They returned this answer again in writing: Alza; that is, If. Likewise when King Demetrius in great displeasure and indignation, cried out aloud in these words: The Lacedæmonians have sent unto me an ambassador alone, and who hath no fellow; meaning that there came but one: the said ambassador nothing daunted at his words, answered readily: One for one. Certes, they that used to speak short and sententiously, were highly esteemed long ago with our ancients & forefathers, And hereupon it was that the Amphyctiones; that is to say, the Deputies or States for the general counsel of all Greece, gave order, that there should be written over the door of the Temple of Apollo Pythius, not the Odysee or Ilias of Homer; ne yet the Canticles or Paeans of Pindarus; but these brief sentences: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, Know thyself. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, Too much of nothing. also 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, Be surety and make account to pay: so highly esteemed they a plain, simple and round manner of speaking, which comprised in few words much matter, and a sentence massy and sound: and no marvel, for Apollo himself loveth brevity, and is in his oracles very succinct and pithy; wherefore else is he surnamed Loxias? but because he chooseth rather to avoid plurality than obscurity of words. They also who without word uttered at all, signify the conceptions of their mind by certain symbolical devises, and after that manner deliver good lessons unto us; are they not sundry ways commended and admired exceedingly? Thus Heraclitus in times past, being requested by his neighbours and fellow-citizens, to make a sententious speech unto them, and deliver his opinion as touching civil unity and concord, mounted up into the pulpit, and taking a cup of cold water in his hand, bespiced it (as it were) with some meal, and with a sprig or two of the herb Penniroyall, shook all together: which done, he drank it off, and so came down and went his way: giving them by this demonstration, thus much to understand; that if men would take up with a little and be content with things at hand, without desiring costly superfluities, it were the next way to keep and preserve cities in peace and concord.  
Scylurus a King of the Scythians left behind him fourscore sons; and when the hour of his death drew near, he called for a bundle of darts or a sheaf of arrows to be brought unto him, which he put into his children's hands one after another, and willed each one to break and burst the same in pieces, bound as it was entire and whole together: which when they had assayed to do, and putting all their strength unto it, could not, but gave over: himself took out of the sheaf or knitch the darts aforesaid one by one, and knapped them in twain single as they were with facility: declaring by this devise, that so long as they held together, their union and agreement would be strong and invincible; but their discord and disunion would make them seeble, and be an occasion that they should not long continue. He then, that continually shall have these & such like precedents in his mouth, and ordinarily repeat and remember the same, will peradventure take no great pleasure and delight in idle and superfluous words. For mine own part, surely I am abashed mightily at the example of that domestical servant at Rome, when I consider with myself what a great matter it is to be well advised before a man speaketh, and constantly to hold and maintain the resolution of any purpose. Publius Piso the great Orator and Rhetorician, because he would provide that his people and servitors about him should not trouble his head with much prattle, gave order and commandment unto them, that they should make answer unto his demands only, and no more: now being minded one day to entertain Clodius the chief ruler of the city at his house, he bade him to supper, and caused him to be sent for and called at the time accordingly; for a stately and royal feast he had provided, by all likelihood, and as any man would think no less: now when supper time was come, the rest of the invited guests now present, Clodius only they stayed and looked for; mean while, Piso had sent out oftentimes unto him one of his servitors who was wont ordinarily to bid his guests for to see whether he were coming, or would come to supper or no? but when it grew late in the evening, so that there was no hope now that he would be there: Now sirrah (quoth Piso to his man aforesaid) didst thou not invite and bid him? Yes iwis Sir: Why then comes he not: said the master again? Forsooth (quoth he) because he denied to come: And why toldest thou not me this immediately? Because sir, you never asked me the question. Well this was a Roman servitor; but an Athenian servant I trow whiles he is digging and delving, will tell his master news, and namely, what be the articles and capitulations, in the treaty and composition of peace. So powerful and forcible is use and custom in all things, whereof I purpose now to treat; for that there is no bit nor bridle that is able to repress, tame, and keep in a talkative tongue, but it is custom that must do the deed and conquer this malady.  
First and foremost therefore, when in company there shall be any question propounded by them that are about thee, frame and use thyself to hold thy tongue and be silent, until thou see that every man else refuseth to speak and make answer: for according to Sophocles. 
To counsel and to run a course in race  
Have not both twain one end, to haste apace.  No more verily doth a voice and an answer shoot at the same mark that running aimeth at: for there, to wit, in a race, he winneth the prize that getreth to be foremost; but here, if another man have delivered a sufficient answer, it will be well enough, by praising and approving his speech, to gain the opinion and reputation of a courteous person; if not, then will it not be thought impertinent, neither can envy or hatred come of it, in case a man do gently show and open that wherein the other was ignorant, and so after a mild and civil manner supply the defect of the former answer: but above all, this regard would be had: That when a question or demand is addressed and directed unto another, we take it not upon ourselves; and so anticipate and prevent his answer; and peradventure, neither in this nor in any thing else, is it decent and commendable to offer and put forth ourselves too forward before we be required; and in this case, when another man is asked a question, our own intrusion, with the putting by of him is not seemly; for we may be thought (in so doing) both to injury and discredit the party demanded, as if he were not able to perform that which was put upon him, and also to reproach the demandant, as though he had little skill and discretion, to ask a thing of him who could not give the same: and that which more is, such malapert boldness and heady hastiness in rash answering, importeth (most of all) exceeding arrogancy and presumption; for it seemeth, that he who taketh the answer out of his mouth of whom the question is demanded, would say thus much in effect: What need have we of him? what can he say unto it? what skill or knowledge hath he? when I am in place, no man ought to ask any other of these matters, but myself only. And yet many times we propose questions unto some, not of any great desire that we have to hear their answers, but only because we would find talk, and minister occasion of discourse, seeking thereby to draw from them some words that may yield matter of mirth and pleasant conference: after which sort, Socrates used to provoke Theaetetus and Charmides. To prevent therefore the answer of another, to turn away men's ears, to divert their eyes, and draw their cogitations from him to ourselves, is as much as if we should run before and make haste to kiss one first, who was minded to be kissed of another, or to enforce him to look upon us, whose eyes were set and fixed upon another; considering, that although the party unto whom the demand was made, be either not able nor willing to make answer, it were be fitting for a man, after some little pause made, to present himself in all modesty and reverence, & then to frame & accommodate his speech as near unto that as may be, which he thinketh will content the mind of him that made the demand, and so answer (as it were) in the name of the other: for if they who are demanded a question, make no good & sufficient answer, great reason they have to be pardoned and held excused; but he who intrudeth himself, & taking the words out of another's mouth, is ready to speak before he be spoken unto, by good right is odious, although he answer otherwise sufficiently; but if he fail, and make no good answer, certes he maketh himself, ridiculous, and a very laughing stock to the whole company.  
The second point of exercise and meditation, is in a man's own particular answers, wherein he ought especially to be careful and take heed who is given to overmuch talk, to the end that they who would provoke him to speak, and all to make themselves merry and to laugh at him, may well know that he answereth not he knows not what inconsiderately, but with good advice and seriously to the point: for such there be in the world, who for no need at all, but only for to pass time in mirth, devise certain questions for the nonce, and in that manner propound them to such persons for no other end, but to provoke them to prattle; and therefore they ought to have a good eye and regard before them, not to leap out and run all on a sudden hastily to their answer, as if they were well pleased and beholden unto them for to have such an occasion of speech; but with mature deliberation to consider the nature and behaviour of him that putteth out the question, together with the necessity thereof, and the profit that may ensue thereby; and if it appear indeed, that the party be in good earnest, and desirous to learn and be instructed, than he must accustom himself to repress his tongue and take some pause, allowing a competent space of time between the demand and the answer; during which silence, both the demander may have while to bethink himself and add somewhat thereto, if he list, and also the demandé time to think of an answer, and not let his tongue run before his wit, and so huddle up a confused answer before the question be fully propounded: for oftentimes it falleth out, that for very haste they take no heed of those things which were demanded, but answer, and one thing for another. True it is (I must needs say) that Pythia the priestresse of Apollo's temple, is wont to give answer by oracle at the same instant that the question is demanded, yea, and oftentimes before it be asked; for why? the god whom she serveth 
Doth understand the dumb, who can not speak,  
And knows one's mind, before the tongue it break.  but among men, he that would wisely and to the purpose answer, aught to stay until he conceive the thought, and fully understand the intent of him that proposeth a question, lest that befall unto him which is said in the common proverb: 
About an hook I question made,  
And they gave answer of a spade.  and otherwise also, if that inconvenience were not, yet are we to bridle this lavish & hasty tongue of ours, and restrain the inordinate and hungry appetite which we have to be talking; lest it be thought that we had a flux (as it were) of humours gathered a long time about the tongue, and grown into an imposthume, which we are very well content should be let out, and have issue made by a question tendered unto us, and so by that means be discharged thereof. Socrates was wont in this manner to restrain and repress his thirst, after that he had enchafed his body and set himself into an heat, either by wrestling, or running, or such like exercises; he would not permit himself to drink before he had powered out the first bucket of water that he had drawn out of the pit or well, acquainting this his sensual appetite to attend the fit and convenient time that reason appointed.  
Moreover, this would be noted, that there be three kinds of answers unto interrogations; the first necessary, the second civil, and the third needless and superfluous: as for example: If one should ask whether Socrates be within or no; he that is unwilling or not ready and forward with his tongue, would make answer and say: He is not within, but if he be disposed to laconize a little, and speak more brief, he would leave out the word (within) and say: He is not; or yet more short than so, pronouncing only the negative adverb, and saying no more but No. Thus the Lacedæmonians dealt once by Philip; for when he had dispatched his letters unto them to this effect; To know whether they would receive him into their city or no: they wrote back again, in fair great capital letters, within a sheet of paper, no more but O Y, that is to say, No: & so sent it unto him: but he that would make answer to the former question of Socrates a little more civilly and courteously, would say thus: He is not within sir, for he is gone to the bank or exchange; & to give yet a somewhat better measure, he might perhaps add moreover & say; He looketh there for cerreine strangers and friends of his. But a vain prating fellow, and one that loves many words, especially if his hap hath been to read the book of Antimachus the Colophonian, will make answer to the demand afore said in this wise: He is not within sir, gone he is to the Burse or Exchange, for there he expecteth certain strangers out of jonia, of whom and in whose behalf Alcibiades wrote unto him, who now maketh his abode within the city of Miletus, sojourneth with Tissaphernes, one of the lieutenant's general of the great King of Persia; who before time was in league with the Lacedæmonians, stood their friend, and sent them aid; but not for the love of Alcibiades, he is turned from them and is sided with the Athenians: for Alcibtades being desirous to return into his own country, hath prevailed so much that he hath altered Tissaphernes his mind, and drawn him away from our part: and thus shall you have him rehearse in good earnest the whole eight book (in manner) of Thucydides his story, until he have overwhelmed a man with a multitude of narrations, and made him believe that in Miletus there is some great sedition; that it is ready to be lost, and Alcibiades to be banished a second time. Herein then ought a man principally to set his foot and stay his overmuch language, so as the centre and circumference of the answer be that, which he who maketh the demand desireth and hath need to know. Carneades before he had any great name, disputed one day in the public schools and place appointed for exercise: Unto whom the master or precedent of the place sent before hand, and gave him warning to moderate his voice (for he spoke naturally exceeding big and loud, so as the schools rung again therewith:) Give men then (quoth he) a gage and measure for my voice; upon whom the said master replied thus not unproperly: Let him that disputeth with thee be the measure and rule to moderate thy voice by; even so a man may in this case say: The measure that he ought to keep who answereth, is the very will and mind of him that proposeth the question. Moreover, like as Socrates forbade those meats which drew men on to ear when they are not hungry; and likewise those drinks which caused them to drink who are not a thirst, even so should a man who is given to much prattle, be afraid of those discourses wherein he delighteth most, and which he is wont to use and take greatest pleasure in; and in case he perceive them to run willingly upon him for to withstand the same, and not give them entertainment. As for example, martial men and warriors love to discourse and tell of battles; which is the reason that the Poet Homer bringeth in 
* Hector, rather as some 〈◊〉.  Nestor eftsoons recounting his own prowess and feats of arms: and ordinary it is with them who in judicial trials have had the upper hand of their adversaries, or who beyond the hope and opinion of every man have obtained grace and favour with kings and princes, to be subject unto this malady that evermore followeth them, namely to report and recount eftsoons the manner how they came in place; after what sort they were brought in; the order of their pleading; how they argued the case; how they convinced their accusers, & overthrew their adversaries; last of all, how they were praised and commended: for to say a truth, joy and mirth is much more talkative than that old Agryppina which the Poets do feign and devise in their comaedies: for it rouseth and stirreth up, it reneweth and refresheth itself ever & anon, with many discourses and narrations; whereupon ready they are to fall into such speeches upon every light and colourable occasion: for not only is it true which the common proverb saith: 
Look where a man doth feel his pain and grief,  
His hand will soon be there to yield relief.  but also joy and contentment draweth unto it the voice, it leadeth the tongue always about with it, and is evermore willing to be remembered and related. Thus we see that amorous lovers pass the greater part of their time in rehearsing certain words which may renew the remembrance of their loves, insomuch that if they cannot meet with one person or other to relate the same unto, they will devise and talk of them with such things as have neither sense nor life: like as we read of one who broke forth into these words: 
O datnty bed, most sweet and pleasant couch, o blessed lamp, o happy candle light,  
No less than God doth Bacchus you avouch nay, God you are the mightiest in her sight.  And verily a busy prater is altogether (as one would say) a white line or strake in regard of all words, to wit, without discretion he speaketh indifferently of all matters; howbeit if he be affected more to some than to others, he ought to take heed thereof, and abstain from them; he is (I say) to withdraw and writhe him else from thence; for that by reason of the contentment which he may therein take, and the pleasure that he receiveth thereby, they may lead him wide & carry him every while very far out of the way: the same inclination to overshoot themselves in prating, they find also when they discourse of those matters wherein they suppose themselves to have better experience, and a more excellent habit than others: such an one I say being a self lover and ambitious withal, 
Most part of all the day in this doth spend,  
Himself to pass and others to transcend.  As for example in histories if he hath read much, in artificial style and couching of his words, he that is a Grammarian; in relation of strange reports and news, who hath been a great traveler and wandered through many foreign countries: hereof therefore great heed would be taken; for garrulity being therein fleshed and baited, willingly runneth to the old and usual haunt, like as every beast seeketh out the ordinary and accustomed pasture. And in this point was the young prince Cyrus of a wonderful and excellent nature, who would never challenge his play-fellows and consorts in age unto any exercise wherein he knew himself to be superior, and to surpass, but always to such feats wherein he was less practised than they; which he did aswell because he would not grieve their hearts in winning the prize from them, as also for that he would profit thereby, and learn to do that wherein he was more raw and unready than they. But a talkative fellow chose, if there be a matter proposed whereby he may hear and learn somewhat that he knew not before, rejecteth and refuseth it; he cannot for his life hold his tongue and keep silence a little while, to gain thereby some hire and reward, but casting and rolling his thought round about, he never rests until he light upon some old ragged rhapsodies and overworn discourses, which he hath patched and tacked together a thousand times. Such a one there was among us, who happened by chance so have perused two or three books of Ephorus; whereby he took himself to be so great a clerk and so well read, that he wearied every man's ears who heard him talk; there was no assembly nor feast unto which he came, but he would force the company to arise and depart with his unmeasurable prating of the battle of Leuctres, and the occurrents that ensued thereupon, insomuch as he got himself a byname, and every man called him Epaminondas. But this is the least inconvenience of all others that followeth this infirmity of much babbling: and surely one good means it is to the cure thereof; To turn the same from other matters to such as these: for thereby shall their tongue be less troublesome and offensive, when it passeth the bonds in the terms only of literature.  
Over and beside, for the remedy of this their disease, they shall do well to enure and accustom themselves to write somewhat, and to dispute of questions apart. Thus did Antipater the Stoic, who as it may be thought, being not able nor willing to hold out in disputation's hand to hand with Carneades, who with a violent stream (as it were) of his forcible wit and eloquence refused the sect of the Stoics, answered the said Carneades by writing, and filled whole books with contradictory assertions and arguments against him; insomuch as thereupon he was surnamed Calamoboas, which is as much to say, as the lusty Crier with his pen: and so by all likelihood this manner of fight with a shadow and loud exclaiming in secret, and apart by themselves, training these stout praters every day by little and little from the frequency and multitude of people, may make them in the end more sociable and fitter for company. Thus cursed curs after they have spent and discharged their choler and anger upon the cudgels or stones which have been thrown at them, become thereby more gentle and tractable to men. But above all, it were very expedient and profitable for them to be always near unto personages for years elder, and in authority greater than themselves, and with those to converse; for the reverend regard and fear that they have in respect of their dignity and gravity, may induce and direct them in time and by custom to keep silence; and evermore among those exercises heretofore by us specified, this advisement would be mingled and interlaced; That when we are about to speak, and that words be ready to run out of our mouth, we say thus unto ourselves by way of reasoning: What manner of speech is this that is so urgent and presseth so hard to be gone? What ails my tongue, that it is so willing to be walking? What good may come by the utterance thereof? What harm may ensue by concealing it in and holding my peace? For we must not think that our words be like an heavy burden over-loading us, and whereof we should think ourselves well eased when we are discharged of them: for speech remaineth still as well when it is uttered as before: but men ought to speak, either in the behalf of themselves when they stand in need of some thing, or to benefit others, or else to pleasure and recreate one another by pleasant devises and discourses, (as it were) with salt to mitigate the painful travels in actions and worldly affairs, or rather to make the same more savoury whiles we are employed therein. Now if a speech be neither profitable to him that delivereth it, nor necessary for him that heareth it, ne yet carry therewith any grace or pleasure; what need is there that it should be uttered? For surely, a man may as soon speak a word in vain, as do a thing to no purpose. But above and after all other good advertisements in this case, we ought always to have in readiness and remembrance this wise saying of Simonides: A man (quoth he) may repent many a time for words spoken, but never for a word kept in: this also we must think: That exercise is all in all, and a matter of that moment and efficacy, that it is able to master and conquer every thing: considering that men will take great pains and be careful; yea they will endure much sorrow for to be rid of an old cough; to chase away the troublesome yex or hicket. Besides, Taciturnity hath not only this one fair property and good virtue, that (as Hypocrates saith) It never breedeth thirst; but also that it engendereth no pain, no grief nor displeasure, neither is any man bound to render an account thereof.    

OF AVARICE OR COVETOUSNESS.  

The Summarie.  
IF there be any excess in the world that troubleth the repose and tranquility of the spirit, causing our life to be wretched & miserable, it is Avarice; against which the Sages and wise men of all ages from time to time have framed sharp and terrible inveetives, which in sum and effect do show thus much; That this covetousness and greedy desire of gathering goods is (as it were) the capital city and seat-towne of all wickedness; the very sink of sin and receptacle of all vices. Now albeit all men with one voice, yea and the most covetous persons of all others do confess as much; yet the heart of man is so affectionate a friend to the earth, that needful it is to propose and set down diverse instructions for to avert the same from thence, and to cause it to range & sort with other occupations and affairs, more beseeming itself than is the over curious searching after transitory & corruptible things. This is the reason, that those Philosophers who have handled the doctrine as touching manners are employed herein: and Plutarch among the rest, who teacheth us here in few words, with what considerations we ought to be furnished & fortified, that we do not permit such a pestilent plague as this to seize upon our souls: and therewith he showeth the miseries that befall unto avarice; whereof this is the first & principal; That in stead of giving contentment, it maketh her slave most wretched, and putteth him to the greatest pain and torture in the world. And her eupon he interlaceth and inserteth a description of three sorts of covetous persons. First, of those who covet things rare and dangerous, whereas they should seek after necessaries. Secondly, of such as spend nothing, have much, and yet desire more and more; and these he depainteth in all their colours. Thirdly, of them that be niggards and base minded pinchpennies. Which done, be discovereth the second misery of covetous wretches, to wit; That avarice doth tyrannize over her caitiff and slave, not suffering him to use that which she commanded him to win and get. The third is this; That it causeth him to gather and heap up riches, for some promoter or catch-poll, or else for a Tyrant, or else for some wicked and graceless heir, whose nature and properties he doth represent and describe very lively. Afterwards having concluded that covetous persons are herein especially miserable; for that the one sort of them use not their goods at all, and other abuse the same: he prescribeth three remedies against this mischievous malady. The first; That those who greedily gape after riches, have no more in effect than they who stand contented with that which is necessary for nature. The second; That we are not to count them happy, who be richly furnished with things unprofitable. And the last; That it is virtue, wherein we ought to ground and seek for contentment; for there it is to be found and not in riches.   

OF AVARICE OR Covetousness.  
HIppomachus, a great master of wrestling & such exercises of the body, hearing some to praise a certain tall man, high of stature, and having long arms and hands, commending him for a singular champion, and fit to fight at buffets: A proper fellow he were (quoth he) if the garland or prize of the victory were hung on high, for to be reached with the hand; semblably it may be said unto them who esteem so highly and repute it a great felicity to be possessed of much fair lands, to have many great and stately houses, to be furnished with mighty masses and sums of money, in case felicity were to be bought and sold for coin. And yet a man shall see many in the world, choose rather to be rich and wretched withal, than to give their silver for to be happy and blessed: but surely it is not silver nor gold that can purchase either repose of spirit void of grief and anguish, or magnanimity, ne yet settled constancy and resolution, confidence and suffisance, or contentment with our own estate. Be a man never so rich, he can not skill thereby to contemn riches, no more than the possession of more than enough worketh this in us; That we want not still, and desire even things that be superfluous. What other evil and malady than doth our wealth and riches rid us from, if it delivereth us not from avarice? By drink men quench their thirst, by meat they slake their hunger. And he that said: 
Give Hipponax a 〈◊〉 to keep him warm,  
For cold extreme I shake, and may take harm.  if there were many clothes hung or cast upon him, would be offended therewith and fling them from him; but this their strong desire and love of money, it is neither silver nor gold that is able to quench: and let a man have never so much, yet he coveteth nevertheless to have more still. And well it may be verified of riches which one said sometime to an ignorant and deceitful Physician: 
Your drugs and salves augment my sore,  
They make me sicker than before.  For riches verily, after that men have once met therewith, (whereas before they stood in need of bread, of a competenthouse to put in their heads, of mean comment and any viands that come next hand) fill them now with an impatient desire of gold, silver, ivory, emerauds, horses and hounds, changing and transporting their natural appetite of things needful and necessary, into a disordinate lust to things dangerous, rare, hard to be gotten, and unprofitable when they be had. For never is any man poor in regard of such things as suffice nature; never doth he take up money upon usury, for to buy himself meat, cheese, bread or olives; but one indebteth himself for to build a sumptuous and stately house; another runs in debt, because he would purchase a grove of olive trees that joineth to his own land; one is engaged deeply in the usurers books, by laying corne-grounds and wheat-fields to his own domains, another, because he would be possessed of fruitful vineyards; some are indebted with buying mules of Galatia, and others, because they would be masters 
Of lusty steeds, to win the prize by running in a race,  
With rattling noise of empty coach, when it is drawn apace,  have cast themselves into the bottomless gulf of obligations, conditions, covenants, interests, statutes, real gauges & pawns: and afterwards it cometh to pass, that like as they who drink when they be not dry, & eat without a stomach, many times cast up by vomit, even that which they did eat & drink when they were hungry & thirsty; even so, when they will needs have such things as be superfluous and to no use, do not enjoy the benefit of those things that are needful and necessary indeed. Lo what kind of people these be!  
As for those who are at no cost, nor will lay out any thing, and notwithstanding they have much, yet ever covet more; a man may rather marvel and wonder at them, if he would but remember that which Aristippus was wont to say: He that eateth much (quoth he) and drinketh likewise much, and is never satisfied nor full, goeth to the Physicians, asketh their opinion what his disease and strange indisposition of the body might be, and withal craveth their counsel for the cure and remedy thereof: but if one who hath five fair bedstead already with the furniture thereto belonging, and seeketh to make them ten; and having ten tables with their cupboards of plate, will needs buy ten more; and for all that he is possessed of fair manors and goodly lands, have his bags and coffers full of money, is never the better satisfied, but still gapeth after more, breaketh his sleeps, devising and casting as he lieth awake, how to compass the same, and when he hath all, yet is he not full; such an one (I say) never thinks that he hath need of a Physician to cure his malady or to discourse unto him, from what cause all this doth prodeod. And verily a man may look, that of those who are thirsty ordinarily, and he that hath not drunk, will be delivered of his thirst so soon as he meeteth with drink; but in case such an one as evermore drinketh and poureth in still, never giving over, yet nevertheless continueth dry and thirsty, we judge him to have no need of repletion, but rather of purging and evacuation; him (I say) we appoint for to vomit, as being not troubled and distempered upon any want, but with some extraordinary heat or unkind acrimonies of humours that be within him; even so it is with those that seek to get and gather goods: he that is bare and poor in deed, will haply give over seeking so soon as he hath got him an house to dwell in, or found some treasure, or met with a good friend to help him to a sum of money to make clear with the usurer, and to be crossed out of his book: but he that hath already more than enough and sufficient, and yet craveth more, surely it is neither gold nor silver that will cure him, neither horses, nor sheep, nor yet beefs will serve his turn; need had he of purgation and evacuation, for poverty is not his disease, but covetousness and an unsatiable desire of riches, proceeding from false judgement and a corrupt opinion that he hath, which if a man do not rid away out of his mind, as a winding gulf or whirlpool that is cross and overthwart in their way, they will never cease to hunt after superfluities, and seem to stand in need thereof (that is to say) to covet those things which they know not what to do with. When a Physician cometh into the chamber of a patient, whom he findeth lying along in his bed groaning, and resusing all food, he taketh him by the hand, feeleth his pulse, asketh him certain questions, and finding that he hath no ague; This is a disease (quoth he) of the mind, and so goeth his way; even so, when we see a worldly minded man altogether set upon his gets and gains, pining away, and even consumed with the greedy worm of gathering good, weeping, whining and sighing at expenses, and when any money is to go out of his purse, sticking at no pain and trouble, sparing for no indignity, no unhonest and indirect means whatsoever, nor caring which way he goes to work, whether it be by book or crook, so that he may gain and profit thereby; having choice of houses and tenements, lands lying in every country, droves, herds and flocks of cattle, a number of slaves, wardrobes of apparel and clothes of all sorts: what shall we say that this man is sick of, unless it be the poverty of the soul? As for want of money and goods, one friend (as Menander saith) may cure and help with his bountiful hand; but that penury and neediness of the soul all the men in the world, that either live at this day, or ever were before time, are not able to satisfy and suffice: and therefore of such Solon said very well, 
No limit set, nor certain bound, men have  
Of their desire to goods, but still they crave.  For, those who are wise and of sound judgement are content with that measure and portion which nature hath set down and assigned for them; such men know an end, and keep themselves within the centre and circumference of their need and necessity only. But this is a peculiar property that avarice hath by itself. For a covetous desire it is, even repugnant to satiety, and hindereth itself that it never can have sufficient, whereas all other desires and lusts are aiding and helpful thereto. For no man (I trow) that is a glutton, forbeareth to eat a good morcel of meat for gourmandise, nor drunkard abstaineth from drinking wine upon an appetite and love that he hath to wine, as these covetous wretches do, who spare their money and will not touch it, through a desire only that they have of money. And how can we otherwise think, but it were a piteous and lamentable case, yea and a disease next cousin to mere madness, if a man should therefore spare the wearing of a garment, because he is ready to i'll and quake for cold, or forbear to touch bread, for that he is almost hungerstarved; and even so not to handle his goods because he loveth them: certes, such a one is in the same plight and piteous perplexity that Thrasonides was, who in a certain comedy describeth his own miseries: 
At home it is within my power,  
I may enjoy it everte hour:  
I wish a thing as if I were  
In raging love, yet ay forbear:  
When I have locked and sealed up all,  
Or else put forth by count and tale,  
My coin to brokers for the use,  
Or other factors whom I choose,  
I plod and plonder still for more,  
I hunt, I seek to fetch in store,  
I chide and branle with servants mine,  
The husbandman and eke the hine  
I bring to count; and then anon  
My debtor all I call upon:  
By Dan Apollo now I swear,  
Was any man that earth did bear,  
Whom thou hast ever known or seen,  
In love more wretched to have been?  Sophocles being on a time demanded familiarly by one of his friends, whether he could yet keep company with a woman if need were: Godblesse (quoth he) my good friend, talk no more of that I pray you, I am free from those matters long since, and by the benefit of mine old age, I have escaped the servitude of such violent and furious mistresses. And verily it is a good and gracious gift, that our lusts and appetites should end together with our strength and ability, especially in those delights and pleasures, which as Alcaeus saith neither man nor woman can well avoid. But this is not to be found in avarice and desire of riches; for she cursed, sharp and shrewd quean, forceth indeed a man to get and gather, but she forbiddeth him withal to use and enjoy the same; she stirreth up and provoketh his lust, but she denieth him all pleasure, I remember that in old time Stratonicus taxed and mocked the Rhodians for their wasteful and superfluous expenses in this manner: They build sumptuously (quoth he) as if they were immortal and should never die; but they fare at their boards as though they had but a small while to live. But these covetous misers gather wealth together like mighty magnificoes, but they spend like beggarly mechanicals; they endure the pain and travel of getting, and taste no pleasure of the enjoying.  
Demades the Orator came one day to visit Photion, and found him at dinner; but seeing but a little meat before him upon the table, and the same nothing fine and dainty, but course and simple: I marvel (quoth he) o Phociou how you can take up with so short a dinner and so small a pittance, considering the pains you do endure in managing the affairs of State and commonwealth. As for Demades he dealt indeed with government, and was a great man in the city with the people, but it was all for his belly, and to furnish a plentiful board, insomuch as, supposing that the city of Athens could not yield him revenue and provision sufficient for to maintain his excessive gourmandise, he laid for cates and victuals out of Macedon, whereupon Antipater when he saw him an old man with a wrinkled and withered face, said pleasantly: That he had nothing left now but his paunch and his tongue, much like unto a sheep, or some other beast killed for sacrifice when all is eaten beside. But thou most unhappy and wretched miser, who would not make a wonder at thee, condering that thou canst lead so base and beggarly a life, without society of men or courtesy to thy neighbours, not giving ought to any person, showing no kindness to thy friends, no bounty nor magnificence to the commonwealth, yet still dost afflict thy poor self, lie awake all the night long, toil and moil like a drudge and hireling thyself, hire other labourers for day-wages, lie in the wind for inheritances, speak men fair in hope to be their heir, and debase thyself to all the world, and care not to whom thou cap and knee for gain, having I say so sufficient means otherwise to live at ease (to wit, thy nigardise and pinching parsimony) whereby thou mayst be dispensed for doing just nothing. It is reported of a certain Bizantine, who finding an adulterer in bed with his wife, who though she were but foul, yet was ill-favoured enough, said unto him: O miserable caitise what necessity hath driven thee thus to do? what needs Sapragoras dowry? well, go to: thou takest great pains poor wretch, thou fillest and stirrest the lead, thou kindlest the fire also underneath it. Necessary it is in some sort, that Kings and Princes should seek for wealth and riches, that these Governors also and Deputies murder them should be great gatheres, yea and those also who reach at the highest places and aspire to rule and sovereign dignities in great States and cities; all these (I say) have need perforce to heap up gross sums of money, to the end that for their ambition, their proud port, pomp, and vainglorious humour, they might make sumptuous feasts, give largesses, retain a guard about their persons, send presents abroad to other States, maintain and wage whole armies, buy slaves to combat and fight at sharp to the outtrance: but thou makest thyself so much ado, thou troublest and tormentest both body and mind, living like an oyster or a shell-snaile, and for to pinch and spare, art content to undergo and endure all pain and travel, taking no pleasure nor delight in the world afterwards, no more than the Baine-keepers poor ass which carrying billots and faggots of dry brush and sticks to kindle fire and to heat the stouphes, is evermore full of smoke, soot, ashes, and cinders; but hath no benefit at all of the bane, and is never bathed, washed, warmed, rubbed, scoured, and made clean. Thus much I speak in reproach and disdain of this miserable asslike avarice, this base raping and scraping together in manner of ants or pismires.  
Now there is another kind of covetousness more savage and beastlike, which they profess who backbite and slander, raise malicious imputations, forge false wills and testaments, lie in wait for heritage's, cog and cousin, and intermeddle in all matters, will be seen in every thing, know all men's states, busy themselves with many cares and troubles, count upon their fingers how many friends they have yet living, and when they have all done, receive no fruition or benefit by all the goods which they have gotten together from all parts, with their cunning casts & subtle shifts. And therefore like as we have in greater hatred and detestation, vipers, the venomous flies Cantharideses, and the stinging spiders called Philangia & Tarantale, than either bears or lions, for that they kill folk and sting them to death; but receive no good or benefit at all by them when they are dead; even so be these wretches more odious and worthy to be hated of us, who by their miserable parsimony and pinching do mischief, than those who by their riot and wastfulnesse be hurtful to a commonweal, because they take and catch from others that which they themselves neither will nor know how to use. Whereupon it is that such as these when they have gotten abundance, and are in manner full, rest them for a while, and do no more violence as it were in time of truce and surcease of hostility; much after the manner as Demosthenes said unto them who thought that Demades had given over all his lewdness and knavery: O (quoth he) you see him now full as lions are, who when they have filled their bellies, pray no more for the louse, until they be hungry again: but such covetous wretches as be employed in government of civil affairs, and that for no profit nor pleasure at all which they intent, those I say never rest nor make holiday, they allow themselves no truce nor cessation from gathering & heaping more together still, as being evermore empty, & have always need of all things though they have all. But some man perhaps will say: These men (I assure you) do save & lay up goods in store for their children and heirs after their death, unto whom whiles they live they will part with nothing: If that be so, I can compare them very well to those mice and cats in gold mines, which feed upon the gold-ore, and lick up all the golden sand that the mines yield, so that men can not come by the gold there, before they be dead and cut up in manner of anatomies. But tell me (I pray you) wherefore are these so willing to treasure up so much money, and so great substance, and leave the same to their children, inheritors, and successors after them? I verily believe to this end, that those children and heirs also of theirs should keep the same still for others likewise, and so to pass from hand to hand by descent of many degrees; like as earthen conduct-pipes by which water is conveyed into some cistern, withhold and retain none of all the water that passeth through them, but do transmit and send all away. from them, each one to that which is next, and reserve none to themselves; thus do they until some arise from without, a mere stranger to the house, one that is a sycophant or very tyrant, who shall cut off this keeper of that great stock and treasure, and when he hath dispatched and made a hand of him, drive and turn the course of all this wealth and riches out of the usual channel another way; or at leastwise until it fall into the hands (as commonly men say it doth) of the most wicked and ungracious imp of that race, who will disperse and scatter that which others have gathered, who will consume and devour all unthristily, which his predecessors have gotten and spared wickedly: for not only as Euripides saith, 
Those children wasteful prove and bad,  
Who servile slaves for parents had.  but also covetous carls & pinching peni-fathers', leave children behind them that be loose & riotous & spendthrifts; like as Diogenes by way of mockery said upon a time: That it were better to be a Megarians ram than his son: for wherein they would seem to instruct and inform their children, they spoil and mar them clean, engrafting into their hearts a desire and love of money, teaching them to be covetous and base minded pinchpenies, laying the foundation (as it were) in their heirs of some strong place or fort, wherein they may surely guard and keep their inheritance. And what good lessons and precepts be these which they teach them: Gain and spare, my son, get and save; think with thyself and make thine account that thou shalt be esteemed in the world according to thy wealth and not otherwise. But surely this not to instruct a child, but rather to knit up fast or sow up the mouth of a purse that it may hold and keep the better whatsoever is put into it. This only is the difference that a purse or moneybag becometh foul, sullied and ill-savoring after that silver is put it; but the children of covetous persons before they receive their patrimonies or attain to any riches, are filled already even by their fathers with avarice, and a hungry desire after their substance: and verily such children thus nourtred, reward their parents again for their schooling with a condign salary and recompense, in that they love them not because they shall receive much one day by them, but hate them rather for that they have nothing from them in present possession already, for having learned this lesson of them; To esteem nothing in the world in comparison of wealth and riches, and to aim at nought else in the whole course of their life, but to gather a deal of goods together, they repute the lives of their parents to be a block in their way, they wish in heart that their heads were well laid, they do what they can to shorten their lives, making this reckoning; That how much time is added to their old age, so much they lose of their youthful years. And this is the reason, why during the life of their fathers, secretly and underhand they steal (after a sort, by snatches) their pleasure, and enjoy the same; They will make semblance as if it came from other, when they give away money and distribute it among their friends, or otherwise spend it in their delights; whiles they catch it privily from under the very wing of their parents, and when they go to hear and take out their lessons, they will be sure to pick their purses if they can, before they go away; but after their parents be dead and gone, when they have gotten into their hands the keys of their coffers and signets of their bags, than the case is altered, and they enter into another course and fashion of life: you shall have my young masters then, put on a grave and austere countenance, they will not seem to laugh, nor be spoken to, or acquainted with any body; there is no talk now of anointing the body for any exercise, the racket is cast aside, the tennis court no more haunted, no wrestling practised, no going to the schools either of the Academy or Lycene, to hear the lectures and disputations of Professors and Philosophers. But now the officers and servants be called to audit and account; now they are examined what they have under their hands; now the writings, bills, obligations and deeds are sought up and perused; now they fall to argue and reason with their receivers, stewards, factors and debtor; so sharpe-set they are to their negotiations and affairs; so full of cares and business, that they have no leisure to take their dinners or noone-meales; and if they sup, they can not intend to go into the bane or hothouse before it be late in the night; the bodily exercises wherein they were brought up and trained in, be laid down; no swimming nor bathing any more in the river Dirce; all such matters be cast behind and clean forgotten. Now if a man say to one of these: Will you go and hear such Philosopher read a lecture, or make a sermon: How can I go? (will he say again) I have no while since my father's death. O miserable and wretched man, what hath he left unto thee of all his goods, comparable to that which he hath bereft thee of, to wit; Repose and Liberty: but it is not thy father so much, as his riches flowing round about thee, that environeth and compasseth thee so, as it hath gotten the mastery thee; this hath set foot upon thy throat, this hath conquered thee; like unto that shrewd wife in Hesiodus, 
Who burns a man without a match or brand of scorching fire,  
And driveth him to gray-old age before that time require.  causing thy soul (as it were) to be full of rivels and hoary hairs before time, bringing with it carking cares and tedious travels proceeding from the love of money, and a world of affairs without any repose, whereby that alacrity, cheerfulness, worship and sociable courtesy which ought to be in a man, are decayed and faded clean to nothing.  
But what mean you sir by all this? (will some one haply say unto me) See you not how there be some that bestow their wealth liberally with credit and reputation? unto whom I answer thus: Have you never heard what Aristotle said: That as some there are who have no use at all of their goods, so there be others who abuse the same; as if he should say: Neither the one nor other was seemly and as it ought to be: for as those get neither profit nor honour by their riches, so these sustain loss and shame thereby. But let us consider a little what is the use of these riches which are thus much esteemed: Is it not (I pray you) to have those things which are necessary for nature? but these who are so rich and wealthy above the rest, what have they more to content nature, than those who live in a mean and competent estate? Certes, riches (as Theophrastus saith) is not so great a matter that we should love and admire it so much, if it be true that Callias the wealthiest person in all Athens, and Ismenias the richest citizen of Thebes, use the same things that Socrates and Epaminondas did. For like as Agathon banished the flute, cornet, and such other pipes from the solemn feasts of men, and sent them to women in their solemnities, supposing that the discourses of men who are present at the table are sufficient to entertain mirth; even so may he aswell rid away out ofhouses, hangings, coverlets and carpets of purple, costly and sumptuous tables, and all such superfluities, who seeth that the great rich worldlings use the very same that poorer men do. I would not as Hesiodus saith; 
That plough or helm should hang in smoke to dry,  
Or painful tillage now be laid aside,  
Nor works of ox and mule for ever die,  
Who serve our turns to draw, to till, to ride;  but rather that these goldsmiths, turners, gravers, perfumers and cooks would be chased and sent away, forasmuch as this were indeed, an honest and civil banishment of unprofitable artificers as foreigners, that may be spared out of a city. Now if it be so, that things requisite for the necessity of nature, be common aswell to the poor as the rich, and that riches do vaunt and stand so much upon nothing else but superfluities, and that Scopas the Thessalian is worthily commended in this; That being requested to give away and part with somewhat of his household stuff which he might spare and had no need of: Why (quoth he) in what things else consisteth the felicity of those who are reputed happy and fortunate in this world above other men, but in these superfluities that you seem to ask at my hands, and not in such as be necessary and requisite? If it be so I say, see that you be not like unto him that praiseth a pomp and solemn show of plays and games more than life indeed, which standeth upon things necessary. The procession and solemnity of the Bacchanales which was exhibited in our country, was wont in old time to be performed after a plain and homely manner, merrily and with great joy: You should have seen there one carrying a little barrel of wine, another a branch of a vine tree; after him comes one drawing and plucking after him a goat; then followeth another with a basket of dried figs; and last of all one that bore in show Phallus, that is to say, the resemblance of the genital member of a man: but now adays all these ceremonies are despised, neglected, and in manner not at all to be seen, such a train there is of those that carry vessels of gold and silver, so many sumptuous and costly robes, such stately chariots richly set out are driven & drawn with brave steeds most gallantly dight, besides the pageants, dumbe-shewes and masks, that they hide and obscure the ancient and true pomp according to the first institution; and even so it is in riches; the things that be necessary and serve for use and profit, are overwhelmed and covered with needless toys and superfluous vanities, & I assure you the most part of us be like unto young Telemachus, who for want of knowledge and experience, or rather indeed for default of judgement and discretion when he beheld Nestor's house furnished with beds, tables, hangings, tapistry, apparel, and well provided also of sweet and pleasant wines, never reckoned the master of the house happy for having so good provision of such necessary and profitable things: but being in Menelaus his house, and seeing there store of Ivory, gold, and silver, and the metal Electrum, he was ravished and in an ecstasy with admiration thereof, and broke out in these words: 
Like unto this, the palace all within I judge to be,  
Of Jupiter that mighty god who dwells in azure sky:  
How rich, how fair, how infinite are all things which I see!  
My heart, as I do them behold, is ravished wonder ouslie.  But Socrates or Diogenes would have said thus rather: 
How many wretched things are here? how needless all and vain?  
When I them view, I laugh thereat, of them I am not feign.  And what sayest thou foolish and vain sot as thou art? Where as thou shouldest have taken from thy very wife her purple, her jewels and gaudy ornaments, to the end that she might no more long for such superfluity, nor run a nodding after foreign vanities, far fetched and dear bought; dost thou conrrariwise embellish and adorn thy house, like a theatre, scaffold and stage to make a goodly sight for those that come into the Shewplace? Lo wherein lieth the felicity and happiness that riches bringeth, making a trim show before those, who gaze upon them, and to testify and report to others what they have seen: set this aside (that they be not showed to all the world) there is nothing at all therein to reckon. But it is not so with temperance, with philosophy, with the true knowledge of the gods, so far forth as is meet and behoveful to be known, for these are the same still and all one, although every man attain not thereto but all others be ignorant thereof. This piety (I say) and religion hath always a great light of her own and resplendent beams proper to itself, wherewith it doth shine in the soul, evermore accompanied with a certain joy that never ceaseth to take contentment in her own good within, whether any one see it or no, whether it be unknowen to gods and men or no, it skilleth not. Of this kind and nature is virtue indeed, and truth, the beauty also of the Mathematical sciences, to wit, Geometry and Astrology; unto which who will think that the gorgeous trappings and capparisons, the brooches, collars and carkans of riches are any ways comparable, which (to say a truth) are no better than jewels and ornaments good to trim young brides and set out maidens for to be seen and looked at? For riches, if no man do regard, behold, and set their eyes on them (to say a truth) is a blind thing of itself, and sendeth no light at all nor rays from it; for certainly say: That a rich man dine and sup privately alone, or with his wife and some inward and familiar friends, he troubleth not himself about furnishing of his table with many services, daintiedishes, and festival fare; he stands not so much upon his golden cups and goblets, but useth those things that be ordinary, which go about every day and come next hand, as well vessel as viands; his wife sits by his side and bears him company, not decked and hung with jewels and spangles of gold, not arrayed in purple, but in plain attire and simply clad; but when he makes a feast (that is to say) sets out a theatre, wherein the pomps and shows are to meet and make a jangling noise together, when the plays are to be represented of his riches, and the solemn train thereof to be brought in place; then comes abroad his brave furniture indeed; then he fetcheth out of the ship his fair chaufers and goodly pots; then bringeth he forth his rich threefooted tables; then come abroad the lamps, candlesticks, and branches of silver; the lights are disposed in order about the cups; the cupbearers, skinkers and tasters are changed; all places are newly dight and covered; all things are then stirred and removed that saw no sun long before; the silver plate, the golden vessels, and those that be set and enriched with precious stones; to conclude, now there is no show else but of riches; at such a time they confess themselves and will be known wealthy. But all this while whether a rich man sup alone, or make a feast, temperance is away and true contentment.    

OF THE NATURAL LOVE OR KINDNESS OF PARENTS TO THEIR CHILDREN.  

The Summarie.  
WIsely said one, (whosoever it was) That to banish amity and friendship from among men were as great hurt to the society of mankind, as to deprive them of the light and heat of the Sun: which being verified and found true in the whole course of this life, and in the maintenance of all estates; not without great cause Nature hath cast and sprinkled the seed thereof in the generation and nourishment of a race and lineage, whereof she giveth evident testimonies in brute beasts, the better to move and incite us to our duty. That we may see therefore this precious seed and grain of amity, how it doth flower and fructify in the world, we must begin at the love and natural kindness of fathers and mothers to their children: for if this be well kept and maintained, there proceed from it an infinite number of contentments which do much assuage and ease the inconveniences and discommodities of our life. And Plutarch entering into this matter, showeth first in generality: That men learn (as it were) in the school of brute beasts, with what affection they should beget, nourish and bring up their children: afterward he doth particularise thereof, and enrich the same argument by diverse examples. But for that he would not have us think that he extolled dumb beasts above man and woman, he observeth and setteth down very well the difference that is of amities, discoursing in good and modest terms as touching the generation and nouriture of children, and briefly by the way representeth unto us the miserable entrance of man into this race upon earth, where he is to run his course. Which done, he proveth that the nourishing of infants hath no other cause and reason, but the love of fathers and mothers; he discovereth the source of this affection; and for a conclusion, showeth that what defect and fault soever may come between and be meddled among, yet it can not altogether abolish the same.   

OF THE NATURAL LOVE OR KINDNESS OF PARENTS to their children.  
THat which moved the Greeks at first, to put over the decision of their controversies to foreign judges, and to bring into their country, strangers to be their Umpires, was the distrust and diffidence that they had one in another, as if they confessed thereby that justice was indeed a thing necessary for man's light, but it grew not among them: And is not the case even so as touching certain questions disputable in Philosophy? for the determining whereof Philosophers (by reason of the sundry and diverse opinions which are among them) have appealed to the nature of brute beasts, as it were into a strange city, and remitted the deciding thereof to their properties and affections, according to kind, as being neither subject to partial favour, nor yet corrupt, depraved and polluted. Now surely, a common reproach this must needs be to man's naughty nature and lewd behaviour; That when we are in doubtful question concerning the greatest and most necessary points pertaining to this present life of ours, we should go and search into the nature of horses, dogs and birds for resolution; namely, how we ought to make our marriages, how to get children, and how to rear and nourish them after they be borne, and as if there were no sign (in manner) or token of nature imprinted in ourselves, we must be feign to allege the passions, properties and affections of brute beasts, and to produce them for witnesses, to argue and prove how much in our life we transgress and go aside from the rule of nature, when at our first beginning and entrance into this world, we find such trouble, disorder and confusion; for in those dumb beasts beforesaid, nature doth retain and keep that which is her own and proper, simple, entire, without corruption or alteration by any strange mixture; whereas chose, it seemeth that the nature of man, by discourse of their reason and custom together, is mingled and confused with so many extravagant opinions and judgements, fet from all parts abroad (much like unto oil that cometh into perfumer's hands) that thereby it is become manifold variable, and in every one several and particular, and doth not retain that which the own indeed, proper and peculiar to itself; neither ought we to think it a strange matter and a wonderful, that brute beasts void of reason, should come nearer unto nature, and follow her steps better, than men endued with the gift of reason: for surely, the very senseless plants herein surpass those beasts beforesaid, and observe better the instinct of nature; for considering that they neither conceive any thing by imagination, nor have any motion, affection or inclination at all; so verily their appetite (such as it is) varieth not nor stirreth to and fro out of the compass of nature, by means whereof, they continue and abide as if they were kept in and bound within close-prison, holding on still in one and the same course, and not stepping once out of that way wherein nature doth lead and conduct them: as for beasts, they have not any such great portion of reason to temper and mollify their natural properties, neither any great subtlety of sense and conceit, nor much desire of liberty; but having many instincts, inclinations and appetites, not ruled by reason, they break out by the means thereof otherwhiles, wandering astray, and running up and down to and fro, howbeit, for the most part, not very far out of order, but they take sure hold of nature; much like a ship which lieth in the road at anchor, well may she dance and be rocked up and down, but she is not carried away into the deep at the pleasure of winds and waves; or much after the manner of an ass or hackney, traveling with bit and bridle, which go not out of the right & straight way, wherein the master or rider guideth them; whereas in man, even reason herself, the mistress that ruleth and commandeth all, findeth out new cuts (as it were) and byways, making many starts and excursions at her pleasure to and fro, now here, now there; whereupon it is that she leaveth no plain and apparent print of nature's tracts and footing.  
Consider I pray you in the first place the marriages (if I may so term them) of dumb beasts and reasonless creatures; and namely how therein they follow precisely the rule and direction of nature. To begin withal; they stand not upon those laws that provide against such as marry not, but lead a single life; neither make they reckoning of the acts which lay a penalty upon those that be late ere they enter into wedlock, like as the citizens under Lycurgus and Solon, who stood in awe of the said statutes; they fear not to incur the infamy which followed those persons that were barren and never had children; neither do they regard and seek after the honours and prerogatives which they attained, who were fathers of three children, like as many of the Romans do at this day, who enter into the state of matrimony, wed wives 〈◊〉 beget children, not to the end that they might have heirs to inherit their lands and goods, 〈◊〉 that they might themselves be inheritors & capable of dignities & immunities. But to proceed unto more particulars, the male afterwards doth deal with the female in the act of generation not at all times; for that the end of their conjunction and going together is not gross pleasure so much, as the engendering of young and the propagation of their kind: and therefore at a certain season of the year, to wit, the very prime of the spring, when as the pleasant winds so apt for generation do gently blow, and the temperature of the air is friendly unto breeders, cometh the female full lovingly and kindly toward her fellow the male, even of her own accord and motion (as it were) trained by the hand of that secret instinct and desire in nature; and for her own part, she doth what she can to woe and solicit him to regard her, as well by the sweet sent of her flesh, as also by a special and peculiar ornament and beauty of her body, showing herself fresh and cheerful, full of dew and verdure of green herbs, pure and neat I warrant you; in this manner doth she present herself unto the male and courteth him: now when she perceives once that she is sped and hath conceived by him, she leaveth him and retireth apart in good sort full decently; and then her whole care is to provide for that which she goeth withal, fore casting how to be delivered of it in due time, and bethinking how to save, preserve, and rear it when it is fallen and brought forth. And certes it is not possible to express sufficiently and worthily the particulars that are done by these dumb creatures (but only this, that every thing proceedeth from the tender love and affection which they have to their young ones) in providence, in patience, in abstinence.  
We all acknowledge the Bee to be wise, we call her so, we celebrate her name for producing and working so diligently that yellow honey, yea and we flatter in praising her, feeling as we do the sweetness of the said honey, how it tickleth and contenteth our tongue & taste; and all this while what one is there of us that maketh any account of the wisdom, wit, and artificial subtlety that other creatures show, as well in the bringing forth their young, as the fostering and nouriture of them? for first and foremost do but consider the sea bird called Halcyon, no sooner doth she perceive herself to be knit with egg, but she falleth presently to build her nest, she gathereth together the chine-bones of a certain sea fish which the greeks call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the sea-needle, these she coucheth, plaiteth, windeth and interlaceth one within another, so artificially working the same and weaving them close together in a round and large form, after the manner of a fisher's leap or we'll net; and when she hath knit and fortified the same exactly with many courses of the said bones driven and united jointly together in good order, she exposeth it full against inundation and dashing of the sea waves, to the end that the superficial outside of the work beaten upon gently and by little & little with the water, being thickened and felted thereby might be more solid and firm, and so it proveth indeed; for so hard it groweth by this means, that scarcely any stone can crush it, or edged instrument of iron cleave it; but that which is yet more wonderful, the mouth and entry of the said nest is composed and wrought proportionably just to the measure and bigness of the bird Halcyon aforesaid, so as no creature bigger or less than herself, no nor the very sea (as men say) nor the least thing in the world can get into it. And will you see moreover what kindness and natural affection the sea weesils or sea dogs do show unto their little ones? They breed their young whelps or kitlings alive within their bellies, and when they list, let them forth and suffer them to run abroad for relief and to get their food, and afterwards receive them into their bodies again, enclosing them whiles they be asleep themselves, cherishing them couched in their bowels and womb. The she bear a most fell, savage and cruel beast, bringeth forth her young whelps, without form or fashion, unknit and unjointed, having no distinct limbs or members to be seen; howbeit with her tongue as it were with a tool and instrument for the purpose, she keepeth such a licking of them, she formeth and fashioneth those membranes where in they were lapped in her womb in such sort, that she seemeth not only to have brought forth her young, but also to have wrought them afterwards workemanlike to their shape and proportion. As for that lion which Homer describeth in this wise, 
Who leading forth his tender whelps to seek abroad for pray  
In forest wild; no sooner meets with hunters in the way,  
But looking stern with bended brows which cover both his eyes,  
He makes a stand, and them affronts in fierce and threatening wise.  Think you not by this description that he resembleth one who is bend to capitulate and stand upon terms of composition with the hunters for to save the life of his little ones? To speak in a word, this tender love and affection of beasts toward their young, maketh them that otherwise be timorous, hardy and bold; those that be slow and idle by nature, laborious and painful; and such as of themselves are greedy and ravenous, to be spare and temperate in their feeding, like as the bird whereof the same Homer speaketh, 
Which brings in mouth unto her nest, such food as she abroad  
Could get to feed her naked young, and doth herself defraud.  For content she is even with her own hunger to nourish her little ones, and the same food or bait that she hath for them, being so near as it is unto her own craw and gestier, she holdeth close and fast in her bill, for fear lest she might swallow it down the throat ere she were aware; 
Or like the bitch running about her young whelps, at the sight  
Of strangers, bay and barks apace, and ready is to fight.  No doubt the fear which she hath lest her little one should take harm redoubleth her courage, and maketh her more hardy and angry than before: as for the partridges when they be laid-for by the fowler, together with their covin of young birds, they suffer them to she away as well as they can, and make shift to save themselves, but the old rowens full subtly seem to wait the coming of the said hunters, abiding until they approach near unto them, and by keeping about their feet, train them still away after them, ready ever as it were to be caught; now when the fowler shall seem to reach unto them with his hand, they will run a little or take a short flight from him, and then they stay again, putting him in new hope of his prey and booty, which every-foot he thinketh to take with his hand: thus they play mockholiday with the fowlers, and yet with some danger to themselves for the safety of their young, until they have trained them a great way off, who sought for their lives. Our hens which we keep about our houses so ordinarily, and have daily in our eyes, how carefully do they look unto their young chickens whiles they receive some under their wings, which they spread and hold open for the nonce that they may creep in, others they suffer to mount upon their backs, gently giving them leave to climb and get up on every side, and this they do not without great joy and contentment, which they testify by a kind of clocking and special noise that they make at such a time; if when they be alone without their chickens, and have no fear but of themselves a dog or a serpent come in their way, they fly from them; let their brood be about them when such a danger is presented, it is wonderful how ready they will be to defend the same, yea and to fight for, even above their power. Do we think now that nature hath imprinted such affections and passions in these living creatures, for the great care that she hath to maintain the race and posterity (as it were) of hens, dogs, or bears; or do we not rather make this construction of it, that she shameth, pricketh, and woundeth men thereby when we reason and discourse thus within ourselves, that these things be good examples for as many as follow them, and the reproaches of those that have no sense or feeling of natural affection; by which no doubt they do blame and accuse the nature of man only, as if she alone were not affectionate without some hire and reward, nor could skill of love but for gain and profit? for admired he was in the theatres that thus spoke first: 
For hope of gain one man will love another,  
Take it away, what one will love his brother?  This is the reason (according to the opinion and doctrine of Epicurus) that the father affecteth his son, the mother is tender over her child, and children likewise are kind unto their parents: but set-case that brute beasts could both speak and understand language, in some open theatre, and that one called to meet together a sufficient assembly of beefs, horses, dogs, and fowls, certes if their voices were demanded upon this point now in question, he would set down in writing, and openly pronounce, that neither bitches loved their whelps, nor mares their fools, heas their chickens, and other fowls their little birds in respect of any reward, but freely and by the instinct of nature: and this would be found a true verdict of his, justified and verified by all those passions and affections which are observed in them: and what a shame and infamy unto mankind is this to grant and avouch, that the act of generation in brute beasts, their conception, their breeding, their painful delivery of their young, and the careful feeding and cherishing of them be natures works merely, and duties of gratuity; and chose that in men they be pawns given them for security of interest, hires, gauges, and earnest pennies respective to some profit and gain which they draw after them? But surely as this project is not true, so it is not worth the hearing, for nature verily as in savage plants and trees, to wit, wild vines, wild fig trees, and wild olives she doth ingenerate certain raw and unperfect rudiments, (such as they be) of good and kind fruits; so she hath created in brute beasts a natural love and affection to their young, though the same be not absolute nor fully answerable to the rule of justice, ne yet able to pass farther than the bonds and limits of necessity. As for man, a living creature, endued and adorned with reason, created and made for a civil society, whom she hath brought into the world for to observe laws and justice, to serve honour and worship the gods, to found cities and govern commonwealths, and therein to exercise and perform all offices of bounty: him she hath bestowed upon noble, generous, fair and fruitful seeds of all these things, to wit, a kind love and tender affection toward his children; and these she followeth still, and persisteth therein, which she infused together with the first principles and elements that went to the frame of his body and soul: for nature being every way perfect and exquisite, and namely in this inbred love toward infants, wherein there wanteth nothing that is necessary, neither from it is aught to be taken away as superfluous; It hath nothing (as Erasistratus was wont to say) vain, frivolous and unprofitable, nothing inconstant, and shaking too and fro, inclining now one way, and then another. For in the first place, as touching the generation of man, who is able to express her prudence sufficiently? neither haply may it stand with the rule of decent modesty to be overcurious and exquisite in delivering the proper names and terms thereto belonging: for those natural parts serving in that act of generation and conception secret as they be and hidden, so they neither can well, nor would willingly be named, but the composition and framing thereof, so aptly made for the purpose, the disposition and situation likewise so convenient, we ought rather to conceive in our mind than utter in speech.  
Leaving therefore those privy members to our private thoughts, pass we to the confection, disposition and distribution of the milk, which is sufficient to show most evidently her providence, in desire and diligence; for the superfluous portion of blood which remaineth in a woman's body, over and above that which serveth for the use whereunto it is ordained, floating up and down within her afterwards, for defect or feebleness of spirits wandereth (as it were) to and fro, and is a burden to her body; but at certain set-times & days, to wit, in every monthly revolution, nature is careful and diligent to open certain scluces and conducts, by which the said superfluous blood doth void and pass away, whereupon she doth not only purge and lighten all the body beside, but also cleanseth the matrice, and maketh it like a piece of ground brought in order and temper, apt to receive the plough, and desirous of the seed after it in due season: now when it hath once conceived and retained the said seed, so as the same take root and be knit, presently it draweth itself straight and close together round, and holdeth the conception within it; for the navel (as Democritus saith) being the first thing framed within the matrice, and serving in stead of an anchor against the waving and wandering of it to and fro, holdeth sure the fruit conceived, which both now groweth and hereafter is to be delivered (as it were) by a sure cable and strong bough, than also it stoppeth and shutteth up the said riverets and passages of those monthly purgations; and taking the foresaid blood, which otherwise would run an void by those pipes and conducts, it maketh use thereof for to nourish, and (as it were) to water the infant, which beginneth by this time to take some consistence and receive shape and form, so long, until a certain number of days which are necessary for the full growth thereof within be expired; at which time it had need to remove from thence for a kind of nutriment elsewhere in another place; and then diverting the said course of blood with all dexterity & a skilful hand (no gardener nor fountainer in drawing of his trenches and channels with all his cunning so artificial) and employing it from one use to another, she hath certain cisterns (as it were) or fountaine-heads, prepared of purpose from a running source most ready to receive that liquor of blood quickly, and not without some sense of pleasure and contentment; but withal, when it is received, they have a power and faculty, by a mild heat of the natural spirits within them, and with a delicate and feminine tenderness, to concoct, digest, change and convert it into another nature and quality, for that the paps have within them naturally, the like temperature and disposition answerable unto it: now these teats which spout out milk from the cocks of a conduct, are so framed and disposed, that it floweth not forth all at once, neither do they send it away suddenly: but nature hath so placed the dug, that as it endeth one way in a spongeous kind of flesh full of small pipes, and made of purpose to transmit the milk, and let it distil gently by many little pores and secret passages, so it yieldeth a nipple in manner of a faucet, very fit and ready for the little babes mouth, about which to nuzzle and nudgell with it pretty lips it taketh pleasure, and loveth to be tugging and lugging of it; but to no purpose and without any fruit or profit at all, had nature provided such tools and instruments for to engender and bring forth a child; to no end (I say) had she taken so good order, used so great industry, diligence and forecast, if withal she had not imprinted in the heart of mothers a wonderful love and affection, yea, and an extraordinary care over the fruit of their womb, when it is borne into the world: for 
Of creatures all which breath and walk upon the earth in sight,  
None is there wretched more than man new borne into this light.  And whosoever saith thus of a young infant newly coming forth of the mother's womb, maketh no lie at all, but speaketh truth; for nothing is there so imperfect, so indigent and poor, so naked, so deformed, so foul and impure, than is man to see to presently upon his birth, considering that to him (in manner alone) nature hath not given so much as a clean passage and way into this light; so furred he is all over & polluted with blood, so full of filth and ordure, when he entereth into the world, resembling rather a creature fresh killed & slain, than newly borne; that no body is willing to touch, to take up, to handle, dandle, kiss and clip it, but such as by nature are lead to love it: and therefore, whereas in all other living creatures, nature hath provided that their udders and paps should be set beneath under their bellies, in a woman only, she hath seated them aloft in her breasts, as a very proper and convenient place, where she may more readily kiss, embrace, coll and huggle her babe while it sucketh; willing thereby to let us understand, that the end of breeding, bearing and rearing children, is not gain and profit, but pure love and mere affection. Now, if you would see this more plainly proved unto you, propose (if you please) and call to remembrance the women and men both in the old world, whose hap was either first to bear children, or to see an infant newly borne; there was no law then to command and compel them to nourish and bring up their young babes; no hope at all of reciprocal pleasure or thanks at their hands that endured them; no expectance of reward and recompense another day to be paid from them, as due debt for their care, pains and cost about them: nay, if you go to that, I might say rather: That mothers had some reason to deal hardly with their young infants, and to bear in mind the injuries that they have done them, in that they endured such dangers and so great pains for them: 
As namely, when the painful throws as sharp as any dart,  
In travel pinch a woman near, and pierce her to the hart:  
Which midwives, juno's daughtersthen, do put her to, poor wretch,  
With many a pang, when with their hand they make her body stretch.  But our women say; It was never Homerus (surely) who wrote this; but Homeris rather: that is to say, some Poetresse or woman of his poetical vein, who had been herself at such a business, and felt the dolorous pangs of childbirth, or else was even then in labour, and upon the point to be delivered, feeling a mixture of bitter and sharp throws in her back, belly and flanks, when she powered out these verses: but yet, for all the sorrow and dear bargain that a mother hath of it, this kind and natural love doth still so bend, incline and lead her, that notwithstanding she be in a heat still upon her travel, full of pains and after-throwes, panting, trembling and shaking for very anguish, yet she neglecteth not her sweet babe, nor windeth or shrinketh away from it; but she turneth toward it, she maketh to it, she smileth and laugheth upon it, she taketh it into her arms, she hugleth it in her bosom, and kisseth it full kindly: neither all this while gathereth she any fruits of pleasure or profit, but painfully (God wot) and carefully 
She laps it then in rags full soft,  
With swaddling bands shewraps it oft,  
By turns she cools and keeps it warm,  
Loth is she that it should take harm:  
And thus aswell by night as day,  
Paives after pains she taketh ay.  Now tell me (I pray you) what reward, recompense and profit do women reap for all this trouble and painful hand about their little ones? None at all (surely) for the present, and as little in future expectance another day, considering their hopes are so far off, and the same so uncertain. The husbandman that diggeth and laboureth about his vine at the Acquinox in the Spring, presseth grapes out of it and maketh his vintage at the equinox of the Autumn. He that soweth his corn when the stars called Pleyades, do couch and go down, reapeth and hath his harvest afterwards when they rise and appear again; kine calve, mare's foal, hens hatch, and soon after there cometh profit of their calves, their colts and their chickens: but the rearing and education of a man is laborious, his growth is very slow and late; and whereas long it is ere he cometh to proof and make any show of virtue, commonly most fathers die before that day. Neocles lived not to see the noble victory before Salanus that Themistocles his son achieved: neither saw Miltiades the happy day wherein Cimon his son won the field at the famous battle near the river Eurynidon: Xantippus, was not so happy as to hear Pericles his son, out of the pulpit preaching and making orations to the people; neither was it the good fortune of Ariston to be at any of his son Plato's lectures and disputations in Philosophy: the fathers of Euripides and Sophocles, two renowned Poets, never knew of the victories which they obtained, for pronouncing and rehearsing their tragedies in open theatre, they might hear them peradventure when they were little ones to stammer, to lisp, to spell and put syllables together, or to speak broken Greek, and that was all. But ordinary it is that men live to see, hear, and know when their children fall to gaming, reveling, masking, and banqueting, to drunkenness, wanton whoring, love and such like misdemeanours. So as in these regards this one Mot of Euenus in an Epigram of his, deserveth to be praised and remembered. 
See bow great pains all fathers undergo,  
What daily griefs their chieldrens put them to.  And yet for all this, fathers cease not still to nourish and bring up children, and such most of all who stand least in need of their children another day; for a mere mockery it were, and a ridiculous thing if a man should suppose; that rich & wealthy men do sacrifice unto the gods, and make great joy at the nativity and birth of their children, because that one day they shall feed and sustain them in their old age, and inter them after they be dead; unless perhaps it may be said, they rejoice thus and be so glad to have and bring up children, for that otherwise they should leave none heirs behind them; as who would say, it were so hard a matter to find out and meet with those that would be willing to inherit the lands and goods of strangers. Certes the sands of the sea, the little motes in the sun raised of dust, the feathers of birds together with their variable notes, be not so many in number, as there be men that gape after heritage's, and be ready to succeed others in their livings. Danaus (who as they say was the father of 50. daughters) if his fortune had been to be childless, I doubt not but he should have had more heirs than so to have parted his goods and stare among them, and those verily after another sort than the heirs of his own body. For children yield their parents no thanks at all for being their inheritors, neither in regard thereof do they any service, duty, or honour unto them; for why? they expect and look for the inheritance as a thing due and of right belonging unto them: but chose you hear how those strangers that hang and hunt about a man who hath no children, much like to those in the comaedies, singing this song, 
O sir, no wight shall do you any harm,  
I will revenge your wrongs and quarrels ay:  
Hold hear, three-halfe-pences good to keep you warm  
Purse it, drink it, sing woe and care away.   
As for that which Euripides saith, 
These worldly goods procure men friends to choose,  
And credit most, who then will them refuse.  It is not simply and generally true, unless it be to those as have no children; for such indeed are sure to be invited and feasted by the rich; lords and rulers will make court and be serviceable to such; for them great orators and advocates will plead at the bar without fee, and give their counsel gratis, 
How mighty is a rich man with each one,  
So long as his next heir is known to none?  where as you shall see many in the world, who before time having a number of friends and honour enough and no sooner had a little child borne unto them, but they lost all their friends, credit, and reputation at once, so that by this reckoning the having of children maketh nothing at all to the authority of their parents, so that in regard thereof, it is not that they do so love their children; but surely the cause of this their kindness and affection proceedeth altogether from nature, and appeareth no less in mankind than in wild beasts: Howbeit otherwhiles this natural love aswell as many other good qualities in men, are blemished and obscured by occasion of vice that buddeth up afterwards; like as we see wild briars, bushes and brambles to spring up and grow among good and kind seeds, for otherwise we might as well collect and say that men love not themselves because many cut their own throats, or wilfully fall down headlong from steep rocks and high places. For Oedipus 
With bloody hand his own eyelids did force,  
And plucked out his eyes upon remorse.   
Hegesias disputing and discoursing upon a time of abstinence, caused many of his auditors and scholars to pine themselves to death. 
Such accidents of many sorts there be,  
Permitted by the gods we daily see.   
But all of them like as those other passions and maladies of the mind before named, transport a man out of his own nature, and put him beside himself, so as they testify against themselves that this is true, and that they do amiss herein; for if a sow having farrowed a little pig, devour it when she hath done, or a bitch chance to tear in pieces a puppy or whelp of her own litter, presently men are amazed at the sight thereof, and wonderfully affrighted, whereupon they sacrifice unto the gods certain expiatory sacrifices, for to divert the sinister praesages thereof, as taking it to a prodigious wonder, as confessing thereby, that it is a property given to all living creatures, even by the instinct and institution of nature; To love, foster and cherish the fruit of their own bodies: so far is it from them to destroy the same. And yet, notwithstanding her corruption and depravation in this behalf: Like as in mines, the gold (although it be mixed with much clay, and furred all over with earth) shineth & glittereth thorough the same, and is to be seen afar off; even so nature amid the most depravate manners and corrupt passions that we have, showeth a certain love and tender affection to little ones. To conclude, whereas the poor many times make no care at all to nourish and rear up their children, it is for nothing else but because they fear left having not so good bringing up nor so civil education as they ought, they should prove servile in behaviour, untaught, unmannerly, rude, and void of all good parts; and judging (as they do) poverty to be the extremity of all miseries that can befall to man, their heart will not serve them to leave unto their children this hereditary calamity, as a most grievous and dangerous disease.    

OF THE PLURALITY OF FRIENDS.  

The Summarie.  
IN certain discourses going before, it appeareth what a benefit and good thing friendship is. And now Plutarch addeth thereto a certain correction very necessary, in regard of our nature which is given always to bend unto extremities, and not able long to hold the golden-meane. Like as therefore, it bewrayeth a miserable, wretched and cursed mind to be desirous for to lead a life without acquaintance and familiarity with any person; even so to make friends (as they say) hand over head and upon every occasion, is peradventure impossible, but surely not expedient. Our author therefore, willing to reform this disordinate affection that is in many, who because they would have a number of friends, oftentimes have not one assured, showeth that it is far better for a man to get one fast and faithful friend, than a great multitude of whom he can not make any certain account; propounding as aremedie for this covetous mind of entertaining such a plurality of friends, the examples of those who are contented with few, and by that means think their estate more sure and steadfast. After this, he treateth of the choice of friends, but especially of one. Then discourseth he of that which is requisite in true friendship, annexing thereto many proper and apt similitudes, which represent aswell the benefit that sincere affection bringeth, as the hurt which cometh of feigned and counterfeit amity. This done, he proveth, that to entertain a number of friends, is a very hardmatter, yea, and impossible; for that a man is not able to converse with them, nor to frame and sort with them all, but that he shall procure himself enemies on all sides: and when he hath enriched and adorned the same with not able examples, he proceedeth to describe, what use a man is to make of friendship, and with what sort and condition of men he ought to join in amity: but this is the conclusion; That an honest and virtuous man can not quit himself well, and perform his devoir unto many friends at once.   

OF THE PLURALITY of friends.  
Socrates' upon a time demanded of Menon the Thessalian, who was esteemed very sufficient in all literature, and a great schoolman, exercised in long practice of disputations, and named to be one (as Empedocles saith) who had attained to the very height and perfection of wisdom and learning, what virtue was; and when he had answered readily and boldly enough, in this wise: There is a virtue (quoth he) of a young child, and of an old grey beard; of a man, and of a woman; of a magistrate, and of a private person; of a master, and of a servant: I con you thank (quoth Socrates again, replying unto him) you have done it very well: I asked you but of one virtue, and you have raised and let fly a whole swarm (as it were) of virtues, guessing and collecting not amiss by such an answer, that this deep clerk, who had named thus many virtues, knew not so much as one. And might not a man seem to scorn and mock us well enough, who having not yet gotten one friendship and amity certain, are afraid (forsooth) lest ere we be aware, we fall into a multitude and plurality of friends: for this were even as much as if one that is maimed and stark blind, should fear to become either Briareus the giant, with an hundred arms and hands, or Argus, who had eyes all over his body. And yet we praise and commend excessively and beyond all measure the young man in Menander, when he saith: 
Of all the goods which I do hold,  
To think each one (I would be bold)  
Right wonderful, if I might find  
The shadow only of a friend.  But certainly this is one cause among many others, & the same not the least, that we cannot be possessed of any one assured amity, because we covet to have so many much like unto these common strumpets and harlots, who for that they prostitute their bodies so often and to so many men, cannot make any reckoning to hold & retain any one paramor or lover fast and sure unto them; for that the first comers seeing themselves neglected and cast off by the entertainment of new, retire and fall away from them, and seek elsewhere; or rather much after the manner of that 
* Opheltes or Archemorus.  foster-child of lady Hypsipyle, 
Who being set in meadow green  
With pleasant flowers all fair beseen,  
One after other cropped them still,  
Hunting this game with right goodwill:  
For why, his heart took great content  
In their gay hue and sweety sent:  
So little wit and small 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as it is read elsewhere.  discretion  
The infant had, and no no repletion.  even so every one of us for the desire of novelty, and upon a satiety and fullness of that which is present and in hand, suffereth himself ever to be carried away with a newcome friend that is fresh and flowering; which fickle and inconstant affection causeth us to change often and to begin many friendships and finish none; to enter still into new amities and bring none to perfection; and for the love of the new which we pursue and seek after, we pass by that which we held already and let it go. To begin then first and foremost at antiquity (as it were) from the goddess Vesta (according to the old proverb) let us examine and consider the common fame of man's life which hath been delivered unto us from hand to hand time out of mind, by the succession and progress of so many ages from the old world unto this day, and take the same for a witness and counsellor both in this matter, we shall find in all the years past, these only couples and pairs of renowned friends, to wit, Theseus and Pirithous; Achilles and Patroclus; Orestes and Pylades; Pythias and Damon; Epaminondas and Pelopidas. For friendship is indeed (as I may so say) one of these cattle that love company and desire to feed and pasture with fellows; but it can not abide herds and droves, it may not away with these great flocks, as jays, daws and choughes do. And whereas it is commonly said and thought, that a friend is another own self, and men give unto him the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek, as if a man would say, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, such another: what implieth all this, but that friendship should be reduced within the measure and compass of the dual number, that is, of twain. Well, this is certain, we can buy neither many slaves nor purchase many friends with a small piece of coin: but what may be this piece of money that will fetch friends? Surely, kind affection or good will, and a lovely grace joined with virtue, things I may tell you so rare, as look throughout the world and the whole course of nature, you shall find nothing more geason. No marvel then, if it be impossible either to love many or to be loved of many, perfectly and in the height of affection. But like as great rivers, if they be divided into many channels, and cut into sundry riverets, carry but an ebb water, and run with no strong stream; even so a vehement and affectionate love planted in the mind, if it be parted many and diverse ways becometh enervate and feeble, and cometh in manner to nothing. This is the reason in nature, that those creatures which bring forth but one and no more, love their young more tenderly and entirely, than others do theirs. Homer also when he would signify a child most dearly beloved, calleth it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, only begotten and toward old age, to wit, when the parents have no more between them, nor ever are like or do look to have another: for mine own part, I would not desire to have that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, one friend, and no more; but surely, I could wish that with other he were 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 yea, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, long and late first ere he be gotten, like as a son which is borne toward the latter days of his parents, yea, and such a one, as (who according to that proverb so common in every man's mouth) hath eaten with me a measure of salt. And are not many now adays called friends? what else? if they have but drunk once together at the tavern, or met in the tennis court, or else turned into a tabling house, and played at dice and hazard one with the other, or haply light in company at one hostelry and lodged together, and in one word, they do contract and gather friends in this manner out of common inns, wrestling places, and ordinary walks in the markets or public galleries. And verily, the common sort, when they see every morning in the houses of rich men and mighty rulers, a great multitude and concourse of people, with much ado and hurry, giving attendance there to salute them and bid them good morrow, kissing their right hands, & glad if they may touch them, accompanying them in manner of a guard when they go out of their lodging; ôh, they imagine & repute such potentates wondrous happy, as being furnished with such numbers of friends; and yet surely, as many as they be, they shall see more flies ordinarily in their kitchens: and to say a troth, like as these flies will be gone if no cates and viands be stirring; so these friends will tarry no longer than gain and profit is to be gotten.  
Certes, true and perect friendship requireth these three things especially; Virtue, as being honest and commendable; Society, which is pleasant and delectable; and Profit, which is needful and necessary: for a man must admit and receive a friend upon judgement and after trial made, he ought to delight and joy in his company, and he is to make use of him as occasion serveth: all which three are contrary unto plurality of friends, but especially that which is principal, to wit, judgement upon a trial: and to prove this to be true; see first and foremost whether it be possible in a small time to make proof and trial of singing men or choristers, that they may keep a good consent and harmony together in their song; or to make choice of oar-men, who shall agree in their rowing, to rise and fall with their oars just together; or of household servants such as we purpose to make the bailiffs and stewards of our goods, or the governors and bringers up of our children? much more unlikely than is it, that we should have proof of many friends in a little space, who will be ready to enter the trial with us of all manner of fortune, and of whom every one will be priest and willing 
Of his welfare to yield even part to thee,  
And bear like part of thy calamity.  For neither is a ship shot or haled into the sea against so many storms & tempests; nor men do set & pitch so many stakes in a palisado for the defence of any place; or in havens raise banks, and oppose dams, against the like dangers, or in fear of so many perils, as friendship promiseth succour and refuge for, if it be founded surely and aright upon good proof and sufficient experience. As for such as before trial and experiment made do intrude themselves coming and going for friends, such when they be put to the trial & touch indeed, & then found like evil money, counterfeit or light, they that go without them, be glad in their mind, and as many as have them, wish with all their hart & pray to God for to be rid of them. But surely this is a troublesome & cumbrous thing, neither is it an easy matter to void and cast off such a friendship as this, so displeasant & offensive: for like as if some kind of bad meat do trouble and offend the stomach, a man can neither retain and hold it still, but it will put him to pain and breed hurt & corruption, nor yet put it off and send it out in such sort as it went in, but all filthy and loathsome, as being surred over with slime, and mixed confusedly with other humours, and wholly altered from the former state; even so an ill friend either tarrieth with us still to his own grief and ours both, or else away he goeth perforce with evil will, malice and enmity like bitter choler that is vomited out of the stomach. It is not good therefore to receive and admit of friends overlightly and oversoone, nor to set our minds and knit our affections to those that come next hand, and present themselves first, ne yet love those incontinently that seek to us and follow us; but rather to seek after them and follow them ourselves that are worthy of friendship: for we must not always choose that which is easy to be had & willing to be gotten; for we put-by gorse and furzen bushes; we tread under foot briars and brambles though they catch hold of us, and hang unto us as we walk whether we will or no; whereas we go forward to the olive tree and the vine; and even so it is not always decent & good to entertain into our familiarity one that is ready to embrace and hang about us; but rather such ought we ourselves affectionately to embrace whom we have tried to be profitable unto us, and who deserve that we should love and make account of them. And like as Xeuxis the painter answered sometime to those who found fault with him for his slow hand in painting: I confess indeed (quoth he) that I am long in drawing a picture, for I purpose that my work should continue long; and even so that friendship and familiarity is like to last and be preserved long which was a good while in prose and trial. Is it then no easy matter to make trial and choice of many friends together? and is it no hard thing to converse & keep company with many at once, or rather is this also impossible? for surely it is conversation and fellowship, whereby we enjoy the benefit of friendship, and the most sweet and pleasant fruit of amity consisteth in keeping continual society, and daily frequenting one another's company, like unto those who uttered these words, 
For during life we will not sit in counsel from our friends,  
Nor yet resolve of doubtful points before we know their minds.  As Homer reporteth in one place: and in another Menelaus speaking of Ulysses, saith thus, 
Nought else us twain our mutual love, and pleasures shall depart  
Until death close up hot hour eyes and strike us to the hart.   
But this plurality of friends whereof we now speak, seemeth to do clean contrary; for whereas the simple amity of twain draweth us together, holdeth & uniteth us by frequent and continual conversation, fellowship, and duties of kindness, 
Muth like as when the figree juice, you put white milk among,  
It crudles, knits, and binds the same, no less than rennet strong.  according to the words of Empedocles; and surely desirous it is to make the semblable union and concorporation: this friendship of many separateth, distracteth and diverteth us, calling and transporting us sundry ways, not permitting the commixture and soldered (as it were) of good will and kind affection to grow into one, and make a perfect joint by familiar conversation, enclosing & fastening every part together. But the same anon bringeth withal a great inequality in offices and reciprocal services meet for friends, and breedeth a certain foolish bashfulness and straining of courtesy in the performance thereof, for by occasion of many friends those parts in amity, which otherwise are easy and commodious, become difficult and incommodious: And why? 
All men do not agree in humour one,  
Their thoughts their cares bend diversely each one.  and no 〈◊〉, for our very natures do not all incline in affection the same way; neither are we at all times conversant and acquainted with the like fortunes and adventures. To say nothing of their sundry occasions and occurrences which serve not indifferently for all our actions; but like as the winds unto sailors, they are with some and against others; sometimes on our backs and other whiles full in our face. And say that it may fall out so, that all our friends at once do stand in need, and be desirous of one and the same help and ministery at our hands, it were very hard to fit all their turns and satisfy them to their content; whether it be in taking our advice and counsel in any negotiations, or in treating about State matters, or in suit after dignities, places of government, or in fearsting and entertaining strangers in their houses: But suppose that at one & the same instant, our friends being diversely affected & troubled with sundry affairs, request all of them together our helping hand; as for example, one that is going to sea for to have our company in that voyage; another who being defendant & to answer for himself in the law, to assist him in the court; and a third that is a plaintiff, to second him in his plea; a fourth who either is to buy or sell, for to help him to make his markets; a fifth who is to marry for to sacrifice with him, and be at his wedding dinner; and a sixth, who is to inter a dead corpse for to mourn & solemnize the funerals with him: in such a medley and confusion as this, as if according to Sophocles: 
A city smoked withinsence sweet,  
And ring with songs for murth so meet,  
With plaints also and groans resound,  
And all in one and self same stound.  Certes having so many friends, to assist and gratify them all were impossible, to pleasure more were absurd, and in serving one's turn to reject many others, were offensive and hurtful: for this is a rule: 
Who to his friend is well affected,  
Loves not himself to be neglected.  and yet commonly such negligences and foregetfull defaults of friends, we take with more patience, and put up with less anger and displeasure, when they shall come to excuse themselves by oblivion making these and such like answers. Surely, you were but forgotten; it was out of my head, and I never thought of it: but he that shall allege thus and say: I was not your assistant in the court, nor stood to you in your cause, by reason that I attended another friend of mine in a trial of his; or I came not to visit you whiles you had an ague, for that I was busily employed at a feast, that such a one made to one of his friends; excusing his negligence to one friend, by his diligance to others; surely he maketh no satisfaction for the offence already taken, but increaseth the same and maketh it worse than before, by reason of jealousy added thereto; howbeit most men as it should seem aim at nothing else but at the profit and commodity which friendship bringeth and yieldeth from without, & never regard what care it doth imprint and work within; neither remember they that he whose turn hath been served by many friends, must likewise reciprocally be ready to help them as their need requireth. Like as therefore the giant Briareus with his 100 hands feeding 50 bellies, had no more sustenance for his whole body than we, who with two hands furnish and fill one belly; even so the commodity that we have by many friends bringeth this discommodity withal, that we are to be employed also to many, in taking part with them of their griefs and passion, in travailing and in being troubled together with them in all their negotiations and affairs: for we are not to give care unto Euripides the poet when he saith thus, 
In mutual love men ought a mean to keep,  
That it touch not heart root nor marrow deep,  
Affections for to change it well befits,  
To rise and fall, now hot now cool by fits.  giving us to understand that friendship is to be used according as need requireth more or less, like to the helm of a ship, which both holdeth it hard, and also giveth head, or the tackling which spread and draw, hoist and strike sail, as occasion serveth. But chose, rather (good Euripides) we may turn this speech of yours to enmity, & admonish men that their quarrels & contentions be moderate and enter not to the heart and inward marrow (as it were) of the soul, that hatred (I say) and malice, that anger, offences, defiances, and suspicions, be so entertained as that they may be soon appeased, laid down & forgotten. A better precept is that yet of Pythagoras, when he teacheth us not to give our right hand to many; that is to say, not to make many men our friends, nor to affect that popular amity common to all, and exposed or offered to every one that cometh, which no doubt cannot choose but bring many passions with it into the heart, among which, to be disquieted for a friend, to condole or grieve with him, to enter into troubles, and to plunge one's self into perils for his sake, are not very easy matters to be borne by those that cariean an ingenuous mind with them, and be kind hearted: but the saying of wise Chilon a prosessour of philofophie is most true, who answering unto a man that vaunted how he had not an enemy; It should seem then (quoth he) that thou hast never a friend; for certainly enmities ensue presently upon amities, nay they are both interlaced together; neither is it the part of a friend not to feel the injuries done unto a friend, not to participate with him in all ignomines, hatred, and quarrels that he incurreth; and one enemy evermore will be sure to suspect the friend of another, yea and be ready to malice him; as for friends oftentimes they envy their own friends, they have them in jealousy, and traduce them every way. The oracle answered unto Timesias when he consulted about the planting and peopling of a new colony in this wife: 
Thou think'st to lead a swarmc of bees full kind,  
But angry wasps, thou sbalt them shortly find.  semblably they that seek after a beehive (as it were) of friends, light ere they be aware upon a wasps nest of enemies: where there is a great odds and difference even in this, that the revenging remembrance of an enemy for wrong done, overweigheth much the thankful memory of a friend for a benefit received: and whether this be true or no, consider in what manner Alexander the great entreated the friends of Philotas and parmenio; how Dionysius the tyrant used the familiars of Dion, after what sort Nero the emperor dealt by the acquaintance of Plautus; or Tiberius Caesar by the well-willers of Sejanus, whom they caufed all to be racked, tortured and put to death in the end. Andlike as the costly jewels of gold, and the rich apparel of king Creon's daughter, served him in no stead at all, but the fire that took hold thereof, flaming light out suddenly, burned him when he ran unto her to take her in his arms, and so consumed father and daughter together; even so you shall have some, who having never received any benefit at all by the prosperity of their friends, are entangled notwithstanding in their calamities, and perish together with them for company; a thing that ordinarily and most of all they are subject unto, who be men of profession, great clerks, and honourable personages. Thus Theseus, when Pirithous his friend was punifhed and lay bound in prifon 
With fetters sure to him tied was,  
far stronger than of iron or brass.   
Thucydides alfo writeth; That in the great pestilence at Athens, the best men and such as made greatest profession of virtue, were they who did most with their friends that lay sick of the plague: for that they never spared themselves, but went to visit and look to all thofe whom they loved were familiarly acquainted with. And therefore it is not meet to meet to make foe littleregard and reckoning of virtue, as to hang and fasten it upon others, without respect, and (as they say) hand over head, but to reserve the comunication thereof to be who be worthy; that is to say, unto such who are able to love reciprocally, and know how to impart the like again. And verily, this is the greatest contrariety and opposition which crosseth plurality of friends, in that amity in deed is bred by similitude and conformity: for considering that the very brute beasts not endued with reafon, if a man would have to engender with those that are of diverse kinds, are brought to it by force, and thereto compelled, insomuch, as they shrink, they couch down upon their knees, and be ready to flee one from another; whereas chose, they take pleasure and delight to be coupled with their like and of the same kind, receiving willingly and entertaining their company in the act of generation, with gentleness and good contentment: how is it possible that any found and perfect friendship fhould grow between those who are in behaviour quite different, in affections diverse, in conditions opposite, and whose course of life tendeth to contrary or sundry ends? True it is, that the harmony of music, whether it be in song or instrument, hath symphony by antiphony (that is to say) the accord ariseth from discord and of contrary notes is composed a sweet tune, so as the treble and the base concur, after a sort, (I wot not how) & meet together, bringing forth by their agreement that sound which pleaseth the ear: but in this consonance and harmony of friendfhip, there ought to be no part unlike or unequal, nothing obscure and doubtful, but the same should be compofed of all things agreeable, to wit, the same will, the same opinion, the same counsel, the same affection, as if one soul were parted into many bodies. And what man is he, so laborious, so mutable, so variable, and apt to take every fashion & form? who is able to frame unto all patterns, and accommodate himself to so many natures, and will not rather be ready to laugh at the Poet Theognis, who giveth this lesson: 
Put on a mind (I thee do wish)  
As variable as Polype fish,  
Who ay resemble will the roch,  
To which he nearly doth approach.  and yet this change and transmutation of the said polype or pourcuttle fish, entereth not deeply in, but appeareth superficially in the skin, which by the closeness or laxity thereof, as he draws it in or lets it out, receiveth the defluctions of the colours from those bodies that are near unto it; whereas amities do require that the manners, natures, passions, speeches, studies, desires and inclinations may be conformable; for otherwise to do, were the property of a Proteus, who was neither fortunate nor yet very good and honest, but who by enchantment and sorcery could eftsoons transform himself from one shape to another in one and the same instant; and even so he that enterteineth many friends, must of necessity be conformable to them all; namely, with the learned and studious, to be ever reading; with professors of wrestling, to bestrew his body with dust (as they do) for to wrestle; with hunters, to hunt; with drunkards, to quaff and carouse; with ambitious citizens, to sue and manage for offices, without any settled mansion (as it were) of his own nature for his conditions to make abode in. And like as natural Philosophers do hold: That the substance or matter that hath neither form nor any colour, which they call Materia prima, is a subject capable of all forms, and of the own nature so apt to alter and change, that sometimes it is ardent and burning, otherwhiles it is liquid and moist; now rare and of an airy substance, and afterwards again gross and thick, resembling the nature of earth; even so must the mind applied to this multiplicity of friends, be subject to many passions, sundry conditions, diverse affections pliable, variable and apt to change from one fashion to another. chose, simple friendship and amity between twain, requireth a stayed mind, a firm and constant nature, permanent and abiding always in one place, and retaining still the same fashions; which is the reason that a fast and assured friend is very geason and hard to be found.    

OF FORTUNE.  

The Summarie.  
LOng time hath this Proverb been currant, That there is nothing in this world but good fortune and misfortune. Some have expounded and taken it thus; as if all things were carried by mere chance and aventure, or moved and driven by inconstant fortune, an idol forged in their brain, for that they were ignorant in the providence of the True God who conducteth or dinarily all things in this world by second causes and subaltern means, yea the very motion, will and works of men, for the execution of his ordinance and purpose. Now Plutarch not able to arise and reach up to this divine and heavenly wisdom hidden from his knowledge, stayeth below; and yet poor Pagan and Ethnic though he were, he consuteth that dangerous opinion of Fortune; showing that it taketh away all distinction of good and evil, quencheth and putteth out the light of man's life, blending and confounding vice and virtue together. Afterwards he proveth that prudence and wisdom, overruleth this blind fortune, by considering the mastery and dominion that man hath above beasts: the arts also and sciences whereof he maketh profession, together with his judgement and will directly opposite and contrary to all casualties and changes.   

OF FORTUNE.  

BLind fortune rul's man's life alway,  
Sage counsel therein bears no sway,  said one (who ever it was) that thought all human actions depended upon mere casualty, and were not guided by wisdom. What? and hath justice and equity no place at all in this world? can temperance and modesty do nothing in the direction and managing of our affairs? Came it from fortune; and was it indeedby mere chance that Aristides made choice to continue in poverty, when it was in his power to make himself a Lord of much wealth and many goods? or that Scipio when he had forced Carthage, took not to himself, nor so much as saw any part of all that pillage? And was it long of fortune, or by casualty that Philocrates having received of King Philip a great sum of gold, bought therewith harlots and dainty fishes? or that Lasthenes and Euthycrates betrayed the city Olynthus, measuring sovereign good and felicity of man by belly-cheer, and those pleasures which of all other be most dishonest and infamous? And shall we say, it was a work of fortune that Alexander, son of Philip, not only himself forbore to touch the bodies of the captive women taken in war, but also punished all such as offered them violence and injury: and chose, came it by ill luck and unhappy fortune, that another Alexander the son of King Priamus slept and lay with his friend's wife, when he lodged and entertained him in his house, and not only so, but carried her away with him, and by that occasion brought all manner of calamity upon two main parts of the continent, to wit, Europe and Asia, and filled them both with those miseries that follow wars?  
If we grant that all these occurrents came by fortune, what should let us, but we might as well say that cats, goats and apes be likewise by fortune given to be always lickorous, lecherous, shrewd and saucy. But in case it be true (as true it is) that the world hath in it temperance, justice and fortitude; what reason is there to say, that there is no prudence and wisdom therein? now if it be yielded that the world is not void of prudence: how can it be maintained that there should not be in it sage counsel? For temperance (as some say) is a kind of prudence; and most certain it is, that justice should be assisted by prudence; or to say more truly, aught to have it present with her continually. Certes, sage counsel & wisdom in the good use of pleasures and delights, whereby we continue honest, we ordinarily do call continence and temperance; the same in dangers and travels, we term to lerance, patience and fortitude; in contracts and management of State affairs we give the name of loyalty, equity and justice; whereby it cometh to pass, that if we will attribute the effects of counsel and wisdom unto fortune, we must likewise ascribe unto her the works of justice and temperance. And so (believe me) to rob and steal, to cut purses, and to keep whores, must proceed from fortune; which if it be so, let us abandon all discourse of our reason, and betake ourselves wholly to fortune to be driven and carried to and fro at her pleasure like to the dust, chaff, or sweep of the floor, by the puffs of some great wind. Take away sage & discreet counsel; farewell then all consultation as touching affairs, away with deliberation, consideration and inquisition into that which is behoveful and expedient: for surely then, Sophocles talked idly, and knew not what he spoke in saying thus: 
Seek, and be sure to find with diligence,  
But loose, what you for-let by negligence.  And in another place where dividing the affairs of man he saith in this wise: 
What may be taught, I strive to learn; what may likewise be found  
I seek, for wishes all I pray, and would to God be bound.  Now would I gladly know, what is it that men may find and what can they learn, in case all things in the world be directed by fortune? What Senate house of city would not be dissolved and abolished? what counsel chamber of Prince should not be overthrown and put down, if all were at the disposition of fortune? we do her wrong in reproaching her for blindesse, when we run upon her as we do, blind, and debasing ourselves unto her; for how can we choose but stumble upon her indeed, if we pluck out our own eyes, to wit, our wisdom & dexterity of counsel, and take a blind guide to lead us by the hand in the course of this our life? Certes, this were even as much, as it some one of us should say, the action of those that see, is fortune, and not sight or eyes, which Plato calleth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, Light-bearers: the action likewise of them that hear, is nothing else but fortune, and not a natural power and faculty to receive the stroke or repercussion of the air, carried by the care and the brain. But better it were (I trow) and so will every wise body think to take heed how to discredit our senses so, as to submit them to fortune: For why? Nature hath bestowed upon us sight, hearing, taste and smelling, with all the parts of the body endued with the rest of their powers and faculties, as ministers of counsel and wisdom. For it is the soul that seeth, it is the soul & understanding that heareth, all the rest are deaf and blind: and like as if there were no sun at all we should (for all the stars beside) live in perpetual night as Heraclitus saith; even so if man had not reason and intelligence, notwithstanding all his other senses, he should not differ in the whole race of his life from brute and wild beasts; but now in that we excel and rule them all, it is not by chance and fortune: but Prometheus (that is to say) the use and discourse of reason is the very cause that hath given us in recompense 
Both horse and ass, with breed of beefs so strong  
To carry us, and ease our labour long.  according as we read in Aeschylus the poet. Forasmuch as otherwise fortune and nature both have been more favourable, and beneficial to most of the brute beasts in their entrance into this life, than unto man; for armed they be with horns, tusks, spurs, and stings; moreover as Empedocles saith, 
The Urchin strikes with many a prick,  
Which grow on back both sharp and thick.  Again there be many beasts clad and covered with scales and shag hair; shod also with claws and hard hooses: only man as Plato saith is abandoned and forsaken by nature, all naked, unarmed, unshod, and without any vesture whatsoever, 
But by one gift which she hath given,  
Amends she makes, and all is even.  and that is, the use of reason, industry, and providence. 
For strength of mortal man is small,  
His lins but weak and sinews all:  
Yet by his wit and quick conceit,  
By cunning casts and subtle sleight,  
No beast in sea, or mount, so fell,  
So wild, or sly, but he doth quell.  What beast more nimble, morelight and swift than is the horse; but for man it is that he runneth in the race: the dog is courageous and eager in fight, but it is in the defence of man: fishes yield a most delicate and sweet meat; and swine be full of good flesh, but both of them serve as viands for the food and nourishment of man: what creature is bigger or more 〈◊〉 to see to than is the elephant? howbeit he maketh man sport and pastime, he is showed as a goodly sight in festival solemnities where people be assembled, he is taught to frisk and dance his measures, to fall upon his knees likewise and do reverence: and verily these and such like sleights and examples are exhibited not in vain nor without good profit, but to this end, that thereby we may know how farfoorth reason & wisdom doth advance and lift up a man, above what things it maketh him surmount, and how by means thereof he ruleth all, and surpasseth all: 
At fight with fists we are not good, nor yet intripping feet,  
In wrestling we may well be blamed, our running is not fleet.  But in all these feats we are inferior to brute beasts, howbeit for experience, memory, wisdom and artificial sleights (as Anaxagor as said) we go beyond them all, and thereby 〈◊〉 have the mastery and use of them, making them to serve our turns: we strain honey out of the combs of bees; we press milk out of beasts udders; we rob and spoil them; we drive and carry them away and whatsoever they have, insomuch as in all this there is nothing that can be justly attributed to form, but all proceeds from counsel and forecast.  
Furthermore, the works of carpenters are done by hand of man, so are they also of smiths and braziers, of masons, builders, gravers and imagers: in all which there is nothing to be seen, that a man can say is done by chance or fortune, at leastwise when it is wrought absolutely and as it should be. And say that it may fall out otherwhiles that a good artisan, whether he be a cutter in brass or a mason, a smith or a carpenter, may meet with fortune and do some little thing by chance; yet the greatest pieces of work, and the most number are wrought and finished respectively by their arts, which a certain poet hath given us secretly to understand by these verses, 
March on your way each artisan  
Who live upon your handicraft,  
On forth I say in comely train,  
Your sacred panniers bear aloft;  
You that Ergane dread and fear  
The daughter grim of jupiter.  For this Ergane (that is to say Minerva) all artisanes and artificers acknowledge and honour for their patroness, and not fortune. True it is that the report goes of a certain painter, who drawing the picture of an horse, had done very well in all respects, both in portraiture and also colours, save only that he pleased not himself in painting the foam and swelling froth which useth to gather about the bit as he champeth upon the same, and so falleth from his mouth when he snuffeth and bloweth; this I say he liked not, neither thought he it workmanly done, insomuch as he wiped it out many times and began it a new; but never was it to his mind; at last in a pelting chafe because it would frame no better, he takes me his sponge full as it was of colours, and flung it against the table wherein he wrought; but see the wonderful chance; this sponge lighting as it did upon the right place, gave such a print, and dashed so, as that it represented the froth that he so much desired most lively; and to my remembrance there is not in any history set down an artificial thing but this that fortune ever did.  
Artificers use altogether in every piece of work, their squires, their rules, their lines and leavels; they go by measures and numbers, to the end that in all their works there should not be any thing found done either rashly or at aventure. And verily these arts are petty kinds of Prudence and so called; or rils and riverets flowing from Prudence, or certain parcels rather of it, sprinkled and dispersed among the necessities of this life: and thus much is covertly signified by the fable of the fire that Prometheus divided by sparkles, which flew some here some there; for semblahy, the small parcels and fragments of wisdom, being cut into sundry portions, are ranged into their several ranks and become arts. A wonderful thing how these arts and sciences should have no dealing with Fortune nor need her help, for to attain unto their proper ends; and yet Prudence which is the greatest sovereign and most perfect of them all, yea and the very height of all the glory, reputation, and goodness of man, should be just nothing. In the winding up and letting down of the strings of an instrument, there is one kind of wisdom, and that is called Music; in the dressing and ordering of meats and viands there is another, which they name Cookery; in washing and scouring of clothes and garments there is a third, to wit, the fullers craft. As for our little children, we teach them to draw on their shoes, to make them ready and dress themselves in their clothes decently, to take meat in their right hand, and to hold bread in the left; an evident argument and proof, that even such small matters as these, depend not of chance and fortune, but require skill and heed taking. Shall we say then that the greatest and most principal things that are, even those that be most material and necessary for man's felicity, use not wisdom, norparticipate one whit with providence and the judgement of reason? There is no man so blockish and void of understanding, that after he hath tempered clay and water together, lets it alone and goeth his way when he hath so done, looking that of the own accord, or by fortune there will be bricks or tiles made thereof: neither is any one such a sot, as when he hath bought wool & leather, sits him down & prays unto fortune, that thereof he may have garments or shoes: and is there any man so foolish think you? who having gathered together a great mass of gold and silver, gotten about him a mighty retinue of slaves and servants, and being possessed of diverse fair and stately houses with many a door within and without, and those surely locked on every side, having before him in his eyesight a sort of sumptuous beds with their rich and costly furniture, and of tables most precious, will repose sovereign felicity therein, or think that all this can make him to live happily, without pain, without grief, secure of change and alteration, if he have not wisdom withal?  
There was one that cavilled upon a time with Captain Iphicrates, and by way of reproach & minding to prove that he was of no reckoning, demanded what he was? For (quoth he) you are not a man at arms, nor archer, nor yet targuetier: I am not indeed I confess (quoth Iphicrates, but I am he who command all these, and employ them as occasion serveth; even so wisdom, is neither gold nor silver, it is not glory or riches, it is not health, it is not strength, it is not beauty: what is it then? Surely even that which can skill how to use all these, and by means whereof each of these things is pleasant, honourable and profitable; and chose, without which, they are displeasant, hurtful and dangerous, working his destruction and dishonour who possesseth them. And therefore right good counsel gave Prometheus in Hesiodus to his brother Epimetheus in this one point: 
Receive no gifts at any time, which heavenly jove shall send:  
But see thou do refuse them all, and back again them send.  Meaning thereby these outward goods of fortunes gift, as if he would have said: Go not about to play upon a Flute, if thou have no knowledge in Music; nor to read if thou know never a letter in the book; mount not on horseback, unless thou canst tell how to sit him and ride; and even so he advised him thereby, not to seek for office and place of government in commonweal, wanting wit as he did; nor to lay for riches, so long as he bore a covetous mind and wist not how to be liberal; nor to marry a wife, for to be his master and to lead him by the nose: for not only wealth and prosperity happening above desert unto unadvised folk, giveth occasion (as Demosthenes said) unto them for to commit many follies; but also worldly happiness beyond all reason and demerit, causeth such as are not wise, to become unhappy and miserable in the end.    

OF ENVY AND HATRED.  

The Summarie.  
IN this brief Treatise concerning Envy and Hatred, Plutarch after he hath showed in general terms, that they be two different vices, and declared withal the properties of the one and the other, proveth this difference by diversreasons and arguments ranged in their order: he discovereth the nature of envious persons and malicious; and showeth by a proper similitude that the greatest personages in the world, be secured from the claws and paws of envious persons, and yet for all that, cease not to have many enemies. And verily it seemeth that the Author began this little work, especially for to beat down envy, and that the infamy thereof might so much more appear in comparing andmatching it with another detestable vice, the which notwithstanding he saith is less 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 than it.   

OF ENVY AND HATRED.  
IT seemeth at the first sight, that there is no difference between envy and hatred, but that they be both one. For vice (to speak in general) having (as it were) many hooks or crotchets, by means thereof as it stirreth to and fro, it yieldeth unto those passions which hang thereto many occasions and opportunities to catch hold one of another, and so to be knit and interlaced one within the other; and the same verily (like unto diseases of the body) have a sympathy and fellow-feeling one of another's distemperature and inflammation: for thus it cometh to pass, that a malicious and spiteful man is as much grieved and offended at the prosperity of another, as the envious person: and so we hold, that benevolence and goodwill is opposite unto them both, for that it is an affection of a man, wishing good unto his neighbour: and envy in this respect resembleth hatred, for that they have both a will and intention quite contrary unto love: but forasmuch as no things like to the same, and the resemblances between them be not so effectual to make them all one, as the differences to distinguish them asunder; let us search and examine the said differences, beginning at the very source and original of these passions.  
Hatred then, is engendered and ariseth in our heart upon an imagination and deep apprehension that we conceive of him whom we hate, that either he is nought & wicked in general to every man, or else intending mischief particularly unto ourselves: for commonly it falleth out, that those who think they have received some injury at such an one's hand, are disposed to hate him, yea, and those whom otherwise they know to be maliciously bend and wont to hurt others, although they have not wronged them, yet they hate and can not abide to look upon them with patience; whereas ordinarily they bear envy unto such only as seem to prosper and to live in better state than their neighbours: by which reckoning it should seem that envy is a thing indefinite, much like unto the disease of the eyes Ophthalmia, which is offended with the brightness of any light whatsoever; whereas hatred is determinate, being always grounded upon some certain subject matters respective to itself, and on them it worketh. Secondly, our hatred doth extend even to brute beasts; for some you shall have, who naturally abhor and can not abide to see cats nor the flies cantharides, nor toads, nor yet snakes and any such serpents. As for Germanicus Caesar, he could not of all things abide either to see a cock or to hear him crow. The Sages of Persia called their Magis, killed all their mice and rats, aswell for that themselves could not away with them but detested them, as also because the god (forsooth) whom they worshipped, had them in horror. And in truth, all the Arabians and Aethiopians generally, hold them abominable. But envy properly is between man and man; neither is there any likelihood at all, that there should be imprinted envy in savage creatures one against another; because they have not this imagination and apprehension, that another is either fortunate or unfortunate, neither be they touched with any sense of honour or dishonour; which is the thing that principally and most of all other giveth an edge, and whetteth on envy; whereas it is evident that they hate one another, they bear malice and maintain enmitic, nay, they go to war as against those that be disloyal, treacherous, and such as are not to be trusted: for in this wife do eagle's war with dragons, crows with owls, and the little nonner or titmouse fighteth with the linnet, insomuch, as by report, the very blood of them after they be killed, will not mingle together; and that which is more, if you seem to mix them, they will separate and run apart again one from the other: and by all likelihood, the hatred that the lion hath to the cock, and the elephant also unto an hog, proceedeth from fear: for lightly that which creatures naturally fear, the same they also hate; so that herein also a man may assign and note the difference between envy and hatred, for that the nature of beasts is capable of the one but not of the other.  
Over and beside, no man deserveth justly to be envied: for to be in prosperity and in better state than another, is no wrong or injury offered to any person; and yet this is it for which men be envied; whereas chose, many are hated worthily, such as those whom in Greek we call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, worthy of public hatred, as also as many as do not fly from such, detest them not nor abhor their company. And a great argument to verify this point, may be gathered from hence, namely, in that some there be who confess and take it upon them, that they hate many; but no man will be known that he envieth any: for in truth, the hatred of wicked persons and of wickedness, is commended as a quality in men praisewoorthy. And to this purpose serveth well that which was said of Charillus, who reigned in Sparta, and was Lycurgus his brother's son, whom when there were certain that commended for a man of mild behaviour and of a relenting and gentle nature: And how can it be (quoth he who was joined with him in the royal government) that Charillus should be good, seeing he is not sharp and rigorous to the wicked. And the Poet Homer describing the deformity of Thersytes his body, depainted his defects and imperfections in sundry parts of his person, and by many circumlocutions; but his perverse nature and crooked conditions he set down briefly and in one word in this wise: 
Worthy Achilles of all the host  
And sage ulysses, he hated most.  for he could not choose but be stark nought and wicked in the highest degree, who was so full of hatred unto the best men. As for those who deny that they are envious, in case they be convinced manifestly therein, they have a thousand pretences and excuses therefore, alleging that they are angry with the man, or stand in fear of him whom indeed they bear envy unto, or that they hate him, colouring and cloaking this passion of envy with the vail of any other whatsoever for to hide and cover it, as if it were the only malady of the soul, that would be concealed and dissembled. It cannot choose therefore, but that these two passions be nourished and grow as plants of one kind, by the same means, considering that naturally they succeed one the other: howbeit, we rather hate those that be given more to lewdness and wickedness, and we envy such rather who seem to excel others in virtue. And therefore Themistocles (being but a youth) gave out and said, that he had done nothing notable, because as yet he was not envied: for like as the flies cantharides settle principally upon that wheat which is the fairest and come to full perfection; and likewise stick unto the roses that are most out, and in the very pride of their flowering; even so envy taketh commonly unto the best conditioned persons, and to such as are growing to the height of virtue and honour: whereas chose the leawdest qualities that be, and wicked in the highest degree do mightily move and augment hatred: and hereupon it was that the Athenians had them in such derestable hatred, and abhorred them so deadly, who by their slanderous imputations brought good Socrates their fellow-citizen to his death, insomuch as they would not vouchsafe either to give them a coal or two of fire, or light their candles, or deign them an answer when they asked a question; nay they would not wash or bathe together with them in the same water, but commanded those servitors in the baines which were called Parachytae, that is to say, drawers and laders of water into the bathing vessels, to let forth that as polluted and defiled, wherein they had washed; whereupon they seeing themselves thus excommunicate and not able to endure this public hatred which they had incurred, being weary of their lives, hung and strangled themselves. On the contrary side it is often seen, that the excellency of virtue, honour and glory, and the extraordinary success of men is so much, that it doth extinguish and quench all envy. For it is not a likely or credible matter that any man bare envy unto Cyrus or Alexander the great, after they were become the only lords and monarchs of the whole world: but like as the sun when he is directly and plumb over the head or top of any thing, causeth either no shadow at all, or the same very small and short by the reason that his light overspreadeth round about; even so when the prosperity of a man is come to the highest point and have gotten over the head of envy, than the said envy retireth and is either gone altogether, or else drawn within a little room by reason of that brightness overspreading it: but chose the grandence of fortune and puissance in the enemies, doth not one jot abbreviate or allay the hatred of their evil willers; and that this is true, may appear by the example of Alexander above named, who had not one that envied him, but many enemies he found and those malicious, and by them in the end he was traitorously forlaied and murdered.  
Semblably, adversities may well stay envy and cause it cease, but enmity and hatred they do not abolish; for men never give over to despite their enemies, no not when they are brought low and oppressed with calamities; whereas you shall not see one in misery envied. But most true is that saying found of a certain sophister or great professor in our days: That envious persons of all other be ever pitiful and delight most in commiseration: so that herein lieth one of the greatest differences between these two passions; that hatred departeth not from those persons of whom it hath once taken hold, neither in the prosperity nor adversity of those whom they hate; whereas envy doth avoid and vanish away to nothing upon extremity aswell of the one as the other.  
Over and beside we may the better discover the difference also of them by the contraries: for hatred, enmity, and malice cease presently so soon as a man is persuaded that he hath caught no harm nor sustained injury by the party; or when he hath conceived an opinion that such as he hated for their lewdness are reform and become honest men; or thirdly if he have received some pleasure or good turn at their hand: for evermore the last favour that is showed (as Thucydides saith) though it be less than many others, yet if it come in season and a good time, is able to do out a greater offence taken before. Now of these three causes before specified, the first doth not wash away envy; for say that men were persuaded at the first that they received give not over for all that to bear envy still: and as for the two later they do irritate and provoke it the 〈◊〉: for such as they esteem men of quality and good worth, those they do eie-bite more than before, as having virtue the greatest good that is; and notwithstanding that they do reap commodity & find favour at their hands, who prosper more than they; yet they grieve and vex thereat, envying them still both for their good mind to benefit them, and for their might and ability to perform the same; for that the one proceedeth from virtue, and the other from an happy estate, both which are good things.  
We may therefore conclude, that envy is a passion far different from hatred, since it is so that wherewith the one is appeased and mollified, the other is made more exasperated and grievous. But let us consider a little in the end the scope and intention aswell of the one as the other: Certes the man that is malicious, purposeth fully to do him a mischief whom he hateth; so that this passion is defined to be a disposition and forward will to spy out an occasion & opportunity to wait another a shrewd turn; but surely this is not in envy: for many there be who have an envious eye to their kinsfolk and companions, whom they would not for all the good in the world see either to perish or to fall into any grievous calamity; only they are grieved to see them in such prosperity, and would impeach what they can their power, and eclipse the brightness of their glory; mary they would not procure nor desire their utter overthrow, nor any distresses remediless or extreme miseries; but it would content and suffice them to take down their height, and as it were the upmost garret or turret of an high house which overlooketh them.    

HOW A MAN MAY RECEIVE PROFIT BY HIS ENEMIES.  

The Summarie.  
AMong the dangerous effects of envy and hatred this is not the least nor one of the last, that they shoot (as it were) from within our adversaries, for to slide and enter into us and take possession in our hearts, making us believe that we shall impeach one evil by another; which is as much as to desire to cleanse one or dure by a new, and to quench a great fire by putting into it plenty of oil. As for hatred it hath another effect nothing less pernictous, in that it maketh us blind, and causeth us that we can not tell at which end of turning to take our enemies, nor know ourselves how to re-enter into the way of virtue. Plutarch willing to cut off such effects by the help of moral Philosophy, taketh occasion to begin this discourse with a sentence of Xenophon; and proveth in the first place by diverse similitudes: That a man may take profit by his enemies: and this he layeth abroad in particulars, showing that their ambushes and inquisitions serve us in very great stead. After this, he teacheth us the true way how to be revenged of those that hate us, and what we ought to consider in blaming another. Now for as much as our life is subject to many injuries and calumniations, he instructeth us a man may turn all to his own commodity: which done, he presenteth four remedies and expedient means against their standerous language, and how we should confound our enemies: The first is, To contain our own tongues, without rendering evil for evil: the second is, To do them good, to love and praise their virtues: the third, To outgo them in well doing: and the last, To provide that virtue remain always on our side, in such sort, that if our enemies be vicious, yet we persist in doing good; and if they carry some show and appearance of goodness, we endeavour to be indeed and without all comparison better than they.   

HOW A MAN MAY RECEIVE profit by his enemies.  
I See that you have chosen by yourself (o Cornelius Pulcher) the meetest course that may be in the government of commonwealth; wherein having a principal regard unto the weal-public, you show yourself most gracious and courteous in private to all those that have access and repair unto you. Now forasmuch as a man may well find some country in the world, wherein there is no venomous beast, as it is written of Candie, but the management and administration of State affairs was never known yet to this day clear from envy, jealousy, emulation and contention, passions of all other most apt to engender and breed enmities, unto which it is subject; for that if there were nothing else, even amity & friendship itself is enough to entangle and encumber us with enmities; which wise Chilon the Sage knowing well enough, demanded upon a time of one (who vaunted that he had no enemies) whether he had not a friend. In regard hereof a man of State and policy, in mine opinion (among many other things wherein he ought to be well studied) should also thoroughly know what belongeth to the having of enemies, and give good ear unto the saying of Xenophon, namely: That a man of wit and understanding is to make his profit and benefit by his enemies. And therefore having gathered into a pretty Treatise, that which came into my mind of late to discourse and dispute upon this matter, I have sent unto you written and penned in the very same terms as they were delivered, having this eye and regard as much as possible I could, not to repeat any thing of that which heretofore I had written touching the politic precepts of governing the weal public, for that I see that you have that book often in your hand.  
Our forefathers in the old world contented themselves in this: That they might not be wounded or hurt by strange and savage beasts brought from foreign countries, and this was the end of all those combats that they had against such wild beasts; but those who came after, have learned moreover, how to make use of them; not only take order to keep themselves from receiving any harm or damage by them; but (that which more is) have the skill to draw some commodity from them, feeding of their flesh, clothing their bodies with their wool and hair, curing and healing their maladies with their gall & rennet, arming themselves with their hides and skins; insomuch as now from henceforth, it is to be feared (and not without good cause) lest if beasts should fail, and that there were none to be found of men, their life should become brutish, poor, needy and savage. And since it is so, that whereas other men think it sufficient not to be offended or wronged by their enemies, Xenophon writeth: That the wise reap commodity by their adversaries; we have no reason to derogate any thing from his credit, but to believe him in so saying, yea, and we ought to search for the method & art to attain and reach unto that benefit, as many of us (at leastwise) as can not possibly live in this world without enemies. The husbandman is not able with all his skill to make all sort of trees to cast off their wild nature, and become gentle and domestical. The hunter can not with all his cunning, make tame and tractable all the savage beasts of the forest; and therefore they have sought and devised other means and uses to make the best of them; the one finding good in barren and fruitless plants, the other in wild and savage beasts. The water of the sea is not potable, but brackish and hurtful unto us, howbeit, fishes are nourished therewith, and it serveth man's turn also to transport passengers (as in a wagon) into all parts, and to carry whatsoever a man will. When the Satire would have kissed and embraced fire the first time that ever he saw it, Prometheus admonished him and said: 
Thou wilt bewail thy goatsbeard soon,  
If thou it touch, 'twill burn anon.  but it yieldeth light and heat, and is an instrument serving all arts, to as many as know how to use it well; semblably, let us consider and see whether an enemy being otherwise harmful and intractable, or at leastwise hard to be handled, may not in some sort yield as it were a handle to take hold by, for to touch & use him so as he may serve our turn and minister unto us some commodity. For many things there are beside, which be odious, troublesome, cumbrous, hurtful and contrary unto those that have them or come near unto them; and yet you see that the very maladies of the body give good occasion unto some for to live at rest and repose; I mean sequestered from affairs abroad, & the travails presented unto others by fortune, have so exercised them that they are become thereby strong and hardy: and to say more yet, banishment and loss of goods, hath been the occasion unto diverse, yea and a singular means to give themselves to their quiet study & to philosophy; like as Diogenes and Crates did in times past. Zeno himself when news came unto him that his ship wherein he did venture and traffic was split and cast away: Thou hast done well by me fortune (quoth he) to drive me again to my scholar's weed. For like as those living creatures which are of a most sound and healthful constitution, & have beside strong stomachs, are able to concoct & digest the serpents & scorpions which they devour; nay some of them there be which are nourished of stones, scales, and shells, converting the same into their nutriment by the strength and vehement heat of their spirits; whereas such as be delicate, tender, soft, and crazy, are ready to cast and vomit if they taste a little bread only, or do but sip of wine; even so foolish folk do mar and corrupt even friendship and amity; but those that are wise can skill how to use enmities to their commodity, and make them serve their turns. First and foremost therefore in my conceit, that which in enmity is most hurtful, may turn to be most profitable unto such as be wary and can take good heed: and what is that you will say? Thine enemy as thou knowest well enough watcheth continually, spying and prying into all thine actions, he goeth about viewing thy whole life, to see where he may find any vantage to take hold of thee, and where thou liest open that he may assail and surprise thee; his sight is so quick that it pierceth not only through an oak, as Lynceus did, or stones and shells; but also it goeth quite through thy friend, thy domestical servants, yea and every familiar of thine with whom thou daily dost converse, for to discover as much as possibly he can what thou dost or goest about; he soundeth and searcheth by undermining and secret ways what thy designs & purposes be. As for our friends, it chanceth many times that they fall extreme sick, yea and die thereupon before we know of it, whiles we defer and put off from day to day to go and visit them, or make small reckoning of them; but as touching our enemies we are so observant, that we curiously inquire & hearken even after their very dreams; the diseases, the debts, the hard usage of men to their own wives, and the untoward life between them, are many times more unknowen unto those whom they touch and concern, than unto their enemy: but above all, he sticketh close unto thy faults, inquisitive he is after them and those he traceth especially: and like as the gays or vultures fly unto the stinking sent of dead carrions and putrefied carcases, but they have no smell or sent at all of bodies sound and whole; even so those parts of our life which are diseased, nought and ill affected, be they that move an enemy; to these leap they in great haste who are our ill willers, these they seize upon, and are ready to worry and pluck in pieces; and this it is that profiteth us most, in that it compelleth us to live orderly, to look unto our steps that we tread not awry, that we neither do or say aught inconsiderately or rashly; but always keep our life unblamable, as if we observed a most strict and exquisite diet; and verily this heedful caution repressing the violent passions of our mind in this sort, and keeping reason at home within doors, engendereth a certain studious desire, an intention and will to live uprightly and without touch: for like as those cities by ordinary wars with their neighbour cities, and by continual expeditions and voyages, learning to be wise, take a love at length unto good laws and sound government of state; even so they that by occasion of enmity be forced to live soberly, to save themselves from the impuration of idleness and negligence, yea, and to do every thing with discretion and to a good and profitable end, through use and custom shall be brought by little and little (ere they be aware) unto a certain settled habit that they cannot lightly trip and do amiss, having their manners framed in passing good order, with the least helping hand of reason and knowledge beside; for they who have evermore readily before their eyes this sentence: 
This were alone for Priamus, and his sons likewise all,  
Oh how would they rejoice at heart, in case this should befall.  certes would quickly be diverted, turned and withdrawn from such things, whereat their enemies are wont to joy and laugh a good: see we not many times stage players, chanters, musicians and such artificers in open threaters, who serve for the celebration of any solemnity unto Bacchus or other gods, to play their parts carelessly, to come unprovided, and to carry themselves I know not how negligently, nothing forward to show their cunning and do their best, when they are by themselves alone and no other of their own profession in place? but if it chance that there be emulation and contention between them and other concurrents who shall do best; than you shall see them not only to come better prepared themselves, but also with their instruments in very good order; then shall you perceive how they will bestir themselves in trying their strings, in tuning their instruments more exactly, & in fitting every thing about their flutes and pipes, and assaying them. He than who knoweth that he hath an enemy ready and provided to be the concurrent in his life, and the rival of his honour and reputation, will look better to his ways and stand upon his own guard; he will (I say) sit fast and look circumspectly about him to all matters, ordering his life and behaviour in better sort: for this is one of the properties of vice, that when we have offended and trespassed, we have more reverence and stand rather in awe of our enemies lest we be shamed by them than of our friends. And therefore Scipio Nasica when some there were that both thought and gave out that the Roman estate was not settled and in safety, considering that the Carthaginians who were wont to make head against them and keep them occupied, were now vanquished and defeated, the Athenians likewise subdued and brought under subjection: Nay mary (quoth he) for it is clean contrary, and even now are we in greatest danger, being at this pass that we have left ourselves none to fear, none to reverence.  
And hereto moreover, acordeth well the answer that Diogenes made, like a Philosopher and a man of State indeed: One asked him how he should be revenged of his enemy: Marry (quoth he) by being a virtuous and honest man thyself. Men seeing the horses of their enemies highly accounted of, or their hounds praised and commended, do grieve thereat, if they perceive also their land well tilled and husbanded, or their gardens in good order, fresh and flowering, they fetch a sigh and sorrow for the matter. What (think you then) will your enemy do? how will he fare, when you shall be seen a just man, wise and prudent, honest and sober, in words well advised and commendable, in deeds pure and clean, in diet neat and decent? 
Reaping the fruit of wisdom and prudence,  
Sown in deep furrow of heart and conscience,  
From whence there spring and bud continually  
Counsels full sage, with fruits abundantly.   
Pindarus the Poet said: That those who are vanquished and put to foil, are so tonguetied, that they can not say a word; howbeit, this is not simply true, nor holdeth in all, but in such as perceive themselves overcome by their enemies, in diligence, goodness, magnanimity, humanity, bounty beneficence: for these be the things (as Demosthenes saith) which stint the tongue, close up the mouth, stop the windpipes and the breath, and in one word, cause men to be silent and dumb. 
Resemble not lewd folk, but them outgo  
In virtuous deeds, for this thou mayst well do.   
wouldst thou do thine enemy who hateth thee a great displeasure in deed? Never call him by way of reproach, buggerer, wanton, lascivious, ruffian, scurrile scoffer, or covetous micher; but take order with thyself to be an honest man every way, chaste, continent, true in deed and word, courteous and just to all those that deal with thee: but if thou be driven to let fall an opprobrious speech, and to revile thine enemy, then take thou great heed afterwards that thou come not near in any wise to those vices which thou reprochest him with, enter into thyself, and examine thine own conscience, search all the corners thereof, look that there be not in thy soul some purrified matter and rotten corruption, for fear lest thine own vice within may hit thee home, and requite thee again with this verse out of the tragical Poet: 
Aleech he is, others to cure,  
Pestered himself with sores impure.   
If thou chance to upbraid thine enemy with ignorance, and call him unlearned, take thou greater pains at thy book, love thou thy study better, and get more learning: if thou wit him with cowardice, and name him dastard, stir up the vigour of thine own courage the rather, and show thyself a man so much the more: hast thou given him the terms of beastly whoremaster or lascivious lecher, wipe out of thy heart the least taint and spot that remaineth hldden therein of concupiscence and sensuality; for nothing is there more shameful or causeth greater grief of heart, than an opprobrious and reproachful speech returned justly upon the author thereof. And as it seemeth that the reverberation of a light doth more offence unto the seeble eyes; even so those reproaches which are retorted and sent back again by the truth, upon a man that blazed them before, are more offensive: for no less than the northeast wind Caecias doth gather unto it clouds; so doth a bad life draw unto it opprobrious speeches; which Plato knowing well enough, whensoever he was present in place, and saw other men do any unseemly or dishonest thing, was wont to retire apart, and say thus secretly unto himself: Do not I also labour other-while of this disease? Moreover, he that hath blamed and reproached the life of another, if presently withal he would go and examine his own, resorming the same accordingly, redressing and amending all that he finds amiss, until he have brought it to a better state, shall receive some profit by that reproving and reviling of his; otherwise it may both seem (as it is no less indeed) a vain and unprofitable thing. Commonly men cannot choose but laugh when they see either a baldpate or a bunch-backe to taunt and scoff at others for the same defects or deformities; and so in truth, it were a ridiculous thing and a mere mockery, to blame or reproach another in that, for which he may be mocked and reproached himself. Thus Leo the Byzantine cut one home that was crumped shouldered and buncht-backt, when he seemed to hit him in the teeth with his dim and feeble eie-fight: Dost thou twit me (quoth he) by any impersection of nature incident unto a man, when as thyself art marked from heaven, and carriest the divine vengeance upon thy back? Never then reprove thou an adulterer, if thyself be an unclean wanton with boys; nor seem thou to upbraid one with prodigality, if thou be a covetous miser thyself. Alcmaeon reviled Adrastus (upon a time) in this wise: Thou 
A sister hast by parents twain,  
Whose hands her husband dear have slain.  But what answered Adrastus? He objected not unto him the crime of another, but payeth him home with his own, after this manner: 
But thou thyself hast murdered  
Thine own kind mother, who thee bred.  In like sort, when Domitius (upon a time) seemed to reproach Crassus, saying: Is it not true, that when your lamprey was dead which was kept full daintily for you in a stew, you wept therefore? Crassus' presently came upon him again with this bitter reply: And is it not true, that you when you followed three wives of yours one after another to their funeral fire, never shed tear for the matter? It is not so requisite or necessary iwis (as the vulgar sort do think) that he who checketh and rebuketh another, should have a ready wit of his own, and a natural gift in doing it, or a loud and big voice, or an audacious and bold face; no, but such an one he ought to be, that cannot be noted and taxed with any vice: for it should seem that Apollo addressed this precept of his [know thyself] to no person so much as to him who would blame and find fault with another; for fear lest such men, in speaking to others what they would, hear that again which they would not. For it happeneth ordinarily as Sophocles saith: That such an one 
Who lets his tongue run foolishly,  
In noting others bitterly,  
Shall hear himself (unwillingly)  
The words he gave so wilfully.  Lo what commodity and profit ensueth upon reproaching an enemy.  
Neither cometh there less good and advantage unto a man by being reproached by another, and hearing himself reviled by his enemies: and therefore it was well and truly said of Antisthenes, that such men as would be saved and become honest, another day ought of necessity to have either good friends, or most spiteful and bitter enemies: for as they with their kind remonstrances and admonitions; so these with their reproachful terms were like to reform their sinful life. But forasmuch as amity and friendship now adays speaketh with a small and low voice when faults should freely be reproved, and is very audible and full of words in flattering, altogether mute and dumb in rebukes and chastisements; but what temaineth now but that we should hear the truth from the mouth of our enemies? much like unto Telephus; who for default of a physician that was a friend to cure him, was forced to commit his wound or ulcer to the iron head of his enemy's spear for to be healed; and even so those that have no well willers that dare freely reprove their faults, must perforce endure with patience the stinging tongue of their enemy and evil willer in chastising and rebuking their vices, not regarding so much the intent and meaning of the ill speaker, as the thing itself, and the matter that helpeaketh; and look how he who enterprised the kill of Prometheus the Thessallan, ran him so deep with his sword into the imposthume or swelling botch which he had about him, that he let forth the corruption, and saved his life by the breaking and issue thereof; even so for all the world it falleth out many times, that a reproachful speech delivered in anger or upon evil will is the cause of healing some malady of the soul, either hidden or unknown altogether, or else neglected: but the most part of those who are in this manner reproached, never consider whether the vice wherewith they are touched be in them or no, but they look rather if they can find some other vice to object unto him, who hath thus challenged them; and much like unto wrestlers, they never wipe away their own dust, that is to say, the reproaches that be fastened upon themselves, and wherewith they be defamed, but they bestrew one another with dust, and afterwards trip up one another's heels, and tumble down one upon another, wekering in the same, and soiling one another therewith: whereas indeed it behoved rather that a man when he findeth himself tainted by his enemy, to endeavour for to do away that vice wherewith he is noted and defamed, much rather than to fetch out any spot or stain out of his garment, which hath been showed him: and although there be charged upon us some slanderous imputation that is not true; yet nevertheless we are to search into the occasion whereupon such an opprobrious speech might arise and proceed, yea and take heed we must and fear, lest ere we be aware we commit the like or come near unto that which hath been objected unto us. Thus for example sake Lacydes king of the Argives, for that he did wear his hair curiously set, in manner of a peruke, and because his gate or manner of going, seemed more delicate and nice than ordinary, grew into an ill name and obloquy of effeminate wantomesse. And Pompetus the great could not avoid the like suspicion, because he used otherwhiles to scratch his head with one finger only, and yet otherwise he was so far from feminine wantonness and incontinence as any man in the world. Crassus' was accused for to have had carnal company with one of the religious nuns or votaries of Vesta, for that being desirous to purchase of her a fair piece of land and house of pleasure which she had, he resorted oftentimes privately unto her, spoke with her apart, and perhaps made court unto her for to have her good will in that respect only. Posthumia likewise another vestal virgin, for that she was given much to laugh upon a small occasion, and withal would not stick to entertain talk with men, more boldly peradventure than became a maiden of her profession, was so deeply suspected of incontinence, that she was brought judicially into question about it, howbe it found unguilty, and acquit she was; but when Spurius Minutius the highpriest for the time being, assoiled her and pronounced the sentence of her absolution, minding to dismiss her of the court, he gave her a gentle admonition by the way, that from thence forward she should forbear to use any words less modest & chaste then the carriage of her life was. Themistocles likewise notwithstanding he was most innocent indeed, was called into question for treason, because he entertained amity with Pausanias, sent and wrote oftentimes unto him, and so by that means gave suspicion that he minded to betray all Greece. When as therefore thou art charged with a false crimination by thine enemy, thou must not neglect it and make small account thereof because it is not true, but rather look about thee and examine what hath been done or said, either by thee or any one of those who affect and love thee, or converse with thee, sounding and tending any way to that imputation which might give occasion or likelihood thereof, and carefully to beware and avoid the same: for if by adverse and heavy fortune whereunto others have inconsiderately fallen, they are dearly taught what is good for them, as Merope saith in one tragedy: 
Fortune hath taken for her salary,  
My dearest goods of which I am bearest,  
But me she taught by that great misery  
For to be wise, and so she hath me left.  What should let or hinder us, but that we may learn by a master that costeth us nought, not taketh nothing for his teaching (even our enemy) to profit and learn somewhat that we knew not before? for an enemy perceiveth and findeth in us many things more than a friend by reason that (as Plato saith) That which loveth is always blind in the thing that is loved; whereas he who hateth us, besides that he is very curious and inquisitive into our imperfections, he is not meal mouthed (as they say) nor will spare to speak, but is ready enough to divulge and blaze all abroad. King Hiero chanced upon a time being at words with one of his enemies to be told in reproachful manner by him of his stinking breath; whereupon being somewhat dismayed in himself, he was no sooner returned home to his own house, but be chid his wife: How comes this to pass (quoth he?) what say you to it? how happeneth it that you never told me of it? the woman being a simple, chaste, & harmless dame: Sir (saith she) I had thought all men's breath had smelled so. Thus it is plain, that such faults as be object and evident to the senses, gross and corporal, or otherwise notorious to the world, we know by our enemies sooner than by out friends and familiars.  
Over and beside, as touching the continence and holding of the tongue, which is not the least point of virtue, it is not possible for a man to rule it always, and bring it within the compass and obedience of reason, unless by use and exercise, by long custom and painful labour be have tamed and mastered the worst passions of the soul, such as anger is: for a word that hath escaped us against our wills, which we would gladly have kept in; of which, Homer saith thus: 
Out of the mouth a word did fly  
For all the range of teeth fastby.  And a speech that we let fall at aventure (a thing happening oftentimes, and especially unto those whose spirits are not well exercised, and who want experience, who run out, as it were, and break forth into passions) this (I say) is ordinary with such as be hasty and choleric, whose judgement is not settled and stayed, or who are given to a licentious course of life: for such a word, being (as divine Plato saith) the lightest thing in the world, both gods and men have many a time paid a most grievous and heavy penalty; whereas Silence is not only (as Hypocrates saith) good against thirst, but also is never called to account, nor amerced to pay any fine; and that which more is, in the bearing and putting up of taunts and reproaches, there is observed in it a kind of gravity beseeming the person of Socrates, or rather the maghanimity of Hercules, if it be true that the Poet said of him: 
Of bitter words he less account did make  
Than doth the fly, which no regard doth take.  Neither verily is there a thing of greater gravity, or simply better, than to hear a malicious enemy to revile, and yet not to be moved nor grow into passions therewith, 
But to passe-by a man that loves to rail,  
Asrocke in sea, by which we swim or sail.  Moreover, a greater effect will ensue upon this exercise of patience, if thou canst accustom thyself to hear with silence thine enemy whiles he doth revile, for being acquainted therewith, thou shalt the better endure the violent fits of a cursed and shrewd wife chiding at home; to hear also without trouble the sharp words of friend or brother; and if it chance that father or mother let fly bitter rebukes at thee or beat thee, thou wilt suffer all, and never show thyself displeased and angry with them. For Socrates was wont to abide at home Xanthippe his wife, aperillous shrewd woman and hard to be pleased, to the end that he might with more ease converse with others, being used to endure her curstness. But much better it were for a man to come with a mind prepared and exercised beforehand with hearing the scoffs, railing language, angry taunts, outrageous and foul words of enemies and strangers, and that without anger and show of disquietness, than of his domestical people within his own house. Thus you see how a man may show his meekness and patience in enmities; and as for simplicity, magnanimity and a good nature in deed, it is more seen here than in friendship: for it is not so honest and commendable to do good unto a friend, as dishonest, not to succout him when he standeth in need and requesteth it.  
Moreover, to forbear to be revenged of an enemy if opportunity and occasion is offered, and to let him go when he is in thy hands, is a point of great humanity and courtesy; but him that hath compassion of him when he is fallen into adversity, succoreth him in distress, at his request is ready for to show good will to his children, and an affection to sustain the state of his house and family being in affliction; whosoever doth not love for this kindness, nor praise the goodness of his nature. 
Of colour black (no doubt) and tincture sweart,  
Wrought of stiff steel or iron he hath an heart,  
Or rather forged out of the Diament,  
Which will not stir hereat, nor once relent.  Caesar commanded that the statues erected in the honour of Pompeius. which had been beaten down and overthrown, should be set up again; for which act Cicero said thus unto him: In rearing the images of Pompeius, o Caesar, thou hast pitched and erected thine own. And therefore we ought not to be sparie of praise and honour in the behalf of an enemy especially when he deserveth the same; for by this means the party that praiseth shall win the greater praise himself; and beside, if it happen again that he blame the said enemy, his accusation shall be the better taken, and carry the more credit, for that he shall be thought not so much to hate the person as disallow and mislike his action.  
But the most profitable and goodliest matter of all, is this: That he who is accustomed to praise his enemies, and neither to grieve or envy at their welfare, shall the better abide the prosperity of his friend, and be furthest off from envying his familiars in any good success or honour that by well-doing they have achieved. And is there any other exercise in the world, that can bring greater profit unto our souls, or work a better disposition and habit in them, than that which riddeth us of emulation and the humour of envy? For like as in a city, wherein there be many things necessary, though otherwise simply evil, after they have once taken sure sooting, and are by custom established in manner of a law, men shall hardly remove and abolish, although they have been hurt and endamaged thereby; even so enmity, together with hatred and malice, bringeth in envy, jealousy, contentment and pleasure in the harm of an enemy, remembrance of wrongs received, and offences passed, which it leaveth behind in the soul, when itself is gone; over and beside, cunning practices, fraud, guile, deceit, and secret forlaying or ambushes, which seem against our enemies nothing ill at all, nor unjustly used, after they be once settled and have taken root in our hearts, remain there fast, and hardly or unneath are removed; insomuch as if men take not heed how they use them against enemies, they shall be so enured to them that they will be ready afterwards to practise the same with their very friends. If therefore Pythagoras did well & wisely in acquainting his scholars to forbear cruelty and injustice, even as far as to dumb and brute beasts; whereupon he misliked fowlers, and would request them to let those birds fly agine which they had caught; yea and buy of fisher's whole draughts of fishes, and give order unto his disciples to put them alive into the water again, insomuch as he expressly forbade the kill of any tame beast whatsoever; certes it is much more grave and decent, that in quarrels, debates, and contentions among men; an enemy that is of a generous mind, just, true, and nothing treacherous, should repress, keep down, and hold underfoot the wicked, malicious, cautelous, 〈◊〉, and ungentleman-like passions; to the end that afterwards in all contracts and dealings with his friend they break not out, but that his heart being clear of them, he may abstain from all mischievous practices. Scaurus was a professed enemy and an accuser of Domitius judicially; now there was a domestical servant belonging to the said Domitius, who before the day of trial and judgement, came unto Scaurus saying, That he would discover unto him a thing that he knew not of, the which might serve him in good steed when he should plead against his master; but Scaurus would not so much as give him the hearing; nay he laid hold on the party, and sent him away bound unto his lord and master. Cato (the younger) charged Muraena, and indicted him in open court for popularity and ambition, and declaring against him that he sought indirectly to gain the people's favour and their voices to be chosen Consul; now as he went up and down to collect arguments and proofs thereof, and according to the manner and custom of the Romans, was attended upon by certain persons who followed him in the behalf of the defendant, to observe what was done for his better instruction in the process & suit commenced; these fellows would oftentimes be in hand with him and ask whether he would to day search for aught, or negotiate any thing in the matter and cause concerning Muraena? If he said, No; such credit and trust they reposed in the man that they would rest in that answer, and go their ways; a singular argument this was of all other to prove his reputation, and what opinion men conceived of him for his justice; but sure a far greater testimony is this, and that passeth all the rest, to prove that if we be accustomed to deal justly by our very enemies, we shall never show ourselves unjust, cautelous, and deceitful with our friends. But forasmuch as every lark (as Simonides was wont to say) must needs have a cop or crest growing upon her head; and so likewise all men by nature do carry in their head I wot not what jealousy, emulation, and envy, which is if I may use the words of Pindarus, 
A mate and fellow (to be plain)  
Of brain sick fools and persons vain.  A man should not reap a small benefit & commodity by discharging these passions upon his enemies, to purge & cleanse himself quite thereof, & as it were by certain gutters or channels, to derive and drain them as far as possibly he can from his friends and familiar acquaintance; whereof I suppose Onomademus a great politician, & wise Statesman in the Isle Chios was well advised, who in a civil dissension being sided to that faction which was superior, & had gotten the head of the other; counseled the rest of his part not to chase & banish out of the city all their adversaries, but to leave some of them still behind: For fear (quoth he) lest having no enemies to quarrel withal, we ourselves begin to fall out and go together by the ears; semblably if we spend these vicious passions of ours upon our enemies, the less are they like to trouble & molest our friends: for it ought not thus to be as Hesiodus saith: That the potter should envy the potter; or one minstrel or musician spite another; neither is it necessary that one neighbour should be in jealousy of another; or cousins and brethren be concurrents & have emulation one at another, either striving to be rich or speeding better in their affairs: for if there be no other way or means to be delivered wholly from contentions, envies, jealousies, & emulations, acquaint thyself at leastwise to be stung and bitten at the good success of thine enemies; whet the edge & sharpen the point (as it were) of thy quarrelous & contentious humour, & turn it upon them and spare not: for like as the most skilful and best gardiner's are of this opinion, that they shall have the sweeter roses and more pleasant violets, if they set garlic or sow onions near unto them, for that all the strong and stinking savour in the juice that feedeth and nourish the said flowers, is purged away and goeth to the said garlic and onions; even so an enemy drawing unto himself and receiving all our envy and malice, will cause us to be better affected to our friends in their prosperity, and less offended if they out go us in their estate; and therefore in this regard we must contend and strive with our enemies about honour, dignities, government, and lawful means of advancing our own estates, and not only to be grieved and vexed to see them have the better and the vantage of us, but also to mark and observe every thing whereby they become our superiors, and so to strain and endeavour by careful diligence, by labour and travel, by parsimony, temperance, and looking nearly to ourselves, to surpass and go beyond them; like as Themistocles was wont to say: That the victory which Miltiades achieved in the plain of Marathon broke his sleeps, and would not let him take his night's rest: for he who thinketh that his enemy surmounteth him in dignities, in patronage of high matters and pleading of great causes, in management of state affairs, or in credit and authority with mighty men and grand Segniors, and in stead of striving to enterprise and do some great matter by way of emulation, betaketh himself to envy only, and so sits still doing nothing, and looseth all his courage, surely he bewrayeth that he is possessed with nought else but an idle, vain, & enervat kind of envy. But he that is not blinded with the regard & sight of him whom he hateth, but with a right & just eye, doth behold & consider all his life, his manners, designs, words and deeds, shall soon perceive & find that the most part of those things which he envieth were achieved and gotten by such as have them, which their diligence, wisdom, forecast & virtuous deeds: he thereupon bending all his spirits & whole mind thereto, will exercise (I trow) & sharpen his own desire of honour, glory & honesty, yea & cut off chose, that yawning drowsiness & idle sloth that is in his hart. Set case moreover, that our enemies by flattery, by cautelous shifts & cunning practices, by pleading of cases at the bar, or by their mercenary and illiberal service in unhonest & foul matters, seem to have gotten some power, either with princes in courts, or with the people in States & cities; let the same never trouble us, but chose cheer up our hearts and make us glad in regard of our own liberty, the pureness of our life and innocency unreprochable, which we may oppose against those indirect courses and unlawful means. For all the gold that is either above ground or underneath (accordingas Plato saith) is not able to weigh against virtue. And evermore this sentence of Solon we ought to have in readiness: 
Many a wicked man is rich,  
And vertuousmen are many poor:  
But change we never will with sich  
Nor give our goodness for their store,  
And why? virtue is durable.  
Where as their wealth is mutable.  much less then, will we exchange the acclamations and shouts of a popular multitude in theatres, which are won with a feast; nor the honours and prerogatives to sit uppermost at a table near unto the chamberlains, minions, favourites, concubines, or lieutenants general of Kings and Princes. For nothing is desirable, nothing to be affected, nothing indeed honest that proceedeth from an unhonest cause: But he that loveth (according as Plato saith) is always blinded by the thing which is loved, and sooner do we pereceive and mark any unseemly thing that our enemies do. Howbeit, to conclude, neither our joy and contentment conceived by observing them to do amiss, nor our grief and displeasure in seeing them do well, aught to be idle & unprofitable unto us; but this reckoning and account we are to make of both; that in taking heed how we fall into their faults we may become better, and in imitating their good parts not worse than they.    

HOW A MAN MAY PERCEIVE HIS OWN PROCEEDING AND GOING FORWARD IN VIRTUE.  

The Summarie.  
HArdly can it be defined, whether of these two extremities is more to be feared, to wit, blockish stupiàitie or vain presumption, considering the dangerous effects proceeding as well from the one as the other. And chose, an excellent matter it is to be able for to teach men the means to avoid both extremes, and to hold the mean between. And this is the verte thing that our Author doth in this present treatise: for as he laboureth to disrobe as it were the lovers of virtue and turn them out of their habit of perverse ignorance, wherewith most part of the world is always clad; so he is desirous to keep them from putting on the habilliment and garments of pride and vain ostentation, that they might be arrayed with the apparel of virtue, in such sort that in taking knowledge of that good whereof they have already some part, they might endeavour and do what they can to get a greater portion from day to day, until they come unto anassured contentment wherein they may rest. Then teacheth he how to know what a man hath profited in the school and exercise of virtue, showing that he ought to consider first, whether he recoil from vice by little and little; wherein he confuteth the opinion of the Stoics, who imagined that no man was good, unless he became virtuous all at once. This done, he adjoineth four rules to know the said profit and progress in virtue, to wit, When we perceive our heart to tend unto good without any intermission: When our affection redeemeth and regaineth the time that is lost, growing so much the more, as it was before stayed and hindered: When we begin to take our whole pleasure and delight therein: lastly, When we surmount and overcome all impeachments that might turn us aside out of the way of virtue. After all this he entereth into the matter more specially, and showeth how a man is to employ himself in the study of wisdom; what vices he ought to fly; wherein his mind and spirits should be occupied; and the profit that he is to reap and gather from Philosophers, poets and Historians. Item, with what affection we ought to speak in the presence of our neighbours, whether it be publicly or in private; of what fort our actions should be; and to what end and scope we are to address and direct them, giving a lustre unto all these discourses by excellent similitudes; taxing and reproving the faults committed ordinarily by them who make a certain semblance and outward show of a spiring unto virtue. Having thus discoursed of these points aforesaid, he proposeth and setteth down again diverse rules which may resolve us in this advancement and proceeding forward of ours in goodness, namely: That we ought to love reprehensions; to take heed even unto our dreams; to examine our passions, and so to hope well, if we perceive that they wax mild and gentle to imitate good things; in no wise to hear any speech of evil; to take example by the best persons, to rejoice 〈◊〉 be glad, to have witnesses and beholders of our good will and intention; and not to esteem any sins 〈◊〉 trespasses small, but to avoid and shun them all: last of all, he closeth up his treatise with an elegant similitude, wherein he discovereth and layeth open the nature as well of the vicious as the virtuous, thereby to make the means of aspiring and attaining unto virtue, so much the more amiable to each person.   

HOW A MAN MAY PERceive his own proceeding and going forward in Virtue.  
IT is not possible (my good friend Sossius Senecio) that a man by any means should have a feeling in himself, and a conscience of his own amendment and progress in virtue, if those good proceedings do not daily make some diminution of his folly, but that the vice in him weighing in equal balance against them all, do hold him down 
Like as the lead plucks down then et,  
Which for to catch the fish was set.  For so verily in the art of Music or Grammar, a man shall never know how far he is proceeded, so long as in the studying and learning thereof, he diminish no part of his ignorance in those arts, but still findeth himself as unmusicall and unlettered as he was before; neither the cure which the Physician emploieth about his patient, if it work no amendment at all, nor alleviation of the disease seeming in some sort to yield unto medicines and to slake, can procure any sensible difference and change unto a better state, before that the contrary disposition and habit be restored perfectly to the former health, and the body made found and strong again. But certainly, as in these cases there is no amendment to be accounted of, if those that seem to amend do not perceive the change by the diminution and remission of that which weighed them down, and find themselves to incline and bend (as it were) in a balance to the contrary; even so it fareth with those that make profession of philosophy; it can not be granted that there is any progress or sense at all of profiting, so long as the soul cast not off by little, and little, purge away her folly, but until such time as she can attain (forsooth) unto the sovereign and perfect good, continueth in the meanwhile fully possessed of vice and sin in the highest degree; for by this means it would follow, if at one instant and moment of time a wise man should pass from extreme wickedness unto the supreme and highest disposition of virtue: That he had all at once and in the minute of an hour fled vice and cast it from him fully, whereof in a long time before he was not able to be rid of one little portion. But you know full well already that those who hold such extravagant opinions as these, make themselves work enough, and raise great doubts and questions about this point, namely, How a man should not perceive and feel himself when he is become wise, and be either ignorant or doubtful that this growth and increase cometh in long process of time by little and a little, partly by addition of some thing, and partly by subtraction of other, until one arrive gently unto virtue, before he can perceive that he is going toward it. Now if there were so quick and sudden a mutation, as that he who was to day morning most vicious, should become in the evening as virtuous; and if there ever were known to happen unto any man such a change, that going to bed a very fool and so sleeping, should awake and rise a wise man, and taking his leave of yesterdays folly, errors and deceits, say unto them: 
My vain lying dreams so vain, aday, aday,  
Nought worth you were, I now both see and say.  Is it possible that such a one (I say) should be ignorant of this sudden change, and not perceive so great a difference in himself, not feel how wisdom all at once hath thus lightened and illuminated his soul? for mine own part, I would rather think that one upon earnest prayer transformed by the power of the gods from a woman to a man (as the tale goes of Caeneus) should be ignorant of this Metamorphosis, than he who of a coward, a fool and a dissolute or loose person become hardy, wise, sober and temperate; or being transported from a sensual and beastly life unto a divine and heavenly life, should not mark the very instant wherein such a change did befall. But well it was said in old time: That the stone is to be applied and framed unto the rule, and not the rule or squire unto the stone. And they (the Stoics I mean) who are not willing to accommodat their opinions unto the things indeed, but wrest and force against the course of nature, things unto their own conceits and suppositions, have filled all philosophy with great difficulties and doubtful ambiguities; of which this is the greatest: In that they will seem to comprise all men, excepting him only whom they imagine perfect, under one and the same vice in general: which strange supposition of theirs hath caused that this progress and proceeding to virtue, called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 seemeth to be a dark and obscure riddle unto them, or a mere fiction little wanting of extreme folly; and those who by the means of this amendment be delivered from all passions and vices that be, are held thereby to be in no better state, nor less wretched and miserable, than those who are not free from any one of the most enormous vices in the world; and yet they refute and condemn their own selves; for in the disputations which they hold in their schools, they set the injustice of Aristides in equal balance to that of Phalaris; they make the cowardice and fear of Brasides, all one with that of Dolon; yea, and compare the folly or error of Melitus and Plato together, as in no respect different; howbeit, in the whole course of their life, and mangement of their affairs, they decline and avoid those as implacable and intractable; but these they use and trust in their most important business, as persons of great worth and regard: but we who know and see that in every kind of sin or vice, but principally in the inordinate and confused state of the soul there be degrees according to more or less; and that herein differ our proceedings and amendments, according as reason by little and little doth illuminate, purge and cleanse the soul in abating and diminishing evermore the visiositie thereof, which is the shadow that darkeneth it, are likewise fully persuaded that it is not without reason to be assured, that men may have an evident sense and perceivance of this mutation, but as if they were raised out of some deep and dark pit, that the same amendment may be reckoned by degrees in what order it goeth forward. In which computation we may go first and foremost directly after this manner, and consider, whether like as they who under sail set their course in the main and vast ocean, by observing together with the length and space of time, the force of the wind that driveth them, do cast and measure how far they have gone forward in their voyage, namely, by a probale conjecture how much in such a time and with such a gale of wind it is like that they may pass; so also in philosophy a man may give a guess and conjecture of his proceeding and going forward, namely, what he may gain by continual marching on still, without stay or intermission otherwhiles in the mids of the way, and then beginning a fresh again forward, but always keeping one pace, gaining and getting ground still by the guidance of reason. For this rule 
If little still to little thou do ad,  
A heap at length, and much will be had.  was not given respectively to the increase of sums of money alone, and in that point truly spoken, but it may likewise extend and reach to other things, and namely to the augmentation of virtue, to wit, when with reason and doctrine continual use and custom is joined, which maketh mastery and is effectual to bring any work to end and perfection; whereas these intermissions at times without order and equality, and these cool affections of those that study philosophy, make not only many stays and lets in proceeding forward as it were in a journey, but that which is worse, cause going backward, by reason that vice which evermore lies in wait to set upon a man that idly standeth still never so little haileth him a contrary way. True it is that the Mathematicians do call the planets stationary, and say they stand still, while they cease to move forward; but in our progress and proceeding in philosophy, that is to say, in the correction of our life and manners, there can be admitted no interval, no pause or cessarion, for that our wit naturally being in perpetual motion in manner of a balance, always casteth with the least thing that is, one way or other, willing of itself either to incline with the better or else is forcibly carried by the contrary to the worse. If then according to the oracle delivered unto the inhabitants of Curba, which willed them if they minded afterwards to live in peace, they should make war both night and day without intermission; thou find in thyself and thine own conscience, that thou hast fought continually with vice as well by night as by day, or at leastwise that thou hast not often left thy ward, and abandoned thy station in the garrison, nor continually admitted the heralds or messengers between coming from far as it were to parley and compound, to wit, pleasures, delights, negligences, and amusements upon other matters, by all likelihood thou mayst with confidence and alacrity be assured to go forward and make an end of thy course behind.  
Moreover, say that there fall out some interruptions and stays between, that thou live not altogether canonically and like a Philosopher; yet if thy latter proceedings be more constant than the former, and the fresh courses that thou takest longer than the other, it is no bad sign, but it testifieth, that by labour and exercise idleness is conquered, and sloth utterly chased away; whereas the contrary is a very ill sign, to wit, if by reason of many cessations and those coming thick one after another, the heat of the former affection be cooled, languish and weareth to nothing: for like as the shoot of a cane or reed whiles it hath the full strength and greatest force, putteth forth the first stem reaching out in length, straight, even, smooth, & united in the beginning, admitting few knots in great distances between, to stay and put back the growth and rising thereof in height; but afterwards as if it were checked to mount up aloft by reason of short wind and failing of the breath, it is held down by many knots, and those near one to another, as if the spirit therein which coveteth upward found some impeachment by the way, smiting it back, and causing it as it were to pant and tremble; even so as many as at first took long 〈◊〉 and made haste unto philosophy or amendment of life, and then afterwards meet eftsoons with stumbling blocks, continually turning them out of the direct way, or other means to distract and pluck them aside, finding no proceeding at all to better them, in the end are weary, give over, & come short of their journeys end; whereas the other abovesaid hath his wings growing still to help his flight, and by reason of the fruit which he findeth in his course goeth on apace, cutteth off all pretences of excuse, breaketh through all lets, (which stand as a multitude in the way to hinder his passage) which he doth by fine force and with an industrious affection to attcine unto the end of his enterprise. And like as to joy and delight in beholding of beauty present is not a sign of love beginning, for a vulgar and common thing this is but rather to be grieved & vexed when the same is gone or taken away; even so many therebe who conceive pleasure in philosophy, and make semblance as if they had a fervent desire to the study thereof; but if it chance that they be a little retired from it by occasion of other business and affairs, that first affection which they took unto it vanisheth away, and they can well abide to be without Philosophy; 
But he who feels indeed the prick  
Of love that pierceth near the quick.  as one poet saith; will seem unto thee moderate and nothing hot in frequenting the philosophical school and conferring together with thee about philosophy; but let him be plucked from it, and drawn apart from thee, thou shalt see him inflamed in the love thereof, impatient, and weary of all other affairs and occupations; thou shalt perceive him even to forget his own friends, such a passionate desire he will have to philosophy. For we ought not so much to delight in learning and philosophy whiles we are in place, as we do in sweet odours, perfumes, and ointments, and when we are away and separated therefrom, never grieve thereat, nor seek after it any more; but it must imprint in our hearts a certain passion like to hunger and thirst when it is taken from us, if we will profit in good earnest & perceive our own progress and amendment; whether it be, that marriage, riches, some friendship, expedition or warfare come between, that may drove him away and make separation, for the greater that the fruit is which he gathered by Philosophy, so much the more will the grief be to leave and forego it. To this first sign of progress in Philosophy may be added another of great antiquity out of Hesiodus; which if it be not the very same, certes it cometh near unto it, and this he describeth after this sort, namely, When a man findeth the way no more difficult, rough & craggy, nor exceeding steep and upright, but easy, plain, with a gentle descent, as being indeed laid even and smooth by exercise, and wherein now there begins light clearly to appear and shine out of darkness, in stead of doubts, ambiguities, errors, and those repentances and changes of mind, incident unto those who first betake themselves to the study of Philosophy; after the manner of them who having left behind them a land which they know well enough, are troubled whiles they cannot descry and discover that for which they set sail and bend their course; for even so it is with these persons, who when they have abandoned these common and familiar studies whereto they were enured before they came, to learn, apprehend and enjoy better, oftentimes in the very middle of their course are carried round about and driven to return back again the same way they came. Like as it is reported of Sexius a noble man of Rome, who having given over the honourable offices and magistracies in the city, for love of Philosophy, afterwards finding himself much troubled in that study, and not able at the beginning to brook and digest the reasons and discourses thereof, was so perplexed, that he went very near to have thrown himself into the sea out of a galley.  
The semblable example we read in histories, of Diogenes the Sinopian, when he first went to the study and profession of Philosophy: for when about the same time it chanced that the Athenians celebrated a public solemnity with great feasting and sumptuous fare, with theatrical plays and pastimes, meeting in companies and assemblies to make merry one with another, with revels and dances all night long, himself in an odd corner of the market place lay lapped round in his clothes, purposing to take a nap and sleep; where and when he fell into certain fantastical imaginations which did not a little turn and trouble his brains, yea and break his heart, discoursing thus in his head: That he upon no constraint or necessity, should thus wilfully betake himself to a laborious & strange course of painful life, sitting thus by himself mopish, sequestered from all the world, & deprived of all earthly goods; In which thoughts and conceits of his, he spied (as the report goeth) a little mouse creeping & running towards the crumbs that were fallen from his loaf of bread, and was very busy about them, whereupon he took heart again, reproved and blamed his own feeble courage, saying thus to himself: What sayest thou Diogenes? Seest thou not this silly creature what good cheer it maketh with thy leave? how merry she is whiles she feedeth thereupon? and thou (like a trim man indeed as thou art) dost wail, weep and lament, that thou drinkest not thyself drunk as those do yonder; nor lie in soft and delicate beds, richly set out with gay and costly furniture. Now when such temptations and distractions as these be, return not often, but the rule and discourse of reason presently riseth up against them, maketh head, turneth upon them suddenly again (as it were) in the chase and pursued in the rout by enemies, and so quickly discomfiteth and dispatcheth the anxiety and despair of the mind, than a man may be assured that he hath profited indeed in the school of Philosophy, and is well settled and confirmed therein. But forasmuch as the occasions which do thus shake men that are given to Philosophy, yea and otherwhiles pluck them a contrary way, do not only proceed from themselves by reason of their own infirmity and so gather strength; but the sad and serious counsels also of friends, together with the reproofs and contradictory assaults made upon them by adversaries, between good earnest and game, do mollify their tender hearts, and make them to bow, bend and yield, which otherwhiles have been able in the end to drive some altogether from Philosophy, who were well entered therein: It may be thought no small sign of good proceeding, if one can endure the same meekly without being moved with such temptations, or any ways troubled and pinched when he shall hear the names and surnames of such and such companions and equals otherwise of his, who are come to great credit and wealth in Princes courts; or be advanced by marriages, matching with wives who brought them good dowries & portions; or who are wont to go into the common Hall of a city, attended upon and accompanied with a train and troop of the multitude, either to attain unto some place of government, or to plead some notable cause of great consequence: for he that is not disquieted, astonished, or overcome with such assaults; certain it is and we may be bold to conclude that he is arrested (as it were) and held sure as he ought to be by Philosophy. For it is not possible for any to cease affecting and loving those things, which the multitude doth so highly honour and adore, unless they be such as admire nothing else in the world but virtue. For to brave it out, to contest, and make head against men, is a thing incident unto some by occasion of choler, unto others by reason of folly; but to contemn and despise, that which others esteem with admiration, no man is able to perform, without a great measure of true and resolute magnanimity: In which respect such persons comparing their state with others magnify themselves, as Solon did in these words: 
Many a wicked man is rich,  
And good men there be many poor:  
But we will not exchange with sich,  
Nor give our goodness for their store.  
For virtue ay is 〈◊〉,  
Whereas riches be 〈◊〉.  And Diogenes compared his peregrination and flitting from the city of Corinth to Athens, and again his removing from Thebes to Corinth, unto the progresses and changes of abode that the great king of Persia was wont to make; who in the Spring season held his Court at Susis; in Winter, kept house at Babylon; and during Summer, passed the time and sojourned in Media. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 hearing upon a time the said king of Persia to be named, The great king: And why (quoth he) is he greater than myself? unless it be that he is more just and righteous. And 〈◊〉 writing unto Antipater as touching Alexander the great, said: That it became not him only to vaunt much and glorify himself for that his dominions were so great, but also any man else hath no less cause who is instructed in the true knowledge of the gods. And Zeno seeing Theoplird: stus in great admiration because he had many scholars: Indeed (quoth he) his auditory or quite is greater than mine, but mine acordeth better and makes sweeter harmony than his. When as therefore thou hast so grounded and established in thine heart that affection unto virtue, which is able to encounter and stand against all external things, when thou hast voided out of thy soul all envies, jealousies, and what affections soever are wont either to tickle or to fret, or otherwise to depress and cast down the minds of many that have begun to profess philosophy; this may serve for a great argument and token that thou art well advanced forward, and hast profited much; neither is it a small sign thereof, if thou perceive thy language to be changed from that it was wont to be; for all those who are newly entered into the school of philosophy (to speak generally) affect a kind of speech or style which aimeth at glory and vain ostentation: some you shall hear crowing aloud like cocks and mounting up aloft, by reason of their levity and haughty humour, unto the sublimity and splendour of physical things or secrets in nature; others take pleasure (after the manner of wanton whelps, as Plato saith) in tugging and tearing evermore whatsoever they can catch or light upon; they love to be doing with litigious questions, they go directly to dark problems and sophistical subtleties, and most of them being once plunged in the quillits & quiddities of Logic, make that (as it were) a means or preparative to flesh themselves for Sophistry: mary there be, who go all about collecting and gathering together sententious saws and histories of ancient times; and as Anacharsis was wont to say: That he knew no other use that the Greeks had of their coined pieces of money, but to tell and number them, or else to cast account and reckon therewith; even so do they nothing else but count and measure their notable sentences and sayings, without drawing any profit or commodity out of them: and the same befalleth unto them, which one of Plato's familiars applied unto his scholars by way of allusion to a speech of Atiphanes: this Antiphanes was wont to say in merriment: That there was a city in the world, whereas the words so soon as ever they were out of the mouth and pronounced, became frozen in the air, by reason of the coldness of the place, and so when the heat of Summer came to thaw and melt the same, the inhabitants might hear the talk which had been uttered and delivered in Winter; even so (quoth he) it is with many of those who come to hear Plato when they be young; for whatsoever he speaketh and readeth unto them, it is very long ere they understand the same, and hardly when they are become old men: and even after the same sort it fareth with them abovesaid, who stand thus affected universally unto Philosophy, until their judgement being well settled and grown to sound resolution, begin to apprehend those things which may deeply imprint in the mind a moral affection and passion of love, yea, and to search and trace those speeches, whereof the tracts (as Aesop was wont to say) lead rather in, than out. For like as Sophocles said merrily upon a time, by way of derision: That he would first cut off the haughty and stately invention of Aeschylus, and then abridge his affected, curious and artificial disposition, and in the third place change the manner and form of his elocution, which is most excellent, and fullest of sweet affections; even so, the students in Philosophy, when they shall perceive that they pass from orations exquisitely penned and framed for ostentation in frequent and solemn assemblies, unto moral speeches, and those that touch the quick, aswell the mild and gentle motions, as the hot and violent passions of the mind, then begin they indeed to lay down all pride and vanity, and profit truly in the school of Philosophy.  
Consider then, not only in reading the works of Philosophers, or in hearing their lectures, first and foremost, whether thou art not more attentive to the words than to the matter; or whether thou be not carried with a greater affection to those who deliver a more subtle and curious composition of sentences, than such as comprise profitable, commodious, substantial & fleshy matters (if I may so say) but also in perusing Poems, or taking in hand any history, observe well and take heed, that there escape thee not any one good sentence tending properly to the reformation of manners or the alleviation of passions: for like as (according to 〈◊〉) the Bee setteth upon flowers for to suck out of it the yellow honey, whereas others love only their colour or pleasant sent, and neither care nor seek for any thing else thereout; even so, when other men be conversant in Poems for pleasure only and pastime, thou finding and gathering somewhat out thereof worth the noting, shalt seem at the first sight to have some knowledge already thereof by a certain custom and acquaintance with it, and a love taken unto it as a good thing and familiar unto thee. As for those that read the books of Plato and Xenophon, in no other regard but for the beauty of their gallant style, seeking for nought else but for the purity of speech, and the very natural Attic language, as if they went to gather the thin dew or tender moss or down of herbs; What will you say of such? but that they love physic drugs, which have either a lovely colour or a pleasant smell only; but otherwise the medicinable virtues thereof and properties either to purge the body or mitigate any pain, they neither desire to know nor are willing to use.  
Moreover, such as are proceeded farther, yet profited more, have the skill and knowledge how to reap fruit not only out of words spoken or books written, but also to receive profit out of all sights, spectacles, and what things soever they see, gathering from thence whatsoever is fit and commodious for their purpose; as it is reported of Aeschylus and other such as he: For Aeschylus being upon a time at the Isthmian games, beheld the fight of the sword-fencers that fought at sharp, and when one of the said champions had received a grievous wound, whereupon the whole theatre set up a cry, he jogging one that was by him (named jon of Chios) See you not (quoth he) what use and exercise is able to do? the party himself that is hurt saith never a word, but the lookers on cry out. Brasides chanced among dry figs to light upon a silly mouse that bit him by the finger, and when he had shaken her off and let her go, said thus to himself: See how there is nothing so little and so feeble, but it is able to make shift and save it life, if it dare only defend itself. Diogenes when he saw one make means to drink out of the ball of his hand, cast away the dish or cup that he carried in his budget. Lo, how attentive taking heed and continual exercise maketh men ready and apt to mark, observe and learn from all things that make any way for their good. And this they may the rather do when the join words and deeds together, not only in that sort (as Thucydides speaketh of) by meditating, and exercising themselves with the experience of present perils, but also against pleasures, quarrels, and altercations in judgements about defences of causes and magistracies; as making proof thereby of the opinions that they hold, or rather by carriage of themselves, teaching others what opinions they are to hold. For such as yet be learners, and notwithstanding that, intermeddle in affairs like pragmatical persons, spying how they may catch any thing out of philosophy, and go therewith incontinently in manner of jugglers with their box, either into the common place and market, or into the school which young men frequent, or else to princes tables, there to set them abroad; we are not to think them philosophers; no more than those to be physicians, who only fell medicinable spices, drugs or compound confections; or to speak more properly, such a sophister or counterfeit philosopher as this, resembleth the bird that Homer describeth, which forsooth, so soon as he hath gotten any thing, carrieth it to his scholars (as the said bird doth in her mouth convey meat to her naked young ones that cannot fly) 
And so himself he doth beguile  
And thereby take much harm the while.  converting and distributing nought of all that which he hath gotten to his own nourishment, nor so much as concocting and digesting the same: and therefore we ought of necessity to regard and consider well whether we use any discourse and place our words so, that for ourselves they may do good; and in regard of others, make no show of vainglory nor ambitious desire to be known abroad, but only of an intention rather to hear, or else to teach.  
But principally we are to observe whether our wrangling humour and desire to be cavilling about questions disputable, be allayed in us or no, as also whether we have yet given over to devise reasons and arguments to assail others; like as champions armed with hurlebats of tough leather about their arms and balls in their hands, to annoy their concurrents, taking more pleasure and delight to fell and astonish with one rap our adversary, and so to lay him along on the earth, than to learn or teach him: for surely modesty, mildness and courtesy in this kind will do well; and when a man is not willing to enter into any conference or disputation, with a purpose to put down and vanquish another, nor to break out into fits of choler, not having evicted his adversary to be ready as they say to tread and trample him under foot, nor to seem displeased and discontent if himself have the foil and be put to the worst, be all good signs of one that hath sufficiently profited. And this showed Aristippus very well upon a time when he was so hardly pressed and overlaid in a certain disputation, that he knew not what answer to make presently unto his adversary a jolly bold and audacious sophister, but otherwise a brainsick fool and without all judgement: for Aristippus seeing him to vaunt himself, puffed up with vain glory, that he had put him to a non plus: Well (quoth he) I fee that for this time I go away with the worse, but surely when I am gone I will sleep more sound and quietly than you that have gotten the better. Moreover we may also prove and sound ourselves, whether we have profited or no, even whiles we speak in public place; namely, if neither upon the sight of a greater audience than we looked for, we shrink not for fear and false heart, nor chose be discouraged to see fewer come to hear our exercises than we hoped for; ne yet when we are to make a speech to the people, or before a great magistrate, we lose the opportunity thereof, for that we have not well premeditated thereof before, nor come provided of apt words to declare our mind, a thing that by report befell unto Demosthenes & Alcthiades: for Alcibiades as he was passing ingenious and inventive of matter, so he wanted audacity, and was not so ready as some other to utter the same, but troubled eftsoons in his pleading and delivery of it, insomuch as many times in the very mids ofhi oration he would be out and to seek for a proper and fit term to express the conception ofhi mind, or else to recover that word again which was slipped and escaped out ofhi memory. As for Homer he had such an opinion of his own perfection, and his poetical vein in the rest of all his work, that he stuck not to set down the very first verse of his poem defective in measure, and not answerable to the rules of versifying So much the rather therefore likely it is, that they who set nothing before their eyes, nor aim at aught else but virtue only and honesty, will make use of the present occasion and the occurrence of affairs, fall out as they will, without regard of applause, hissing or any other noise whatsoever in token of liking or disliking their speech.  
Now every man ought to consider not only his own speeches, but also his actions, namely whether they carry with them more profit and sound truth, than vain pomp and ostententation; for if the true love indeed of young folk, man or woman, requireth no witnesses, but resteth in the private contentment & enjoying of their sweet delights, although the same were performed and their desires fully accomplished secretly between them without the privity of any person: how much more credible is it that he who is enamoured ofhonesty and wisdom, using the company and fellowship familiarly of virtue by his actions, and enjoying the same, shall find in himself without saying one word an exceeding great contentment, and demand no other hearers or beholders but his own conscience? For like as he was but a vain fool who called unto his maid in the house and cried with aloud voice: Dionysia come and see I am not proud and vain glorious now as I was wont to be; even so he that hath done some virtuous and commendable act, and then goes forth to tell it abroad and spread the fruit there of in every place, certain it is that such an one regards still outward vanities, and is carried with a covetous desire of vainglory, neither hath he ever had as yet a true sight indeed and perfect vision of virtue, but only a fantastical dream of her, imagining as he lies asleep, that he seeth some wandering shadow and image thereof, and then afterward representeth thus unto his view that which he hath done, as painted table to look upon. Well then, it is the property of him that proceedeth in virtue, not only when he hath bestowed something upon his friend, or done a good turn unto one ofhi familiars, for to make no words there of; but also when he hath given his voice justly, or delivered his opinion truly, among many others that are unjust and untrue; or when he hath flatly denied the unhonest request, or stoutly crossed a bad motion of some rich man, great Lord or mighty Magistrate; or refused gifts and bribes; or proceeded so far that being athirst in the night he hath not drunk at all; or hath refused to kiss a beautiful boy or fair maiden & turned away from them coming toward him as Agesilaus did; to keep all this to himself and say nothing: For such a one as is content to be proved and tried by his own self, not setting light by that trial and judgement, but joying and taking delight in his conscience, as being a sufficient witness and beholder, both of good things and commendable actions, showeth that reason hath turned in, to lodge and keep resiance with him, that it hath taken deep root there: and as Democritas saith: That he is well framed, and by custom brought to rejoice and take pleasore in himself. And like as husbandmen are more glad and willing to see the ears of corn hang down their heads, and bend toward the earth, than those who for their lightness stand strait, upright, and staring aloft, for that they suppose such ears are empty, or have little or nothing in them, for all their fair show; even so, among young men, students in Philosophy, they that have least in them of any weight, and be most void, be those that are at the very first most confident; set the greatest countenance; carry the biggest port in their gate, and have the boldest face, showing therein how full they are of pride in themselves, contempt of all others, and sparing of none: but afterwards as they begin to grow on and burnish, furnishing and filling themselves with the fruits indeed of reason and learning; then and never before they lay away these proud looks; then down goes this vain pride and outward ostentation. And like as we see in vessels, whereinto men use to power in liquor, according to the quantity and measure of the said liquor that goeth in, the aite which was there before flieth out; even so to the proportion of those good things which are certain and true indeed, wherewith men are replemshed, their vanity giveth place, all their hypocrisy vanisheth away, their swelling and puffing pride doth abate and fall, and giving over then to stand upon their goodly long beards and side robes, they transfer the exercise of outward things into the mind and soul within, using the sharp bit ofbitier reprehension principally against themselves. And as for others, they can find in their hearts to devise, confer, and talk with them more graciously and with greater courtesy; the manner of Philosophy, and reputation of Philosophers, they do not usurp not take upon them, neither do they use it as their addition in former time; and if haply one of them by some other be called by that name, be will not answer to it; but if he be a young gentleman indeed, after a smiling and pleasant manner, yea and blushing withal for shame, he will say thus out of the Poet Homer: 
I am no God nor heavenly wight:  
Why dost thou give to me their right?  For true it is as Aeschylus saith: 
A dam'sell young if she have known,  
And tasted man once carnally;  
Her eye doth it bearay anon,  
It sparkles fire suspiciously.  But a young man having truly tasted the profit and proceeding in Philosophy, hath these signs following him, which the Poetresse Sapph setteth down in these verses: 
When I you see, What do I ail?  
First suddenly my voice doth fail,  
And then like fire a colour red,  
Under my skin doth run and spread.  It would do you good to view his settled & stayed countenance, to behold the pleasant and sweet regard of his eye, and to hear him when he speaketh: for like as those who are professed in any confraternity of holy mysteries, at their first assembly & meeting together, hurry in tumultuous sort with great noise, insomuch as they thrust and throng one another; but when they come to celebrate the divine service thereto belonging, and that the sacred relics and ornaments are once showed, they are very attentive with reverend fear and devout silence; so, at the beginning of the study of Philosophy, and in the very entry (as it were) of the gate that leadeth unto it, a man shall see much ado, a foul stir, great audaciousness, insolency, and jangling words more than enough; for that some there be, who would intrude themselves rudely, and thrust into the place violently, for the greedy desire they have to win reputation and credit: but he that is once within and seeth the great light, as if the sanctuaries and sacred cabinets or tabernacles were set open, anon he putteth on another habit, and a diverse countenance with silence and astonishment, he becometh humble, pliable and modest, ready to follow the discourse of reason and doctrine, no less than the direction of some god. To such as these, me thinks, I may do very well to accommodate that speech which Menademus sometime in mirth spoke pleasantly: Many there be that sail to Athens (quoth he) for to go to school there, who when they come first thither seem 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Sophi, that is, be wise, and afterwards prove 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Philosophi, that is, lovers of wisdom; then of Philosophers they become 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Sophisters, that is, professors and readers, until in process of time they grow to be 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Idiots, that is to say, ignorant and fools to see to: for the nearer that they approach to the use of reason and to learning indeed, the more do they abridge the opinion that they have of themselves, and lay down their presumption. Among those that have need of physic, some that are troubled with the toothache, or have a fellow or whitflaw on their finger, go themselves to the physician for to have remedy; others who are sick of an ague send for the physician home to their houses, and desire to be eased and cured by him; but those that are fallen either into a fit of melancholy, or phrensid, or otherwise be distracted in their brains and out of their right wits, otherwhiles will not admit or receive the physicans, although they came of themselves uncalled, but either drive them out of doors, or else hide themselves out of their sight, and so far gone they be and dangerously sick, that they feel not their own sickness; semblably of those who sin and do amiss, such be incorrigible and uncurable, who are grievously offended and angry, yea, and in mortal hatred with those who seem to admonish and reprove them for their misbehaviour; but such as will abide them, and are content to receive and entertain them, be in better state and in a readier way to recover their health: marry he that yieldeth himself to such as rebuke him, confessing unto them his errors, discovering of his own accord his poverty and nakedness, unwilling that any thing as touching his state should be hidden, not loving to be unknowen and secret, but acknowledging and avowing all that he is charged with, yea, and who prayeth a man to check, to reprove, to touch him to the quick, and so craveth for help; certainly herein he showeth no small sign of good progress and amendment: according to that which Diogenes was wont to say: He that would be saved (that is to say) become an honest man, had need to seek either a good friend or a sharp and bitter enemy, to the end that either by gentle reproof and admonition, or else by a rigorous cure of correction, he may be delivered from his vices. But how much soever a man in a glorious bravery showeth to those that be abroad either a foul and threadbare coat or a stained garment, or a rend shoe, or in a kind of a presumptuous humility mocketh himself in that peradventure he is of a very low stature, crooked or bunch-backed, and thinketh herein that he doth a worthy and doughty deed; but in the mean while covereth and hideth the ordures and filthiness of his vile life, cloaketh the villainous enormities of his manners, his envy, maliciousness, avarice, sensual voluptuousness, as if they were beastly botches or ugly ulcers, suffering no body to touch them, nay, nor so much as to see them, and all for fear of reproof, and rebuke, certes, such a one hath profited but a little, or to speak more truly, never a whit at all; but he that is ready to encounter and set upon these vices, and either is willing and able (which is the chief and principal) to chastise and condemn, yea, and put himself to sorrow for his faults; or if not so, yet in the second place at the least can endure patiently, that another man by his reprehensions & remonstrances should cleanse and purge him; certes evident it is, that such an one hateth and detesteth wickedness indeed, and is in the right way to shake it off: and verily, we ought to avoid the very name and appearance only thereof, and to be ashamed for to be thought and reputed wicked; but he that grieveth more at the substance of vice itself, than the infamy that cometh thereof, will never be afraid, but can very well abide both to speak hardly of himself, and to hear ill by others, so he may be the better thereby. To this purpose may very well be applied a pretty speech of Diogenes unto a certain younker, who perceiving that Diogenes had an eye on him within a tavern or tippling house, withdrew himself quickly more inward, for to be out of his sight: Never do so (quoth he) for the farther thou fliest backward, the more shalt thou be still in the tavern; even so a man may say of those that be given to vice, for the more that any one of them seemeth to deny his fault, the farther is he engaged, and the deeper sunk in sin; like as poor men, the greater show that they make of riches, the poorer they be, by reason of their vanity and bragging of that which they have not. But he that profiteth in deed, hath for a good precedent and example, to follow that famous Physician Hypocrates, who both openly confessed and also put down in writing, that he was ignorant in the Anatomy of a man's head, and namely, as touching the seams or situres thereof; and this account will he make, that it were an unworthy indignity, if (when such a man as Hypocrates thought not much to publish his own error and ignorance, for fear that others might fall into the like) he who is willing to save himself from perdition, can not endure to be reproved, nor acknowledge his own ignorance and folly. As for those rules and precepts which are delivered by Pyrrho and Bion in this case are not in my conceit the signs of amendment and progress so much, as of some other more perfect and absolute habit rather of the mind; for Bion willed and required his scholars and familiars that conversed with him, to think then (and never before) that they had procecded and profited in Philosophy, when they could with as good a will abide to hear men revile and rail at them, as if they spoke unto them in this manner: 
Good sir, you seem no person lewd, nor foolish sot, iwis:  
All hail, Fair chieve you and adieu, God send you always bliss.  And Pyrrho (as it is reported) being upon a time at sea, and in danger to be cast away in a tempest, showed unto the rest of his fellow passengers a porket feeding hard upon barley cast before him on ship board: Lo, my masters (quoth he) we ought by reason and exercise in Philosophy, to frame ourselves to this pass, and to attain unto such an impassibility, as to be moved and troubled with the accidents of fortune no more than this pig.  
But consider furthermore, what was the conceit and opinion of Zeno in this point; for he was of mind that every man might and ought to know whether he profited or no in the school of virtue, even by his very dreams; namely, if he took no pleasure to see in his sleep any filthy or dishonest thing, nor delighted to imagine that he either intended, did or approved any lewd, unjust or outrageous action; but rather did behold (as in a settled calm, without wind, weather and wave, in the clear bottom of the water) both the imaginative and also the passive faculty of the soul, wholly overspread and lightened with the bright beams of reason: which Plato before him (is it should seem) knowing well enough, hath prefigured and represented unto us, what fantastical motions they be that proceed in sleep from the imaginative & sensual part of the soul given by nature to tyrannize & overrule the guidance of reason; namely if a man dream that he seeketh to have carnal company with his own mother, or that he hath a great mind and appetite to eat all strange, unlawful and forbidden meats; as if then the said tyrant gave himself wholly to all those sensualities & concupiscences as being let loose at such a time, which by day the law either by fear or shame doth repress & keep down. Like as therefore beasts which serve for draft or saddle, if they be well taught and trained, albeit their governors and rulers let the reins loose and give them the head, fling not out nor go aside from the right way, but either draw or make pace forward still, & as they were wont ordinarily keep the same train and hold on in one course and order, even so they whose sensual part of the soul is made trainable and obedient, tame, and well schooled by the discipline of reason, will neither in dreams nor sicknesses easily suffer the lusts and concupiscences of the flesh, to rage or break out unto any enormities punishable by law; but will observe and keep still in memory that good discipline and custom which doth ingenerate a certain power and efficacy unto diligence, whereby they shall and will take heed unto themselves: for if the mind hath been used by exercise to resist passions and temptations, to hold the body and all the members thereof as it were with bit & bridle under subjection in such sort that it hath at command the eyes not to shed tears for pity; the heart like wise not to leap & pant in sear; the natural parts not to rise not stir but to be still & quiet without any trouble at all, upon the sight of any fair and beautiful person, man or woman; how can it otherwise be but that there should be more likelihood that exercise having seized upon the sensual part of the soul and tamed it, should polish, lay even, reform, and bring unto good order all the imaginations and motions thereof, even as far as to the very dreams and fantasies in sleep: as it is reported of Stilpo the philosopher, who dreamt that he saw Neptune expostulating with him in anger, because he had not killed a beef to sacrifice unto him as the manner was of other priests to do, and that himself nothing astonished or dismayed at the said vision should answer thus again: What is that thou sayst o Neptune? comest thou to complain indeed like a child (who pules and cries for not having a piece big enough) that I take not up some money at interest, and put myself in debt, to fill the whole city with the scent and savour of roast and burnt, but have sacrificed unto thee such as I had at home according to my ability and in a mean? whereupon Neptune (as he thought) should merrily smile and reach forth unto him his right hand, promising that for his sake and for the love of him he would that year send the Megarians great store of rain and good foison of sea-loaches or fishes called Aphyrae by that means coming unto them by whole skulls. Such then, as while they lie asleep have no illusions arising in their brains to trouble them, but those dreams or visions only as be joious pleasant, plain and evident, not painful, not terrible, nothing rough, malign, tortuous and crooked; may boldly say that these fantasies and apparitions be no other than the reflections and rays of that light which rebound from the good proceedings in philosophy; whereas chose the furious pricks of lust, timorous frights, unmanly and base flights, childish and excessive joys, dolorous sorrows, and doleful moans by reason of some piteous illusions strange and absurd visions appearing in dreams, may be well compared unto the broken waves and billows of the sea beating upon the rocks and craggy banks of the shore; for that the soul having not as yet that settled perfection in itself which should keep it in good order, but holdeth on a course still according to good laws only and sage opinions, from which when it is farthest sequestered and most remote, to wit, in sleep, it suffereth itself to return again to the old wont and to be let loose and abandoned to her passions: But whether these things may be ascribed unto that profit and amendment whereof we treat, or rather to some other habitude, having now gathered more strength and firm constancy not subject by means of reasons and good instruction to shaking, I leave that to your own consideration and mine together.  
But now forasmuch as this total impassibility (if I may so speak) of the mind, to wit, a state so perfect that it is void of all affections, is a great and divine thing; and seeing that this profit and proceeding whereof we write consisteth in a kind of remission and mildness of the said passions, we ought both to consider each of them apart and also compare them one with another, thereby to examine and judge the difference: confer we shall every passion by itself, by observing whether our lusts and desires be more calm and less violent than in former time, by marking likewise our fits of fear and anger, whether they be now abated in comparison of those before, or whether when they be up and enflarned, we can quickly with the help of reason remove or quench that which was wont to set them on work or a fire: compare we shall them together, in case we examine ourselves whether we have now a greater portion of grace and shame in us than of fear; whether we find in ourselves emulation and not envy; whether we covet honour rather than worldly goods; and in one word, whether after the manner of musicians we offend rather in the extremity and excess of harmony called Dorion, which is grave, solemn, and devout, than the Lydian, which is light and galliardlike, that is to say inclining rather in the whole manner of our life to hardness and severity, than to effeminate softness; whether in the enterprise of any actions we show timidity and slackness, rather than temerity and rashness, and last of all, whether we offend rather in admiring too highly the sayings of men and the persons themselves, than in despising and debasing them too low: for like as we say in physic it is a good sign of health when diseases are not diverted and translated into the noble members & principal parts of the body; even so it seemeth that when the vices of such as are in the way of reformation and amendment of life change into passions that are more mild and moderate, it is a good beginning of ridding them away clean by little & little.  
The Lacedaemonian Ephori, which were the high countrollers of that whole State, demanded of the Musician phrynis, when he had set up two strings more to his seven stringed instrument, whether he would have them to cut in sunder the trebles or the bases, the highest or the lowest? but as for us, we had need to have our affections cut both above and beneath, if we desire to reduce our actions to a mean and mediocrity. And surely this progress or proceeding of ours to perfection, professeth rather to let down the lightest first, to cut off the extremity of passions in excess, and to abate the acrimony of affections before we do any thing else, in which as saith Sophocles: 
folk foolish and incontinent,  
Most furtous be and violent.  As for this one point, namely that we ought to transfer our judgement to action, and not to suffer our words to remain bare and naked words still in the air, but reduce them to effect, we have already said, that is the chief property belonging to our progress and going forward: now the principal arguments and signs thereof be these; if we have a zeal and fervent affection to imitate those things which we praise; if we be forward and ready to execute that which we so much admire, and chose will not admit nor abide to hear of such things as we in our opinion dispraise and condemn. Probable it is and standeth with great likelihood that the Atheniansal in general praised and highly esteemed the valour and prowess of Miltiades; but when Themistocles said; that the victory and Trophy of Miltiades would not give him leave to sleep, but awakened him in the night, plain it is and evident, that he not only praised and admired, but had a desire also to imitate him, and do as much himself; semblably, we are to make this reckoning, that our progress and proceeding in virtue is but small, when it reacheth no farther than to praise only and have in admiration that which good men have worthily done, without any motion and inclination of our will to imitate the same and effect the like. For neither is the carnal love of the body effectual, unless some little jealousy be mixed withal, not the praise of virtue fervent and active, which doth not touch the quick, and prick the heart with an ardent zeal in stead of envy, unto good and commendable things, and the same desirous to perform and accomplish the same fully. For it is not sufficient that the heart should be turned upside down only, as Alcibiades was wont to say by the words and precepts of the Philosopher reading outof his chair, even until the tears gush out of the eyes: but he that truly doth profit & go forward, ought by comparing himself with the works & actions of good men, and those that be perfectly virtuous, to feel withal in his own heart, aswell a displeasure with himself, and a grief in conscience for that wherein he is short and defective, as also a joy and contentment in his spirit upon a hope and desire to be equal unto them, as being full of an affection and motion that never resteth and lieth still, but resembleth for all the world (according to the similitude of Simonides:) 
The sucking foal that keeps just pace,  
And runs with dam in every place.  affecting and desiring nothing more than to be wholly united and concorporate with a good man, by imitation. For surely this is the passion peculiar and proper unto him that truly taketh profit by the study of Philosophy; To love and cherish tenderly the disposition & conditions of him whose deeds he doth imitate and desire to express, with a certain good will to render always in words, due honour unto them for their virtue, and to assay how to fashion and conform himself like unto them. But in whomsoever there is instilled or infused (I wot not what) contentious humour, envy, and contestation against such as be his betters, let him know that all this proceedeth from an heart exulcerated with jealousy for some authority, might and reputation, and not upon any love, honour, or admiration of their virtues. Now, when as we begin to love good men in such sort that (as Plato saith) we esteem not only the man himself happy who is temperate; or those blessed who be the ordinary hearers of such excellent discourses which daily come out of his mouth; but also that we do affect and admire his countenance, his port, his gate, the cast and regard of his eye, his smile and manner of laughter, insomuch as we are willing, as one would say to be joined, soldered, and glued unto him; then we may be assured certainly that we profit in virtue; yea and so much the rather, if we have in admiration good and virtuous men, not only in their prosperity, but also (like as amorous folk are well enough pleased with the lisping or stammering tongue; yea and do like the pale colour of these whom for the flower of their youth and beauty they love and think it beseemeth them, as we read of Lady Panthea, who by her tears and sad silence, all heavy, afflicted and blubbered as she was, for the dolour and sorrow that she took for the death of her husband, seized Araspes so as he was enamoured upon her) in their adversity, so as we neither start back for fear, nor dread the banishment of Aristides, the imprisonment of Anaxagoras, the poverty of Socrates, or the condemnation of Photion, but repute their virtue, desirable, lovely and amiable even with all these calamities, and run directly toward her for to kiss and embrace her by our imitation, having always in our mouth at every one of these cross accidents this notable speech of Euripides: 
Oh how each thing doth well become,  
Such generous hearts both all and some!  For we are never to fear or doubt that any good or honest thing shall ever be able to avert from virtue this heavenly inspiration and divine instinct of affection, which not only is not grieved and troubled at those things which seem unto men most full of misery and calamity, but also admireth & desireth to imitate them. Hereupon also it followeth by good consequence, that they who have once received so deep an impression in their hearts, take this course with themselves: That when they begin any enterprise, or enter into the admininstration of government, or when any sinister accident is presented unto them, they set before their eyes the examples of those who either presentlyl are or hereto fore have been worthy persons, discoursing in this manner: What is it that Plato would have done in this case? what would have Epaminondas said to this? how would Lycurgus or Agesilaus have behaved themselves herein? After this sort (I say) will they labour to frame, compose, reform and adorn their manners as it were before a mirror or looking-glass, to wit, in correcting any unseemly speech that they have let fall, or repressing any passion that hath risen in them. They that have learned the names of the demigods called Idaei Dactyly, know how to use them as countercharms or preservatives against sudden frights, pronouncing the same one after another readily and ceremoniously; but the remembrance and thinking upon great and worthy men represented suddenly unto those who are in the way of perfection, and taking hold of them in all passions and perplexions which shall encounter them, holdeth them up, and keepeth them upright, that they can not fall; and therefore this also may go for one argument and token of proceeding in virtue.  
Over and beside, not to be so much troubled with any occurrent, nor to blush exceedingly for shame as beforetime, nor to seek to hide or otherwise to alter our countenance or any thing else about us, upon the sudden coming in place of a great or sage parsonage unexpected, but to persist resolute, to go directly toward him with bare and open face, are tokens that a man feeleth his conscience settled and assured. Thus Alexander the great seeing a messenger running toward him apace with a pleasant and smiling countenance, and stretching forth his hand afar off to him: How now good fellow (quoth he) what good news canst thou bring me more, unless it be tidings that Homer is risen again? esteeming in truth that his worthy acts and noble deeds already achieved, wanted nothing else, nor could be made greater than they were, but only by being consecrated unto immortality by the writings of some noble spirit; even so a young man that groweth better and better every day, and hath reform his manners, loving nothing more than to make himself known what he is unto men of worth and honour; to show unto them his whole house and the order thereof, his table, his wife and children, his studies and intents; to acquaint them with his sayings and writings; insomuch as otherwhiles he is grieved in his heart to think and remember, either that his father natural that begat him, or his master that taught him, are departed out of this life, for that they be not alive to see in what good estate he is in and to joy thereat; neither would he wish or pray to the gods for any thing so much, as that they might revive and come again above ground, for to be spectators and eie-witnesses of his life and all his actions. chose, those that have neglected themselves and not endeavoured to do well, but are corrupt in their manners, can not without fear and trembling abide to see those that belong unto them, no nor so much as to dream of them. Add moreover, if you please, unto that which hath been already said, thus much also for a good token of progress in virtue: When a man thinketh no sin or trespass small, but is very careful and wary to avoid and shun them all. For like as they who despair ever to be rich, make no account at all of saving a little expense; for thus they think: That the sparing of a small matter can add no great thing unto their stock, to heap it up; but chose, hope when a man sees that he wanteth but a little of the mark which he shooteth at, causeth that the nearer he cometh thereto, his covetousness is the more; even so it is in those matters that pertain to virtue: he who giveth not place much, nor proceedeth to these speeches: Well, and what shall we have after this? Be it so now: It will be better again for it another time: and such like: but always taketh heed to himself in every thing; and whensoever vice insinuating it self into the least sin and fault that is, seemeth to pretend and suggest some colourable excuses for to crave pardon, is much discontented and displeased; he (I say) giveth hereby good evidence and proof that he hath a house within clean and neat, and that he would not endure the least impurity and ordure in the world to defile the same: For (as Aeschylus saith) an opinion conceived once, that nothing that we have is great and to be esteemed and reckoned of, causeth us to be careless and negligent in small matters. They that make a palaisado, a rampire or rough mud wall, care not much to put into their work any wood that cometh next hand, neither is it greatly material to take thereto any rubbish or stone that they can meet with, or first cometh into their eye, yea, and if it were a pillar fallen from a monument or sepulchre; semblably do wicked and lewd folk, who gather, thrumble & heap up together all sorts of gain, all actions that be in their way, it makes no matter what; but such as profit in virtue, who are already planted, and whose golden foundation of a good life is laid (as it were) for some sacred temple or royal palace, will not take hand over head, any stuff to build thereupon, neither will they work by aim, but every thing shall be couched, laid and ranged by line and level, that is to say, by the squire & rule of reason: which is the cause (as we think) that Polycletus the famous imager was wont to say: That the hardest piece of all the work remained then to do, when the clay and the nail met together; signifying thus much: That the chief point of cunning and perfection was in the up-shoot and end of all.    

OF SUPERSTITION.  

The Summarie.  
IT should seem that Plutarch composed this book in mockery and derision of the jews whom he toucheth, and girdeth at in one place, and whose religion he mingleth with the superstition of the Pagans; to as much purpose (I wis) as that which he delivereth in a discourse at the table, where he compareth the feast of the Tabernacles ordained by the eternal and almighty God, with the Bacchanals and such stinking ordures of idolaters; thinking verily that Bacchus was the god of the jews. This slander of his and false calumniation ought to be imputed unto that ignorance of the true God, wherein Plutarch did remain enwrapped: yet is not be the man alone who hath derided and flouted the religion of the jews: but such scoffs and derisions of the sages and wise men of this world, especially and above all when they are addressed against God, fall upon the head of the authors and devisers thereof, to their utter confusion. Moreover as touthing this point, that some have thought this present discourse wherein he endeavoureth and laboureth to prove superstition to be more perilous than Atheism is dangerous to be read, & containeth false doctrine; for that superstition of the twain is not so bad: I say that in regard of the foolish devotion of Plutarch and such as himself, which in no wise deserveth the name of religion, but is indeed a derision and profanation of true piety and godliness, it were not amiss to affirm that superstition is more wretched and miserable than Atheism, considering that less hurtful and dangerous it is for a man not to have his mind and soul troubled at all and disquieted with a fantastical illusion of idols and Chimaeres in the air, than to fear, honour and serve them in such sort as justice & humanity should in manner be abolished by such superstitious idolaters. To be short, that it were better to defeat and overthrow at once all false gods, than to lodge any one in his head, for to languish thereby in perpetual misery. Concerning true religion and the extremities thereof, the case is otherwise, and the question disputable, which we leave to Divines and Theologians to scan upon, to discourse and determine, since our intention and purpose urgeth us not at this time to discourse hereupon.  
But to return unto our author, considering that which we come to touch; Atheists cannot find how to prevail and maintain their opinion: for sufficient process and accusation against themselves, they carry every minute of an hour in their cauterized & seered conscience: but he showeth that to worship and serve many idols, is a thing without comparison more deplorable than to disavow and disclaim them all. But to prove this, after he had discovered the course of superstition & Atheism, and declared the difference of these two extremities, he saith in the first place, that superstition is the most unwoorthy and unseemly of all the passions of the soul, proving the same by diverse reasons, to wit; That the superstitious man is in continual perplexity, he dreadeth his own idol no less than a cruel tyrant, and imagineth a thousand evils even after his death. After this he taketh a view of the Atheist, and opposeth him against the superstitious, resolving upon this point; that the superstitious person is more miserable of the twain, aswell in adversity as prosperity, and to confirm and satisfy his assertion, he setteth down many arguments and notable examples. Moreover he showeth that the superstitious person is an 〈◊〉 to all deity or godhead, he putteth clean out of his heart, and treadeth underfoot all humanity and righteousness for to please his idols, and in one word, that he is the most wretched caitiff in the world. And for a conclusion he exhorteth us so to fly superstition, that we hold ourselves from falling into Atheism, keeping in the middle between; of which point every good man ought to consider and think upon well and in good earnest in these latter times of the world, albeit he who advertiseth us thereof in this place, never knew what was true religion.   

OF SUPERSTITION.  
THe ignorance and want of true knowledge as touching the gods divided even from the beginning into two branches, meeting on the one side with stubborn and obstinate natures, as it were with a churlish piece of ground, hath in them engendered Impiety and Atheism; and on the otherside, lighting upon gentle and tender spirits like a moist and soft soil, hath bred and imprinted therein superstition: now as all error in opinion and judgement, and namely in these matters, is hurtful and dangerous enough; so if it be accompanied with some passion of the mind it is most pernicious. For this we must think, that every one of these passions resembleth a deception that is feaverous and inflamed; and like as the dislocations of any joints in a man's body out of their place joined with a wound be worse than others to be cured; even so the distortions and errors of the mind meeting with some passion are more difficult to be reform. As for example, set case that one do think that the little motes and indivisible bodies called Atomies, together with voidness and emptiness be the first elements and principles whereof all things are made; certainly this is an erroneous and false opinion of his; howbeit the same breedeth no ulcer, no fever causing disordinate pulse in the arteries, nor yet any pricking and troublesome pain. Doth some one hold that riches is the sovereign good of man? This error and false opinion hath a rust or canker and a worm that eateth into the soul and transporteth the same besides itself, it suffereth it not to take any repose, it stingeth, it pricketh it and setteth it a gadding, it throweth it down headlong (as it were) from high rocks, it stifleth and strangleth it, and in one word it bereaveth it of all liberty & frank speech. Again, are there some persuaded, that virtue and vice be substances corporal and material? this haply is a gross ignorance and a foul error, howbeit not lamentable nor worthy to be deplored: but there be other judgements and opinions like unto this: 
O virtue wretched and miserable,  
Nought else but words and wind variable;  
Thee served I daily with all reverence,  
As if thou hadst been some real essence:  
Whereas injustice neglected I have,  
Which would have made me a man rich and brave;  
Intemperance eke have I cast behind.  
Of pleasures all, the mother dear and kind.  Such as these verily we ought to pity, yea and withal to be offended at, because in whose minds they are once entered and settled they engender many maladies and passions like unto worms and such filthy vermin. But now to come unto those which at this present are in question: Impiety or Atheism, being a false persuasion and lewd belief, that there is no sovereign Nature most happy and incorruptible, seemeth by incredulity of a Godhead to bring miscreants to a certain stupidity, bereaving them of all sense and feeling, considering that the end of this misbelief that there is no God, is to be void altogether of fear. As for superstition, according as the nature of the Greek word (which signifieth Fear of the Gods) doth imply, is a passionate opinion and turbulent imagination, imprinting in the heart of man a certain fearfulness, which doth abate his courage and humble him down to the very ground, whiles he is persuaded that they be gods indeed, but such as be noisome, hurtful, and doing mischief unto men: In such sort, that the impious Atheist having no motion at all as touching the Deity and Divine power, and the superstitious person moved and affected thereto after a perverse sort, and otherwise than he should, are both out of the right way. For ignorance as it doth ingenerate in the one an unbelief of that sovereign Nature which is the cause of all goodness; so it imprinteth in the other a misbelief of the Deity, as being the cause of evil: so that as it should seem, Impiety or Atheism is a false judgement and opinion of the Godhead; and superstition a passion proceeding from an erroneous persuasion. True it is that all maladies of the soul are foul and the passions nought; howbeit in some of them, there is a kind of (I wot not what) alacrity, haughtiness and jollity, proceeding from the lightness of the mind; and to say in a word, there is in manner not one of them all, destitute of one active motion or other, serving for action; but a common imputation this is and a blame laid generally upon all passions, that with their violent pricks (as it were) they incite, provoke, urge, compel, and force reason; only fear, which being no less void of audacity and boldness, than of reason; carrieth with it a certain blockishness or stupidity, destitute of action, perplexed, idle, dead, without any exploit or effect whatsoever; whereupon it is named in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a Bond, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, Trouble, for that it both bindeth and also troubleth the mind. But of all sorts of fear, there is none so full of perplexity, none so unfit for action as that of superstition. The man who saileth not, is not afraid of the sea; neither feareth he the wars, who followeth not warfare; no more than he who keepeth home and stirreth not out of doors, is afraid of thieves that rob by the high way side; or the poor man that hath nought to lose, of the Sycophant or promoter; nor he that liveth in mean estate, of envy; no more (I say) than he that is in Gaul feareth earthquake, or in Aethiopia thunder and lightning: but the superstitious man that stands in fear of the gods, feareth all things, the land, the sea, the air the sky, darkness, light, silence and his very dreams. Servants whiles they be a sleep, forget the rigour and hardness of their masters. Sleep easeth the chains, gives and fetters, of those that lie by the heels bound in prison; dolorous inflammations, smart wounds, painful ulcers and marimuls that eat and consume the flesh, yield some ease and alleviation unto patients whiles they be asleep, according as he saith in the Tragedy: 
O sweet repose, o sleep so gracious  
That dost allay our maladies,  
How welcome art thou unto us,  
Bringing in season remedies?  Thus said he: But susperstition will not give a man leave thus to say: For it alone maketh no truce during sleep; it permitteth not the soul at any time to breath and take rest, no nor suffereth it to pluck up her spirits and take heart again by removing out of her the unpleasant, tart and troublesome opinions as touching the divine power; but as if the sleep of superstitious folk were a very hell and place of damned persons, it doth present unto them terrible visions and monstrous fancies; it raiseth devils, fiends and furies, which torment the poor and miserable soul; it driveth her out of her quiet repose by her own fearful dreams, wherewith she whippeth, scourgeth, and punisheth herself (as if it were) by some other, whose cruel and unreasonable commandments she doth obey; and yet here is not all; for, that which worse is, such superstitious persons after they be awakened out of their sleep and risen, do not as other men, despise their dreams, and either laugh thereat or take pleasure therein, for that they see there is nothing true in all their visions and illusions which should trouble and terrify them; but being escaped out of the shadow of those false illusions, wherein there is no harm or hurt at all, they deceive and trouble themselves in good earnest, spending their substance and goods infinitely upon magicians, juglars, enchanters, and such like deceivers whom they light upon, who bear a man in hand and thus say unto him: 
If frighted thou be with fancies in sleep,  
Or haunted with Hecate that beneath doth keep.  Call for an old trot that tends thy backhouse, and plunge thyself in the sea water, and sit a whole day upon the ground, 
O greeks, you that would counted be most wise,  
These barbarous and wicked toys devise.  namely, upon a vain and foolish superstition, enjoining men to begrime and bewray themselves with dirt, to lie and wallow in the mire, to observe Sabbaths' and cease from work, to lie prostrate and grovelling upon the earth with the face downward, to sit upon the ground in open place, and to make many strange and extravagant adorations. In times past the manner was, among those especially who would entertain and observe lawful music, to command those that began to play upon the harp or cittern, to sing thereto with a just mouth, to the end they should speak no dishonest thing; and even we also require and think it meet to pray unto the gods with a just and right mouth, & not to pry in the beast sacrificed, to look into the entrails, to observe whether the tongue thereof be pure and right, and in the mean time perverting and polluting our own tongues with strange and absurd names, infecting and defiling the same with barbarous terms, offending thereby the gods, and violating the dignity of that religion which is received from our ancestors, and authorised in our own country. The Comical Poet said pleasantly in one Comedy, speaking of those who laid their bedstead thick with gold and silver: Why do you make your sleep dear and costly unto yourselves, which is the only gift that the gods have given us freely? even so may a man very well say (and with great reason) unto those that are superstitious: Seeing that the gods have bestowed upon us sleep, for the oblivion and repose of our miseries, why makest thou it a very bell & place of continual and dolorous torment to thy poor soul, which can not fly nor have recourse unto any other sleep but that which is troublesome unto thee? Haraclitus was wont to say: That men all the whiles they were awake, enjoyed the benefit of no other world, but that which was common unto all; but when they slept, every one had a world by himself: but surely, the superstitious person hath not so much as any part of the common world, for neither whiles he is awake hath he the true use of reason and wisdom, nor when he sleepeth is he delivered from fear & secured; but one thing or other troubleth him still: his reason is asleep, his fear is always awake; so that neither can he avoid his own harm quite, nor find any means to put it by, and turn it off. Polycrates the tyrant was dread and terrible in Samos, Periander in Corinth, but no man feared either the one or the other, who withdrew himself into any free city or popular State; as for him who standeth in dread and fear of the imperial power of the gods, as of some rigorous and inexorable tyranny, whither shall he retire & withdraw himself? whither shall he fly? where shall he find a land, where shall he meet with sea, without a god? into what secret part of the world (poor man) wilt thou betake thyself, wherein thou mayest lie close and hidden, and be assured that thou art without the puissance and reach of the gods? There is a law that provideth for miserable slaves, who being so hardly entreated by their masters, are out of all hope that they shall be ensranchised and made free, namely; that they may demand to be sold again and to change their master, if haply they may by that means come by a better and more easy servitude under another: but this superstition alloweth us not that liberty to change our gods for the better, nay, there is not a god to be found in the world, whom a superstitious person doth not dread, considering that he feareth the tutelar gods of his native country, and the very gods protectors of his nativity: he quaketh even before those gods which are known to be saviours propitious and gracious; he trembleth for fear, when he thinketh of them at whose hands we crave riches, abundance of goods, concord, peace, and the happy success of the best words and deeds that we have. Now if these think that bondage is a great calamity, saying thus: 
O heavy cross and woeful misery,  
Man and woman to be in thrall-estate:  
And namely, if their slavery  
Be under lords unfortunate.  how much more grievous think you is their servitude which they endure, who can not fly, who can not run away and escape, who can not change and turn to another. Altars there be, unto which bad servants may fly for succour; many sanctuaries there be and privileged churches for thieves and robbers, from whence no man is so hardy as to pluck and pull them out. Enemies after they are defeated and put to flight, if in the very rout and chase they can take hold of some image of the gods, or recover some temple and get it over their heads once, are secured and assured of their lives; whereas the superstitious person is most affrighted, scared, and put in fear by that, wherein all others who be afraid of extremest evils that can happen to man, repose their hope and trust. Never go about to pull perforce a superstitious man out of sacred temples, for in them he is most afflicted and tormented. What needs many words? In all men death is the end of life; but it is not so in superstition, for it extendeth and reacheth farther than the limits and utmost bounds thereof, making fear longer than this life, and adjoining unto death an imagination of immortal miseries; and even then, when there seemeth to be an end and cessation of all sorrows & travels, be superstitious men persuaded that they must enter into others which be endless & everlasting: they dream of (I wot not what) deep gates of a certain Pluto or infernal God of hell, which open for to receive them; of fiery rivers always burning; of hollow gulfs and floods of Styx to gape for them; of ugly and hideous darkness to overspread them, full of sundry apparitions; of ghastly ghosts and sorrowful spirits, representing unto them grizlie and horrible shapes to see, and as fearful and lamentable voices to hear: what should I speak of judges, of tormentors, of bottomless pits, and gaping caves, full of all sorts of torture and infinite miseries. Thus unhappy and wretched superstition, by fearing overmuch and without reason, that which it imagineth to be nought, never taketh heed how it submitteth itself to all miseries; and for want of knowledge how to avoid this passionate trouble, occasioned by the fear of the gods, forgeth and deviseth to itself an expectation of inevitable evils even after death. The impiety of an Atheist hath none of all this gear; most true it is, that his ignorance is unhappy, and that a great calamity and misery it is unto the soul, either to see amiss or wholly to be blinded, in so great & worthy things, as having of many eyes the principal and clearest of all, to wit, the knowledge of God extinct and put out; but surely (as I said before) this passionate fear, this ulcer and sore of conscience, this trouble of spirit, this servile abjection is not in his conceit; these go always with the other, who have such a superstitious opinion of the gods. Plato saith that music was given unto men by the gods, as a singular means to make them more modest and gracious, yea and to bring them as it were into tune, and cause them to be better conditioned, and not for delight and pleasure, nor to tickle the ears: for falling out as it doth many times, that for default and want of the Muses and Graces, there is great confusion & disorder in the periods and harmonies, the accords and consonances of the mind, which breaketh out other while outrageously by means of intemperance and negligence; music is of that power that it setteth every thing again in good order and their due place; for according as the poet Pindarus saith: 
To whatsoever from above,  
God jupiter doth cast no love,  
To that the voice melodious  
Of Muses seemeth odious.  Insomuch as they fall into fits of rage therewith, and be very fell & angry; like as it is reported of tigers, who if they hear the sound of drums or tabours round about them, will grow furious and stark mad, until in the end they tear themselves in pieces: so that there cometh less harm unto them who by reason of deafness or hard hearing, have no sense at all of music, and are nothing moved and affected therewith: a great infortunity this was of blind Tiresias, that he could not see his children and friends, but much more unfortunate and unhappy were Athamas and Agave, who seeing their children, thought they saw lions and stags. And no doubt when Hercules fell to be enraged and mad, better it had been and more expedient for him, that he had not seen nor known his own children, than so to deal with those who were most dear unto him, and whom he loved more than all the world besies, as if they had been his mortal enemies. Think you not then, that there is the same difference between the passions of Atheists and superstitious folk? Atheists have no sight nor knowledge of the gods at all; and the superstitious think there are gods, though they be persuaded of them amiss; Atheists neglect them altogether as if they were not; but the superstitious esteem that to be terrible, which is gracious & amiable; cruel and tyranlike, which is kind and fatherlike; hurtful and damageable unto us, which is most careful of our good and profit; rough, rigorous, savage and fell of nature, which is void of choler and without passion. And hereupon it is that they beleeve-brasse founders, cutters in stone, imagers, gravers and workers in wax, who shape, & represent unto them gods with bodies to the likeness of mortal men, for such they imagine them to be, such they adorn, adore and worship, whiles in the mean time they despise philosophers and grave personages of State and government, who do teach and show that the majesty of God is accompanied with bounty, magnanimity, love and careful regard of our good: So that as in the one sort we may perceive a certain senseless stupidity and want of belief in those causes from whence proceed all goodness; so in the other we may observe a distrustful doubt and fear of those which cannot otherwise be than profitable and gracious. In sum, impiety and Atheism is nothing else but a mere want of feeling and sense of a deity or divine power, for default of understanding and knowing the sovereign good; and superstition is a heap of diverse passions, suspecting and supposing that which is good by nature to be bad; for superstitious persons fear the gods, and yet they have recourse unto them; they flatter them, and yet blaspheme and reproach them; they pray unto them, and yet complain of them. A common thing this is unto all men, not to be always fortunate, whereas the gods are void of sickness, not subject to old age, neither taste they of labour or pain at any time: and as Pindarus saith, 
Escape they do the passage of the first  
Of roaring Acheron, and live alway in mirth.  But the passions and affairs of men be intermeddled with diverse accidents and adventures which run as well one way as another. Now consider with me first and foremost the Atheist in those things which happen against his mind, and learn his disposition and affection in such occurrences: if in other respects he be a temperate and modest man, bear he will his fortune patiently without saying a word; seek for aid he will and comfort by what means he can; but if he be of nature violent, and take his misfortune impatiently, than he directeth and opposeth all his plaints and lamentations against fortune and casualty; then he crieth out that there is nothing in the world governed either by justice or with providence, but that all the affairs of man run confusedly headlong to destruction: but the fashion of the superstitious is otherwise, for let there never so small an accident or mishap befall unto him, he sits him down sorrowing, and thereto he multiplieth and addeth other great and grievous afflictions, such as hardly be removed; he imagineth sundry frights, fears, suspicions, and troublesome terrors, giving himself to all kind of wailing, groaning, and doleful lamentation; for he accuseth not any man, fortune, occasion, or his own self; but he blameth God as the cause of all, giving out in plain terms, that from thence it is that there falleth and runneth over him such a celestial influence of all calamity and misery, contesting in this wise, that an unhappy or unlucky man he is not, but one hated of the gods, worthily punished and afflicted, yea and suffering all deservedly by that divine power and providence: now if the godless Atheist be sick, he discourseth with himself and calleth to mind his repletions and full feedings, his surfeiting upon drinking wine, his disorders in diet, his immoderate travel & pains taken, yea and his unusual and absurd change of air, from that which was familiar, unto that which is strange and unnatuturall: moreover, if it chance that he have offended in any matter of government touching the State, incurred disgrace and an evil opinion of the people and country wherein he liveth, or been falsely accused and slandered before the prince or sovereign ruler, he goeth no farther than to himself and those about him, imputing the cause of all thereto and to nothing else, and thus he reasoneth: 
Where have I been? what good have I done? and what have I not done?  
Where have I slipped? what duty begun, is left by me undone?  whereas the superstitious person will think and say, that every disease and infirmity of his body, all his losses, the death of his children, his evil success and infortunity in managing civil affairs of State, and his repulses and disgraces, are so many plagues inflicted upon him by the ire of the gods, and the very assaults of the divine justice; insomuch as he dare not go about to seek for help and succour, nor avert his own calamity; he will not presume to seek for remedy, nor oppose himself against the invasion of adverse fortune, for fear (forsooth) lest he might seem to fight against the gods, or to resist their power and will when they punish him: thus when he lieth sick in bed, he driveth his physician out of the chamber, when he is come to visit him; when he is in sorrow, he shutteth and locketh his door upon the Philosopher, that cometh to comfort him and give him good counsel: Let me alone (will he say) and give me leave to suffer punishment as I have deserved, wicked and profane creature that I am, accursed, hated of all the gods, demigods, and saints in heaven. Whereas if a (man who doth not believe nor is persuaded that there is a God) be otherwise in exceeding grief and sorrow, it is an ordinary thing with him to wipe away the tears as they gush out of his eyes, and trickle down the cheeks, to cause his hair to be cut, and to take away his mourning weed. As for a superstitious person; how should one speak unto him, or which way succour and help him? without the doors he sits clad in sackcloth, or else girded about his loins with patched clothes and tattered rags; oftentimes he will welter and wallow in the mire, confessing and declaring (I wot not) what sins and offences that he hath committed; to wit, that he hath eaten or drunk this or that, which his god would not permit; that he hath walked or gone some whither against the will and leave of the divine power. Now, say he be of the best sort of these superstitious people, and that he labour but of the milder superstition; yet will he at leastwise sit within house, having about him a number of all kinds of sacrifices and sacred aspersions; ye shall have old witches come and bring all the charms, spells, and sorceries they can come by, and hang them about his neck or other parts of his body (as it were) upon a stake, as Bion was wont to say.  
It is reported that Tyribasus when he should have been apprehended by the Persians, drew his cemiter, and (as he was a valiant man of his hands) defended himself valiantly; but so soon as they that came to lay hands on him, cried out and protested that they were to attach him in the king's name & by commission from his Majesty, he laid down his weapon aforesaid immediately, and offered both his hands to be bound and pinioned. And is not this whereof we treat the semblable case? whereas others withstand their adversity, repel and put back their afflictions, and work all the means they can for to avoid, escape, and turn away that which they would not have to come upon them. A superstitious person will hear no man, but speak in this wise to himself: Wretched man that thou art, all this thou sufferest at the hands of God, and this is befallen unto thee by his commandment, and the divine providence; all hope he rejecteth, he doth abandon and betray himself, and look whosoever come to succour and help him, those he shuneth and repelleth from him. Many crosses there be and calamities in the world, otherwise moderate and tolerable, which superstition maketh mischievous and incurable.  
That ancient King Midas in old time being troubled and disquieted much in his mind (as it should seem) with certain dreams and visions, in the end fell into such a melancholy and despair, that willingly he made himself away by drinking bulls blood. And Aristodemus king of Messenians, in that war which he waged against the Lacedæmonians, when it happened that the dogs yelled and houled like wolves, and that there grew about the altar of his house the herb called Dent de chien, or Dog's grass, whereupon the wizards and soothsayers were afraid (as of some tokens presaging evil) conceived such an inward grief, & took so deep a thought, that he fell into desperation and killed himself. As for Nicias the General of the Athenian army, haply it had been far better that by the examples of Midas and Aristodemus he had been delivered and rid from his superstition, than for fear of the shadow occasioned by the eclipse of the moon to have sitten still as he did and do nothing, until the enemies environed and enclosed him round about; and after that forty thousand of Athenians were either put to the sword or taken prisoners, to come alive into the hands of his enemies, and lose his life with shame and dishonour: for in the darkness occasioned by the opposition of the earth just in the mids, between the sun and the moon, whereby her body was shadowed and deprived of light, there was nothing for him to fear, and namely at such a time, when there was cause for him to have stood upon his feet and served valiantly in the field; but the darkness of blind superstition was dangerous, to trouble and confound the judgement of a man who was possessed therewith, at the very instant, when his occasions required most the use of his wit and understanding: 
The sea already troubled is  
With billows blew within the sound,  
Up to the capes and clifs arise  
Thick misty clouds which gather round  
About their tops, where they do seat,  
Foreshowing shortly tempests great.  A good and skilful pilot seeing this, doth well to pray unto the gods for to escape the imminent danger, and to invocate and call upon those saints for help, which they after call Saviour's: but all the while that he is thus at his devout prayers, he holdeth the helm hard, he letteth down the cross saile-yard, 
Thus having struck the main sail down the mast,  
He escapes the sea, with darkness overcast.  Hesiodus giveth the husbandman a precept, before he begin to drive the plough or sow his seed: 
To Ceres' chaste his vows to make,  
To Jove likewise god of his land,  
Forgetting not the while, to take  
The end of his plough-taile in hand.  And Homer bringeth in Ajax being at the point to enter into combat with Hector, willing the Greeks to pray for him unto the gods; but whiles they prayed, he forgot not to arm himself at all pieces. semblably, Agamemnon after he had given commandment to his soldiers who were to fight, 
Each one his lance and spear to whet,  
His shield likewise fitly to set.  then, and not before, prayeth unto jupiter in this wise: 
O jupiter vouchsafe me of thy grace,  
The stately hall of Priamus to race.  for God is the hope of virtue and valour, not the pretence of sloth and cowardice. But the jews were so superstitious, that on their Sabbath (sitting still even whiles the enemies reared their scaling ladders and gained the walls of their city) they never stirred foot, nor rose for the matter, but remained fast tied and enwrapped in their superstition as it were in a net. Thus you see what superstition is in those occurrences of times and affairs which succeed not to our mind, but contrary to our will (that is to say) in adversity: and as for times and occasions of mirth, when all things fall out to a man's desire, it is no better than impiety or atheism; and nothing is so joyous unto man, as the solemnity of festival holidays, great feasts and sacrifices before the temples of the gods, the mystical and sacred rites performed when we are purified and cleansed from our sins, the ceremonial service of the gods when we worship and adore them; in which all, a superstitious man is no better than the Atheist: for mark an Atheist in all these, he will laugh at them until he be ready to go beside himself; these toys will set him (I say) into a fit of Sardonian laughing, when he shall see their vanities; and otherwhiles he will not stick to say softly in the ear of some familiar friend about him: What mad folk be these? how are they out of their right wits, and enraged, who suppose that such things as these do please the gods? Setting this aside, there is no harm at all in him. As for the superstitious person, willing he is, but not able, to joy and take pleasure: for his heart is much like unto that city which Sophocles describeth in these verses: 
Which at one time is full of incense sweet,  
Resounding mirth with loud triumphant song,  
And yet the same doth show in every street  
All signs of grief, with plaints and groans among.  he looketh with a pale face, under his chaplet of flowers upon his head; he sacrificeth, & yet quaketh for fear; he maketh his prayers with a trembling voice; he putteth incense into the fire, and his hand shaketh withal; to be short, he maketh the speech or sentence of Pythagoras to be vain and foolish, who was wont to say: That we are then in best case, when we approach unto the gods and worship them. For verily even than it is, when superstitious people are most wretched & miserable, to wit, when they enter into the temples & sanctuaries of the gods, as if they went into the dens of bears, holes of serpents and dragons, or caves of whales & such monsters of the sea. I marvel much therefore at them, who call the miscreance & sin of atheists, Impiety, & give not that name rather to superstition. And yet Anaxagoras was accused of impiety; for that he held and said that the Sun was a stone: whereas never man yet called the Cimmerians impious or godless, because they suppose & believe there is no Sun at all. What say you then? shall he who thinketh that there be no gods at all, be taken for a profane person and excommunicate? and shall not he who believeth them to be such as superstitious folk imagine them, be thought infected with more impious and wicked opinions? For mine own part, I would be better pleased and content, if men should say of me thus: There neither is nor ever was in the world a man named Plutarch, than to give out of me and say: Plutarch is an unconstant man, variable, choleric, full of revenge for the least occasion that is, or displeased and given to grieve for a small matter; who if when you invite others to supper, he be left out and not bidden, or if upon some business you be let and hindered, so that you come not to his door for to visit him, or otherwise do not salute and speak unto him friendly, will be ready to eat your heart with salt, to set upon you with his fangs, and bite you, will not stick to catch up one of your little babes and worry him, or will keep some mischievous wild beast of purpose, to put into your cornfields, your vineyard or orchards, for to devour and spoil all your fruits. When Timotheus the musician one day in an open Theatre at Athens chanted the praises of Diana, giving unto her in his song the attributes of Thyas, Phoebus, Moenas, and Lyssas, that is to say, Furious, Possessed, Enraged, and Stark mad; as Poets are wont to do, Cinesias another minstrel or musician, rose up from out of the whole audience, and said thus aloud unto him: Would God thou hadst a daughter of those qualities. And yet these superstitious folk think the same of Diana, yea, and worse to: neither have they a better opinion of Apollo, juno, and Venus; for all of them they fear and tremble at. And yet what blasphemy uttered Niobe against Latona, like unto that which superstition hath persuaded foolish people to believe of that goddess? to wit, that she being displeased with the reproachful words that Niobe gave her, killed with her arrows all the children of that silly woman, 
Even daughters six, and sons as many just,  
Ofripe years all, no help, but die they must.  so insatiable was she of the calamities of another, so implacable was her anger. For grant it were so, that this goddess was full of gall and choler; say, that she took an hatred to lewd and wicked persons, or grieved & could not endure to hear herself reproached, or to laugh at human folly and ignorance; certes she should have been offended and angry, yea, and discharged her arrows upon these, who untruly impute and ascribe unto her that bitterness and exceeding cruelty, and stick not both to deliver in words and also to set down in writing, such things of her. We charge Hecuba with beastly and barbarous immanity, for saying thus in the last book of Homer's Iliads: 
O that I could his liver get  
Amid his corpse, to bite and eat.  As for the Syrian goddess, superstitious folk are persuaded, that if any one do eat Enthoises or such little fish as Aphyae, she will likewise gnaw their legs, fill their bodies with ulcers, and putrify or rot their liver. To conclude therefore, is it impiously done to blaspheme the gods and speak badly of them; and is it not as impious to think and imagine the same, considering that it is the opinion and conceit of the blasphemer and foul mouthed profane person which maketh his speech to be reputed nought and wicked? For even we ourselves detest and abhor foul language, for nothing so much as because it is a sign of a malicious mind, and those we take for to be our enemies who give out bad words of us, in this respect that we suppose them to be faithless and not to be trusted, but rather ill affected unto us, and thinking badly of us. Thus you see what judgement superstitious folk have of the gods, when they imagine them to be dull and blockish, treachetous and disloyal, variable and fickle minded, full of revenge, cruel, melancholic and apt to fret at every little matter: whereupon it must needs follow, that the superstitious man doth both hate and also dread the gods; for how can it otherwise be, considering that he is persuaded that all the greatest calamities which either he hath endured in times past, or is like to suffer hereafter proceed from them; now whosoever hateth and feareth the gods, he is no doubt their enemy; neither is it to be wondered at for all this, that although he stand in dread of them, yet he adoreth and worshippeth them, he prayeth and sacrificeth unto them, frequenteth duly and devoutly their temples, and is not willingly out of them; for do we not see it ordinarily, that reverence is done unto tyrants, that men make court unto them, and cry: God save your grace; yea and erect golden statues to the honour of them: howbeit as great devotion and divine honour as they do unto them in outward appearance, they hate and abhor them secretly to the heart. Hermolaus courted Alexander, and was serviceable about him: Pausanias was one of the squires of the body to king Philip, and so was Chaereas to Caligula the Emperor; but there was not of these but even when he served them, said thus in his heart, 
Certes in case it did now lie in me,  
Of thee (thou tyrant) revenged would I be.  Thus you see the Atheist thinketh there be no gods; but the superstitious person wisheth that there were none; yet he believeth even against his will that there be, nay he dare not otherwise do for fear of death. Now if he could (like as Tantalus desired to go from under the stone that hung over his head) be discharged of this fear which no less doth press him down, surely he would embrace, yea and think the disposition and condition of an Atheist to be happy, as the state of freedom and liberty: but now the Atheist hath no spark at all of superstition, whereas the superstitious person is in will and affection a mere Atheist, howbeit weaker than to believe and show in opinion that of the gods, which he would and is in his mind. Moreover, the Atheist in no wise giveth any cause, or ministereth occasion that superstition should arise; but superstition not only was the first beginning of impiety and Atheism, but also when it is sprung up and grown, doth patronise and excuse it, although not truly and honestly, yet not without some colourable pretence: for the Sages and wise men in times past grew not into this opinion, that the world was wholly void of a divine power and deity, because they beheld and considered any thing to be found fault withal in the heaven, some negligence and disorder to be marked, some confusion to be observed in the stars in the times and seasons of the year, in the revolutions thereof, in the course and motions of the sun round about the earth, which is the cause of night and day, or in the nouriture and food of beasts or in the yearly generation and increase of the fruits upon the earth; but the ridiculous works and deeds of superstition, their passions worthy to be mocked and laughed at, their words, their motions and gestures, their charms, forceries, enchantments and magical illusions, their run up and down, their beating of drums & tabours, their impure purifications, their filthy castimonies and beastly sanctifications, their barbarous and unlawful corrections and chastisements, their inhuman and shameful indignities practised even in temples; these things (I say) gave occasion first unto some for to say, that better it were there had been no gods at all, than to admit such for gods who received and approved these abuses, yea and took pleasure therein, or that they should be so outrageous, proud, and injurious, so base and pinching, so easy to fall into choler upon a small cause, and so heard to be pleased again. Had it not been far better for those Gauls, Scythians, or Tartarians in old time to have had no thought, no imagination, no mention at all delivered unto them in histories, of gods; than to think there were gods delighting in the bloodshed of men, and to believe that the most holy and accomplished sacrifice and service of the gods was to cut men's throats and to spill their blood: and had it not been more expedient for the Carthaginians by having at the first for their lawgivers either Critias or Diagoras to have been persuaded that there was neither God in heaven nor devil in hell, than to sacrifice so as they did to Saturn, who not (as Empedocles said) reproving and taxing those that killed living creatures in sacrifice; 
The sire lists up his dear belooved son,  
Who first some other form and shape did take:  
He doth him slay, and sacrifice anon,  
And therewith vows and foolish prayers doth make.  but witting and knowing killed their own children indeed for sacrifice; and look who had no issue of their own, would buy poor men's children, as if they were lambs, young calves, or kids, for the said purpose. At which sacrifice the mother that bore them in her womb would stand by without any show at all of being moved, without weeping or sighing for pity and compassions; for otherwise if she either fetched a sigh or shed ateare, she must lose the price of her child, and yet notwithstanding suffer it to be slain and sacrificed. Moreover, before and all about the image or idol to which the sacrifice was made, the place resounded and rung again with the noise of flutes and hautboys, with the sound also of drums and timbrels, to the end that the pitiful cry of the poor infants should not be heard. Now if any Tryphones or other such like giants, having chased and driven out the gods, should usurp the empire of the world and rule over us: what other facrifices would they delight in, or what offerings else and service beside could they require at men's hands? Antestries the wife of the great Monarch 〈◊〉, buried quick in the ground twelve persons, and offered them for the prolonging of her own life unto Pluto; which god (as Plato saith) was named Pluto, Dis and Hades, for that being full of humanity unto mankind, wise and rich beside, he was able to enterraine the souls of men with persuasive speeches and reasonable remonstrances.  
Xenophanes the Naturalist, seeing the Egyptians at their solemn feasts knocking their breasts, and lamenting piteously, admonished them very fitly in this wise: My good friends, if these (quoth he) be gods whom you honour thus, lament not for them; and if they be men, sacrifice not unto them. But there is nothing in the world so full of errors, no malady of the mind so passionate and mingled with more contrary and repugnant opinions, as this of superstition; in regard whereof, we ought to shun and avoid the same, but not as many who whiles they seek to eschew the assaults of thieves by the high way side, or the invasion of wild beasts out of the forced, or the danger of fire, are so transported and carried away with fear that they look not about them, nor see what they do or whither they go, and by that means light upon byways, or rather places having no way at all, but in stead thereof bottomless pits and gulfs, or else steep downefals most perilous; even so, there be diverse that seeking to avoid superstition, fall headlong upon the cragged rock of perverse and stiffnecked Impiety and Atheism, leaping over true religion which is seated just in the mids between both.    

OF EXILE OR BANISHMENT.  

The Summarie.  
THere is not a man, how well soever framed to the world and settled therein, who can promise unto himself any peaceable and assured state, throughout the course of his whole life; but according as it seemeth good to the clernall and wise providence of the Almighty (which governeth all things) to chaslise our faults, or to try our constancy in faith; he ought in time of a calm, to prepare himself for a tempest, and not to attend the mids of a danger, before he provide for his safety, but betimes and long before to fortify and furnish himself with that, whereof he may have necd another day in all occurrences and accidents whatsoever: Our Author therefore in this Treatise writing to comfort and encourage one of his friends, cast down with anguish occasioned by his banishment, showeth throughout all his discourse, that virtue it is which maketh us happy in every place, and that there is nothing but vice that can hurt and endamage us. Now as touching his particularising of this point, in the first place he treateth what kind of friends we have need of in our affliction, and how we ought then to serve our turns with them: and in regard of exile moan particularly, he adjoineth this advertisement, above all other things to see unto those goods which we may enjoy during the same, and to oppose them against the present grief and sorrow. Afterwards he proveth by sundry and diversreasons, that banishment is not in itself simply nought; he 〈◊〉 and layeth open the folly and misery of those, who are too much addicted unto one countiey, showing by notable examples that a wise man may live at ease and contentment in all places; that the hubitation in a strangeregion, and the same limited and confined straightly withineertaine precincts, doth much more good 〈◊〉 than harm; that a large country lying out far every way, maketh a man never a whit the more happy: whereas contraiwise to be enclosed and penned up, bringesh many commodities with it, 〈◊〉 that this is the only life; and that is no life at all to be evermoreflitting to and fro from place to place. Now when he hath beautified this theme abovesaid with many fair 〈◊〉 and proper in ductions, he comforteth those who are debarred and excluded from any city or province; refuting with very good and sound arguments certain persons who held banishment for a note of infamy; showing withal, that it is nothing else but sin and vice which bringeth a man into a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and condition: concluding by the examples of Anaxagoras and Socrates, that neither imprisonment, nor death can enthrall or make miserable the man who loveth virtue. And chose, he giveth us to under stand by theexamples of Phaëthon and Icarus, that vicious and sinful persons fall datly and continually one way or other into most grievous calamities through their own audaciousness and folly.   

OF EXILE OR BANISHMENT.  
SEmblable is the case of wise sentences and of good friends; the best and most and assured be those reputed, which are present with us in our calamities, not in vain and for a show, but to aid and succour us: for many there be who will not stick to present themselves, yea, and be ready to confer and talk with their friends in time of adversity; howbeit, to no good purpose at all, but rather with some danger to themselves, like as unskilful divors, when they go about to help those that are at point to be drowned, being clasped about the body, sink together with themfor company. Now the speeches and discourses which come from friends and such as would seem to be helpers, aught to tend unto the consolation of the party afflicted; and not to the defence and justification of the thing that afflicteth: for little need have we of such persons as should weep and lament with us in our tribulations & distresses, as the manner is of the Choruses or quires in Tragedies, but those rather, who will speak their minds frankly unto us, and make remonstrance plainly: That for a man to be sad and sorrowful, to afflict and cast down himself, is not only every way bootless and unprofitable, but also most vain and foolish: but where the adverse occurrents themselves being well handled and managed by reason, when they are discovered what they be, give a man occasion to say thus unto himself: 
Thou hast no cause thus to complain, unless thou be disposed to feign.   
A mere ridiculous folly it were, to ask either of body and flesh, what it aileth, or of soul, what it suffereth, and whether by the occurrence of this accident it fare worse than before; but to have recourse unto strangers without, to teach us what our grief is, by wailing, sorrowing and grieving together with us: and therefore when we are apart and alone by ourselves, we ought each one to examine our own heart and soul, about all and every mishap and infortunity, yea, and to poise and weigh them, as if they were so many burdens, for the body is pressed down only by the weight of the farthel that loadeth it; but the soul often times of itself giveth a surcharge over and above the things that molest it. A stone of the own nature is hard, and ice of itself cold; neither is there any thing without, that giveth casually to the one the hardness to resist, or to the other the coldness to congeal; but banishments, disgraces, repulse and loss of dignity, as also chose, crowns, honours, sovereign magistracies, pre-eminences, and highest places, being powerful either to afflict or rejoice hearts, in some measure more or less, not by their own nature, but according to judgement and opinion, every man maketh to himself light or heavy, easy to be borne or chose intolerable: whereupon we may hear Polynices answering thus to the demand made unto him by his mother: 
How then? is it a great calamity,  
To quit the place of our nativity?  POLYNICES. 
The greatest cross of all it is doubtless,  
And more indeed than my tongue can express.  but chose, you shall hear Aleman in another song, according to a little Epigram written of him by a certain Poet: 
At Sardes, where mine ance stours sometime abode did make,  
If I were bred and nourished, my surname I should take  
Of some Celinus or Bacelus, in robes of gold arrayed,  
And jewels fine, while I upon the tabor played.  
But now Alcman I cleped am, and of that Sparta great  
A citizen, and poet: for in Greekish muse my vain  
Exalts me more than Dascyles or Gyges, tyrants twain.  for it is the opinion, and nothing else, that causeth one and the same thing to be unto some, good and commodious, as currant and approved money, but to others, unprofitable and hurtful.  
But set case, that exile be a grievous calamity, as many men do both say and sing; even so, among those meats which we eat, there be many things bitter, sharp, hot and biting in taste, howbeit, by mingling therewith somewhat which is sweet and pleasant, we take away that which disagreeth with nature; like as there be colours also offensive to the sight, in such sort, as that the eyes be much dazzled and troubled therewith, by reason of their unpleasant hue, or excessive and intolerable brightness. If then, for to remedy that inconvenience by such offensive and resplendent colours, we have devised means, either to intermingle shadows withal, or turn away our eyes from them unto some green and delectable objects; the semblable may we do in those sinister and cross accidents of fortune; namely, by mixing among them those good and desirable blessings which a man presently doth enjoy, to wit, wealth and abundance of goods, a number of friends, and the want of nothing necessary to this life: for I do not think, that among the Sardinians there be many, who would not be very well content with those goods and that estate which you have even in exile, and choose rather with your condition of life otherwise, to live from home and in a strange country, than (like snails, evermore sticking fast to their shells) be without all good things else, & enjoy only that which they have at home in peace, without trouble and molestation. Like as therefore in a certain Comedy, there was one who exhorted his friends being fallen into some adversity, to take a good heart, and fight against fortune; who when he demanded of him again, how he should combat with her, made answer: Marry after a Philosophical manner; even so let us also maintain battle, and be revenged of adversity, by following the rule of Philosophy, & being armed with patience as becometh wise men. For after what sort do we defend ourselves against rain? or how be we revenged of the North wind? marry we seek for fire, we go into a stouph, we make provision of clothes, and we get an house over our heads; neither do we sit us down in the rain, until we be thoroughly wet to the skin, and then weep our fill; and even so, have you also in those things which are presently about you, good means, yea, and better than any other, to revive, refresh, and warm this part of your life which seemeth to be frozen and benumbed with cold, as having no need at all of any other helps and succours, so long as you will use the foresaid means, according as reason doth prescribe & direct. For true it is, that the ventoses or cupping-glasses that Physicians use, drawing out of man's body the worst & most corrupt blood, do disburden & preserve all the rest. But they that are given to heaviness & sorrow, who love also evermore to whine and complain, by gathering together & multiplying continually in their cogitations the worst matters incident unto them, and eftsoons consuming themselves with the dolorous accidents of their fortune, cause those means to be unprofitable unto them, which otherwise are wholesome and expedient, and even at such a time, especially when they should do most good. As for those two tons my good friend which Homer saith to be set in heaven full of men's destinies, the one replenished with good and the other with bad, it is not jupiter who sitteth to disperse and distribute them abroad, sending unto some mild and pleasant fortunes intermingled always with goodness, but unto others continual streams (as a man would say) of mere misfortunes without any temperature of any goodness at all: but even among our own selves as many as be wise and are of any sound understanding, draw out of their happy fortunes whatsoever cross and adverse matter is mingled therewith, and by this means make their life the pleasanter, and as a man would say more portable; whereas chose, many men do let their fortunes run (as it were) through a colander or streiner, wherein the worst stick and remain in the way behind, whiles the better do pass and run out; and therefore it behoveth that although webe fallen into any thing that is in truth nought and grievous unto us, we set a cheerful countenance on the matter, and make the best supply and recompense that we can by those good things that otherwise we have and do remain with us beside, lenifying and polishing the strange and adverse accident which happeneth without by that which is mild and familiar within.  
But as touching those occurrents that simply of their own nature be not ill, and wherein whatsoever doth trouble and offend us, ariseth altogether and wholly upon a vain conceit and foolish imagination of our own; we ought to do as our manner is with little children that be afraid of masks and disguised visours; for like as we hold the same close and near unto them, handle and turn them in our hands before them every way, and so by that means acquaint them therewith, until they make no reckoning at all of them; even so by approaching near, by touching and perusing the said calamities with our understanding and discourse of reason, we are to consider and discover the false appearance, the vanity and feigned tragedy that they pretend; like to which, is that present accident which now is befallen unto you, to wit, the banishment out of that place, which according to the vulgar error of men you suppose to be your native country. For to say a truth, there is no such distinct native soil that nature hath ordained, no more than either house, land, smith's forge or chirurgeons shop is by nature, as Ariston was wont to say; but every one of these and such like according as any man doth occupy or use them, are his, or to speak more properly, are named and called his: for man, according to the saying of Plato is not an earthly plant, having the root fixed fast within the ground and unmooveable, but celestial and turning upward to heaven, whose body from the head as from a root that doth strengthen the same abideth straight and upright. And hereupon it is that Hercules in a certain tragedy said thus: 
What tell you me of Argive or Thebain,  
I do not vaunt of any place certain,  
No burroughtowne, nor city comes amiss  
Through out all Greece, but it my country is.  And yet Socrates said better than so: who gave it out; That he was neither Athenian nor Grecian, but a citizen of the world; as if a man should say for example sake, that he were either a Rhodian or a Corinthian; for he would not exclude himself within the precincts and limits of the promontories Sunium or Taenarus, nor yet the Ceraunian mountains, 
But seest thou this starry firmament,  
So high above and infinitely vast,  
In bosom moist of water element,  
The earth beneath how it encloseth fast.  These are the bounds of a native country within the pourprise and compass whereof whosoever is, ought not to think himself either banished, pilgrim, stranger or foreigner; namely, whereas he shall meet with the same fire, the same water, the same air, the same magistrates, the same governors and precedents; to wit, the sun, the moon, and the morning star, the same laws throughout, under one and the selfsame order and conduct; the solstice and tropic of summer in the north; the solstice and tropic of winter in the south; the aequinoxes both of spring and fall, the stars Pleiades and Arcturus; the seasons of seedness, the times of planting; one King, and the same prince of all, even God, who hath in his hand the beginning, the mids, and the end of the whole and universal world; who by his influence goeth according to nature, directly through and round about all things, attended upon with righteousness and justice, to take vengeance and punishment of those who transgress any point of divine law: which all we likewise that are men do exercise and use by the guidance and direction of nature against all others, as our citizens and subjects. Now say that thou dost not dwell and live in Sardeis, what matter is that? surely it is just nothing: No more do all the Athenians inhabit in the burroughs or tribe Colyttus; nor the Corinthians in the street Cranium; ne yet the Lacedæmonians in the village Pytane: are those Athenians then to be counted strangers, and not inhabitants of the city, who have removed out of Melite into Diomea: considering that even there they do solemnize yet the month of their transmigration named thereupon Metageitnion; yea and do celebrate a festival holiday and sacrifice, which in memorial of that removing they call Metagetnia, for that this passage of theirs into another neighbourhood, they received and entertained right willingly with joy and much contentment? I suppose you will never say so. Now tell me what part of this earth habitable or rather of the whole globe and compass thereof, can be said far distant or remote one from the other, seeing that the Mathematicians are able to prove and make demonstration by reason, that the whole in comparison and respect of heaven or the firmament is no more than a very prick which hath no dimension at all? But we like unto pismires driven out of our hole; or in manner of bees dispossessed of our hive, are cast down and discomforted by and by, and take ourselves to be foreigners and strangers, for that we know not how to esteem and make all things our own, familiar and proper unto us, as they be. And yet we laugh at the folly of him who said: That the moon at Athens was better than at Corinth; being in the mean while after a sort in the same error of judgement, as if when we are gone a journey from the place of our habitation, we should mistake the earth, the sea, the air and the sky, as if they were others and far different from those which we are accustomed unto: for Nature hath permitted us to go and walk through the world loose and at liberty: but we for our parts imprison ourselves, and we may thank ourselves that we are penned up in strait rooms, that we be housed and kept within walls; thus of our own accord we leap into close and narrow places; and notwithstanding that we do thus by ourselves, yet we mock the Persian Kings, for that (if it be true which is reported of them) the drink all of the water only of the river Choaspes, by which means they make all the continent besides waterless, for any good they have by it: whereas, even we also when we travel and remove into other countries, have a longing desire after the river Cephisus or Eurotas; yea and a mind unto the mountain Taigetus or the hill Parnassus; whereby upon a most vain and foolish opinion, all the world beside is not only void of water, but also like a desert, without city, and altogether inhabitable unto us. chose, certain Egyptians by occasion of some wrath and excessive 〈◊〉 of their King, minding to remove into Ethiopia, when as their kinsfolk and friends requested them to turn back again, and not to forsake their wives and children, after a shameless manner showing unto them their genital members, answered them: That they would neither want wives nor children, so long as they carried those about them. But surely a man may avouch more honestly, and with greater modesty and gravity; that he who in what place soever feeleth no want or miss of those things which be necessary for this life, cannot complain and say: That he is there out of his own country, without city, without his own house and habitation, or a stranger at all; so as he only have as he ought, his eye and understanding bend hereunto, for to stay and govern him in manner of a sure anchor, that he may be able to make benefit and use of any haven or harbour whatsoever he arriveth unto. For when a man hath lost his goods, it is not so easy a matter to recover them soon again; but surely every city is strait ways as good a native country unto him, who knoweth and hath learned how to use it; to him (I say) who hath such roots as will live, be nourished and grow in every place and by any means, 〈◊〉 Themistocles was furnished with; and such as Demetrius the Phalerian was not without; who being banished from Athens, became a principal person in the court of King Ptolomoeus in Alexandria, where he not only himself lived in great abundance of all things, but also sent unto the Athenians from thence rich gifts and presents. As for Themistocles living in the estate of a Prince, through the bountiful allowance and liberality of the King of Persia, he was wont (by report) to say unto his wife and children: We had been utterly undone for ever, if we had not been undone. And therefore Diogenes surnamed the Dog, when one brought him word and said, the Sinopians have condemned thee to be exiled out of the kingdom of Pontus: And I (quoth he) have confined them within the country of Pontus with this charge, 
That they shall never pass the atmost bonds  
Of Euxine sea that hems them with her strands.  Stratonius being in the Isle Seriphos which was a very little one, demanded of his host, for what crimes the punishment of exile was ordained in that country; and when he heard and understood by him, that they used to banish such as were convicted of falsehood and untruth: Why then (quoth he again) hast not thou committed some false and lewd act, to the end that thou mightest depart out of this strait place and be enlarged? whereas one Comical Poet said: A man might gather and make a vintage (as it were) of figs with slings, and foison of all commodities might be had, which an Island wanted. For if one would weigh and consider the truth indeed, setting aside all vain opinion and foolish conceits, he that is affected unto one city alone, is a very pilgrim and stranger in all others; for it seemeth neither meet, honest, nor reasonable, that a man should abandon his own for to inhabit those of others. Sparta is fallen to thy lot (saith the proverb) adorn and honour it, for so thou art bound to do; be it that it is of small or no account; say that it is seated in an unwholesome air, and subject to many 〈◊〉, or be plagued with civil dissensions, or otherwise troubled with turbulent affairs. But whosoever he be whom fortune hath deprived of his own native country; certes she hath granted and allowed him to make choice of that which may please and content him. And verily the precept of the Pythagoreans serveth to right good stead in this case to be practised: Choose (say they) the best life; use and custom will make it pleasant enough unto thee. To this purpose also it may be wisely and with great profit said: Make choice of the best and most pleasant city, time will cause it to be thy native country, and such a native country as shall not distract and trouble thee with any business, nor impose upon thee these and such like exactions: Make payment and contribute to this levy of money: Go in embassage to Rome: Receive such a captain or ruler into thine house, or take such a charge upon thee at thine own expenses. Now he that calleth these things to remembrance, if he have any wit in his head, and be not overblind every way in his own opinion and self-conceit, will wish and choose, if he be banished out of his own country, to inhabit the very Isle Gyaros, or the rough and barren Island Cinarus, where trees or plants do hardly grow, without complaining with grief of heart, without lamenting and breaking out into these plaints and womanly moans, reported by the Poet Simonides in these words: 
The roaring noise of purple sea, resounding all about,  
Doth fright me much, and so enclose, that I can not get out.  but rather he will bear in mind and discourse with himself the speech that Philip king of Macedon, sometime delivered: for when his hap was in the wrestling place to fall backward and lie along on the ground; after he was up again upon his feet, and saw the whole proportion and print of his body in the dust of the floor: O Hercules (quoth he) what a small deal of the earth is our portion by the appointment of nature, and yet see how we will not rest, but covet to conquer the whole world that is habitable. You have seen (I suppose) the isle Naxos; if not, yet at leastwise the island Thuria near by; of which twain, this was in old time the habitation of Orion; but in the other there dwelled Ephialtes and Otus: as for Alemaon, he made his abode and residence upon the muddy bank, which the river Achelous had newly gathered and cast up, after it was a little dried and compact together, to avoid the pursuit (as the Poets) say of the Furies; but in my conceit rather, because he would decline the offices of State, civil magistracies, seditious broils, and biting calumniations sib to furies in hell, he chose such a straight and narrow place to inhabit, where he might lead a life in quietness and repose, secured from all such busy affairs. And Tiberius Caesar in his latter days, lived seven 〈◊〉 (even until his death) in the little island Caprea, in such wise, as the very temple and imperial throne of the whole world retired and drawn in (as it were) into the heart, for all that time never went out from thence; and yet for his part, the ordinary cares incident unto the empire, which were brought from all parts and came upon him to amuse his head continually, on every side, would not permit him to enjoy clearly without turbulent anguish of mind, that intended rest and quietness of his, in the said island. But even that man, who may by his departure into some little island be freed and delivered from no small troubles and calamities, is notwithstanding miserable, if he do not eftsoons say unto himself when he is apart, yea, and chant oftentimes these verses of Pindarus: 
Love well the place where Cypress trees do grow,  
But thin and small. The forest great let go  
Of Candie isle, about the Ida hill:  
As for myself, small lands I hold and till,  
By fortune given, and those without an oak;  
My heart likewise no griefs nor cares do yoke.  exempt I am from civil tumults and seditions; I am not subject to the command of princes and governors; my hand is not in the charge and administration of State affairs, nor in any public ministries or services, which hardly admit excuse or refusal. For considering that Callimachus seemeth not unwisely in one place to say thus: Measure not wisdom by the Persian Schoene: why then should we (meeting felicity with Schoenes & Parasanges) complain, lament 
60. 〈◊〉. 30.  and torment ourselves, as if we were unhappy, if our fortune be to dwell in a little isle which is not in circuit above two hundred furlongs, and nothing near four days failing about, as Sicily is? for what good can a spacious and large region do, for to procure felicity, or make a man to lead a quiet and peaceable life? Hear you not how Tantalus in the Tragedy crieth out, and saith thus? 
The spacious land and country large, called Berecynthian plain,  
Days journeys twelve right out, I sow yearly with corn and grain.  and a little after, he proceedeth to this speech; 
But now my soul, sometime an heavenly power,  
Descended thence into this earthly bower,  
Speaks thus to me: Learn, and betimes take heed,  
Love not this world too much, I do thee reed.  And Nausithous leaving the wide and large country Hyperia, for that the Cyclopes were so near neighbours unto it, and departing into an island far remote from other men, where he lived alone by himself without conversing with any people: 
From other mortal men apart,  
Of surging sea within the hart.  provided for his citizens and subjects a most pleasant life. As for the islands called Cycladeses, they were at first (by report) inhabited by the children of Minos, and afterwards the offspring of Codrus and Neleus held the same, into which, foolish persons nowadays think themselves sore punished and undone for ever, if they be confined. And yet, what island is there destined and appointed for exiled and banished people, but it is larger than the territory Scilluntia, wherein Xenophon after that renowned expedition and voyage of his into Persia, passed his old age in elegancy and much happiness? semblably, the Academy, a little pingle or plot of ground, the purchase whereof cost not above three thousand drachmas, was the habitation of Plato, Xenocrates, and Polemon, wherein they kept their schools, and lived at repose all their life time: and yet I must needs except one day every year, upon which, Xenocrates was wont to go down to the city, for to see the plays and pastimes exhibited with new Tragaedies at the feast called Bacchanales, only to honour (as folk said) and countenance that solemnity with his personal presence. Also Theocritus of Chios challenged and reproached Aristotle many times, for that to live in the court of Philip and Alexander, 
Upon the mouth of Borborus to dwell  
He chose, and Academy bad farewell.  Now was this Borborus a river, so called by the Macedonians, which ran along the city of Pella in Macedon. As for islands, Homer the Poet doth of purpose and expressly recommend unto us, and celebrate them with heavenly and divine praises, in this wise: 
At Lemnos he arrived then, whereas the city stood,  
In which sometime that prince divine, king Thoas made abode:  
And whatsoever Lesbos isle, the palace and the seat  
Of gods above contains enclosed within her pourpris great.  Also, 
When won he had the stately isle, which Scyros sometime height,  
The native place and town of Mars, the god of arms and fight.  Likewise, 
And those came from Dulichium, and eke the sacredistes,  
Against Elis, Eclimades, within sea many miles.   
Moreover it is said, that of famous and renowned men, devout Aeolus, and best beloved of the gods, dwelled in one isle; the most prudent and wise Ulysses in another; Alax likewise, that right valiant and hardy warrior; and Alcinous the most courteous prince for hospitality and entertainment of strangers, were islanders. Zeno the Philosopher when news was brought unto him: That the ship of his which remained alone of all the rest, was drowned in the sea with all the freight and merchandise therein: Thou hast done well o fortune (quoth he) to drive us to our studying gown and Philosopher's life again; even so, in mine opinion, there is no reason that a man (unless he be very much besotted and transported with the vain wind of popularity) when he is confined and enclosed within an island, should complain of fortune therefore, but rather praise her, for that she hath rid him of much anguish of spirit and trouble of his head, delivered him from tedious travel and wandering pilgrimages up and down in the world from place to place; freed him from the perils of sea, removed him from the tumultuous stirs of the multitude in judicial courts and public assemblies of the city; and reduced him to a settled and stayed life, full of rest and tranquility, not distracted with any superfluous and needless occupations, wherein he may live indeed properly to himself, being ranged within the centre and circumference of those things which are required only for necessity. For what island is there which hath not housen, walking places, stouphes and baines, or that is without fishes or hares, if a man be disposed to pass the time in fishing or hunting; and that which is the greatest matter of all, you may oftentimes there enjoy fully your rest and repose, which other do so much thirst and hunger after; for whereas when we are haply playing at dice, or otherwise keeping close at home, there will be some of these sycophants or busy pryers and curious searchers into all our actions, ready to draw us out of our houses of pleasure in the suburbs, or out of our delightsome gardens, to make our appearance judicially in the common place, or to perform our service and give attendance in the court: there will be none such about to fail into the Island where thou art confined for to trouble thee; none will come to thee to demand or crave any thing, to borrow money, to request thy suretyship, or thy assistance for to second him in the suit of any office and magistracy; unless peradventure some of thy best friends only and nearest kinsfolk, of mere love and affectionate desire to see thee, sail over for thy sake; for the rest of thy life beside is permitted to be as free and safe as a sanctuary, not subject to any spoil, trouble, or molestation, if thou be willing & can skill to use thy liberty and repose. As for him who thinketh those to be happy who trudge up and down in the world abroad, spending most part of their time out of their own houses, either in common inns and hostelries, or else in ferrying from place to place, he is much like unto him that supposeth the wandering planets to be in a better state than the other stars which be fixed in the firmament and remove not; and yet there is not one of the said planets but is carried round in a peculiar and proper sphere of the own, as it were in a certain Isle, keeping always a just order in their revolution: for according as Heraclitus saith; The very sun himself will never pass beyond his bounds; and if he do, the furies which are the ministers of justice will find him out and be ready to encounter him. But these and all such like reasons my good friend we are to allege unto them and sing in their ears, who being sent away and confined to some one Isle, can not possibly change for another country, nor have commerce and dealing in any place else whatsoever, those I say, 
Whom surging waves of sea both night and day  
Enclose perforce, and cause them there to stay.  As for you unto whom no certain place is limited and assigned for to inhabit, but who are debarred and excluded only out of one, are thus to think, that the exclusion out of one city alone, is an overture and ready way made unto all others.  
Now if any man will object and say; In this case of exile and banishment we are disabled for bearing rule and office of State, we sit not at counsel table in the Senate house; we are not precedents in the public plays and solemnities etc. You may answer and reply again in this manner; neither are we troubled with factions and civil dissensions; we are not called upon, nor charged with payments in public levies and exactions; neither be we bound to make court unto great governors, and to give attendance at their gates; nor to take care and regard whether he who is chosen to succeed us in the government of our province, be either hasty and choleric, or otherwise given to oppression and hard dealing: but as Archilochus making no account at all of the fruitful cornfields and plenteous vineyards in Thasos, despised and contemned the whole Isle because of some other rough, hard, and uneven places in it, giving out thereof in these terms, 
This Island like an asses back doth stick,  
All over spread with woods so wild and thick.  even so we casting our eyes and fixing them upon that part only of exile which is the worst and vilest of the rest, do contemn and make no reckoning of the repose from business, the liberty also and leisure which it doth afford. And yet the kings of Persia be reputed happy, in that they pass their winter time in Babylon, the summer in Media, and the most sweet and pleasant part of the spring at Susa. May not he likewise who is departed out of his own native country during the solemnity of the mysteries of Ceres, make his abode within the city 〈◊〉 all the time of the Bacchanales, celebrate that feast in Argos; and when the Pythian games & plays are exhibited, go to Delphos; as also when the Isthmain pastimes be represented, make a journey likewise to Corinth? in case he be a man who taketh pleasure in the diversity of shows and public spectacles, if not, then either sit still and rest, or else walk up and down, read somewhat, or take a nap of sweet sleep without molestation or interruption of any man; and according as Diogenes was wont to say, Aristotle dineth when it pleaseth king Philip; but Diogenes taketh his dinner when Diogenes thinketh it good himself, without any business & affairs to distract him, and no magistrate, ruler, or captain there was to interrupt his ordinary time and manner of diet. This is the reason why very few of the wisest and most prudent men that ever were, have been buried in the countries where they were borne; but the most part of them without any constraint or necessity to enforce them, have willingly weighed anchor, and of their own accord failed to another road or haven to harbour in, and there to lead their life; for some of them have departed to Athens, others have forsaken Athens & gone to other places: for what man ever gave out such a commendation of his own native country as did Euripides in these verses, in the person of a woman: 
Our people all, at first no strangers were,  
From foreign parts who thither did arrive;  
Time out of mind those that inhabit here,  
Were borne in place, and so remained alive.  
All cities else and nations at one word  
With aliens peopled be, who like to men  
At table play, or else upon chessboard  
removed have, and leapt some now some then.  
If women we, may be allowed to grace  
Our native soil, and with proud words exalt,  
Presume we dare to say that in this place,  
A temperate air we have without default,  
Where neither heat nor cold excessive is;  
If aught there be that noble Greece doth yield,  
Or Asia rich, of best commodities,  
And daintiest fruits, by river or by field,  
We have it here, in foison plentiful  
To hunt, to catch, to reap, to crop and pull.  And yet even he who hath set such goodly praises upon his native country, left the same, went into Macedonia, and there lived in the court of King Archelam. You have heard likewise (I suppose) this little Epigram in verse: 
Interred and entombed lieth here,  
Euphorians son the Poet Aeschylus  
(In Athens town though borne sometime he were)  
To Gelas near, in corn so plenteous.  For he also abandoned his own country, and went to dwell in Sicily, like as Simonides did before him. And whereas this title or inscription is commonly read (This is the History written by Herodotus the Halicarnassean) many there be who correct it and write in this manner; Herodotus the Thurian, for that he removed out of the country wherein he was borne, became an inhabitant among the Thurians, and enjoyed the freedom of that colony. As for that heavenly and divine spirit in the knowledge of Muses and Poetry, 
Homerus, who with wondrous pen,  
Set forth the battles Phrygien.  what was it that caused so many cities to debate about the place of his nativity, challenging every one unto themselves, but only this; that he seemed not to praise and extol any one city above the rest? Moreover, to Jupiter surnamed Hospital, know we not that there be many, & those right great, honours done. Now if any one shall say unto me, that these personages were all of them ambitious, aspiring to great honour and glory, do no more, but have recourse unto the Sages, and those wise schools and learned colleges of Athens; call to mind and consider the renowned clerks and famous Philosophers, either in Lycaeum or the Academy: go to the gallery Stoa, the learned school Palladium, or the Musicke-schoole Odeum. If you affect, love and admire above all other the fect of the Peripatetics, Aristotle the prince thereof was borne in Stagira, a city of Macedonia; Theophrastus in Eressus; Strato came from Lampsacus; Glycon from Troas; Ariston from Chios; and Critolaus from Phaselus. If your mind stand more to praise the Stoics, cleanthes was of Assos'; Zeno was a Citiean; Chrysippus came from Soli; Diogenes from Babylon; and Antipater from Tharsus; and Archidamus being an Athenian borne, went to dwell among the Parthians, and left behind him at Babylon in succession, the Stoic discipline and Philosophy. Who was it that chased and drove these men out of their native countries? certes none, but even of their own accord and voluntary motion they sought all abroad for their contentment and repose, which hardly or not at all can they enjoy at home in their own houses, who are in any authority and reputation; so that, as they have taught us very well out of their books, other good sciences which they professed; so this one point of living in quietness and rest they have showed unto us by practice and example. And even in these days also, the most renowned and approved clerks, yea and greatest men of mark and name, live in strange countries, far remote from their own habitations; not transported by others, but of themselves removing thither; not banished, sent away, and confined; but willing to fly and avoid the troublesome affairs, negotiations and business, which their native countries amuse them with. That this is true, it may appear by the most approved, excellent, and commendable works and compositions, which ancient writers have left unto posterity; for the absolute finishing whereof it seemeth that the Muses used the help and means of their exile. Thus Thucydides the Athenian penned the war between the Peloponnesians and the Athenians whiles he was in Thracia, and namely near unto a place called the Forest of the Fosse. Xenophon compiled his story at Scilloes in Elea; Philip wrote in Epirus; Timaeus who was borne at Taurominum in Sictlie, became a writer in Athens; Androtion the Athenian at Megarae, and Bachilides the Poet in Peloponnesus; who all and many others besides, being banished out of their countries, were never discouraged nor cast down, but showed the vivacity and vigour of their good spirits, and took their exile at fortunes hands as a good maintenance and provision of their journey; by means whereof they live in same and renown now after their death: whereas on the other side, there remaineth no memorial at all of those, by whose factions and sidings they were driven out and exiled. And therefore he deserveth to be well mocked, who thinketh that banishment carrieth with it some note of infamy and reproach, as necessarily adherent thereto. For what say you to this? Is Diogenes to be counted infamous, whom when King Alexander saw sitting in the sun, he approached near and standing by him, demanded whether he stood in need of any thing or no? he had no other answer from him but this, that he had need of nothing else, but that he should stand alittle out of the sunshine, and not shadow him as he did; whereupon Alexander wondering at his magnanimity and haughty courage, said presently unto those friends that were about him; If I were not Alexander I would be Diogenes. And was Camillus disgraced any way for being banished out of Rome, considering that even at this day he is reputed and taken for the second founder thereof? Neither lost Themistocles the glory which he had won among the greeks by his exile, but rather acquired thereto great honour & estimation with the Barbarians. And no man is there so base minded and careless of honour and credit, but he would choose rather to be Themistocles banished as he was, than Leobates his accuser, and the cause of his banishment; yea, and to be Cicero who was exiled, than Clodius who chased him out of Rome; or Timotheus, who was constrained to abandon and forsake his native country, than Aristophon who indited him and caused him to leave the same. But for that the authority of Euripides who seemeth mightily to defame and condemn banishment, moveth many men; let us consider what be his several questions and answers to this point: JOCASTA. 

How then! is it a great calamity  
To lose the place of our nativity?   POLYNICES. 

The greatest cross I hold it is doubtless,  
And more indeed than my tongue can express.   JOCASTA. 

The manner would I gladly understand,  
And what doth grieve man shut from native land?   POLYNICES. 

This one thing first, the sorest grief must be,  
That of their speech they have not liberty.   JOCASTA. 

A spite it is no doubt, and that of servile kind,  
For men to be debarred to speak their mind.   POLYNICES. 

Besides, they must endure the foolishness.  
And ignorance of rulers, more or less.   But herein I cannot allow of his sentence and opinion as well and truly delivered. For first and foremost, not to speak what a man thinketh, is not the point of a slavish and base person, but rather he is to be counted a wise and prudent man, who can hold his tongue at those times and in such occasions as require taciturnity and silence; which the same Poet hath taught us in another place more wisely, when he saith, 
Silence is good when that it doth avail,  
Likewise to speak in time and not to fail.  And as for the folly and ignorance of great and mighty persons, we must abide no less when we tarry at home, than in exile; nay it falleth out many times, that men at home fear much more the calumniations and violence of those who injustly are in high places of authority within cities, than if they were abroad and out of their own countries. Again, this also is most false and absurd, that the said Poet depriveth banished persons of their liberty and frank speech. Certes, this were a wonderful matter, that Theodorus wanted his freedom of tongue, considering that when King Lysimachus said unto him: And hath thy country chased and cast thee out, being so great a person among them; Yea (quoth he again) for that it was no more able to bear me, than Semele to bear Bacchus: neither was he daunted and afraid, notwithstanding that the King showed unto him Telesphorus enclosed within an iron cage, whose eyes he had caused before to be pulled out of his head, his nose and ears to be cropped, and his tongue to be cut, adding withal these words: See how I handle those that displease and abuse my person. And what shall we say of Diogenes? Wanted he (think you) his liberty of speech? who being come into the camp of King Philip, at what time time as he made an expedition against the Grecians, invaded their country and was ready to give them battle, was apprehended and brought before the king as a spy, and charged therewith: I am indeed (quoth he) come hither to spy your infariable avarice, ambition, and folly, who are about now to hazard in one hour (as it were) with the cast of a die, not only your crown and dignity, but also your life and person; semblably, what think you of Annthall the Carthaginian? was he tonguetied before Antiochus, banished though himself were, and the other a mighty monarch? For when he advised Antiochus to take the opportunity presented unto him, and to give battle unto the Romans his enemies, and the king having sacrificed unto the gods answered again, that the entrails of the beast killed for sacrifice, would not permit but forbade him so to do: Why then (quoth he by way of reproof and rebuke) you will do that belike, which a piece of dead flesh biddeth you, and not that which a man of wisdom and understanding counseleth you unto. But neither Geometricians, nor those that use linearie demonstrations, if haply they be banished, are deprived of their liberty, but that they may discourse & speak frankly of their art, and science of such things as they have learned and known: how then should good, honest and honourable persons be debarred of that freedom, in case they be exiled? But in truth, it is cowardice and baseness of mind, which always stoppeth the voice, tieth the tongue, stifleth the windpipe, and causeth men to be speechless. But proceed we to that which followed afterwards in Eurpides: JOCASTA. 

But thus we say, those that are banished  
With hopes always of better dates be fed.   POLYNICES. 

Good eyes they have, a far off they do see,  
Staying for things that most uncertain be.   Certainly these words imply rather a blame and reprehension of folly, than of exile. For they be not those who have learned and do know how to apply themselves unto things present, and to use their estate such as it is, but such as continually depend upon the expectance of future fortunes, and covet evermore that which is absent and wanting, who are tossed to and fro with hope as in a little punt or boat floating upon the water; yea although they were never in their life time without the walls of the city wherein they were borne: moreover whereas we read in the same Euripides, JOCASTA. 

Thy father's friends and allies, have not they  
Been kind and helpful to thee, as they may?   POLYNICES. 

Look to thyself, from troubles God thee bless,  
Friends help is nought, if one be in distress.   JOCASTA. 

Thy noble blood, from whence thou art descended:  
Hath it not thee advanced and much amended?   POLYNICES. 

I hold it ill, to be in want and need,  
For parentage and birth doth not men feed.   These speeches of Polynices are not only untrue, but also bewray his unthankfulness, when he seemeth thus to blame his want of honour and due regard for his nobility, and to complain that he was destitute of friends by occasion of his exile, considering that in respect of his noble birth, banished though he were, yet so highly honoured he was that he was thought worthy to be matched in marriage with a king's daughter, and as for friends, allies, and confederates, he was able to gather a puissant army of them, by whose aid and power he returned into his own country by force of arms, as himself testifieth a little after in these words: 
Many a lord and captain brave here stands  
With me in field, both from Mycenae bright,  
And cities more of Greece, whose helping hands  
(Though loath) I must needs use in claim of right.   
Much like also be the speeches of his mother lamenting in this wise; 
No nuptial torch at all I lighted have  
To thee, as doth a wedding feast besceme,  
No marriage song was sung, nor thee to lave  
Was water brought from fair Ismenus stream.  whom it had become and behoved rather to rejoice and be glad in heart, when she heard that her son was so highly advanced and married into so royal an house; but in taking grief and sorrow herself that there was no wedding torch lighted, & that the river Ismenus afforded no water to bathe in at his wedding; as if new married bridegrooms could not be furnished either with fire or water in the city Argos; she attributeth unto exile, the inconveniences which more truly proceed from vanity and folly.  
But some man will say unto me; That to be banished is a note of ignominy and reproach: true it is indeed, but among fools only, who think likewise that it is a shame to be poor, to be bald, to be small of stature, yea and to be a stranger forsooth, a tenant, inmate or alien inhabitant: For certes such as will not suffer themselves to be carried away with these vain persuasions, nor do subscribe thereto, esteem & have in admiration good and honest persons, never respecting whether they be poor, strangers, and banished or no: Do we not see that all the world doth honour and reverence the temple of Theseus aswell as Parthenon and Eleusinium, temples dedicated to Minerva, Ceres, and Proserpina? and yet was Theseus banished from Athens; even that Theseus by whose means the same city was first peopled, and is at this day inhabited; and that city lost he which he held not from another, but founded first himself. As for Eleusis what beauty at all would remain in it? if we dishonour Eumolpus and be ashamed of him who removing out of Thracia, instituted at first among the Greeks the religion of sacred mysteries, which continueth in force and is observed at this day: what shall we say of Codrus who became king of Athens? whose son I pray you was he? was not Melanthius his father a banished man from Messina. Can you choose but commend the answer of Antisthenes to one who said unto him; Thy mother is a Phrygian: So was (quoth he) the mother of the gods: why answer you not likewise when you are reproached with your banishment? even so was the father of that victorious conqueror Hercules: the grand-fire likewise of Bacchus, who being sent out for to seek lady Europa, never returned back into his native country; 
For being a Phaenician borne,  
At Thebes he after did arrive,  
Far from his native soil before,  
And there begat a son belive,  
Who Bacchus did engender tho,  
That moves to fury women, height  
Mad Bacchus, runneth to and fro,  
In service, such is his delight.  As for that which the Poet Aeschylus would seem covertly by these dark words to insinuate, or rather to show a far off, when he saith thus: 
And chaste Apollo sacred though be were,  
Yet banished a time, heaven did for be are.  I am content to pass over in silence, and will forbear to utter according as Herodotus saith: and whereas Empedocles in the very beginning of his philosophy maketh this preface: 
An ancient law there stands in force, decreed by gods above,  
Groundedupon necessity, and never to remove:  
That after men hath 〈◊〉 hands in bloodshed horrible,  
And in remorse of sin is vexed with horror terrible.  
The long lived angels which attend in heaven, shall chase him quite,  
For many thousand years from view of every blessed wight:  
By virtue of this law, am I from gods exiled now,  
And wander here and there throughone the world I know not how.   
This he meaneth not of himself alone, but of all us after him, whom he declareth and showeth by these words to be mere strangers, passengers, foreigners, and banished persons in this world. For it is not blood (quoth he) o men, nor vital spirit contemperate together, that hath given unto us the substance of our soul and beginning of our life; but hereof is the body only composed and framed, which is earthly and mortal; but the generation of the soul which cometh another way, and descendeth hither into these parts beneath, he doth mitigate and seem to disguise by the most gentle and mild name that he could devise, calling it a kind of pilgrimage from the natural place; but to use the right term indeed, and to speak according to the very truth, she doth vague and wander as banished, chased and driven by the divine laws and statutes to and fro, until such time as it settleth to a body, as an oyster or shell fish to one rock or other in an island beaten and dashed upon with many winds and waves of the sea round about (as Plato saith) for that it doth not remember nor call to mind from what height of honour, & from how blessed an estate it is translated, not changing as a man would say Sardis for Athens, nor Corinth for Lemnos or Scyros, but her resiance in the very heaven and about the moon, with the abode upon earth, and with a terrestrial life; whereas it thinketh it strange and as much discontented here for that it hath made exchange of one place for another not far distant; much like unto a poor plant that by removing doth degenerate and begin to wither away: and yet we see, that for certain plants some soil is more commodious and sortable than another, wherein they will like, thrive, and prosper better: whereas chose there is no place that taketh from a man his felicity, no more than it doth his virtue, fortitude or wisdom: for Anaxagoras during the time that he was in prison wrote his Quadrature of the circle: and Socrates even when he drunk poison, discoursed as a philosopher, exhorting his friends and familiars to the study of philosophy, and was by them reputed happy; but chose Phaeton and Icarus who (as the poets do report) would needs mount up into heaven, through their own folly and inconsiderate rashness, fell into most grievous and woeful calamities.    

THAT WE ought NOT TO TAKE UP MONEY UPON VSURIE.  

The Summarie.  
THe covetous desire of earthly goods, is a passion inturable, but especially after that it hath gotten the mastery of the sauce, in such sort, as the advertisements which are made in regard of covetous men, be not proposed for any thing else but for the profit and benefit of those persons who are to keep themselves from the nets and snares of these enemies of human society. Now among all those who haveneed of good counsels in this behalf, we must range them that take up money upon interest, who serving as a pray and booty to these greedy and hungry hunters, aught so much the rather to look unto their own preservation, if they would not be cruelly devoured. And as this infortunity hath been in the world ever since the entry of sin, that alwates some or other, yea, and great numbers have endeavoured to make their commodity and gain by the loss and damage of their neighbours; so we may see here, that in Plutarch's time things were grown to a wonderful confusion, the which is nothing diminished since, but chose it seemeth that in these our days it is come to the very height. And for to apply some remedy hereto, our author leavethusurers altogether as persons graceless, reprobate and ancapable of all remon strance, addressing himself unto borrowers, to the end that he might discover and lay open unto them the snares and nets into which they plunge themselves; and this he doth without specifying or particularising over near of usury, because there is no mean or measure limited nor any end of this furious desire of gathering and heaping up things corruptible. Considering then that covetous folk have neither nerve nor vein that reacheth or tendeth to the pity of their neighbours, meet it is and good reason that borrowers should have some mercy and compassion of themselves, to weigh and ponder well the grave discourses of this author, and to apply the same unto the right use. He saith therefore, that the principal means to keep and save themselves from the teeth of usury, is to make the best of their own, and shift with those things that they have about them, before they approach unto the den of this hungry and greedy beast, and that men ought to make an hand & quick dispatch of that which is not very necessary, before they come thither; where he taxeth those who had lever lay to gage and pawn their goods, and remain under the burden of usury, than to sell up all and disgage themselves at once. After this, he presenteth the true remedy of this mischief, namely, to spare and spend in measure; and to cause us to be more wary and better advised, he proposeth the lively image of this horrible monster, whom we call an Usurer, describing him in his colours, with all his practices and passions. Which done, he showeth the source of borrowing money upon interest, and the way to stop the same; he directeth his pen particularly first unto the poor, giving them a goodly lesson, and then unto the richer sort, teaching the one aswell as the other, how they are to demean and carry themselves, that they be not exposed in the clutches of usurers. And for a conclusion, he exhorteth them to behold the example of certain Philosophers by name, who chose rather to abandon & forsake all their goods, than to undo themselves in the possession & holding thereof.   

THAT WE OUGHT NOT TO take up money upon usury.  
PLato in his books of Laws, permitteth not one neighbour to make bold with another's water, before he have digged and sunk a pit so deep in his own ground, that he is come to a vein of clay or potter's earth; until (I say) he have sounded thoroughly, and found that the plot of ground is not apt to engender water, or yield a spring; [for the said potter's clay being by nature fatty, solid and strong, retaineth that moisture which it hath once received, and will not let it soak or pass thorough:] but allowed they are, and aught to furnish themselves with water from others, when they have no means to find any of their own, forasmuch as the law intendeth to provide for men's necessity, and not to favour their idleness; even so there aught to be an ordinance and act as touching money; That it might not be lawful for those to borrow upon usury, nor to go into other men's purses (as it were) to draw water at their wells or pits, before they have cast about all means at home, searched every way, and gathered (as it were) from every gutter and spring, trying and assaying how to draw and come by that which may serve their own turns, and supply their present necessities. But now it falleth out chose, that many there be, who to furnish their foolish and riotous expenses, or else to accomplish their superfluous and chargeable delights, never serve their own turns, nor make use of those things which they have, but are ready to seek unto others, even to their great cost, though they stand in no need at all: for an undoubted & cerreine proof hereof, mark how usurers do not ordinarily put forth their money unto those who are in necessity & distress, but to such as be desirous to purchase and get that which is superfluous, and whereof they stand not in need; insomuch as that which is credited out and delivered unto him that borroweth, is a good proof and sufficient testimony, that he hath somewhat to take to of his own; whereas indeed he ought (since he hath wherewith) to look unto it, that he take not upon interest, and conrrariwise, not to be credited nor to be in the usurers book, is an argument that such an one is needy.  
Why dost thou repair and make court (as it were) obsequiously to a banker or merchant? go thy ways and borrow of thine own bank, make a friend of thine own stock; flagons thou hast and pots, chargers, basons and dishes all of silver plate; employ the same about thy necessities, for to supply thy wants, and when thou hast disfurnished thy table and cupboard, the gentle town Antis or else the isle Tenedos, will make up all again with fair vessel of earth and pottery, which is much more neat & pure than those of silver, for these carry not the strong smell nor unpleasant sent of usury, which like rust or canker, every day more & more, sullieth, fretteth & eateth into thy costly magnificence; these will not put thee in mind daily of the calends and new moons, which being in itself the most sacred & holy day of the month, is by means of the usurers, become odious and accursed. For as touching those, who choose rather to lay their goods to gage, & to pawn them for to borrow money thereupon & pay for use, than to sell them right out, I am verily persuaded that god Jupiter himself surnamed Ctesius, that is, Possessor, can not save them from beggary. Abashed they are to receive the price and value of their goods to the worth; but they be not ashamed to pay interest for the lone of money. And yet that wise and politic Pericles caused the costly rob and attire of the statue of Minerva weighing forty talents in fine gold, to be made in such sort, that he might take it off and put it on as he would at his pleasure; To the end (quoth he) that when we stand in need of money for maintenance of war, we may serve our turns therewith for the time, and afterwards put in the place again another of no less weight and worth; even so we likewise in our accusations and affairs, like as in the besieging of a city, ought never to admit the garrison of an usurer or enemy, nor to endure to see before our eyes our own goods delivered out for to continue in perpetual servitude, but rather to cut-off from our labour all that is neither profitable nor necessary; likewise from our beds, form our couches, and our ordinary expenses in diet whatsoever is heedless, thereby to maintain and keep ourselves free, in hope and with full intent to supply and make amends again for it, if fortune afterwards smile upon us. Certes, the Roman dames in times past were willing to part with their jewels and ornaments of gold, yea and give them away as an offering of first fruits to Apollo Pythius, whereof was made a golden cup, and the same sent to the city of Delphi. And the Matrons of Carthage shore the hair of their heads, to make thereof twised cords for to wind up and bend their engines and instruments of artillery in the defence of their country, when the city was besieged. But we, as if we were ashamed of our own sufficiency, and to stand upon our own bottoms, seek to enthrall ourselves by gauges and obligations; whereas it behoved us much more by restraining ourselves and reducing all to such things only as be profitable and good for us, of those needless, unprofitable and superfluous vessels which we have, after they be either melted, broken in pieces, or sold, to build a privileged chapel of liberty, for ourselves, our wives and children. For the goddess Diana in Ephesus, yielded sanctuary, franchise and safeguard unto all debtor against their creditors, who fled for succour into her temple. But the sanctuary indeed of parsimony, frugality and moderate expense, into which no usurers can make entry, for to hale and pull out of it any debtor prisoner, standeth always open for those that are wise, and affordeth unto them a large space, of joious and honourable repose. For like as that Prophetess which gave oracles in the temple of Pythius Apollo, about the time of the Medians war, made answer unto the Athenian Ambassadors: That God gave unto them for their safety a wall of wood; whereupon they leaving their lands and possessions, abandoning their city, and forsaking their houses and all the goods therein, had recourse unto their ships for to save their liberty; even so, God giveth unto us wooden tables, earthen vessels, and garments of course cloth, if we would live in freedom: 
Set not thy mind upon steeds of great price,  
And chariots brave, in silver harness dight,  
With clasps, with hooks, and studs by fine device  
Ywrought, in race to show a goodly sight.  for how swift soever they be, these usurers will soon overtake them and run beyong. But rather get upon the next ass thou meetest with, or the first packhorse that cometh in thy way, to fly from the usurer, a cruel enemy and mere tyrant, who demandeth not at thy hands fire and water, as sometimes did that barbarous King of Media; but that which worse is, toucheth thy liberty, woundeth thine honour and credit by proscriptions, writs, and open proclamations. If thou pay him not to his conteut, he is ready to trouble thee; if thou have wherewith to satisfy him, he will not receive thy payment, unlosse he list; if thou prise and sell thy goods, he will have them under their worth; art thou not disposed to make a sale of them? he will force thee to it; dost thou sue him for his extreme dealing, he will seem to offer parley of agreement; if thou swear unto him that thou wilt make payment, he will impose upon thee hard conditions, and have thee at command; if thou go to his house for to speak and confer with him, he will lock the gates against thee; and if thou stay at home and keep house, thou shalt have him rapping at thy door; he will not away but take up his lodging there with thee. For in what stead served the law of Solon in Athens, wherein it was ordained, that among the Athenians, men's bodies should not be obliged for any civil debt? considering that they be in bondage and slavery to all bankers and usurers, who force men to keep in their heads; and that which more is, not to them alone (for that were not such a great matter) but even to their very slaves, being proud, insolent, barbarous and outrageous, such as Plato describeth the devils and fiery executioners in hell to be, who torment the souls of wicked and godless persons. For surely these cursed usurers make thy hall and judicial place of justice, no better than a very hell and place of torment to their poor debtor, where after the manner of greedy geirs and hungry griffons, they flay, mangle and eat them to the very bones, 
And of their beaks and talons keen,  
The marks within their flesh be seen.  And some of them they stand continually over, not suffering them to touch and taste their own proper goods; when they have done their vintage and gathered in their corn & other fruits of the earth, making them fast & pine away like unto Tantalus. And like as king Darius sent against the city of Athens his lieutenant's general Datis and Artaphernes, with chains, cords and halters in their hands, therewith to bind the prisoners which they should take; semblably these usurers bring into Greece with them their boxes and caskets full of schedules, bills, hand-writings, and contracts obligatory, which be as good as so many irons and fetters to hang upon their poor debtor; and thus they go up and down leaping from city to city, where they sow not as they pass along good and profitable seed, as Triptolemus did in old time; but plant their roots of debts, which bring forth infinite troubles and intolerable usuries, whereof there is no end, which eating as they go and spreading their spaunes round about, in the end cause whole cities to stoop and stink, yea and be ready to suffocate and strangle them. It is reported of hares that at one time they suckle young leverets and be ready to kinnule others that be in their bellies, and withal to conceive a fresh: but the debts of these barbarous, wicked and cruel usurers, do bring forth before they conceive. For in putting out their money, they redemand it presently; in laying it down, they take it up, they deliver that again for interest, which they received and took in consideration of lone and use. It is said of the Messenians city, 
Gate after gate a man shall here find,  
And yet one gate there's always behind.  But it may better be said of usurers: 
Usurte here, upon usury doth grow,  
And end thereof you never shall know.  and here withal in some sort they laugh at natural philosophers, who hold this Axiom, That of nothing can be engendered nothing: for with them usury is bred of that which neither is, not ever was; of that I say which never had subsistence nor being. Howbeit these men think it a shame & reproach to be a publican, and take to farm for a rent the public revenues, notwithstanding the laws do permit and allow that calling, whereas themselves against all the laws of the world, exact a rent and custom for that which they put forth to usury; or rather to speak a truth in lending their money they defraud their debtors as bankrupts do their creditors. For the poor debtor who receiveth less than he hath set down in his obligation, is most falsely coufened, deceived, and cut short of that which he ought to have. And verily the Persians repute lying to be a sin, but in a second degree: for in the first place they reckon to owe money and be indebted; in as much, as leasing followeth commonly those that be in debt. But yet usurers lie more than they, neither are there any that practise more falsehood and deceit in their day debt books wherein they write, that to such a one they have delivered so much, whereas indeed it is far less; and so the motive of their lying is fair avarice, & neither indigence nor poverty, but even a miserable covetousness and desire ever to have more and more; the end whereof turneth neither to pleasure nor profit unto themselves, but to the loss and ruin of those whom they wring and wrong: for neither till they those grounds which they take away from their debtor; nor dwell in the houses out of which they turn them; nor their meat upon those tables which they have from them; ne yet clad themselves with their apparel, of which they spolie them; but first, one is destroyed, than a second followeth after, and is alured as a prey by the other. And this is much like to a wild fire, which still consumeth, and yet increaseth always by the utter decay and destruction of all that falleth into it, and devoureth one thing after another. And the usurer which maintaineth this fire, blowing and kindling it with the ruin of so many people, gaineth thereby no more fruit than this, that after a certain time, he taketh his book of accounts in hand, and there readeth what a number of debtor he hath bought out of house and home, how many he had dispossessed of their land and living, from whence he hath come and whither he hath gone in turning, winding, and heaping up his silver. Now I would not that you should thus think of me, that I speak all this upon any deadly war and enmity that I have sworn against usurers, 
For God be praised they neither horses mine  
Have driven away, nor oxen, ne yet kine.  But only to show unto them who are so ready to take up money upon usury, what a villainous, shameful, and base thing there is in it, and how this proceedeth from nothing else but extreme folly and timidity of heart. If thou have wherewith to wield the world, never come into the usurers book, considering thou hast no need to borrow. Hast thou not wherewith, yet take not money up and pay not interest, because thou shalt have no means to make payment. But let us consider the one and the other apart by itself. Old Cato said unto a certain aged man, who behaved himself very badly: My friend (quoth he) considering that old age of itself hath so many evils; how cometh it to pass, that you add thereto moreover the reproach and shame of lewdness and misdemeanour? even so may we say, seeing that poverty of itself hath so many and so great miseries, do not you over and above go and heap thereupon the troubles and anguishs that come of borrowing and being in debt; neither take thou from penury that only good thing, wherein it excelleth riches, to wit, the want of carking and pensive cares; for otherwise thou shalt be subject unto the mockery implied by this common proverb: 
A goat alone when bear unneath I may,  
An ox upon my shoulder you do lay.  Semblably, you being not able to sustain poverty alone, do surcharge yourself with an usuter, a burden hardly supportable even for a rich and wealthy man. How then would you have me to live? haply some man will say: And dost thou indeed ask this question, having hands and feet of thine own? having the gift of speech, voice, and being a man, unto whom it is given both to love and also to be loved; as well to do a pleasure, as to receive a courtesy with thanksgiving. Thou mayst teach Grammar, bring up young children, be a porter or doorkeeper; thou mayst be a sailor or mariner, thou mayst row in a barge or galley: for none of all these trades is more reproachful, odious, or troublesome, than to hear one say unto thee: Pay me mine own, or discharge the debt that thou owest me. Rutilius that rich Roman coming upon a time at Rome to Musonius the Philosopher, said unto him thus in his ear: Musonius, Juptter surnamed Saviour, whom you and such other Philosophers as you are, make profession to imitate and follow, taketh up no money at interest: but Musonius smiling again, returned him this present answer: No more doth he put forth any money for use.  
Now this Rutilius who was an usurer, reproached the other for taking money at interest, which was a foolish arrogant humour of a Stoic: for what need hadst thou Rutilius, to meddle with Jupiter Saviour, and allege his name, considering that a man may report the self same by those very things which are familiar and apparent? The swallows are not in the usurers book, the pismiers pay not for use of money, and yet to them hath not nature given either hands or reason, or any art and mystery; whereas she hath endued man with such abundance of understanding, and aptness to learn and practise, that he can skill not only to nourish himself, but also to keep horses, hounds, partridges, hares and jays: why dost thou then disable and condemn thyself, as if thou wert less docible and sensible than a jay, more mute than a partridge, more idle than a dog, in that thou canst make no means to have good of a man, neither by double diligence, by making court, by observance and service, nor by maintaining his quarrel and entering into combat in his defence? seest thou not how the earth doth bring forth many things, and how the sea affordeth as many for the use of man? And verily as Crates saith: 
I saw myself how Mycilus wool did card,  
And how with him his wife the rolls did spin:  
Thus during war when times were extreme hard,  
Both jointly wrought, to keep them from famine.   
King Antigonus when he had not of a long time seen Cleanthes the Philosopher, meeting him one day in Athens, spoke unto him, and said: How now Cleanthes, dost thou grind at the mill, and turn the querne-stone still? Yea sir (quoth Cleanthes again) I grind yet, and I do it for to earn my living; howbeit, for all that, I give not over my profession of Philosophy. O the admirable courage and high spirit of this man, who coming from the mill, with that very hand which turned about the stone, ground the meal and kneaded the dough, wrote of the nature of the gods, of the moon, of the stars and the sun! But we do think all these to be base and servile works; and yet verily, because we would be free (God wot) we care not to thrust our selves into debt, we pay for the use of money, we faltter vile and base persons, we give them presents, we invite and feast them, we yield (as it were) tribute underhand unto them; and this we do not in regard of poverty, (for no man useth to put forth his money into a poor man's hand) but even upon a supper fluity and riotous expense of our own: for if we could content ourselves with those things that are necessary for the life of man, there would not be an usurer in the world, no more than there are Centaurs and monstrous Gorgones. But excess it is and daintiness, which hath engendered usurers; like as the same hath bred goldsmiths', silver-smithes, confectioners, perfumers, and dyer's of gallant colours. We come not in debt to bakers and vintner's for our bread and wine; but we owe rather for the price and purchase of fair houses and lands, for a great number and retinue of slaves, of fine mules, of trim halls and dining chambers, of rich tables and the costly furniture belonging thereto, besides other foolish and excessive expenses, which we oftentimes are at, when we exhibit plays and solemn pastimes into whole cities for to gratify and do pleasure unto the people; and that upon a vain ambition and desire of popular favour; and many times we receive no other fruit of all our cost and labour, but ingratitude. Now he that is once enwrapped in debt, remaineth a debtor still all the days of his life; and he fareth like to an horse, who after he hath once received the bit into his mouth, changeth his rider eftsoons, and is never unridden, but one or other is always on his back. No way and means there is to avoid from thence, and to recover those fair pastures and pleasant meadows, out of which those indebted persons are turned; but they wander astray to and fro, like to those cursed fiends and malign spirits, whom Empedocles writeth to have been driven by the gods out of heaven: 
For such the heavenly power first chased down to the sea beneath;  
The sea again, up to the earth did cast them by and by;  
Then after wards, the earth them did unto the beams bequeath  
Of restless sun, and they at last sent them to starry sky.  Thus fall they into the hands of usurers or bankers, one after another; now of a Corinthian, then of a Patrian, and after of an 
* Or Corinthian again.  Athenian; so long, until when all of them have had a fling at him, he become in the end, wasted, eaten out, & consumed with usury upon usury for like as he that is stepped into a quavemire, must either at first get forth of it, or else continue still there, and not remove at all out of one place; for he that striveth, turneth and windeth every way, not only doth wet and drench his body, but mireth it all over, and beraieth himself more than he was at first, with filthy dirt; even so they that do nothing but change one bank for another, making a transcript of their name out of one usurers book into another's, loading their shoulders eftsoons with new and fresh usuries, become always overcharged more and more; and they resemble for all the world, those persons who are diseased with the choleric passion or flux, who will not admit of any perfect cure to purge it at once, but continually taking away a certain portion of the humour, make room for more & more still, to gather and engender in the place; for even so these are not willing to be rid and cleansed at once, but with dolour, grief and anguish pay usury every season and quarter of the year; and no sooner have they discharged one, but another distilleth and runneth down after it, which gathereth to an head; and so by that means they are grieved with the heartache and pain of the head; whereas it behoved that they should make quick dispatch, and give order to be clear and free once for all; for now I direct my speech unto those of the better sort, who have wherewith above their fellows, and yet be nicer than they should be; and those commonly come in with such like words and excuses, as these: How then; would you have me unfurnished of slaves and servants? to live without fire, without an house and abiding place? which is all one as if he that were in a dropsy and swollen as big as a tun, should say unto a physician; What will you do? would you have me to be lean, lank, spare bodied and empty; and why not? or what shouldest not thou be contented to be, so thou mayest recover thy health and be whole again? and even so may it be said unto thee? Better it were for to be without slaves than to be a slave thyself; and to remain without heritage and possessions, that thou mayest not be possesed by another. Harken a little to the talk that was between two geires or voltures as the tale goes; when one of them disgorged so strongly, that he said withal; I think verily that I shall cast up my very bowels: the other being by, answered in this wise: What harm will come of thy vomiting so long as thou shalt not cast up thine own entrails, but those only of some dead prey which we tore and devoured together but the other day; semblably every one that is indebted selleth not his own land, nor his own house; but indeed the usurers house & land of whom he hath taken money for interest, considering that by the law the debtor hath made him lord of him and all. Yea marry will he say anon; but my father hath left me this piece of land for mine inheritance: I wot well and believe it; so hath thy father left unto thee freedom, good name and reputation, whereof thou oughtest to make much more account than of land and living. He that begat thee made thy hand and thy foot; and yet if it chance that one of them be mortified, he will give a good fee or a reward to a chirurgeon for to cut it off. Lady Calypso clad Ulysses with a vesture and rob scenting sweet like balm, yielding an odor of a body immortal which she presented unto him as a gift and memorial of the love that she bore unto him; and this he did wear for her sake; but after that he suffered shipwreck and was ready to sink, being hardly able to float above water, by reason that the said rob was all drenched and so heavy that it held him down, he did it off and threw it away; and then girding his naked breast underneath with a certain broad fillet or swaddling band, he saved himself by swimming, and recovered the bank: now when he was past this danger, and seemed to be landed, he seemed to want neither raiment nor nutriment: and what say you to this? may not this be counted a very tempest, when as the usurer after a certain time shall come to assail the poor debtors and ay unto them: Pay, 
Which word once said, therewith the clouds above,  
He gathereth thick, and sea with waves doth move:  
For why, the winds anon at once from east,  
From south, from west do blow and give no rest.  And what be these winds and waves? even usuries upon usuries, puffing, blowing and rolling one after another; and he that is overwhelmed therewith & kept under with their heavy weight, is not able to swim forth and escape, but in the end is driven down and sinketh to the very bottom, where he is drowned and perished together with his friends, who entered into bonds, and became sureties and pledges for him.  
Crates the philosopher of Thebes therefore did very well, who being in danger and debt to no man, only wearied with the cares and troubles of housekeeping, and the pensive thoughts how to hold his own, left all, and gave over his estate and patrimony which amounted to the value of eight talents; took himself to his bag and wallet, to his simple rob and cloak of course cloth, and fled into the sanctuary and liberties of Philosophy and poverty. As for Anaxagoras he forsook his fair lands and plenteous pastures: but what need I to allege these examples? considering that Philoxenus the musician being sent with other to people & possess a new colony in Stcilie, and having befallen to his lot a goodly house and living to it, enjoying (I say) for his part a good portion wherewith he might have lived in fullness and plenty; when he saw once that delights, pleasures, and idleness without any exercise at all of good letters reigned in those parts; Par die (quoth he) these goods here shall never spoil and undo me, but I will rather (I trow) make a hand and havoc of them; leaving therefore unto others his portion that fell unto him by lot, he took sea again & sailed away to Athens. chose those that be in debt are evermore sued in the law, become tributaries & very slaves, bearing and enduring all indignities, like unto those varlets that dig in silver mines, nourishing and maintaining as Phineus did the ravenous winged harpies: for surely these usurers always fly upon them, and be ready to snatch and carry away their very food and sustenance; neither have they patience to stay and attend times and seasons; for they buy up their debtor's corn before it be ripe for the harvest; they make their markets of oil before the olives fall from the tree, and likewise of wine: For I will have it at this price (quoth the usurer;) & withal the debtor giveth him presently a bill of his hand for such a bargain; mean while the grapes hang still upon the vine, waiting for the month of September, when the star Arcturus riseth and showeth the time of vintage.    

THAT A PHILOSOPHER OUGHT TO CONVERSE ESPECIALLY WITH PRINCES AND GREAT RULERS, AND WITH THEM TO DISCOURSE.  

The Summarie.  
IF there be any in the world who have need of good company, they are Princes and great Lords; for that their affairs being of such consequence as every man knoweth, the feebleness of body and insufficiency of spirit, not able to furnish them thoroughly; great reason they have to see by the eyes, and to work with the hands of others. Now in this case, three sorts of men there be who fault very much: In the first place, Princes and Rulers themselves, who in stead of drawing and training near unto their persons such as can aid and assist them, give accesser rather unto flatterers and other like pestilent members, who are ready to corrupt and ruinate their estates: Secondly, those (whose number at all times hath been very small) Whom we call Philosophers (that is to say) men of authority, wise, sage, learned, friends to virtue, lovers of the good of Princes and their subjects; who being of great power and able to do much, yet notwithstanding recoil and draw back, or being advanced to high place, have not always that respect and consideration, nor such courage as appertaineth; suffering themselves otherwhiles to be carried away to the entertainment and maintenance of the greatest opinion, and mingling a little too much of worldly wisdom with the apprehension of their true duty, whereof their conscience being lightened in sundry sorts advertiseth them sufficiently. The last (and those as pernicious & execrable as the thought of man is not able to devise and comprehend) be the enemies of virtue (to wit) ignorant teachers, and profane schoolmasters & professors, mockers, scorners, jesters slatterers; in sum, all the ministers of vanities and filthy pleasures, who do insinuate and intrude themselves, by most lewd and wicked means into the service of Princes; and in recompense of the honour and rich gifts which they receive at their hands, do deceive and undo their simple lords and masters, according as an infinite number of examples in Histories do verify and give evidence unto us. Plutarch therefore in consideration of these inconvenicnes is desirous in this treatise to encourage those who wish that all things were well and in good order; and exhorteth them to approach near unto Princes. But forasmuch as ignorance and lewdness causeth men to become shameless, whereas wisdom and honesty maketh us modest and considerate in all our actions; he showeth in the first place, that it is no point of ambition for a wise and learned man to join himself unto Grand segniories & to sort with them; but that it is their duty so to do, considering that such receive honour, pleasure, and profit by him. And this he proveth by reasons, similitudes, examples, all singular and notable. Afterwards he condemneth those who enter into Prince's courts, only because they would be great and powerful, showing that wise men indeed do aim clean at another mark. And for the last point of all he treateth of the contentment which they receive, who by their service to one alone, help by that means an infinite number of others, who remain bound and obliged unto them for so great a benefit.   

THAT A PHILOSOPHER OUGHT to converse especially with Princes and great Rulers, and with them to discourse.  
TO embrace a common love, to find out, accept, entertain and maintain that amity which may be profitable and commodious to many in particular, and yet to more in general, is the part of honest men, politic, wise and affectionate to the public good; and not as some think, of those that be ambitious and vainglorious. But chose, he is to be reputed vainglorious, or rather timorous and wanting courage, who doth shun and is afraid to hear himself called, a follower, waiter and servitor to those that are in highest place. For what saith one of these personages who having need to be cured, is desirous to learn and to be acquainted with some Philosopher? O that I were Simon the Souter, or Dionysius the Pedante, in stead of Pericles or Cato, that a Philosopher might discourse and dispute with me, that he might sit by my side, as Socrates did sometime by those. And verily Ariston of Chios being reproved and blamed by the Sophisters in his time, for that he used to devise and discourse with all those that were disposed to hear him: I could wish (quoth he) in my heart, that the very beasts themselves were able to give ear and understand those discourses that do excite and move unto virtue. Do we then avoid the means and occasions to converse and confer familiarly with great personages and mighty men, as if they were wild and savage persons? The doctrine of Philosophy is not like unto an imager who casteth dumb and deaf idol statues, without any sense, only for to stand upon a base as Pindarus was wont to say, but is willing to make whatsoever it toucheth, active, operative and lively; it imprinteth therein affections and motions, judgements also inciting and leading to things unprofitable; intentions desirous of all honesty, haughty courage also and magnanimity, joined with meekness, resolution and assurance; by means of which good parts, men of State & policy, are more ready and forward to converse and devise with persons of great puissance and authority, and not without good cause; for an honest and gentle physician will take always more pleasure to heal an eye that seeth for many, and which doth guard and look to many; and even so a Philosopher will be more affectionate to take care for that soul and spirit, which he seeth to be vigilant for many, and which ought to be wise, prudent, and just for many: for such an one if he were skilful and cunning in the art, of finding, gathering, and conducting of waters (as we read in Histories that Hercules and many other in old time were) would not take delight to go into some desert corner, far remote from the frequency of men, and to dig or sink pits there, near to the Raven's rock (as the Poet saith) and to open that Swineherds marish Arethusa, but would study rather to discover the lively sources and overrunning springs of a river, to serve some great city or camp, or to water the orchards, gardens, and groves of kings. According as we hear that Homer called Minos, Jupiter's Oaristes, which is as much to say (as Plato himself doth interpret the word) his Familiar & Disciple; for he never meant that the disciples of the gods were private persons, home-keepers, and such as meddle in nothing but house matters, keeping in and living idly without any action; but Princes and Kings who being wise, just, debonair and magnanimous, as many as be under their government and command, shall live in bliss and happiness.  
An herb there is called Eryngium or Seaholly, which hath this property, that no sooner one goat taketh it in his mouth, but she herself first, and afterwards all the rest of the flock, will stand still, until such time as the goatheard come and take away out of the flock which he will; in like manner, the defluxions which proceed from persons of great power and authority, have the same swiftness and celerity, which doth dilate and spread itself in one moment, and in manner of fire seizeth upon whatsoever is near thereto on every side. And verily the speech and remonstrance of a Philosopher, if it be addressed and directed unto a private man, and that loveth to live in repose, and who doth limit and circumscribe himself, as within a centre and circumference geometrical, with the necessities of his own body, the same speech is not distributed and divided unto others, but after it hath in that one man alone, composed and wrought a great tranquility and calm of all perturbations, it fadeth, vanisheth away, and so doth end incontinently; but on the contrary side, if the said remonstrance meet with a man of State and government, a magistrate, a politician, and one that dealeth in great affairs, and by the effectual virtue thereof, replenish him with goodness and honesty, by the means of that one person, the benefit will be imparted unto many. In this wise Anaxagoras kept company with Pericles; Plato conversed with Dion, and Pythagoras did associate himself to the princes and lords of Italy; and as for Cato, he departed alone from the camp, and sailed to Athenodorus; Scipio likewise laid for Panaetius, and sought after him, at what time as the Senate sent him forth with commission, for to go in visitation (as it were) and survey, to see what right and wrong, what justice and injustice reigned in the world, according as Posidonius maketh report. What then ought Panaetius for to say? If you were either Castor or Pollux, or some other private person, desirous to fly and avoid the frequency of great cities, and retire yourself into some corner of a school apart, there at your leisure and full repose to fold and unfold, to resolve and compound the syllogisms of Philosophers, I would willingly accept your offer, and be desirous to converse and stay with you; but seeing you are the son of Paulus Aemilius, who had been twice Consul, and the nephew of Scipio Africanus, who defeated Hannibal the captain of the Carthaginians, I will not reason and dispute with you. Moreover, to say that speech is two fold; the one interior or inward, the gift of Mercury surnamed Hegemon, that is, Guide; the other pronounced and uttered forth, which is instrumental, and a very interpreter to give notice of our conceptions, a mere vain and stale position, and may well be comprised under this old proverb: Thus much I knew before Theognis was borne. But let not this distinction trouble or impeach us in that which we are about to say; for aswell of that which is contained within the secret mind, as of the other which is pronounced and uttered, the end is all one; to wit, Love or amity of this, in respect of a man's own self, and of that, in regard of others: for that speech which by the precepts of Philosophy, bendeth unto virtue, and there doth end, maketh a man in tune and accordant with himself, never repining and complaining of aught, full of peace, full of love and contentment: 
In all his limbs is no sedition,  
No strife, no war, no strange dissension,  no passion rebellious and disobedient to reason, no combat of will or appetite against will and appetite, no repugnancy and contrariety of reason against reason; there is no impleasant bitterness or turbulent disorder mixed with joys and pleasures, as it falleth out in the confines of desire, repentance and sorrow; but all things there be uniform, delightsome and amiable, which causeth each one to content himself, and joy as in abundance of all goods. As for the other kind of speech that is pronounced, Pindarus saith: That the Muse thereof was never in old time covetous, greedy of gain or mere mercenary; neither believe I that it is so at this day; but rather, through the ignorance and negligence of men who be careless of their own good and honour. Mercury, who before was free and common, is now become an occupier and merchant, willing to do nothing without a fee and reward. For it is not likely or probable, that Venus in times past was so deadly offended and angry with the daughters of Prospolus, because they devised first to sow hatred and enmity among young folk, and that Urania, Clio and Calliope take pleasure in them who debase the dignity of speech and literature, by taking silver; but in mine opinion, the works and gifts of the Muses ought to be more amiable than those of Venus: for same and honour, which some propose for the end of their speech and learning, hath been held dear and highly beloved, for that it is the very beginning and seminary of friendship; and that which more is, the common sort of people measure honour by goodwill and benevolence, esteeming that we ought to praise those only whom we affect and love: but certainly these men fare like unto Ixion, who in love following after the goddess Juno, fell upon a cloud; for even so they, in stead of amity embrace a vain image of popularity, deceitful, pompous, wandering and uncertain: howbeit, a man of good conceit and judgement, if he manage State affairs, or intermeddle in government of the commonweal, will seek for honour and reputation so far forth only, as to maintain his authority and credit in all his actions, for the better management of public affairs: for it is no pleasure, neither is it easy, to do them good who are not willing to profit and receive good; and the disposition of the will proceedeth from belief and confidence. Like as the light doth more good unto them that see, than to those who are seen; even so is honour more profitable unto them who perceive and feel the same, than to such as are neglected and contemned. But he who dealeth not in affairs of State, who liveth to himself, and setteth down his felicity in such a life, apart from others, in rest and repose, saluteth a far off vainglory and popularity, which others joy in, who be conversant in the view and sight of people, and in frequent assemblies and theatres, much like unto Hippolytus, who living chaste, saluted the goddess Venus a great way off, but as for the other glory which proceedeth from men of worth and honour, he neither refuseth nor disdaineth it. Now when as the question is of amity, we are not to seek for it and to contract friendship only with such as be wealthy, have the glory, credit and authority of great lords, no more than we ought to avoid these qualities, if the same be joined with a gentle nature, which is of fair and honest conditions. The Philosopher seeketh not after beautiful and well-favoured young men, but such as be docible, tractable, well disposed, and desirous of knowledge; but if withal they be endued with beautiful visage, with a good grace, and are in the flower of youth, this ought not to fright him from thence, neither must the lovely casts of their countenance and amiable aspects drive him from coming near unto those, nor chase him away if he see them worthy pains taking and for to be regarded. Thus when power, riches, and princely authority shall be found in men of good nature, who be moderate and civil; the philosopher will not forbear to love and cherish such, neither be afraid to be called a courtier or follower of great personages: 
They that strive most dame Venus to eschew,  
Do fault as much, as they who her pursue.  Even so it is with the amity of princes and great potentates: and therefore the contemplative philosopher who will not deal at all in affairs of weale-publicke, must not avoid and shun such; but the civil philosopher who is busied in managing of the common weal, aught to seek for them and find them out, not forcing them after a troublesome manner to hear him, nor charging their ears with reports and discourses that be unseasonable and sophistical; but framing himself willingly to joy in their company; to discourse, to pass the time with them when they are willing and so disposed: 
Twelve journeys long are Berecynthian plains  
And those I sow yearly with sundry grains.  He that said this, if he had loved men as well as he affected husbandry and tillage, would more willingly have ploughed and sowed that ground which is able to maintain and feed so many men, than that little close or pindle of Antisthenes, which hardly was sufficient to find himself alone.  
Certes Epicurus who placed the sovereign good and felicity of man in most sound rest and deep repose, as in a sure harbour or haven, defended and covered from all winds and surging waves of the world; saith: That to do good unto another, is not only more honest and honourable, than to receive a benefit at another's hand, but also more pleasant and delectable, for there is nothing that begetteth so much joy as doth beneficence, which the greeks term by the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, Grace. Well advised he was therefore and of wise judgement who imposed these names upon the three Graces, Aglaia, Euphrosyne, and Thalia; for without all question, the joy and contentment is far greater and more pure in him who doth a good turn and deserveth a thank, than in the party who receiveth the same: and therefore it is that many times men do blush for shame when a good turn is done unto them, whereas always they rejoice when they confer a benefit or favour upon another. Now do they a benefit unto a whole multitude and nation, who are the means to make those good, whom the people and multitude can not miss but have need of: whereas chose, they that corrupt and spoil princes, kings, and great rulers (as do these flatterers, false sycophants and slanderous promoters) are abominable unto all, are chased out and punished by all; like unto those that cast deadly poison, not into one cup of wine, but into a fountain or spring that runneth for to serve in public, and where of they see all persons use to drink. Like as therefore (according to Eupolis) it is said only by way of mockery concerning those flatterers and comical parasites who haunted the table of rich Callias, that there was neither fire, brass, nor steel, that could keep them out, but they would come to sup with him: but as for the minions and favourites of tyrant Apollodorus, Phalarit, or Dionysius, after the decease of their lords and masters, the people fell upon them, did beat them with cudgels, torture upon the rack, burn at a stake, & range them with the accursed and damned crew; for that they before named did wrong to one alone, but these did injury unto many by the means of corrupting one who was their ruler; even so those philosophers that converse and keep company with private persons, do cause them to be well contented, pleasant, gracious and harmless to their own selves and no more: but whosoever reformeth some evil conditions in a great ruler or sovereign magistrate, framing and directing his will and intention to that which he ought; this man I say after a sort is a philosopher to the public State, in that he doth correct the mould and amend the pattern to which all the subjects be composed, and according to it governed. The cities and states which be well ruled, decree and yield honour and reverence to their priests; for that they do pray unto the gods for good things, not in regard of themselves, nor of their kinsfolk and friends alone, but universally in the behalf of all the citizens; and yet these priests do not make the gods good, nor the givers of good things, but being such already of themselves, to them they power their prayers & make invocations. But philosophers who live and converse with princes and great lords, cause them to be more just and righteous, more moderate and better affected to well doing; by means whereof it is like that they receive more joie and contentment. And if I should speak my conceit, it seemeth unto me that the harpe-maker wrought and made his harp more cheerfully and with greater pleasure, when he knew that the master & owner of the said harp should build the walls about the city Thebes, as Amphion did, or to stay and appease the great civil sedition of the Lacedæmonians, by singing to the said harp and by sweet exhortations, as sometimes Thales did; semblably the carpenter or shipwright who maketh the helm to a ship or galley, will joy more when he shall know that the said helm shall serve to guide & rule the admiral's ship, within which Themistocles shall fight against the Persians in the defence of the liberty and freedom of Greece: or that of Pompeius, with which in a naval battle at sea he defaited and vanquished the army of the pirates. What suppose you then will a philosopher think of his own speech and doctrine, when he shall come to discourse with himself; that he who shall receive the same being a man of authority, a prince or great lord, shall thereby do good unto the commonweal, in ministering right and justice indifferently to every man; shall punish the wicked, and advance those that be good and virtuous. I am verily persuaded (for my part) that a good and gentle shipwright, will more willingly make an helm, when he shall know that it must serve to rule the great ship Argo, renowned throughout the world: likewise a carpenter or wheele-wright, will not with so good a will lay his hand to make a plough or a chariot, as he would to frame those tables or boards, in which he wist that Solon was to engrave his laws. And (I assure you) the discourses and reasons delivered by Philosophers, if once they be well and surely imprinted in the hearts of great personages, who have in their hands the government of States, if they once get sure footing and take good root in them, they become as forcible and effectual as positive laws. Hereupon it was that Plato sailed into Sicily, in hope that the grave sentences and principles of his Philosophy, would be as good as laws, and work wholesome and profitable effects in the affairs of Dionysius. But he found that Dionysius was like writing tables all razed, and full of blurs and blots, and that he could not leave off the tincture and deep die of tyranny, being so surely set on, and having by continuance of time entered and peareed deep, so that it could not be washed out; whereas it behoved that those who are to make their profit by good advertisements and sage lessons, should still be in motion and so continue.    

AS TOUCHING A PRINCE OR RULER UNLEARNED.  

The Summarie.  
AS in the former discourse he solicited Sages and Philosophers to join themselves in acquaintance with Princes; so in this he desireth one point, whereof he dareth not assure himself to compass the same, by reason of some difficulties therein observed. For requiring in Princes thus much that they should be well instructed, for to be capable of good counsel; he showeth withal that it is a very hard thing to bring them thereto, and to range them in that order for certain material and pertinent reasons which he setteth down. Nevertheless he passeth on still and proceedeth farther; proving that the law and lively reason ought to command Kings and Princes; and for to cause them to condescend thereto, he declareth unto them, that the thing which they wish for and desire so are dently to procure; namely, to maintain themselves in happy estate, and to make their name immortal, lieth in virtue: then he pointeth out with his finger, four impeachments and hindrances that divert and turn away Princes from so just and necessary a consideration. Which done, for to enrich this speech and treatise of his, and the better yet to draw great personages to give ear unto reason, he letteth them see and understand the difference between a good Prince and a tyrant: also how dangerous a wicked Prince is; concluding by the benefit which cometh by equity, and the hurt by injustice, that right and justice, aught to serve as a counterpoise, against the greatness and puissance of Princes.   

AS TOUCHING A PRINCE or Ruler unlearned.  
THE inhabitants of the city Cyrene, requested Plato on a time to leave unto them by writing certain good laws; and withal to set them down an order in the government of their State, which he refused to do, saying: That it was a very hard matter to give laws unto the Cyrenians being so rich and wealthy as they were: for there is nothing so proud and insolent, so rough and intractable, so savage and hard to be tamed, as a man persuaded well of his fortunate estate. This is the cause that it is no easy enterprise to give counsel unto princes and rulers, and to advise them as touching their government. For they be afraid to receive and admit reason as a master to command them; for fear it should take away and abridge them of that, which they esteem to be the only good of their grandence and puissance, in case they were subjected once to their duty. Which is the cause also that they cannot skill to hear the discourses of Theopompus King of Sparta, who was the first that brought into that city the Ephori, and mingled their authority with the government of the Kings. For when his wise reproached him for leaving unto his children the royal power & dignity, less than he received it of his predecessors: Nay mary (quoth he) but rather far greater, in that it shall be more firm and assured: for in remitting and letting down a little that which in absolute royalty was over stiff, straight and rigorous, he avoided by that very means all envy and peril. And verily Theopompus deriving unto others from his own authority, as from a great river, a little rill or riveret; look how much he gave unto the Ephort, so much he cut off from himself: but the reason and remonstrance of Philosophy, being lodged (as it were) with the Prince himself, for to assist him and preserve his person, taking from his puissance, as in a full plight and plethoric constitution of the body, that which is excessive and overmuch, leaveth that behind which is sound and healthful. But the most part of Kings, Princes, and Sovereign rulers, who are not wise and of good understanding, resemble unskilful cutters in stone and imagers, who are of opinion that the enormous and huge statues, called Colossuses, which they cut, will seem more vast and mighty, if they frame them straddling with their legs, with their arms spread abroad and stretched forth, as also with their mouths gaping wide open; for even so, these princes and rulers by their big commanding voice, their grim and stern visage, fierce looks and regard of their eye, their odious behaviour, and living apart without society of any other person, ween and suppose to counterfeit a kind of gravity, greatness and majesty that is required in a mighty potentate; but they differ nothing from the foresaid Colossuses, which without do represent the form of some god or demigod; but all within are stuffed full of earth, stone, rubbish and lead: this only is the difference that the weight and heaviness of those monstrous statues, counterpoiseth and keepeth them standing in some sort upright, steadfast, and not inclining one way or other; but ignorant and unlearned princes, rulers, and general captains, by reason of their ignorance which is within them, oftentimes do wag and totter to and fro, yea and be overturned and laid along; for coming to build their puissance and licentious power aloft upon abase that is not laid directly to the plumb, they reel and tumble down withal. But like as a rule or squire, being of itself even, straight and level, not turning or twining any way, doth direct and set straight all other things, and make them like itself, by being laid thereto; even so ought a prince, when he hath first established in himself, his principality and power, that is to say, composed his own life and manners, to accommodate and frame his subjects accordingly, and to make them semblable: for neither lieth it in him who is ready to stumble and fall himself, to sustain and keep up another, nor he who is ignorant and knoweth nothing, is fit to be a teacher, no more than he who is disorderly, meet to redress and reform, or who is irregular, able to range and set in order, or who knoweth not how to obey, like for to command. But the most part of men are herein deceived and think not aright, who suppose that the first and principal good in commanding and ruling, is not to be ruled and commanded. And thus the king of the Persians imagined all his subjects to be his slaves, unless it were his wife alone, of whom especially above all other, he should have the mastery and lordship.  
Who is it then, that shall command a king or prince? even the law, which is the lady and queen of all, aswell mortal men, as immortal gods, according as Pindarus saith: I mean not the written law in books or upon tables of wood, but the lively reason imprinted in his own heart, remaining always with him, his continual resident-keeper, and never leaving his soul abandoned and forlorn without conduct and government. And verily the Persian king had evermore about him one of his chamberlains ordained for this office; namely, to say unto him every morning as he entered into his chamber: Arise my lord, and have regrd to those affairs for which Mesoromasdes (that is to say, The great God) would have you to provide. But if a prince be wise and well instructed, he hath always within him this monitor and remembrancer, to resound the same into his ears, and put him in mind of his duty. Polemon was wont to say: That love was a ministery of the gods in young persons, such as they had care of, and were minded to preserve: but more truly a man might say: That princes be the ministers of the gods, to provide for the affairs and safety of men; to the end that of those good things which God hath bestowed upon them, they should distribute some, and preserve other; 
But seest thou this starry firmament,  
So high above and infinitely ely vast,  
In bosom moist of water element,  
The earth beneath how it encloseth fast?  for this is it, that by influence sendeth down the principles of those seeds which be fit and convenient, which afterwards the earth produceth and yieldeth forth, whereof some grow by showers of others by winds; some also gather warmth and heat by the stars & the moon, but it is the sun who ruleth and governeth all, he inspireth and infuseth into them from himself, the gracious instinct of love. Now, all the goods and gifts (so many and so great) which the gods endow men withal, there is no means to enjoy & use aright, without law, without justice, without a prince or ruler: Justice is the end of law; is the work of a prince; and the prince is the image of God governor of all things: and this prince or sovereign majesty hath no need either of Phidias, or of Polycletus and Myran, to cut, cast or form him; but himself it is, who doth frame his own person to the pattern and similitude of God, and by means of virtue, worketh and setteth up the most pleasant, excellent and divine statue that may be seen: and like as God hath placed in haven (as a most beautiful image of himself and his divinity) the sun and the moon; even such a representation and light is in a city and realm. A prince or magistrate, so long as he hath in his heart imprinted the fear of God and the observation of justice; that is to say, all while he hath divine reason, which is understanding; not a sceptre in his hand, nor a thunderbolt and lightning, or a threeforked mace, as some foolish prince's cause themselves to be portrayed and painted, making their folly odious, in affecting that which they never can attain unto: for God indeed hateth and punisheth those who will seem to imitate thunder, lightning, sunbeams and such like; but chose, those that be zealous followers of this virtue, and who endeavour to conform themselves to his bounty, goodness and clemency, he loveth and advanceth, to them he willingly doth impart his own equity, loyalty, justice, verity and clemency. These qualities are such, as there is nothing in the world more divine and heavenly, not fire nor light, not the course of the sun, neither the risings or apparitions, nor the settings and occultations of the stars, no nor eternity itself and immortality: for God is not counted happy and blessed in regard of long life, but for that he is the prince of all virtue: and as this is divinity indeed, so it is true beauty to be ruled thereby. Anaxarchus for to give comfort and consolation unto Alexander, who was cast down and in despair, for the bloody murder which he had committed upon the person of Clitus, said unto him: That the goddesses Dice and Thenis (that is to say) Justice and Equity, sat as assistants to 
* Or as some read, To Clitus.  Jupiter, to show (quoth he) that whatsoever is done by a prince, is to be thought just and righteous; but he offended herein grossly, and faulted much, to the hurt of Alexander, in that he went about to remedy the sorrow and grief which this prince conceived in remorse of conscience and repentance for his heinous sin, by giving him heart and assurance to commit the like again. And if it be meet and lawful in this case, to project our conjectures; Jupiter hath not equity and justice for his assessors, but himself is justice and equity: he (I say) is the most ancient and perfectest law that is: thus speak, write and teach all ancient authors; That even Jupiter himself can not well command and rule without justice, which is the virgin (as He siodus saith) not touched & defiled, but pure and immaculate, lodged always with shamefastness, modesty, pudicitie and usilitie. Hereupon it is, that men ordinarily give this addition unto kings and princes, calling them 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, Reverend and venerable: for meet and convenient it is, that those who fear least, should have most majesty and honour. And verily a prince and ruler ought to be afraid much more to do ill, than to receive and sustain harm, for as much as the one is the cause of the other. And this is a civil and generous fear, proper and peculiar to a good prince, namely, to be afraid lest his subjects should (ere he be aware) take wrong or be hurt any way; 
Much like as dogs that be of gentle kind,  
Who watchfully about the folds attend,  
In case they once by subtle hearing find  
A savage beast approach, and thit her tend,  fear not for themselves, but in regard of the cattle which they keep. In like manner, Epaminondas, when the Thebans fell dissolutely to drink and make good cheer at a certain festival time, himself went all alone to survey the armour and walls of the city, saying: That he would fast and watch, that all the rest might quaff the while and sleep with more security. Cato likewise at Utica proclaimed by sound of trumpet, to send away by sea all those who escaped alive upon the overthrow which there happened; and when he had embarked them all, and made his prayers unto the gods to vouchsafe them a bon voyage, he returned into his own lodging and killed himself; showing by this example what a prince or commander ought to fear, and what he should contemn and despise. chose, Clearchus the tyrant of Pontus, shutting himself within a chest, slept there as a serpent within her hole: and Aristodemus the tyrant of Argos went up into a hanging chamber aloft which had a trap door, whereupon he caused a little bed or pallet to be set, and there he slept and lay with his concubine and harlot which he kept, and when he was gotten up thither, the mother of the said concubine came ordinarily to take down the ladder, and brought it thither again every morning. How think you, did this tyrant tremble for fear, when he was in a frequent theatre in the palace, in the counsel house and court of justice, or at a feast, considering that he made a prison of his bed chamber? To say a very truth, good princes are afraid for their subjects sake, but tyrants fear their subjects; and therefore as they augment their puissance, so do they increase their own fear; for the more persons that they command and rule over, the greater number they stand in dread of: for it is neither probable nor seemly as some philosophers affirm: That God is invisibly subsistent and mixed within the first and principal matter, which suffereth all things, receiveth a thousand constreints and adventures, yea and is subject to innumerable changes and alterations: but he sitteth in regard of us above, and there is resiant continually in a nature always one, and ever in the same estate, seated upon holy foundations (as Plato saith) where he infuseth his power, and goeth through all, working and finishing that which is right according to nature: and like as the sun in heaven, the most goodly and beautiful image of him, is to be seen by the reflection of a mirror, by those who otherwise can not endure to behold himself as he is; even so God ordaineth in cities and societies of men, another image of his, and that is the light of justice and reason accompanying the same; which wise and blessed men describe and depaint out of sentences philosophical, conforming and framing themselves to that which is the fairest and most beautiful thing in the world; and nothing is there that doth imprint in the souls and spirits of men such a disposition, as reason drawn and learned out of philosophy, to the end that the same should not befall unto us which king Alexander the great did; who having seen in Corinth, Diogenes how generous he was, esteemed highly and admired the haughty courage & magnanimity of the man, insomuch as he broke forth into these words; Were I not Alexander surely I would be Diogenes: which was all one in manner as if he should have said; That he was troubled & encumbered with his wealth, riches, glory and puissance, as impeachments and hindrances of virtue, and bore an envious and jealous eye to the homely course cloak of the philosopher, to his bag and wallet, as if by them alone Diogenes was invincible and impregnable, and not (as himself) by the means of arms, harnish, horses, spears, and pikes: for surely he might with governing himself by true philosophical reason have been of the disposition and affection of Diogenes, and yet continue nevertheless in the state and fortune of Alexander; and so much the rather be Diogenes because he was Alexander; as having need against great fortune, (like a tempest raised with boisterous winds, and full of surging waves) of a stronger cable and anchor, of a greater helm also, and a better pilot: for in mean persons who are of low estate, and whose puissance is small, such as private men be, folly is harmless; and sottish though such be, yet they do no great hurt, because their might is not answerable thereto; like as it falleth out in foolish and vain dreams: there is a certain grief (I wot not what) which troubleth and disordereth the mind, being not able to compass & bring about the execution of her desires & lusts: but where might & malice are met together their power addeth folly unto passion & affections; & most true is that speech of Denys the tyrant, who was wont to say; That the greatest pleasure & contentment which he enjoyed by his tyranny was this, that whatsoever he would was quickly done, & presently executed; according to that verse in Homer: 
No sooner out of mouth the word was gone,  
But presently withal, the thing was done.  A dangerous matter it is for a man to will and desire that which he ought not, being not able to perform that which he willeth and desireth: whereas malicious mischief making a swift course through the race of puissance and might, driveth and thrusteth forward every violent passion to the extremity, making choler and anger to turn to murder, love to prove adultery, and avarice to grow into confiscation of goods; for no sooner is the word spoken, but the party once in suspicion is undone for ever, and presently upon the least surmise and imputation ensueth death. But as the natural philosophers do hold, that the lightning is shot out of the cloud after the clap of thunder (like as blood issueth after the wound is given and incision made) and yet the said lightning is seen before, for that the ear receiveth the sound or crack by degrees, whereas the eye meeteth at once with the flash; even so in these great rulers and commanders, punishments oftentimes go before accusations, and sentences of condemnation before evident proofs: 
For wrath in such may not long time endure,  
No more than flouke of anchor can assure  
A ship in storm, which taketh slender hold  
On sand by shore, whereof none may be bold.  unless the weight of reason do repress and keep down licentious power, whiles a Prince or great Lord doth after the manner of the sun, who at what time as he is most high mounted in the septentrional or northern parts, seemeth least to move, and by his slow motion maketh his race the more steadfast and assured. For impossible it is that vices in great persons should remain covert and hidden; but like as those who are subject to the falling sickness, so soon as ever they be surprised with outward could, or turn round never so little, presently fall into a dimness of sight, grow to be dizzy in the head and ready to stagger, which passions do bewray and detect their malady; even so ignorant persons and such as want instruction and good bringing up, no sooner are lifted up by fortune's favour to wealth and riches, to dignities, promotions, and places of high authority, but presently she showeth them their own fall and ruin; or rather to make the thing more plain and familiar; like as a man can hardly know whether vessels be sound or faulty, so long as they be empty, but in case you power into them any liquor, it appeareth whether they leak and run or no; even so, the souls of men that be putrefied and corrupt, can not contain and hold sure their might and authority, but run out by means of their lusts and desires, their choleric fits, their vanities and absurd demeanours. But what need we draw forth the discourse hereof more at large? considering that great men and noble personages are exposed to calumniations and reproaches for the least delinquency and fault that they commit. Cimon was blamed for his good wine; Scipio for his sleep, and because he loved his bed well; and Lucullus grew into an ill name in regard of his bountiful table and liberal fare that he kept.    

THAT VICE ALONE IS SUFFICIENT TO MAKE A MAN WRETCHED.  

The Summarie.  
ALthough this Treatise be so defective both in the beginning and the end, that to this present we know not how to guess and conjecture, which way to redress and supply the same; yet the very title and fragments remaining thereof, sufficiently discover the intention of the Author. And like as by the ruins of some ancient royal palace, there is in some sort represented to our thought and conceit the beauty thereof whiles it stood entire and upright; even so, this remnant which is left unto us, showeth sufficiently what we have lost. But albeit the malice and injury of the time hath deprived us of so great a benefit, and of many others semblably; yet notwithstanding, that which remaineth may profit us, maimed and imperfect as it is, and suffice to range and contrive us in our duty. In the beginning, our Author discourseth of the misery of a covetous person; and one that followeth the court. Then he addeth according to his principal design and purpose: That vice is the absolute workmistresse of wretchedness and infelicity having need of no other ministers or instruments to cause a man to be miserable; whereupon he doth collect and gather, that there is no danger nor calamity, but we ought to choose rather than to be sinful and vicious. Afterwards he answereth those objections which are made to the contrary, and concludeth, that adver 〈◊〉 can not prejudice or hurt us any thing, so long as it is not accompanied with vice.   

THAT VICE ALONE IS SVFficient to make a man wretched.  
HEabideth much who hath his body sold for a dowry (as Euripides saith) to wit, small avails he hath thereby, and those very uncertain. But unto him who passeth not through much ashes, but a royal fire (as one would say) wherewith he is scorched and burnt round about, who continually draweth his wind thick and short, and is full of fear and sweat by trudging over sea for gain, she giveth in the end a certain Tantalian riches (that is to say) such as he is not able to enjoy by reason of the continual occupations wherewith he is encumbered. For very wisely did that Sicyonian who bred and kept a race of horses, when he gave unto Agamemnon the king of the Achaeans as a present, a notable swift mare for a courser, because he might be dispensed with, for going in warfare to Troy: 
That unto Troy that stately town, he might not with him go  
To serve in arms; but stay at home, and rest there far from woe;  
Where he might live in solace much, enjoying all his own,  
For Jupiter in measure great, had wealth on him be stowne.  to the end, that he staying behind at home, might roll and welter at ease in a depth of riches, and give himself much time and leisure for assured repose void of all pain and trouble. Howbeit our courtiers at this day, who would be esteemed men of action and great affairs, never expect until they be called, but of themselves intrude and thrust their heads into princes courts and stately palaces, where they must watch, wait and give attendance in all dutiful service, with much pain and travel, to gain thereby at last, a great horse, a fair chain, or some such blessed favour. 
Mean while the wife is left alone behind 
Homerks de 〈◊〉   
In Phylace, and thinks he is unkind  
To leave her so: her face she rends and tears;  
The house remains half built, when he it rears.  and the husband is carried here and there wandering in the world, drawn on with certain hopes which oftentimes in the end deceive him and work his shame. But if peradventure he obtain some thing that his heart desired, after a certain time that he hath been turned round about with the wheel of fortune, so long until his head be dizzy, and mounted on high in the air, he wisheth and seeketh nothing more than evasion and means to escape, deeming and calling those happy, who lead a private life, without exposing themselves to such perils: and they again repute him blessed and fortunate, seeing him so highly advanced above themselves. Thus in one word you see, how vice doth dispose men unto all sorts of infelicity, being of itself a perfect artisan of infortunity, and needs none instruments and ministers beside. As for other tyrants, who study nothing more, than to make those most wretched and miserable whom they pinch, do maintain executioners and tormentors, devise red-hot fearing irons to burn, and invent racks and other instruments for to put the reasonless soul to extreme torture; but vice without any such preparation of engines, so soon as it seizeth upon the soul, presently overturneth and bringeth it to ruin and destruction, filleth a man with dolour and grief, with lamentations, sorrows and repentance. For a certain proof hereof, you shall see many endure to have their flesh mangled and cut, without saying one word; abide to be whipped and scourged patiently; who being put to the rack and other tortures by their cruel masters or tyrants, will not give one screek or cry, so long as the soul repressing the voice by reason, as with the hand keepeth it down, and containeth it from breaking out: whereas chose, a man shall hardly or never command either anger to stay and be quiet, or dolour to be silent, no nor persuade him that is surprised with sudden fear to rest still, or one who is stung with remorse and repentance to forbear crying out, to hold his hands from tearing his hair & smiting his thighs; of such force and violence is vice & fin, above either the heat of fire or the edge of the sword. Moreover, cities & states, when they publish their purpose to put forth to making any ships or huge statues called Colossi, give ear willingly to the workmen disputing one against the other, as touching the workmanship, hear their reasons, & see their models & platforms which they bring, and afterwards make choice of him to go in hand with that piece of work, who with less cost and charges will do the deed as well or rather better, and more speedily. Now put the case that we publish by proclamation to make a man infortunate, or cause a life to be wretched and miserable, and that there present unto us for to enterprise this, fortune on the one side and vice on the other; the one (to wit, fortune) is full of her tools and instruments of all forts, and provided of furniture costly and chargeable, for to make a life unhappy and miserable; as for example, brigandise and robberies, bloody wars, inhuman cruelty of tyrants, and tempests at sea; she draweth after her flashes of lightning out of the air, she mixeth and dresseth a poisoned cup of deadly hemlock, she bringeth sharp edged swords to do the business, she stirreth slanders and raiseth false furmises and calumniations, she kindleth burning agues and hot fevers she cometh with fetters, manacles and other irons jingling; finally, she buildeth cages and prisons for this purpose; and yet the most part of all this gear proceedeth rather from vioc than fortune: but suppose that all came from fortune; and that vice standing by all naked, and having need of no other thing in the world without itself to assail a man, should demand of fortune, how she could make a man infortunate and heartless in these terms? What fortune? dost thou menace poverty? Metrocles will be ready to laugh thee to scorn, who in Winter time used to sleep among sheep, and in Summer season took his repose in cloisters and church porches; and so challenged for his felicity the king of Persia, who was wont to Winter in Babylon and pass the Summer in Media: threatenest thou servitude and bondage? bringest thou chains and irons, or the woeful condition to be sold in open market as a slave? Diogenes will despise thee for all that, who being exposed and offered to sale by the rovers and thieves that took him, cried and proclaimed himself aloud: Who will buy a master who? dost thou temper or brew a cup of poison? why didst not thou before offer such a cup to Socrates for to drink? but he full meekly with all mildness and patience, without trembling for fear and changing either countenance or colour for the matter, drunk it off roundly; and after he was dead, those that survived, judged him happy, as one who in the other world made account to live an heavenly and blessed life: presentest thou fire to burn withal? lo, how Decius a Roman captain hath prevented thee; who when there was a fire made in the mids between two armies for to consume him, voluntarily and with a formal prayer offered himself as an holocaust or burnt offering unto Saturn, according to his vow made for the safety of the Roman empire. The honest and chaste dames of the Indians, such as entirely love their husbands, strive and be ready to fight one with another about the funeral fire; and as for her who obtaineth the victory, and is burned therein together with the dead corpse of her husband, all there? do deem right happy, and testify so much in their hymns and songs. As for the Sages and wise Philosophers of those parts, there is not one of them all reputed a holy man or blessed, if he do not whiles he is alive, in perfect health and found sense and understanding, separate his own soul from the body by the means of fire, and after he hath cleansed and consumed all that was mortal, depart out of the flesh all clean & pure: but (forsooth) from abundance of wealth and riches, from an house sumptuously built and furnished, from a costly and dainty table full of fine & delicate viands, thou wilt bring me to a poor threadbare cloak, to a bag and wallet, and to begging of my daily bread from door to door; well, even these things were the cause of Diogenes felicity; these won unto Crates freedom and glory: but thou wilt crucify me or cause me to be hanged upon a jibbet, or stick my body thorough with a sharp stake? and what cared Theodorus whether his corpse rotten above ground or under the earth? these were the happy sepultures of Tartarians and of the Hyrcanians, to be eaten and devoured of dogs; as for the Bactrians, by the laws of the country those were thought to have had the most blessed end, whom the fowls of the air did eat after they were dead; Who then are they whom these and such accidents do make unhappy? even such as are falsehearted, baseminded, senseless and void of understanding, untaught, and not exercised in affairs of the world, and in one word, such as retain still the opinions which were imprinted in them from their infancy. Thus you see how fortune alone is not a sufficient worke-mistresse of unhappiness and infelicity, in case she have not sin and vice to aid and help her: for like as a thread is able to divide and saw (as it were) thorough a bone which hath lain soaking long before in ashes and vinegar; and as workmen can bend, bow and bring into what fashion they will, ivory, after it hath been infused and mollified in ale or beer, and otherwise not; even so fortune coming upon that which is already of itself crazy and corrupt, or hath been sustained by vice, is of power to pierce, wound and hollow the same.  
Moreover, like as the poison Pharicum, otherwise called Napethus or Aconitum, being hurtful to no other person, nor doing harm to those who handle and bear it about them; but if it touch never so little one that is wounded, presently killeth him by means of the sore or wound which receiveth the influxion and venom thereof; even so he whose soul is like to be destroyed and overthrown by fortune, aught to have within himself and in his own flesh some ulcer, some imposthume or malady for to make those accidents which befall outwardly, wretched, pitiful, and lamentable. What? is vice then of that nature that it had need of fortunes helping hand to work wretchedness & infelicity? from what coast I pray you doth not fortune raise tempests upon the sea, and trouble the water with surging billows? environeth not she and besetteth the foot of desert mountains, with the ambushes and forelaying of thieves and robbers? poureth not she down with great violence, storms of hailstones out of the clouds upon the fertile cornfields? was it not vice and malice that stirred up Melitus, Anytus, and Callixenus to be sycophants and false accusers? is it not she that bereaveth folk of their goods, impeacheth and disableth men for being commanders and leaders of armies, and all to make them unhappy? nay she it is that maketh them rich and plentiful; she heapeth upon them heritage's and possessions; she accompanieth them at sea; she is always close unto them and near at hand; she causeth them to consume and pine with lusts and desires; she inflameth and setteth them on fire with choler and anger; she troubleth their minds with vain superstitions, and draweth them away after the lusts of their eyes.    

HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF WITHOUT INCURRING ENVY AND BLAME.  

The Summarie.  
IMpossible it is during the time that we sojorne in this life, that our spirit which knoweth not how to be still and at rest, should not stir and move the tongue to speakeof the actions either of other men or of our own; whereby we cannot choose but incur marvelous dangers of flattery, slander, or else of selfe-praise; insomuch as not without good cause that man hath been called perfect, who knoweth well to moderate this little member, which is at it were the bit and bridle of the whole body of man, and the very helm and stern of that ship or vessel in which we row and hull to and fro in the sea of this world. Requisite it is therefore, that moral philosophy should speak, to the end that it may teach us for to speak. We have seen before in many discourses the duty of every one towards his neighbours, as well in words as in deeds: but in this treatise Plutarch showeth the carriage of a man towards himself, and above all in that may which is most slippery, to wit, in the question of our own praises: then after he hath laid this for a ground and foundation; That it is an unseemly thing for a man to make himself seem great by vain babble, and alleged the reasons wherefore, he setteth down one general exception; to wit, that a virtuous man may praise himself in certain cases and occurrences, the which (after he hath taxed the ambition of those who set up a note of their own praises to be chanted aloud by others) he particularizeth upon these points; to wit, if he be driven to answer unto some false slanderer; if a man be in any distress and adversity, or if he be blamed for the best deeds that he hath done. After this, he enterlaceth certain advertisements or corrections; to wit, that a man ought to mingle his own praises with those of other men; that he ascribe not the whole honour of a worthy deed to his own self; that he utter only those things which be chief and principal, and stand upon that which is most commendable; and that he give a certain lustre thereto, by the foil of confessing his own imperfections: which done, he proceedeth to declare what kind of men they ought to be who are allowed to praise themselves; to what this praise ought to be referred and have respect; and wherefore they should enter into it; moreover, at what time, and for what occasion he ought to make head unto a third, who would do sufficiently; and for a final conclusion, he proposeth an excellent means to avoid the troubles and inconveniences that might arise from importunate praise, willing that the party who speaketh of his own good parts should fly all ambition, not please himself in rehearsing and recital of his own exploits, take heed how in selfe-praising he feign praises, and nevertheless in blaming his neighbour to be content for to be praised of another, without putting himself between and speaking in his own behalf. In sum, since there is nothing so odious as to see and hear a man speak exceeding much of himself, he concludeth that in no wise a man ought so to do, unless there accrue thereby great profit and commodity to the hearers.   

HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE himself without incurring envy and blame.  
TO speak much of ones self in praise, either what he is in person, or of what valour and power among others; there is no man (friend Herculanus) but by word of mouth will profess it is most odious, and unbeseeming a person well borne and of good bringing up; but in very deed few there be who can take heed and beware of falling into the inconvenience and enormity thereof, no not even those who otherwise do blame and condemn the same: as for Euripides when he saith, 
If words were costly men among, for to be bought and sold,  
No man to praise and magnify himself would be so bold:  
But now (since that each one may take out of the air so large,  
As much as will his mind suffice, without his cost and charge)  
Well pleased are all men of themselves to speak what comes in thought,  
As well untruth as what is true, for speech them 〈◊〉 nought.  doth use a most odious and importune vanterie, especially in this, that he would seem to interlace amongst the passionate accidents and affairs of Tragical matters, the speech of a man's self, which is not befitting nor pertinent unto the subject argument; semblably Pindarus, having said in one place, 
To brag and vaunt unseasonably,  
Sound's much of 〈◊〉 and vain-folly,  ceaseth not nevertheless, to magnify his own sufficiency in the gift of poetry, as being (in truth) worthy of right great praise, as no man can deny. But those who are crowned with garlands in those sacred plays and games, are declared victors and conquerors by the voice of others, who thereby ease them of that odious displeasure that selfe-praise carrieth with it. And in very deed our heart riseth against that vain glory of Timotheus, in that he wrote himself (as touching the victory which he achieved against Phrynis) Oh happy man thou Timotheus; at what time as the herald proclaimed with a loud voice these words: Timotheus the Milesian hath conquered jonocamptes that son of Carbo: for surely this carrieth with it no grace at all, but is a mere absurdity and against all good fashion, for a man to be the trumpeter of his own victory: for true it is according to Xenophon; That the most pleasant voice that a man can hear, is his own praise delivered by another, but the most odious thing unto others, is a man commending himself: for first and foremost, we esteem them to be impudent who praise themselves, considering that they ought rather to blush and be ashamed even when others fall to praise them in their presence: secondly, we repute them unjust herein, for that they give and attribute that to themselves which they should receive at the hands of others: thirdly, either if we keep silence when we hear one to praise himself, it seemeth we are discontented or do bear envy unto him, or if we fear that, compelled we are ourselves to confirm and approve those praises, and to give testimony thereof against our own mind; a thing more beseeming vile and base flattery, than true honour, namely, if we can abide to praise any in presence. Howbeit, although this be most true, and that the case standeth so, such occurrences may so fall out, that an honourable person who manageth the politic affairs of a commonwealth, may hazard and venture boldly to speak of himself and in his own behalf for his advantage, not in regard of any glory, grace or pleasure to gain thereby, but for that the occasion or action that is presented, requireth that he should speak and give testimony of himself, as he would and might do of any other matter of truth, especially when the deeds by him achieved or the parts that be in him be good and honest, than he is not to forbear or spare to speak hardly, that he hath done so or else much like: for surely such a praise as this, bringeth forth good fruit, and out of it as from a fruitful grain or seed, there proceed many other praises, & those far greater. And certes, a civil and politic man doth not desire and love honour as a salary, solace or recompense for his virtuous actions; but for that to have the credit and reputation among others of a trusty and faithful person, in whom men may repose their trust and confidence, doth afford him good means and occasions to perform many other greater and more goodlier actions: for a pleasant and easy matter it is to benefit them who love thee and put their trust in thee; whereas on the contrary side, exceeding hard it is, or rather impossible, to make use of virtue, and to employ it to the good of those who have thee in suspicion, or be ready to raise false calumniations against thee, and so to force them who do avoid the means of receiving any good and pleasure at thy hands.  
Moreover, it would be considered, what other occasions there may be, for which a man of honour and honesty may praise himself; to the end that by taking good heed and avoiding of that which in selfe-praise is so vain and odious, we fail not to serve our turns with the profit and commodity that may come thereby. Now of all others, most foolish is their praise who commend themselves to this end, that they would be praised of others; and such praise as this we hold most contemptible, for that it seemeth to proceed from ambition and an unseasonable appetite of vainglory only: for like as those who have no other food to feed upon, be constrained to eat the flesh of their own bodies against nature, which is the very extremity and end of famine; even so those that hunger after honour and praise, if they can not meet with others to praise them, fall to praise themselves; wherein their behaviour is unseemly and shameful, for that upon a love of vainglory they are desirous to make a supply and sufficiency from their own selves; but yet when as they go not simply to work nor seek to be praised by themselves, but upon a certain emulation and jealousy of other men's praises, they come to compare and oppose their own deeds for to dim and darken the actions of others; then over and beside their vanity, they add thereto envy and malice; for according to the common proverb: He is curious and ridiculous, who setteth his foot in another man's dance; but upon envy and jealousy to thrust a man's self between the praises of others, and to interrupt the same with his own selfe-praise, is a thing that we ought to beware of; and not only so, but also to take heed that we suffer not others at such a time to praise us, but gently to yield honour unto those who are worthy to be praised and honoured; and if peradventure, they be unworthy and deserve not the same, yet ought not we to deprive them of the praises which are given unto them, by interposing our own, but rather stand up against them, convince them openly, and prove by evident and pregnant reasons that there is no cause why they should be reputed so great, and be so highly honoured. As touching this point therefore, plain and evident it is, that we ought not so to do, howbeit, a man may praise himself without blame: first and foremost, if he do it by way of his own defence in answering to a slander raised, or an imputation charged upon him; like as Pericles did in Thucydides, where he uttereth these words: And yet you my masters of Athens are angry with me, who may vaunt of myself to be such an one as need not to give place unto any whatsoever, either in foresight and knowledge of that which is behoveful to the commonwealth, or in eloquence and delivery thereof, or in love to the State, or in sincere integrity, free from all corruption, bribery and avarice, against which I stand invincible: for in speaking thus magnificently of himself in such a case, he did not only avoid the blame and reproach of vanity, of arrogancy and presumptuous ambition, but also that which more is, he showed withal his wisdom and greatness, yea, and the magnanimity of virtue, which was so far from being humbled and dejected, that it rather conquered and held under hand, envy; insomuch as others hearing such men speak in this wise, proceed not any farther nor be willing to judge and censure them, but are carried away and ravished with a certain joy, yea and inspired (as it were) from heaven to hear such brave vaunteries; namely, if the persons be constant and the reports which they make true, according as the effects which follow do testify. The Thebans verily (at what time as their captains were accused, for that when the term of their government and magistracy, called Boeotarchia, was expired, they returned not incontinently home, but made an invasion and entered in arms into Laconia, and dealt in the administration of affairs about the city of Messaene) hardly and with much ado assoiled and quit Pelopidas, when he humbled himself and became a suppliant unto them for pardon: but chose, when Epaminondas came and recounted in magnificent words those brave exploits which he had achieved in that voyage and at the same time, protesting in the end that he was priest and ready to take his death, so that they would confess and acknowledge, that maugre their minds and against their wills he had peeled and spoiled Laconia, repeopled Messaene, and reduced into a league and amity with them all the cities of Arcadia, they had not the heart so much as to give their voices and suffrages in any sentence of condemnation against him, but departed out of the assembly, admiring the haughty courage of the man, and rejoicing with mirth and laughter to hear him plead him cause with resolution. And therefore the speech of Sthenelus in Homer is not simply and altogether to be reproved, when he saith: 
Pronounce I dare and it avow, we better warriors be  
In these days than our fathers were by many a degree.  If we call to mind and remember the precedent words a little before: 
Thou son of noble Tydëus a wise and hardy knight.  
How is it that thy heart doth pant, for fear when thou shouldst fight?  
Why dost thou cast thine eye about, and look on every side?  
How thou mayst out of battle scape, and dar'st not field abide.  for it was not Sthenelus himself unto whom this sharp and bitter speech was addressed, but he replied thus in the behalf of his friend whom he had thus reproached, and therefore so just a cause and so fit an occasion gave him liberty to speak thus bravely and boldly of himself. As for the citizens of Rome, they were offended & displeased much with Cicero praising himself so much as he did, and namely relating so often the worthy deeds by him done against Catiline; but chose, when Scipio said before them all in a public assembly: That it was not meet and seemly for them to sit as judges upon Scipio, considering that by his means they were grown to that grandence as to judge all the world; they put chaplets of flowers upon their heads, and in this wise adorned, mounted up together with him into the temple of the Capitol, for to sacrifice and render thanks unto Jupiter: and good reason both of the one and the other; for Cicero rehearsed his own praiseworthy deeds so many times without any need enforcing him thereto, only to glorify himself; but the present peril wherein the other stood, freed him from all hatred and envy, notwithstanding he spoke in his own praise. Moreover, this vanterie and glorious boasting of a man's self, is not befitting those only who are accused or in trouble and danger of the law, but to as many also as be in adversity rather than in prosperity; for that it seemeth that these reach and catch (as it were) at glory and take pleasure and joy therein, only to gratify and content therein their own ambitious humour; whereas the other by reason of the quality of the time, being far from all suspicion of vain glory and ambition, do pluck up and erect themselves upright against fortune, sustaining and upholding what they can the generosity of their minds, avoiding as much as lieth in them that base conceit, to be thought for to beg commiseration and crave pity, as if they would be moaned for their misadventures, and thereby bewray their abject hearts. For like as we take them for fools and vainglorious fellows, who as they walk ordinarily, lift up themselves, and bear their heads and necks aloft; but chose, we praise and commend those who erect their bodies, and do all they can to put forth themselves, either in fight at sharp, or in buffeting with fists; even so, a man who being overthrown by adverse fortune, raiseth himself up again upon his feet, and addresseth his whole might to make head, 
Like as the champion doth arise,  
Upon his hands to win a prize.  and in stead of showing himself humble, suppliant and pitiful, by glorious words maketh a show of bravery and haughty courage, seemeth not thereby proud and presumptuous, but chose, great, magnanimous and invincible. Thus in one place the poet Homer depainteth Patroclus modest and nothing at all subject to envy, when he had done any exploit fortunately and with valour; but at his death when he was ready to yield the ghost, he described him to speak bravely in this wise: 
If twenty such with all their might,  
Had met with me in open fight, etc.  And Photion who otherwise was always meek and modest, after that he saw himself condemned, gave all the world to understand his magnanimity, as in many other things, so especially in this point, that he said unto one of those that were to suffer death with him, who made a piteous moan and great lamentation: How now man, what is that thou sayest? doth it not thee good at the heart to think that thou shalt die with Photion? And verily, no less, but rather much more it is permitted to a man of State, who is injuriously dealt withal for to speak somewhat frankly of himself, namely unto those who seem to be oblivious and unthankful. Thus Achilles at other times rendered the glory of fortunate success in his affairs to the heavenly power of God, and spoke modestly in this manner: 
That Jupiter would give us power and strength,  
Troy city strongly walled to win at length.  But otherwise when indignities were offered unto him, and he unjustly wronged and abused, he sang another note, and displayed his tongue at large in anger, breaking out into these haughty and brave words: 
With ships of mine well man'd with soldiers brave,  
By force of arms twelve cities won I have.  Also: 
For why? approach they dare not near to me,  
The brightness of my morion for to see.  For liberty of frank speech, being a part of justification and defence in law, is allowed to use great words for plea. And verily Themistocles according to this rule, who all the while that he performed the exploits of noble service in his own country, never did or said aught that savoured of odious pride; yet when he once saw that the Athenians were full of him, and that they made account of him no more, forbore not to say unto them thus: What mean you my masters of Athens thus to disdain & be weary of those at whose hands you receive so oftentimes benefits; In time of storm and tempest you fly to them for refuge, and shroud yourselves in their protection as under the harbour and covert of a spreading tree; no sooner is the storm overblown and the weather fair again, but you are ready to give a twitch at them, and every one to pull and break a branch thereof as you pass by. Thus you see how these men perceiving themselves otherwise injuried, in their discontentment stick not to rehearse their service and good deeds past and cast them in their teeth who are forgetful thereof. But he that is blamed and suffereth a reproach for things well done, is altogether for to be excused and unblamable, in case he set in hand to praise his own deeds, forasmuch as he seemeth nor to reproach and upbraid any, but to answer only in his own defence, & to justify himself. Certes, this it was that gave unto Demosthenes an honest and laudable liberty to speak for his own behoof; and he avoided thereby all tedious satiety of his own praises, which he used throughout that whole oration, entitled Of the crown, wherein he gloried and vaunted of that which was imputed unto him as reprochable, to wit, the embassages in which he went, and the decrees which he had enacted as touching the war. Moreover, not far from these points above rehearsed, the reversing of an objection by way of Antithesis may be placed, and carrieth with it a good grace; to wit, when the defendant doth prove and show that the contrary to that wherewith he is charged and accused, is wicked and dishonest: After which manner the orator Lycurgus, at Athens in his plea and answer to those who laid to his charge that he had given a piece of money to a sycophant for to stop his mouth & appease him: What kind of citizen (quoth he) do you take me for to be? who all this long time that I have dealt in the government and managing of State affairs among you, am challenged before you rather to have given than taken silver injustly. Likewise Cicero, when Metellus said unto him that he had undone and brought to confusion more men by his testimony, than saved by his patronage and eloquence; And what man is there (quoth he) who will not say by this, that there is more fidelity in me, than force of utterance. Also these places in Demosthenes; And who would not justly have condemned me to die, if I had but once gone about in bare word to contaminate the honours and glorious titles that this city hath? again, And what (think ye) would these wicked persons have said, if whiles I discoursed particularly of these points, the cities had fallen away and revolted: In sum, that whole oration throughout concerning the Crown, most finely and wittily inferreth his own praises among those oppositions & solutions which he allegeth. Over and beside, it is worth the noting and learning, as a most profitable point, how cunningly in the said oration, and how artificially he intermeddled with the speeches that he gave out of himself, the commendations also of the hearers, and thereby freed himself from the taint of envy, hatred, and self-love; namely in avowing how good and gracious the Athenians were to those of Euboea; how worthily they demeaned themselves toward the Thebans; what good turns they had done to the Bryzantines, as also how beneficial they had been to the inhabitants of Chersonnesus; saying withal, that himself was but their minister. For I assure you by this means the hearer himself being secretly won and gained ere he is aware by his own praises, enterteineth more willingly and with greater pleasure the speech of the orator; well contented he is and pleased to hear the good deeds related by another which he hath done; and upon this joy of his there ensueth incontinently an admiration and love of those, by whose means he hath achieved those acts. Hereupon Epaminondas one day in open place, when Meneclidas, one of his envious and malicious adversaries mocked him for that he magnified and thought better of himself than ever did king Agamemnon; Grand mercy, you my masters of Thebes (quoth he) with whom alone I overthrew in one day and subverted the whole dominion of the Lacedæmonians. Now forasmuch as the most part of men ordinarily mislike in their hearts, and are mightily offended with one that praiseth himself, but fare not so against him that commendeth another; nay many times they are well pleased therewith, and ready to confirm such praises by their own testimonies: some are wont to have this devise, namely, in taking their time and opportunity, to commend those who love, choose, and do the self same things, and briefly who are of the like conditions, and given to the same humour with themselves, do wind and insinuate into the grace and favour of the hearer, and by such an occasion draw his heart unto them; for streightwaies he doth acknowledge in the speaker although he speaketh of another, the resemblance and similitude of the like virtue which deserveth the same praises: for like as he who reproacheth another man for those vices whereof himself is guilty, doth hurt his own person more than the party whom he seemeth to touch; even so good and honest men in yielding honour to those persons who are good, do as much as make mention of themselves to such as are privy to their virtues, and know them well enough; insomuch as presently they are ready to follow and second them them with these and such like acclamations; And are not you also the same in every respect? After 〈◊〉 sort Alexander in honouring Hercules; and Androcopus likewise in honouring Alexander, procured to themselves each one due honour from the semblable. chose Dionysius by mocking Gelon, and saying by allusion to his name; that he was Gelos indeed (that is to say) the Laughter and mockery of Sictlie, perceived not how before he was aware, by the envy that he drew upon him himself, he overthrew the greatness and dignity of his own puissance and signory. A man of State therefore and a politician, aught to learn, observe and practise these rules even in other cases also. And as for those who otherwhiles are enforced to praise themselves, they shall cause this selfe-praise of theirs to be more tolerable and less subject to envy and hard conceit, in case they take not all to themselves, and attribute the whole to their own worthiness; but as if glory were some heavy and weighty burden, discharge one part thereof upon fortune, and another upon God; and therefore wisely said Achilles in Homer: 
Since that th'almighty Gods have given me grace,  
Mine enemy to overthrow in place.  Well likewise did Timoleon at Saracose, who upon his valiant and noble exploits dedicated an altar to Bon-adventure, and likewise consecrated an house to his good Angel. But best of all and most wisely did that Python the Aenean, who being arrived at Athens after he had murdered King Cotys, when the orators strove a-vie one with another, who should extol and set forth his praises most unto the people, and perceiving some to carry an envious eye unto him, and be highly displeased with him; as he passed by, broke forth into these words: It was some God (quoth he) o ye Athenians that did this deed, as for myself, I did but lend my helping hand. Semblably, Sylla exempted his own acts from envy, in giving always the praise to his good fortune; in so much as in the end, he surnamed himself 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, lovely, fortunate, or Venus' darling. For all men in manner would seem to be vanquished rather by fortune, than conquered by virtue; for that they think the one to be a good, not pertinent to the conqueror, and the other a proper defect and imperfection of their own, and which proceedeth from themselves: which is the reason by report, that the laws of Zalenus wonderfully pleased the Locrians, for that he put into their heads and bore them in hand, that the goddess Minerva appeared and came many times unto him; that she indited and taught him those laws which he penned and gave unto them; finally, that there was nor one of them proceeding from his head, counsel and invention. Peradventure therefore necessary it is to devise these and such like remedies, and lenitive medicines to meet with those persons, who are by nature fierce and envious; but to such as as be of the better sort, and of a modest and temperate disposition, it would not be impertinent and absurd to use certain corrections of praises in this case: as for example; If one haply in our presence fall to praise us for being eloquent, learned, rich, or in great reputation, to pray him not to give such reports of us, but rather for to commend us if we be good and bountiful, hurtful to none, and profitable to many; for in so doing, we seem not to confer praises upon ourselves, but to transfer them; not to take pleasure in them that praise us, but rather to be grieved and displeased, that we are not praised for such things as we ought, nor as we should; as also to hide the worse qualities under the better, not so much willing and desirous to be praised, as to teach how it is meet to praise: for this manner of speech (neither with stone nor brick have I fortified and walled this city, but if you will needs know how I have fenced it, you shall find that I have furnished it with armour, horses, confederates and allies) seemeth to come near and tend unto such a rule: yea and the saying of Pericles toucheth it nearer; for when the hour of his death now approached, and that he was to go out of this world, his kinsfolk and familiar friends, weeping, wailing, and grieving thereat (as good reason was) called to mind and rehearsed the armies that he had conducted, the expeditions which he had made, his puissance that he had borne, as also how many victories he had achieved, what Trophies he had erected, what towns & cities he had conquered, and laid to the signory of the Athenians; all which he now should leave behind him: but he lifting up himself a little, reproved and blamed them greatly, for relating and alleging those praises, which were common to many, and whereof some were more due to fortune than to virtue; whiles they omitted and let pass the greatest and most beautiful commendation of all others, and that which truly and indeed properly belonged unto him: namely, that for his sake, there was never any Athenian that put on black or wore a mourning gown: this example of his, giveth both unto an orator if he be praised for his singular eloquence, means and occasion to transfer the praise unto his life and manners; and also to a warrior & general captain, who is had in admiration for his martial prowess, experience, or fortunate success in wars, to stand rather upon his clemency and justice and thereof freely to discourse. And chose again, when a man hath excessive praises heaped upon him (as the manner commonly of many is, by way of flattery to give those commendations which move envy) meet it is to use such a speech as this: 
With gods in heaven above I have no share,  
To them therefore why dost thou me compare?  But if thou knowest me aright, and takest me truly for such an one as I am, praise these good parts in me; that I am uncorrupt and not overtaken with gifts and bribery; that I am sober and temperate; that I am sensible, reasonable, full of equity and humanity. For the nature of envy, is willingly to yield unto him that refuseth the greater praises those that be less and more modest; neither depriveth she of true commendation those who will not admit and receive false and vain praises: and therefore men think not much to honour those Kings and Princes who who are unwilling to be styled gods or the children of gods, but rather to be entitled either Philadelphi, that is, Kind to brothers and sisters; or Philometores, that is, Loving to their mothers; or Euergetoi, that is, Benefactors; or else Theophiles, that is, dearly beloved of the gods; which are goodly and beautiful denominations, meet for men and good princes: like as again, those who hardly will endure them, that either in writing or speaking, attribute unto them the name of Sophi, that is, Sages or wise men, can well abide to hear those who name them Philosophi, that is, Lovers of wisdom; or such as say of them, that they profit in the study of wisdom, or give them such like attribute as is modest and not subject to envy; whereas these ambitious rhetoricians and vainglorious Sophisters, who in their orations (to show their learning) expect these and such like acclamations from their auditory: O divine and angellike speech! o heavenly and magnifically spoken; lose withal this commendation, as to be said for to have delivered their mind modestly, courteously, and as becometh civil men. Certes, like as they who be loath and take heed to offend and hurt them that are bleere-eied or otherwise given to the pain and inflammation of them, do mingle among the gallant and lively colours, some duskish shadows; even so, some there be, who in rehearsing their own praises not altogether resplendent & clear without any mixture at all, but intermeddled with some imperfections, defects and light faults among, by that means discharge themselves of the heavy load of envy and hatred. Thus Epireus in Homer, giving out glorious words of his wrestling and buffet-fight, vaunting bravely of his valour, 
As if he would his teen and anger wreak  
Upon him, and with fists his bones all break.  said withal: 
Is't not enough that herein I do vant?  
For other skill in combat I do want.  But haply this man is worthy to be mocked and laughed at, who for to excuse his arrogant bravery of a wrestler and champion, bewrayed and confessed that otherwise he was but a fearful coward; whereas chose that man is of judgement, civil also and gracious beside, who allegeth against himself some oblivion or ignorance, some ambitious spirit, or else a desire to hear and learn the Sciences and other knowledge, like as Ulysses when he said: 
But lo my mind desirous was to hearken and give ear,  
I willed my mates me to unlose, that I might go more near.  And again in another place; 
Although much better it had been, yet would I not believe:  
But see his person, and then try if gifts he would me give.  To be short, all sorts of faults, so they be not altogether dishonest and overbase, if they be set unto praises, rid them of all envy and hatred; and many other there be, who interposing a confession of poverty, want of experience, yea, and (believe me) their base parentage, among their praises, cause them thereby to be less odious and envied. Thus Agathocles, as he sat drinking unto young men out of gold and silver plate right curiously wrought, commanded other vessels of stone, earth and potter's work to be set upon the table, saying unto them: Lo (quoth he) what it is to persevere in travel, to take pains, and adventure valiantly? for we in times past made those pots, (pointing to the earthen vessel) but see, now we make these, (showing the plate of gold and silver: and verily it seemed that Agathocles (by reason of his base birth and poverty) was brought up in some potter's forge, who afterward became the absolute monarch (almost) of all Sicily. Thus it appeareth what remedies may be applied outwardly, to avoid envy, if a man be forced to speak of himself: other means there are beside, inhaerent (after a sort) even in them who be in this wise praised; and such Cato made use of, when he said, that he was envied, because he neglected his own affairs, and sat up watching whole nights for the good and safety of his country. Like to which is this speech: 
What wisdom think you was in me, who clean exempt from care,  
From charge and travel, like some one, who in the army were  
A plain and common soldier might enjoy within the host  
My fortune with the wisest of them all that meddle most?  as also this other: 
I doubt and fear, that of my labours past,  
The thank is gone, end carried with a blast;  
And yet those pains that now presented be  
A fresh, reject unneath I will from me.  For men ordinarily bear envy unto those who seem to acquire glory gratis, without any cost, and to come by virtue easily, like as if they purchased house or land for a little or nothing; whereas seldom or never they envy such as have bought the same very dear, with many travels and great dangers. And forasmuch as we ought in praising of ourselves to effect not only this; that we offend not the hearers thereby nor procure their envy, but endeavour also to profit them and do them good, as if we seemed not to aim at one selfe-praise, but to shoot at some other thing: in so doing consider first and foremost when a man is in a vein of praising himself, whether he may do it by way of exhortation, to kindle a zeal, and exercise a kind of emulation and strive for glory in the hearers; after the example of Nestor, who in recounting his own prowess and valiant service, encouraged Patroclus and the other nine gallants and brave knights, to enter combat and single fight with Hector: for an exhortation which hath word and deed to meet together, carrying with it example, with a familiar zeal and imitation, is wonderful quick and lively, it pricketh, provoketh and stirreth exceedingly, and together with a resolute courage and ardent affection, it carrieth with it the hope of compassing things very accessible and in no wise impossible: and therefore of the three renowned dances and quites in Lacedaemon, one which consisted of old men, chanted thus: 
The ume was, when we gallants were,  
Youthful and hardy, void of fear.  another, of children, sung in this wise: 
And we one day shall be both tall and strong,  
And far surpass, if that we live so long.  the third, namely of young men, had this ditty: 
But we are come to proof, and now at best,  
Try who that will, to fight we are now priest.  wherein the lawgiver, who instituted these dances, did wisely and politicly, to propose unto young men such familiar examples and at hand, even by those things that were done and executed. Yet nevertheless, it were not amiss, otherwhiles to vaunt and to speak highly and magnifically of ones self, for to daunt, beat down, repress, and keep (as it were) under hand, a bragging and audacious fellow, like as Nestor himself did again in another place: 
Conversed have I in my days, with men of better deed  
Than you iwis, and yet'disdaine they never would my reed.  Semblably said Aristotle unto king Alexander: That lawful it was and beseeming not only for those to have an haughty mind, who had many subjects under them at their command; but such also as held true opinions as touching the gods. And verily these points are commodious for us otherwhiles, even in regard of our enemies, foes, and evil willers, according to that verse in Homer: 
Children they are of wretched sires, and borne to misadventure,  
Whose luck it is my force of arms in battle to encounter.  Agesilaus also, having speech upon a time as touching the King of Persia, who usually was called the Great Monarch: And wherein (quoth he) is that king greater than myself, if he be not more just and righteous. Epaminondas likewise replied upon the Lacedæmonians, who had framed a long accusation against the Thebans: Well it is (quoth he) and a good turn that we yet have made you give over your accustomed short speech. Thus much of those rules which concern either our private and particular evil willers, or our public enemies.  
As for our friends and fellow-citizens, we may likewise by using fitly in time and place, and as the case requireth haughty language, not only take down and cause those to vail bonnet who are over-proude and audacious; but also on the other side raise up and encourage such, as be dismayed, astonished and beyond measure timorous. For Cyrus also in the mids of battle and dangers of war was wont to speak bravely, but elsewhere not. And Antigonus the younger or second of that name, who otherwise was in words sober, modest, and nothing proud; yet in a battle at sea which he fought near the isle Cos; when one of his friends about him said a little before the medley began: See you not sir how many more ships our enemies have than we? Why (quoth he) for how many ships dost thou reckon me? And it should seem that Homer was of the same mind and meant so much, when he feigneth that Ulysses seeing his people affrighted with the hideous noise and fearful tempest that issued out of the gulf Charybdis, called to their remembrance his subtle engine and singular valour, in saying thus unto them: 
My friends and mates, this accident is not so dangerous,  
As when that monstrous Cyclops he, a giant furious,  
Us turned and coursed with mighty force about his hollow cave,  
Yet thence we chased him by my wit, advice, and prowess brave.  For this manner of praising proceedeth not from a glozing vainglorious orator, not a vaunting Sophister, nor from one that seeketh applause, and clapping of hands; but beseemeth a parsonage who pawneth unto his friends, as a gage of assurance and confidence his own virtue and sufficiency. For a matter this is of great importance & consequence tending to safety in dangerous times, to wit, the opinion, reputation and affiance, that we may have of a man in authority, and the experienced prowess of a captain. Now albeit I have sufficiently showed before, that it is neither convenient nor seemly for a man of State and honour to oppose himself against the glory and praise of another; yet nevertheless when the case so standeth, that a false and perverse commendation doth bring hurt and damage, and by example inferreth a dangerous imitation of evil things, together with a wicked purpose and lewd intention in matters of great moment, it were not amiss to repulse the same back, or rather to divert and turn away the hearer unto better things, and open unto him the difference: for in mine advice a man may well take content and delight, to see that men abstain willingly from vice, when they perceive it to be blamed and reproved; but in am of condemning it, if they hear it commended, and if over and beside the pleasure and profit that commonly it seemeth to bring with it, it be held also in honour and reputation, there is not a nature so happy and blessed, nor so strong and stout withal, but she is able to conquer it: and therefore a man of policy and government ought to make war and fight, not so much against the praises of persons, as of things, in case they be corrupt and nought: for these they be that spill and mar our manners, by reason that with such praises there entereth commonly a will to imitate and follow such dishonest and foul actions, as if they were good and seemly: but then most of all are they detected what they be, and do appear in their colours, when they are compared in opposition with true praises indeed. Thus it is reported, that Theodorus the Tragedian actor, said upon a time unto Satyrus a Comical player: That it was no great marvel to make the spectators to laugh, but rather a matter of wonder to cause them for to weep and cry: but (I suppose) a sage and wise philosopher may well say thus unto the same Theodorus: Nay (good sir) it is not so great a matter to set men a weeping and wailing, but rather to still and stay their sorrow and lamentation, were an admirable thing: for if a man praise himself in this sort, he profiteth the hearer and changeth his judgement. Thus did Zeno speak of the great number of Theophrastus his scholars, who resorted unto his school: His choir (quoth he) is greater than mine, but yet mine acordeth better and maketh the sweeter harmony. Photion likewise, when as Leosthenes still flourished and bore a great name, being demanded by the Rhetoricians who used to make solemn orations, what good himself had ever done to the weal-public, answered them in this manner: None other (quoth he) but this, that all the whiles I was lord General, and had the conduct of an army, none of all you made ever any funeral oration, but interred all your citizens who departed this life in the sepulchres and monuments of your ancestors. As for Crates when he read these verses containing the Epitaph of Sardanapalus: 
What hath gone down my throat I have, my wanton sports remain,  
Which Lady Venus did vouchsafe, or else I count but vain.  wrote thus again very wittily and in a pleasant conceit: 
What during life I studied have and learned, is my gain,  
The skill which muses then me gave, and nought else I retain.  for such manner of praise as this, is excellent, honest, and profitable, teaching men to love, esteem and admire such things as be commodious and expedient, and not those that are vain and superfluous; and therefore this advertisement ought to be ranged with the rest before specified as touching the subject argument now in question.  
It remaineth now by order and course according as the present theme in hand requireth, and our discourse admonisheth us, to declare how every man may avoid this importunate and unseasonable selfe-praise: for surely to speak of a man's self, having self-love as a commodious fort from whence it issueth, seemeth many times to lay wait and give the assault even unto them who are of all others most modest and farthest from 〈◊〉- glory. And like as one precept of health there is, to fly and shun altogether unwholesome tracts and contagious, or at leastwise to take heed of them most carefully if a man be in them; even so there be certain dangerous times and slippery places which one shall slide and fall into upon the least occasion in the world, by rashly speaking of himself. For first and foremost those who are by nature ambitious, when they hear another man praised, commonly (as it hath been said before) advance forward to talk of themselves, and then anon this humour of selfe-praise being once provoked and tickled (as it were) with an itch, a certain desire and furious appetite of glory which hardly can be held in, taketh hold of them, especially if the party who is praised before them be but equal or inferior to them in merit: for like as they who are hungry have the greater appetite, and are provoked more to eat when they see others fall to their meat before them; even so the praise of another inflameth the jealousy of those who be given to the greedy desire of honour & glory. Secondly, the recital and discourse of those things which have been happily executed and to a man's mind, drive many men into a brave vaunting, for the joy that they conceive in relating the same: for after they be once fallen into a narration of their victories achieved in war, or the enterprises which they have fortunately managed in their sovereign government of State, or their actions and affairs performed under other chief rulers and commanders, or of the speeches which they have made to great purpose and good success and commendation, they cannot contain and hold themselves: to which kind of vaunting & speaking of oneself, we see those are most subject who are warriors and serve especially at sea; likewise this happeneth usually unto such who are come from the courts of mighty princes, or from those places where there hath been exploited some great service: for in making mention of princes and grand Seigneours, they can not choose but interlace ordinarily among, some speeches which those potentates have delivered to their commendation; and therein they do not think that they praise themselves, but recite only the commendable testimonies that others have given out, of them: and verily such as these, be of opinion that the hearers perceive them not, when they recount the embracements, greetings, salutations, and favours which kings, emperors, and such great potentates have bestowed upon them; as if forsooth they rehearsed not their own selfe-praises, but the courtesies and demonstrations of the bounty and humanity of others; whereof every one of us ought most fully and warily to look unto ourselves when we praise any one, that the said praises be pure and sincere, void of suspicion, that we do not respect & aim at an oblique self-love, & speech of our own selves, for fear lest we make the commendation of Patroclus, as it is in Homer, a covert, colour and pretence of our own praise, and by commending others cunningly, praise our own selves. Moreover, all the sort of blames and reprehensions of others, are otherwhiles very dangerous, causing those to go out of the way and stumble, who are never so little sick of vainglory; into which malady old folk many times incur, and namely when they break out into the reproof of their youngers, finding fault with their lewd manners and fashions, for then in blaming others, they fall to magnifying themselves, as if in times past they had done wonders, in comparison of those things which now they condemn: and verily such as they be we ought to give place unto, in case they be not only for age, but also in regard of their virtue and reputation venerable: for this manner of rebuke is not unprofitable, but breedeth in those who are chastised by them, a great desire and emulation withal to attain unto the like place of honour and dignity. But as for ourselves we ought to take heed and beware how we trip or tread awry in this case; for the manner of blaming our neighbours, being as it is otherwise very odious and almost intolerable, and which hath need of great caution and wariness; he that meddleth his proper praise with the blame of another, and seeketh glory by his infamy, cannot choose but be exceeding hateful and unsupportable, as if he hunted after renown and honour by the reproachful and dishonourable parts of his neighbours. Furthermore, as they who naturally are inclined and disposed to laughter, are to avoid and decline the tickle and soft handling in those parts of the body that are most smooth, sliecke and tender, which soon yielding and relenting to those light touches, stir up and provoke immediately that passion of laughing; even so this caveat and advertisement would be given unto such as passionately be given to this desire of glory, that they abstain from praising themselves, at what time as they be collauded by other: for a man that heareth himself praised, ought indeed to blush for shame, and not with a bold and shameless face to hearken thereto, nay he should do well to reprove those that report some great matter of him, rather than to find fault for saying too little, and not praising him sufficiently; a thing iwis that many men do, who are ready of themselves to prompt and suggest, yea and to infer other magnanimous facts and prowesses, so far forth that they mar all, aswell the praise that they give themselves, as the laudable testimonial of others. And I assure you many there be who flattering themselves, tickle and puff up their own conceits with nothing else but wind; others again upon a malicious intent, laying some petty praise as it were a bait for them to bite at, draw them on thereby to fall into their own commendation: some also you shall have who to that purpose will keep a questioning with them, & propose certain demands for the nonce to train them within their toil, and all to have the more matter that they might soon after laugh at. Thus in Menander the glorious soldier made good sport, being demanded of one DEMAND. 

Good sir how came you by this wound and scar?   SOLDIER. 

By dint of iavelin lanced from a far.   DEMAND. 

But how? for god's sake how? let us all know:   SOLDIER. 

As I a wall did scale I caught this blow,  
But well I see whiles that I do my best  
This to relate, these make of me a jest.   And therefore in all these cases, a man ought to be as wary as possibly he can, that he neither himself break out in his own praises, nor yet bewray his weakness and folly by such interrogatoys; and that he may in the best and most absolute manner take heed thereto, and save himself from such inconveniences, the readiest way is to observe others nearly that love to be praisers of themselves; namely to call to mind and represent unto their own remembrance how displeasant and odious a thing it is to all the world, and that there is or can be no other speech so unsavoury, tedious and irksome to hear: for suppose that we are not able to say that we suffer any other harm at their hands who praise themselves, yet we do all that we can to avoid such speech; we make shift to be delivered from it, and hasten all that we may to breath ourselves, as if it were an heavy burden which of itself and the own nature overchargeth us, insomuch as it is troublesome and intolerable even to flatterers, parasites, and needy smel-feasts in that necessity and indigence of theirs, to hear a rich man, a prince, a governor, or a king to praise himself: nay they give out that they pay the greatest portion of the shot, when they must have patience to give ear to such vanities; like unto that jester in Menander, who breaketh out into these words, 
He killeth me when at his board I sit  
And with his cheer I fatter am no whit,  
But rather pine away, you may be sure,  
When such bald jests to hear I must endure.  
And yet as wise and warlike as they seem,  
A bragging fool and lewd sot I him deem.  For considering that we are wont to say thus, not only against soldiers and glorious upstarts newly enriched, whose manner is to make much of their painted sheaths, pouring out brave and proud discourses; but also against sophisters, thetoritians, and philosophers, yea and great captains, puffed up with arrogancy and presumption, and speaking big words of themselves: If we would call to remembrance that a man's own proper praises be accompanied always with the dispraises of others, and that the end commonly of such vainglory is shame and infamy; also, that tediousness unto the hearers, is (as Demosthenes saith) the reward, and not any opinion to be reputed such as they say, we would be more sparie and forbear to speak so much of ourselves, unless some greater profit and advantage might afterwards grow either to us or to the hearers in place.    

WHAT PASSIONS AND MALADIES BE WORSE, THOSE OF THE SOUL, OR THOSE OF THE BODY?  

The Summarie.  
THis present question upon which Plutarch hath framed this declamation, whereof there remaineth extant in our hands but one little parcel, hath been of long time discussed and debated among men; the greater is our damage and detriment, that we have here no better division, nor a more ample resolution of it by so excellent a philosopher as he was: but seeing that this loss can not be recovered, let us seek for the cleared of all this matter in other authors; but principally in those, who search deeply to the very bottom, for to discover the source of all the maladies of the soul, in stead of such writers who have treated of moral philosophy, according to the doctrine and light of nature, only accompanied with precepts out of her school, and have not touched the point but superficially, as being ignorant what is original and hereditary corruption; what is sin; how it entered first into the world, what are the greatest impressions, assaults, effects, and what is the end and reward thereof. But to come unto this fragment, our author after he had showed that man of all living creatures is most miserable, declareth wherein these human miseries ought to be considered; and proveth withal, that the diseases of the soul are more dangerous than those of the body, for that they be more in number, and the same exceeding different, hard to be known and incurable, as evidently it is to be seen in effect, that those who are afflicted with such maladies, have their judgement depravate and overturned, refusing remedy with the loss of rest and repase, and a singular pleasure which they take to discover their unquietness, anxiety and misery.   

WHAT PASSIONS AND MALAdies be worse, those of the soul or those of the body?  
HOmer having viewed and considered very well the sundry sorts of living creatures mortal, compared also one kind with another, as well in the continuance as the conversation and manner of their life, concluded in the end with this exclamation, 
Lo how of creatures, all on earth which walk and draw their wind,  
More miserable none there are nor wretched than mankind.  attributing unto man this unhappy sovereignty, that he hath the superiority in all miseries whatsoever: but we setting this down for a supposition granted already, that man carrieth the victory, and surpasseth all others for his infortunity, and is already declared and pronounced the most unhappy wretch of all living creatures, will set in hand to compare him with his own self, in a certain conference of his proper calamities that follow him; and that by dividing him, not in vain and unfruitfully, but very pertinently and to good purpose, into the soul and the body, to the end that we may learn and know thereby whether we live more miserably in regard of our souls, or ourselves, that is to say, our bodies: for a disease in our body is engendered by nature; but vice and sin in the soul is first an action, but afterwards becometh a passion thereof: so that it is no small consolation, but maketh much for the contentment of our mind, to know that the worse is curable, and the lighter is that which can not be avoided.  
The fox in Aesop pleading upon a time against the leopard, as touching the variety of colours in their skins, after that the leopard had showed her body, which to the eye and in outward appearance was well marked & beset with fair spots, whereas the fox's skin was tawny, foul and ill-favoured to see to: But you (quoth he) sir Judge, if you look within, shall find me more spotted and diverse coloured than that leopard there; meaning the craft and subtlety which he had, to turn and change himself in diverse sorts, as need required; after the same manner let us say within ourselves: O man, thy body breedeth and bringeth forth many maladies and passions naturally of itself, many also it receiveth and enterteineth coming from without, but if thou wilt anatomize and open thyself, thou shalt find within, a save, an ambrie, nay a storehouse and treasury (as Democritus saith) of many evils and maladies, and those of diverse and sundry sorts, not entering and running in from abroad, but having their original sources springing out of the ground, and homebred, the which, vice abundant, rich and plenteous in passions putteth forth. Now, whereas the diseases that possess the body and the flesh, are discovered and known by their inflammations and red colour, by pulses also or beating of the arteries, and namely, when the visage is more red or pale than customably it is, or when some extraordinary heat or lassitude, without apparent cause, bewrayeth them: chose, the infirmities and maladies of the soul are hidden many times unto those that have them, who never think that they be sick and ill at ease; and in this regard worse they be, for that they deprive the patients of the sense and feeling of their sickness: for the discourse of reason, whiles it is sound and hole, feeleth the maladies of the body; but as for the diseases of the soul, whiles reason herself is sick, she hath no judgement at all of that which she suffereth, for the self same that should judge is diseased; and we are to deem and esteem, that the principal and greatest malady of the soul is folly, by reason whereof vice, being remediless and incurable in many, is cohabitant in them, liveth and dieth with them: for the first degree and very beginning of a cure, is the knowledge of a disease, which leadeth and directeth the patient to seek for help; but he who will not believe that he is amiss or sick, not knowing what he hath need of, although a present remedy were offered unto him, will refuse and reject the same. And verily, among those diseases which afflict the body, those are counted worst which take a man with a privation of sense; as lethargies, intolerable headache, or frenzies, epilepsies or falling-evils, apoplexies and feavers-ardent; for these burning agues many times augment their heat so much, that they bring a man to the loss of his right wits, and so trouble the senses, as it were in a musical instrument, that 
They stir the strings at secret root of hart,  
Which touched should not be, but lie apart.  which is the reason that practitioners in physic desire and wish in the first place, that a man were not sick at all, but if he be sick, that he be not ignorant and senseless altogether of his disease; a thing that ordinarily befalleth to all those who be sick in mind: for neither witless fools, nor dissolute and loose persons, ne yet those who be unjust and deal wrongfully, think that they do amiss and sin; nay, some of them are persuaded that they do right well. Never was there man yet, who esteemed an ague to be health, nor the phthisicke or consumption to be a good plight and habit of the body, nor that the gout in the feet was good footmanship, ne yet that to be ruddy and pale or yellow, was all one, yet you shall have many who are diseased in mind, to call hastiness and choler, valiance; wanton love, amity; envy, emulation; and cowardice, wary prudence. Moreover, they that be bodily sick, send for the physicians (because they know whereof they stand in need) for to heal their diseases; whereas the other avoid and shun the sage philosophers; for they think verily that they do well when they fault most. Upon this reason we hold, that the ophthalmie, that is to say, the inflammation of bloodshotten eyes, is a less malady than Mania, that is to say, rage and furious madness; and that the gout in the feet is nothing so bad as the frenzy, which is an inflammation or imposthume bred in the brain; for the one of these patients finding himself diseased, crieth out for pain, & calleth for the physician, and no sooner is he come, but he showeth him his diseased eye for to dress and anoint, he holdeth forth his vein for to be opened, & yieldeth unto him his head for to be cured; whereas you shall hear lady Agave in the Tragaedios, so far transported out of all sense and understanding (by reason of her raging fit) that she knew not those persons which were most dear and entire unto her; for thus she saith: 
This little one here newly killed,  
And cut in pieces in the field,  
From hills we bring to dwelling place,  
How happy, o, hath been our chase!  As for him who is sick in body, presently he yieldeth thereto, he lays him down upon his pallet, or taketh his naked bed, he easeth himself all that he can, and is content and quiet all the while that the physician hath him in cure; but if peradventure he tumble and toss in his bed, fling and cast off his clothes, by reason that his body is tormented with some grievous hot fit, no sooner stirreth he never so little, but one or other that standeth or sitteth by to tend him, is ready to say gently unto him: 
Poor soul, be quiet, fear none ill,  
Dear heart, in bed see thou lie still.  he stayeth and keepeth him down, that he shall not start and leap out of his bed: but chose, those that be surprised with the passions of the soul, at such a time be most busy, than they be least in repose and quiet; for their violent motions be the causes moving their actions, and their passions are the vehement fits of such motions: this is the cause that they will not let the soul to be at rest, but even then when as a man hath most need of patience, silence and quiet retreat, they draw him most of all abroad into the open air; then are discovered soon his choleric passions, his opinionative and contentious humours, his wanton love and his grievous sorrows, enforcing him to commit many enormities against the laws, and to speak many words unseasonably, and not befitting the time.  
Like as therefore much more perilous is the tempest at sea, which impeacheth and putteth back a ship, that it can not come into the harbour to ride at anchor, than that which will not suffer it to get out of the haven and make sail in open sea; even so those tempestuous passions of the soul are more dangerous which will not permit to be at rest, nor to settle his discourse of reason once troubled, but overturneth it upside down, as being disfurnished of pilots and cables, not well balllaised in the storm, wandering to and fro without a guide and steeresmen, carried maugre into rash and dangerous courses, so long, until in the end it falleth into some shipwreck, and where it overthroweth the whole life, in such sort that in regard of these reasons and others semblable, I conclude, that worse it is to be soul-sick than diseased in body; for the bodies being sick, suffer only, but the souls if they be sick, both suffer and do also amiss. To prove this, what need we further to particularise and allege for examples many other passions, considering that the occasion of this present time is sufficient to admonish us thereof, and to refresh our memory? See you not this great multitude and press of people thrusting and thronging here about the Tribunal and common place of the city; they are not all assembled hither to sacrifice unto the Tutelar gods, Protectors of their native country, nor to participate in common the same religion and sacred ceremonies of divine service; they are not all met here together for to offer an oblation unto Jupiter Astraeus, out of the first fruits of Lydia, and to celebrate and solemnize in the honour of Bacchus, during these holy nights, his festival revils with dances, masks, and mummeries accustomed: but like as by yearly access and anniversary revolutions, the forcible vigour of the pestilence returneth for to irritate and provoke all Asia; so they resort hither to entertain their suits and processes in law to follow their pleas; and a world here is of affairs, like to many brooks and riverers which run all at once into one channel and main stream; so they are met in the same place, which is pestered and filled with an infinite multitude of people, to hurt themselves and others. From what fevers or cold, ague-fits, proceed these effects? from what tensions or remissions, augmentations or diminutions? from what distemperature of heat, or overspreading of cold humours comes all this? If you ask of every several cause here in suit, as if they were men and able to answer you from whence it arose, how it grew, and whereupon it came and first began? you shall find that one matter was engendered, by some wilful and proud anger; another proceeded from a troublesome and litigious spirit; and a third was caused by some unjust desire and unlawful lust.    

THE PRECEPTS OF WEDLOCK.  

The Summarie.  
WE have here a mixture, and medley of rules for married folk, who in the persons of Pollianus and Eurydice, are taught their mutual duty: upon which argument needless it is to discourse at large, considering that the whole matter is set out particularly, and tendeth to this point: That both at the beginning, in the sequel also and continuation of marriage, man and wife ought to assist, support, and love one another with a single heart and affection, far removed from disdainful pride, violence, vanity, and fill hinesse; the which is specified and comprised in 45. articles; howbeit in such sort, that there be some of those precepts, which savour of the corruption of those times, bewraying the insufficiency of human wisdom, unless it be lightened with God's truth. We see also in this Treatise more particular advertisements appropriate to both parties, touching their devoir as well at home as abroad; and all enriched with notable similitudes and excellent examples. In sum, if these precepts following be well weighed and practised, they are able to make man's life much more easy and commodious than it is. But Plutarch showeth sufficiently by the thirtieth rule, how hard a matter it is to retain each one in their several duty; and that in manner all do regard and look upon things with another eye, than they ought. How ever it be, those persons whom virtue hath linked and joined together in matrimony, may find here whereby to profit; and so much the more, for that they have one lesson, which natural, equity and conscience putteth them in mind of every day, if they will enter never so little into themselves, which being joined with the commandments of the heavenly wisdom, it can not be but husband and wife shall live in contentment and blessed estate.   

THE PRECEPTS OF WEDLOCK.  
PLUTARCH to POLLIANUS and EURYDICE, sendeth greeting.  
AFter the accustomed ceremonial link of marriage in this country, which the Priestresse of Ceres hath put upon you, in coupling you both together in one bedchamber, I suppose that this discourse of mine, coming as it doth to favorize and second this bond and conjunction of yours, in furnishing you with good lessons and wise nuptial advertisements, will not be unprofitable, but sound, very fitting and conformable to the customary wedding song observed in these parts. The musicians among other tunes that they had with the hautboys, used one kind of note which they called Hippotharos, which is as much to say as Leape-mare; having this opinion that it stirred and provoked stallions to cover mares. But of many beautiful and good discourses which philosophy affordeth unto us, one there is which deserveth no less to be esteemed than any other, by which she seeming to enchant and charm those who are come together to live all the days of their life in mutual society, maketh them to be more buxom, kind, tractable, and pliable one to the other. Therefore I have made a certain collection of such rules and precepts which yourselves have heard already oftentimes, being both of you trained up and nourished in the study of philosophy; and reduced them all in few words to certain principal heads and articles, to the end that they might be more easily remembered: the which I send as a common present to you both, beseeching withal, the Muses that they would vouchsafe in your behalf, and for your own sake to assist and accompany the goddess Venus; forasmuch as their office is to make a good consonance and accord in marriage and housekeeping, by the means of reason and harmony philosophical, no less than to set in tune a lute or harp, or any musical instrument.  
1 And to begin withal: This is the reason that our ancients ordained, that the image of Venus should be placed jointly with that of Mercury, as giving us thereby to understand, that the delight and pleasure of marriage, had need especially to be maintained with good language and wise speeches: they used to set also with these two images, the Graces, and Goddess of Eloquence Lady Pitho, that is, Persuasion, intending thereby that those folk whom the bond of matrimony had linked together, might obtain what they desired one at the others hand gently and by fair means, not by debate, chiding and brawls.  
2 Solon gave order and commanded that the new-wedded bride should eat of a quince before that she came in bed with her bridegroom; signifying covertly in mine opinion by this dark ceremony, that first and above all, the grace proceeding from the mouth, to wit, the breath and the voice, aught to be sweet, pleasant, and agreeable in every respect.  
3 In the country of Boeotia, the custom was upon the wedding day when the nuptial vail was put over the bride, for to set also upon her head a chaplet made of wild preckie Spirach branches, for that this plant out of a most sharp and pricking thorn, putteth forth a most pleasant and delectable fruit; even so, the wedded wife in case her husband do not reject and fly her company, for the first difficulties and troublesome inconveniences incident to marriage, shall bring unto him afterwards a sweet and amiable society; but they that can not endure at first the jars and quarrels of their young wives, whom they married virgins, may for all the world be resembled to those who give away ripe grapes from themselves to others, because they be sour before they are ripe; semblably, many new wedded-wives, who take a disdain to their husbands by reason of some debates and encounters at the first, do much like unto those who having abidden the sting of the Bee, cast away the honiecombe out of their hands. It behoveth therefore new-married solke, to take heed especially in the beginning, that they avoid all occasions of dissension and offence giving; considering this with themselves, and seeing daily that the pieces of wooden vessels which are newly joined and glued together, at the first are soon disjoined, and go asunder again upon the least occasion in the world, but after that in continuance of time the joint is strongly settled and sound confirmed, a man shall hardly part and separate one piece from another with fire or iron edged tool.  
4 And like as fire kindleth soon & catcheth a flame if it meet with light stubble, chaff, or the hair of an hare, but it quickly goeth out again, if there be not put thereto some matter or fuel anon, which may both hold in and also maintain and feed the same; even so, we are to think that the love of yoong-wedded persons, which is inflamed and set on fire by youth, and the beauty of the body only, is not firm and durable, unless it be surely founded upon the conformity of good and honest manners, and take hold of wisdom, whereby it may engender a lively affection and reciprocal disposition one toward the other.  
5 Fishes are soon caught and taken up by baits made of empoisoned paste, or such like medicines, but their meat is nought and dangerous to be eaten; semblably, those women who compound certain love drinks, or devise other charms and sorceries for to give their husbands, and think by such allurements of pleasure to have the hand and command over them, it is all to nothing, that afterwards in their life together they shall find them to be blockish, foolish, & senseless companions. Those men whom Circe the famous sorceress enchanted with her witchcraft, did her no pleasure, neither served they her in any stead, being transformed (as they were) into swine and asses; whereas she loved and affected entirely and exceedingly Ulysseses, an ingenious man and who conversed wisely with her; but such wives as had rather be mistresses and overrule their doltish husbands, than obey them that be wise & men of understanding, may very properly be compared unto them, who choose rather to lead and conduct the blind, than to be guided by those that see, and to follow them that have knowledge. These women will never believe that Pasiphaë being a King's wife loved a bull, notwithstanding they see some wives that can not endure their husbands, if they be any thing austere, grave, sober, and honest, but they abandon and give themselves over more willingly to accompany with such as be composed altogether of luxurious looseness, of filthy lust and voluptuousness, like as if they were dogs or goats.  
6 Some men there be so tender, feeble, and effeminate, that being not able to mount up their horsebackes as they stand, teach them to stoop and rest upon their knees, that they may get upon them; and even so, you shall find diverse husbands, who having espoused rich wives and descended of noble houses, never study to make them better, but keep down their wives and hold them under, being persuaded that they shall rule them the better when they are thus humbled and brought low; whereas indeed they should as well maintain the dignity of their wives, as regard and keep the just stature and height of their horses, as well in the one as the other, make use of the bridle.  
7 We see that the moon, the farther that she is from the sun, the brighter she shineth and is more clear, and when she approacheth near unto his rays and beams, she loseth her light and is darkened; but a chaste, honest and wise woman must do clean contrary; for she ought to be most seen with her husband, and if he be away, to keep close and hold herself within house.  
8 It was not well said of Herodotus: That a woman casteth off her pudicitie, when she putteth off her smock or inner garment; for clean contrary it is in a chaste and sober matron, for in stead thereof she putteth on shamefastness and honesty; and the greatest sign of all other that married folk do love reciprocally is this, when they have most reverence and shamefast regard one to the other.  
9 Like as if one take two sounds that accord together, the base is always more heard, and the song is ascribed to it; even so, in an house well ordered and governed, all goes well which is done by the consent of both parties; but evident it is and apparent, that the conduct, counsel and direction of the husband, is that which effecteth it.  
10 The sun upon a time (as the fable goeth) had the victory over the northern wind; for when the said wind blew forcibly upon a man, and with the violence of his blasts, did what it could to drive his cloak or upper garment from off his shoulders, the man strove so much the more to hold it on and keep it close about him; but when the fun came to be hot after the said wind was laid, and set the man in exceeding heat by his beams, he was glad to throw off his said cloak; yea and feeling himself to burn with heat, put off his coat, shirt and all; and even semblably do the most part of women, for when they perceive that their husbands by their authority, and perforce will take from them their superfluous delights and vain pleasures, they strive again and make resistance, and are offended and discontented therewith; but when as chose they come unto them with gentle remonstrances and mild persuasions, then of themselves they will be content peaceably to lay them aside, and endure all with patience.  
11 Cato deprived a senator of Rome of his honourable place, for that in the presence of his own daughter, he kissed his wife. I cannot simply commend this act of his, for it savoured peradventure too much of severity and rigour: but if it be (as no doubt it is) an unseemly sight for man and wife to kiss, clip, embrace, and use dalliance together in the presence of others; how can it choose but be more shameful and unseemly to chide, brawl, and taunt one another before strangers? and when a man hath played, sported, and used love-delights in secret with his wife, afterwards in open place to check, rebuke, nip and gird at her with spiteful speeches in the face of the world?  
12 Like as a mirror or looking glass garnished with gold and precious stones, serveth to no purpose, if it do not represent to the life the face of him or her that looketh into it; no more is a woman worth ought (be she otherwise never so rich) unless she conform and frame herself, her life, her manners and conditions suitable in all respects to her husband. A false mirror it is, and good for nothing, that showeth a sad and heavy countenance to him who is merry and jocund, and chose, which resembleth a glad and smiling visage to one who is melancholic, angry and discontent; even so, a bad woman is she, and a very untoward piece, who when her husband is desirous to solace himself and be merry in disporting with her, frowneth and looketh doggedly under the brows, and on the other side, when she seeth him amused in serious matters, and in a deep study about his affairs, is set on a merry pin, and given to mirth and laughter; for as the one is a sign of a sour plum and an unpleasant yoke-fellow, so the other bewrayeth a woman that setteth light by the affections of her husband; whereas indeed befitting it were, that as (by the saying of Geometricians) the lines and superficers move not at all of themselves, but according to the motions of the bodies; even so a wife should have no proper passion or peculiar affection of her own, but be a partaker of the sports, serious affairs, sad countenance, deep thoughts, and smiling looks of her husband.  
13 They that take no pleasure, nor can not away that their wives do eat and drink freely with them at the table in their sight, do as much as teach them how to cram themselves and fill their gorge apart when they be alone; even so they that will not vouchsafe to live merrily and be pleasant with their wives, nor can abide to disport and laugh privately with them, teach them the ready way to seek their pleasures and delights by themselves.  
14 The kings of Persia at their ordinary meals have their queens or espoused wives to sit by them at the board, but when they list to be merry indeed and carouse lustily until they be drunk, they send them away to their chambers, and call for their concubines, singing wenches, and musical trulls in their place; 
* Plutarch herem smelleth of the corruption in his time for a Christian dame & honest matron will not abide to put up such an injury, nor wink at her husband's follies in that case.  I can commend them yet for so doing, in that they would not have their own lawful wives to be partakers of their drunkenness and licentious looseness. If therefore it chance that some private person abandoned to his own pleasures, untaught, and given to lewd conditions, chance to do a fault in abusing himself either with his paramour or his wife's chambermaid, his wife must not be angry for the matter and frown at him for it, but rather thus to think with herself, and make this construction, that her husband being loath and afraid to offend her with his drunkenness, unbridled lust and intemperance, turned another way for that purpose.  
15 Kings if they love music, cause many good musicians to be in their kingdom; if they set their minds upon their book, they make many learned clerks; if they be given to feats of activity and exercise of the body, many of their subjects (by that example) will prove champions and tall men of their hands; even so a husband that loveth to trim and pamper his body, causeth his wife (by that means) to study nothing else but the tricking and pruning of herself; he that followeth his pleasures and wanton delights, maketh her also to be lascivious and to play the harlot; but who that embraceth honesty, and ensueth virtue and good things, by his example shall have an honest, virtuous and wise wife of her.  
16 A young woman of Sparta being asked the question by one, whether she had meddled or lain yet with her husband: Not I (quoth she) but he hath with me. And in very truth, in this manner (by mine advice) it would become an honest matron and housewife to behave herself toward her husband, that she neither reject and disdain dalliance and love-sports with him, if he begin with her, nor yet herself offer such temptations first unto him; for as this is a trick of a wanton and unshame-faced strumpet, so the other bewrayeth a proud woman, and one who is nothing lovely nor amiable.  
17 A woman ought to have no peculiar friends by herself, but to use her husband's friends and take them as her own. Considering then, that the gods challenge the first and principal place in friendship, 
* Herein also Plutarch showeth of what religion he is.  the wife is to acknowledge and worship the same gods (and none else but those) whom her husband honoureth, serveth, and reputeth gods; moreover, she ought to shut and lock the gate against all curious and new inventions of religions, and not to entertain any strange and foreign superstitions; for I assure you, to none of the gods can those divine services and sacrifices be acceptable, which a woman will seem to celebrate by stealth, and without the knowledge and privity of her husband.  
18 Plato writeth, that the city is blessed and happy, wherein a man shall never hear these words: This is mine, and, This is not mine: for that the inhabitants thereof have all things there (especially, if they be of any worth and importance) as near as possibly they can, common among them: but these words ought rather to be banished out of the state of matrimony, unless it be (as the Physicians hold) that the blows or wounds which are given on the left side of the body, are felt on the right; even so a wife ought to have a fellow-feeling (by way of sympathy and compassion) of her husband's calamities, and the husband of his wives, much more; to the end, that like as those knots are much more fast and strong, when the ends of the cords are knit and interlaced one within another, even so the bond of marriage is more firm and sure, when both parties (the one aswell as the other) bring with them a mutual affection and reciprocal benevolence, whereby the fellowship and communion between them is maintained jointly by them both; for nature herself hath made a mixture of us, of two bodies, to the end that by taking part of one and part of another, and mixing all together, she might make that which cometh thereof, common to both, in such sort, as neither of the twain can discern and distinguish what is proper to the one or peculiar to the other. This communion of goods especially, ought principally to be among those who are linked in wedlock, for that they should put in common, and have all their havorie incorporate into one substance, in such wise, as they repute not this part proper to one, and that part peculiar to another, but the whole proper to themselves, and nothing to another: and like as in one cup where there is more water than wine, yet we say nevertheless that the whole is wine; even so the goods and the house ought to bear the name of the husband, although peradventure the wife brought with her the bigger portion.  
19 Helen was covetous, and Paris lascivious; chose, Ulysses was reputed wise, and Penelope chaste; and therefore the marriage of these last named, was blessed, happy and beloved; but the conjunction of those two before, infortunate, bringing upon the Greeks and Barbarians both, a whole Iliad, that is to say, an infinite mass of miseries and calamities.  
20 A gentleman of Rome, who espoused an honest, rich, fair and young lady, put her away, and was divorced from her; whereupon being reproved and sharply rebuked by all his friends, he put forth his foot unto them and showed them his shoe: What find you (quoth he) in this shoe of mine amiss? new it is and fair to see to; howbeit, there is not one of you all knoweth where it wringeth me, but I wot well where the fault is, and feel the inconvenience thereof. A wife therefore is not to stand so much upon her goods and the dowry she brings, nor in the nobility of her race and parentage, ne yet in her beauty, as in those points which touch her husband most, and come nearest to his heart; namely, her conversation and fellowship, her manners, her carriage & demeanour, in all respects so disposed, that they be all not harsh, nor troublesome from day to day unto her husband, but pleasant, lovely, obsequious, and agreeable to his humour: for like as Physicians fear those fevers which are engendered of secret and hidden causes within the body, gathering in long continuance of time by little and little, more than such as proceed from evident and apparent causes without; even so there fall out otherwhiles petty jars, daily and continual quarrels between man and wife, which they see and know full little that be abroad; and these they be which breed separation, and cause them to part sooner than any thing else, these mar the pleasure of their cohabitation more than any other cause whatsoever.  
21 King Philip was enamoured upon a certain Thessalian woman, who was supposed and charged, by her sorceries and charms to have enchanted him to love her; whereupon queen Olympias his wife wrought so, that she got the woman into her hands; now when she had well viewed her person, and considered her beautiful visage, her amiable favour, her comely grace, and how her speech showed well that she was a woman of some noble house, and had good bringing up: Out upon these standerous surmises (quoth she) and false imputations; for I see well that the charms and sorceries which thou usest, are in thyself. In like manner we must think, that an espoused and legitimate wife is as one would say, a fort inexpugnable, namely, such an one, as (in herself reposing and placing all these things, to wit, her dowry, nobility, charms and love-drinks, yea, and the very tissue or girdle of Venus, by her study and endeavour, by her gentle behaviour, her good grace and virtue) is able to win the affectionate love of her husband for ever.  
22 Another time, the same queen Olympias hearing that a certain young gentleman of the Court had married a lady, who though she were fair and well-favoured, yet had not altogether the best name: This man (quoth she) hath no wit at all in his head, for otherwise he would never have married according to the counsel and appetite of his eyes only. And in truth we ought not to go about for to contract marriage by the eye or the fingers, as some do who count with their fingers how much money, or what goods a wife bringeth with her, never casting and making computation of her demeanour and conditions, whether she be so well qualified, as that they may have a good life with her.  
23 Socrates was wont to counsel young men who used to see their faces and look upon themselves in mirrors, if they were foul or ill-favoured, to correct that deformity by virtue; if they were fair, not to soil and stain their beauty with vice; semblably, it were very well that the mistress of an house having in her hand a looking glass, should say thus unto herself if she be foul and deformed: What a one should I be if I nought or lewd withal? if fair and well-favoured: How highly shall I be esteemed, if I be honest and wise besides? for if an hardfavoured woman be loved for her fair and gentle conditions, she hath more honour thereby, than if she wan love by beauty only.  
24 The tyrant of Sicily (Dionysius) sent upon a time unto the daughters of Lysander certain rich robes, costly wreaths and precious jewels as presents; but Lysander would not receive these gifts, saying: These presents would bring more shame than honour to my daughters. And the Poet Sophocles, before Lysander's time, wrote to the like effect in these verses: 
This will (o wretch) to thee none honour bring,  
But may be thought a foul and shameful thing;  
It doth bewray a fop and fool in kind,  
And one who bears a most lascivious mind.  for (according as the Philosopher Crates said) That is an ornament which doth adorn; and that adorneth a wife, which maketh her more comely and decent: this are not jewels of gold able to do, nor emerauds and other precious stones, nor purple and scarlet robes, but that only which causeth her to be reputed grave, sober, lowly and modest.  
25 Those that sacrificed to Juno (surnamed Gametia, that is, Nuptial) offered not the gall with the rest of the beast that was killed, but plucked it out of the body, cast it aside, and laid it by, about the altar; by which ceremony, he whosoever he was that first instituted it, would give us to understand; that in matrimony there ought to be no gall, that is to say, no bitter choler and anger at all; he meant not thereby that a woman should not be grave, for a wife and matron that is mistress of an house, must carry an austere countenance in some sort, but this austerity or tartness ought to be like that verdure which is in wine, that is to say, wholesome and pleasant, not bitter or eager in any wise, as is Aloe Succotrine, nor resembling any such purgative drugs.  
26 Plato perceiving Xenocrates the Philosopher (a man otherwise virtuous and well disposed) to be given a little to overmuch severity, admonished him to sacrifice unto the Graces; even so I suppose, that a virtuous dame hath need also of the Grace's help, as much as of any thing else, when she converseth with her husband, to the end that she may live in joy with him (as Metradorus saith) and not move him to anger and displeasure, for all she be an honest and chaste matron, and so repent another day of her pudicitie: for neither must a frugal housewife and saving dame neglect to be clean and neat, nor she that loveth her husband entirely, cease to offer kindness unto him, and deal with him after an amiable and loving sort; for surely the sour conversation of a woman maketh all her honesty to be but odious, like as sluttery also causeth all her frugality and thirst to be hateful and displeasant; insomuch as she who is afraid to look pleasantly, and smile upon her husband, or to show some such like love-tricks, because forsooth she would not be thought bold and wanton, is much like unto her, who because she would not seem to have her head besmeered with precious perfumes, forbeareth also to be anointed with oil, and for that folk should not think that she painteth her face, will not so much as wash the same. Poets we see and orators, as many of them as would avoid a base, illiberal, and ill affected kind of style, without good grace which breedeth tediousness in the reader and hearer, study and endeavour with all the wit they have to entertain and move both the one and the other by their fine invention, good dispose, and natural representation of the manners of each person; and even so, an honest dame and housewife shall do well, to avoid and reject all superfluity, all curiosity, and in one word whatsoever favoureth of a whore, or such an one as loveth to show herself abroad in pompous manner, and rather employ all her wit, her art and industry in the pleasant and amiable carriage of herself, in her affability and lovely conversation with her husband, daily and hourly acquainting and accustoming him to honesty and decency with pleasure and delight. Howbeit, if it fall out so, that some one woman be so austere of nature, that by no means which the husband useth, he can make her pleasant and sociable, in this case he must be content and bear his own cross; and like as Photion answered to Antipater, who required him to do a dishonest act and little beseeming his estate: Sir (quoth he) you can not have me to be your friend and a flatterer to; even so must he say to himself of such a wife, who is sour and unpleasant, but yet honest: It is not meet that I should look to converse with her as a true espoused wife and a light harlot also.  
27 The Egyptian wives by she ancient custom of their country, wear no shoes at all on their feet, to the end that this fashion of going might put them in mind to keep home; but far otherwise it is with our dames for the most part, from whom if you take their gilded pantofles, their carcanets, their bracelets, their fine garters, their purple garments and pearls, they will never go once out of their houses.  
28 Theano, as she one day dressed herself and put on her raiment, chanced to show her arm a good way bare, and when one that stood by perceived it, and said withal: Oh there is a fair elbow: True (quoth she) but it is not for every man; and even so, not the arm only of a chaste and honest dame ought not to be common, but also not so much as her very speech; for she is as well in manner to take heed and beware how she open her mouth and speak much, as to discover and lay her body naked before strangers, for that her manners, actions, and conditions which she hath, she openeth unto others when she speaketh.  
29 Phidias, when he made the image of Venus for the Elaeans, devised that she should tread with her feet upon a tortoise shell, signifying thereby that a woman ought to keep home and not go forth of doors, but stay within house with silence; for surely a wife is to speak either unto her husband only, or else by the means of her husband; neither must she think much and be offended, if like the minstrel that soundeth the hautboys, she utter a louder and bigger voice than her own, by the tongue of another.  
30 Great men and rich, princes also and kings, in honouring Philosophers, do grace both them and their own selves; but Philosophers in making court and doing service unto those rich and mighty personages, add thereby no reputation unto them, but make themselves more honoured and better accepted; semblably it fareth with wives, for when they be subject to their husbands, they win praise and commendation, but when they will needs be masters, they get greater shame by it, and do more undecently, than those whom they have the mastery of. For by good right, the husband ought to rule over the wise; not as the lord over his slave, or that which he possesseth; but after the same manner as the soul governeth the body, by a certain mutual love and reciprocal affection, wherewith he is linked unto her: for as the soul may well have a care of the body, without subjecting itself to the pleasures and disordinate lusts thereof; even so, may an husband have the sovereignty over his wife, and withal exercise the same nevertheless in all kindness, and be ready to gratify and please her.  
31 Philosophers do hold opinion that of bodies some consist of parts disjoined and distinct, and separate one from another, as a fleet of ships or an army of men; others of pieces joined together and touching close one another, as an house or a ship; and some again be composed of parts united and incorporate into one nature living and growing together, as the bodies of living creatures. Much like to these compositions is wedlock: for the conjunction of those in matrimony, who love entirely one another, and for pure love be linked in marriage, resembleth a body, the parts whereof are naturally united together: that copulation of those who marry for rich dowries, wealth, or procreation of children, may be compared to that body which standeth of pieces, that touch only and meet together in a joint: but such a marriaage as respecteth nothing but carnal company in bed together, is like unto those bodies, the parts whereof stand asunder, and neither be united in one, nor touch one the other. But like as the natural Philosophers affirm, that liquid bodies or humours be those which are apt to be mingled wholly one with another in every part; even so, it behoveth that of those who are joined together in matrimony the bodies, goods, friends, & familiars, be totally intermingled together: which is the reason that the lawgiver in setting down the Roman laws, forbade expressly such as were entered into the bond of wedlock, to give and receive any gifts interchangeably, or to make mutual donation; not intending thereby that they should participate in nothing, but that they should repute all things in common between them.  
32 A custom their was in Leptis, a city situate in Libya, that the new-wedded bride the morrow after her marriage, should send unto the bridegrooms mother, for to borrow a brass pot or kettle to hang over the fire; but his mother-in-law must deny it and say, she hath none for her; to the end than this young wife being at the first acquainted with the fashions of her mother-in-law, savouring somewhat of a crooked stepdame, might not think it strange or be much grieved if it chance afterward that she deal more hardly with her. A wife knowing thus much, ought betimes to meet with all occasions of such ordinary offences which proceed from nothing else, but a jealousy that the stepmother hath over her, for the love that she beareth unto her son: The only remedy of which passion is this, that the new-wedded wise endeavour so to win the affection of her husband, that she do not withal diminish nor withdraw that affection of his which a son ought to bear unto his natural mother.  
33 It seemeth that mother's ordinarily of children, love their sons better than the daughters, as at whose hands they hope for more succour another day; and fathers chose affect their daughters more, as who have more need of their helping hand; and peradventure it may be, that in regard of the honour the one beareth to the other, either of them would seem to carry greater affection to that which is more proper and familiar to the other: and yet happily this holdeth not always, but there may be some difference therein: but certainly a civil part it is and very well befitting a wife to show herself to have a better inclination to ho nor and make much of her husband's parents than her own; yea & if at any time she be offended or grieved at aught, to conceal her grief from her own father and mother, and to lay the same open and make her move unto his; for in declaring that she hath the better affiance and trust in them, she gaineth more confidence at their hands, and by seeming to love them better, she is the rather beloved of them again.  
34 The captains under Cyrus gave commandment to their soldiers, that when the enemies gave the charge upon them with great outcries, they should receive them with silence; & chose, if they came to assail and set upon them in silence, they should encounter them with mighty shouts; even so, women that are wise and of good understanding, when they perceive their husbands in choler, & thereupon growing to high words, use to hold their tongues; and on the other side, if their husbands go up and down and say nothing, although they be angry, aught to move speech unto them, and by fair language to appease and mitigate their mood. Wisely did the poet Euripides in reproving those that called for the harp and other minstrelsy at feasts where they drank wine liberally: For it behoved rather (quoth he) to have music when as men be in fits either of choler or melancholy, to delay their anger and heaviness, than to enervate them yet more, who are in their merriments and pleasure enfeebled already; semblably you must think that you do a fault, if you go to bed and company together for to pleasure one another, and when you be at some debate and difference, you part beds and lie asunder; not calling at such a time for the aid of lady Venus, who knoweth best and is wont in such cases to remedy all: which the poet Homer in one place teacheth us very well, where he bringeth in dame juno speaking in this wise: 
Their long debates I will soon end, and bitter brawls compose,  
By bringing them to bed both twain, to sport and takerepose.  Certes a wife ought at all times and in every place to avoid the occasion of quarrels with her husband, and the husband likewise with the wife; but especially they must beware how they fall out when they are in one bed, for to solace one another and to sleep together. A good wife there was, who when she was in travel and ready to cry out as feeling the throws coming thick upon her, and not able to endure them, when the women about her would have laid her upon a bed: And how can (quoth she) this bed ease the pains of this my malady, seeing I got it first upon the same bed; and even so verily the quarrels, brawls, shrewd words, and angry fits which arise in bed, hardly can be taken up and ended at any other time, or else where than in bed.  
35 It seemeth that lady Hermion spoke truly when in a tragedy of Euripides she said thus: 
Lewd women who to my house did resort,  
Have me undone, and raised a bad report.  Howbeit this is not simply true, neither falleth it out always so when such use to come into an house, but only at those times when the quarrelous brawls and jealous fits of a wife with her husband openeth not the doors only of the house, but her ears also to such gossips. At such a time therefore a wise woman ought to stop her ears and take heed of their whispering and prattling suggestions, for fear lest she stir new coals, or put fire to fire, and to have in readiness the saying of king Philip of Macedon: for we read of him, that when his friends incited him to anger against the greeks, who (notwithstanding he was so gracious unto them, and had received many favours at his hands) ceased not to backbite and slander him, made them this answer: What think you will they do then, if I should work them a shrewd turn? semblably when makebate women shall come twattling and say: How doth your husband misuse you, loving him, and making so much of him as you do in all duty and loyalty? your answer must be: What will become of me then if I should begin to hate him and do him injury?  
36 A certain master there was upon a time who espied a slave of his that was long before run away, and when he had set his eye upon him, ran apace for to take hold of him; the poor slave fled still, and got at length a mil-house over his head: That's happy (quoth the master to himself) I would not wish to meet with him in a better place; even so a woman who upon jealousy is upon the point to be divorced and depart from her husband, and being ill apaid in her mind for being driven to this hard exigent, should thus speak unto herself: What is it that my concurrent who is the cause of this my jealousy can wish in her heart to content her better than to see me do this whereabout I am? namely, to vex and torment myself thus as I do, to be so far out, and in such terms with my husband, abandoning his house, and forsaking our marriage bed.  
37 The Athenians observe and celebrate three seasons of sacred seedness in the year; the first in the isle Scyros, in memorial of the first invention of tillage and sowing in that country; the second in a place called Raria; and the third, under their own city walls, which they call Buzygion, in remembrance of yoking oxen to the plough: but the nuptial tillage (as I may so say) which is employed for issue and procreation of children, and to maintain our race and posterity, is the most sacred of all other, and aught to be observed with all holiness. And therefore Sophocles well and wisely gave this attribute unto Cytherea or Venus, when he named her Eucarpos, that is, Fertile or Fruitful; in which regard man and wife lawfully joined in matrimony, are to use the same religiously and with all preciseness, abstaining wholly from all incestuous, illegitimate and forbidden conjunctions, and not ploughing or sowing there, whereas they are not willing to reap, or if it chance that there come up any fruit, they are ashamed thereof, and willing to hide and conceal it.  
38 Gorgias the orator, in a great assembly at the Olympian games, made a solemn oration to the Greeks, who were met there from all parts, exhorting them to live in peace, unity and concord one with another; at which speech of his, one Melanthius there present: This man (quoth he) telleth us a tale of unity, and exhorteth us all to concord here in public, who can not persuade in his private house at home, himself, his own wife & her chambermaid to agree and live peaceably together, being but three in all, and no more: for it should seem that Gorgias cast a fancy to the said wench, and his wife was jealous of her: and therefore his house and family ought to be in good order, who will busy himself and intermeddle in ordering of public affairs, or composing of matters among friends; for commonly it falleth out that the faults which we commit against our wives, be more divulged abroad in the world, than the misdemeanours of our wives.  
39 Cats are much offended (they say) with the odour and sent of sweet perfumes, insomuch as they will run mad therewith; if it chance likewise, that a woman can not away with such perfumes, but that her brains be thereby troubled, and ready to overturn, her husband were of a very strange nature and should deal hardly with her, in case he would not forbear to use sweet ointments or strong scenting odours, but for a little pleasure of his own, to suffer her for to fall into so great inconvenience, and to neglect her contentment. Now if it be so, that such accidents of brainsicknesse happen unto women, not when their busbands be perfumed, but when they are given to keep queans and love harlots, it were mere injustice in them, for a small pleasure of their own to offend and disquiet their wives, and not to do so much for their sake as those who come among bees, who for that purpose will not touch their own wives for the time, because bees (as it is said) hate such, and are ready to sting them above all others, but carry so bad a mind with them, as to come and lie by their own wife's side, being polluted and defiled with the filthy company of other strumpets.  
40 They that have the government of elephants, never put on white raiment when they come about them, no more do they wear red clothes who approach near unto bulls; for that these beasts before named are afraid of such colours especially, and grow fierce and wood therewith. It is said moreover, that tigers when they hear the sound of drums or tabours about them, become enraged, and in a furious madness all to tear themselves. Seeing it is so therefore, that there be some men who can not abide, but are highly displeased to see their wives in their scarlet & purple robes; and others again, who can not away with the sound of cymbals or tabours; what harm is it, if their wives will forbear both the one and the other, for fear of provoking and offending their husbands, and live with them without unquiet brawls and janglings in all repose and patience?  
41 A certain young woman, when king Philip plucked and haled her unto him against her will: Hand off good sir (quoth she) and let me go, all cats be grey in the dark, and when the candle is out all women are alike. It is not amiss to say so (I confess) unto dissolute persons and adulterers; but an honest married dame ought (especially when the light is gone) not to be all one with other common naughty packs, but even then when as her body can not be seen, to let her chastity, honesty, and pure love to her husband appear most, that it may be well seen that she keepeth herself for him alone.  
42 Plato exhorted elder folk to behave themselves more modestly before young persons, than any other, that so they might learn also to reverence their elders and be respecteous of them; for where old people be shameless, it is not possible to imprint any shame or grace in the younger. Now ought an husband evermore to carry in remembrance this precept: To have none in the world in better respect and more reverence, than his own wife, forasmuch as the bedchamber is unto her a schoole-house either of chastity and pudicity, or else of looseness and incontinence; for the husband that followeth those pleasures himself which he debarreth his wife of, doth as much as bid his wife to fight with those enemies unto whom he hath already yielded himself prisoner.  
43 Moreover, as touching the love and desire to go trim, and to deck and adorn the body, I would wish you (o Eurydice) to endeavour for to call to your remembrance those rules which you have read in the treatise that Timoxenus wrote unto Aristilla concerning that argument. And as for you (o Pollianus) never think that your wife will abstain from such curiosity, and lay away those delights and superfluities, so long as she perceiveth that you despise not, nor reject the like vanity in other things, but that you take pleasure both to see and have your cups and goblets gilded, your cabinets curiously and costly painted, your mules and horses set out with rich comparisons, sumptuous trappings, and costly furniture: for an hard matter it is to chase away and banish such delicate superfluities out of the nursery and women's chamber, so long as they see the same to reign in the men's parlour and where they have to do.  
44 Furthermore, you Pollianus being now of ripe years to study those sciences which are grounded upon reason, and proceed by undoubted demonstration, adorn from hence forward your manners by frequenting the company of such persons, and conversing with them, who may serve you in good stead and farther you that way: and as for your wife, see you do the part of a studious and industrious Bee, in gathering for her and to her hand from all parts good things which you think may benefit & profit her, likewise bring the same home with you, impart them unto her, devise and commune with her about them apart, and by that means make familiar and pleasant unto her the best books and the best discourses that you can meet with all: 
For why? to her you are in stead, of sire and brother kind;  
A mother dear from henceforth now to her she must you find.  like as in Homer, Andromache said of her husband Hector. And verily in mine opinion it were no less honourable for a man to hear his wife say thus unto him: My husband, you are my teacher, my regent, my master, and instructor in Philosophy, and in the knowledge of the most divine and excellent literature; for these sciences and liberal arts do above all other things divert and withdraw the minds of women from other unworthy and unseemly exercises. A matron or dame who hath studied Geometry, will be ashamed to make profession of dancing the measures; and she that is already enchanted and charmed (as it were) with the singular discourses of Plato and Xenophon, will never like of the charmed and enchantments of witches and forcerers; and if any enchantress should come unto her, and make promise to draw down the moon from heaven, she would mock those women and laugh at their gross ignorance, who suffer themselves to be persuaded for to believe the same, as having learned somewhat in Astrology, and heard that Aganice the daughter of Hegetor, a great Lord in Thesalia, knowing the reason of the eclipses of the moon when she is at the full, and observing the very time when the body of the moon will meet right with the shadow of the earth, abused other women of that country, and made them believe that it was herself who fetched down the moon out of the sky.  
45 It was never heard yet that a woman by course of nature should conceive, and bring forth a child of herself alone without the company of man: marry some there be who have been known to gather in their womb a rude mass or lump, without the true form of a reasonable creature, resembling rather a piece of flesh engendered and growing to a consistence by means of some corruption, which some call a Mole. Great heed therefore would be taken that the like befall not to the soul and mind of women; for if they receive not from others the seeds of good matters and instructions, that is to say, if their husbands help them not to conceive good doctrine and sound knowledge, they will of themselves fall a breeding and be delivered of many strange conceits, absurd opinions, and extravagant passions. But mine advice unto you Eurydice, is to be studious always in the notable sayings and sentences moral of sage, wise, and approved men: have always in your mouth the good words, which heretofore when you were a young maiden you heard and learned of us; to the end that you may be a joy to your husband, and be praised and commended by other women, when they shall see you so honourably adorned and beautified without any cost bestowed upon brooches, tablets and jewels: for you can not possibly come by the precious pearls of this or that rich and wealthy woman, nor have the silken gowns and velvet robes of such a Lady of a strange country, for to array or trim yourself withal, but you must buy them at an exceeding high and dear price: but the ornaments and attire of Theano, of Cleobuline, of Gorgo the wife of king Leonidas, of Timoclea, the sister of Theagenes, of Clodia the ancient Roman Lady, of dame Cornelia, the sister of Scipio, and of other Ladies and gentlewomen so much renowned and bruited heretofore for their rare virtues, you may have gratis, freely and without a penny cost; wherewith if you deck and adorn yourself, you shall live both happily, and also with honour and glory. For if Sapph for her sufficiency in Poetry, and the skill that she had in verstfying, stuck not to write thus to a certain rich and wealthy dame in her time: 
All dead thoushalt one day entombed be,  
There shall remain of thee no memory,  
For that no part of roses came to thee  
That flower upon the mountain Pierie.  Why shouldest not thou think better of thyself, and take more joy and contentment in thine heart, considering thou hast thy part not only of the roses and flowers, but also of the fruits which the Muses bring forth and yield to those who love good letters, and highly esteem of Philosophy?    

THE BANQUET OF THE SEVEN SAGES.  

The Summarie.  
WHether it were that the persons named in this discourse following were at a banquet in deed, and there discoursed of such matters as are here by Plutarch handled; or that himself had collected and gathered the Apothegms and histories of his time; or how soever it was; we may see by this present Treatise what was the custom of Sages and wise men in ancient time at their feasts, namely, to invite one another courteously, to solace themselves and make merry heartily, without many ceremonies and compliments to show sincers amity, and without excessive cost and expense to keep good cheer after a plain, open, and simple manner. The principal part of which meetings and frequenting of the table, being employed in devising dadly, and with settled mind both during their repast, and a pretty while after, of matters honest, pleasant, and tending to good instruction and edification; as this book and the Symposiakes or Table-discourses, whereof we shall see more hereafter do plainly show. This manner and custom deserveth to be opposed partly against the solitary life, and beggarly nigardise of base misers, covetous pennifathers', and such like enemies of humane society, and in part against the excessive pomp, unmeasurable sumptuo sitie, dissoluter riots and fookish vanity and gourmandise of those that love nothing but their paunch, and know no other god to worship but their belly; as also against the fond laughters, bragging vaunteries, impudent face, seurrile mockertes, and dogged backbitings, that senseless lots and 〈◊〉 persons are given unto; and finally against the enormities, violences, and outrages, of such as are wholly abandoned and given over to sin and wickedness. Moreover to come more particularly to this book following, Plutarch bringeth in one named Diocles, who recounteth unto Nicarchus all that was said and done at Corinth in a certain banquet, at which were these persons, namely, Periander the sovereign lord of that city, and the host who bade all the guests, to wit, Solon, Bias, Thales, Cleobulus, Pittacus and Chilon, named in those days, The seven Sages or wise men of Greece, Item, Anacharsis, Aesop, Niloxenus, Cleodemus and certain others. But before that he entereth into any speech of that which passed during the banquet and afterwards, he rehearseth the communication held between Thales and those of his company, upon the way of Corinth, where they talk of matters handled more at large afterwards: then consequently he treateth of that which a guest ought to do who is invited to a banquet, and describeth what happened among some of the guests: proceeding a little forward, he declareth what was the manner of the entrance, the slint and end of the banquet, to wit, modest, and seasoned with pleasant speeches (and those most honest and civil) of the host and his family: which done, he entereth into the recital of the talk that was held after the supper or banquet; of which the beginning grew from the music of flutes, and by a certain comparison devised with a good grace, he causeth audience to be given unto Niloxenus a stranger; by occasion whereof, Bias doth expound the riddle or dark question sent by a king of Aethiopia unto the king of Egypt, which in the same train inferreth an excellent occasion to speak of the duty and office of kings; of which argument, all the foresaid 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 their minds summarily, together with the proper riddles and enigmatical questions from the king of Egypt to the king of Aethiopia. Now after the desciphering and assoiling of the said riddles, the former Sages fall into a discourse as touching the government popular and economical, upon which point they do opine and speak their minds in order; coming afterwards to conference together of certain particularities of housekeeping, to wit, of drinking and other pleasures; of the quantity of goods that may suffice a man; of the frugality, thrift and sobriety of men in old time; of the necessity and delight of drinking and eating; and finally, of the discommodities, inconveniences and miseries incident to man's life in this behalf. And for a conclusion, bringeth in one Gorgias, who being arrived unlooked for, and coming suddenly in place, relateth the strange accident of Arion saved by the means of a dolphin; which report draweth on the company to other like narrations and tales: at the end whereof, after grace said and thanks giving according to the accustomed manner of that people, the guests retire themselves and depart.   

THE BANQUET OF THE seven Sages.  
DIOCLES.  
CErtes, the long process and continuance of time (my good friend Nicarchus) can not choose but breed and bring much darkness, obscurity and incertitude of men's actions and affairs; when as now in matters so fresh, so new, and so lately passed, you have met with certain false reports, which notwithstanding are believed and received for true: for there were not only those seven guests at the table in this feast, as you have heard and are borne in hand, but more than twice so many, of whom myself made one, being familiar and inward with Periander, by reason of mine art and profession, and the host beside to Thales; (for by the commandment of Periander, he lodged in mine house) neither hath he (whosoever he was that related the thing unto you) borne well in mind, and remembered what the speeches and discourses were, which they held; which maketh me verily to think that he was not himself one of them who were at the banquet. But seeing we are now at good leisure (and for that old age is no surety sufficient to give good warrantise for to defer and put off this report unto a farther time, and because you are so desirous to know the truth) I will rehearse unto you all in order even from the very beginning.  
First and foremost, the feast was prepared by Periander, not within the city, but about the port or haven Lechaeon, in a fair great hall or dining chamber near to the Temple of Venus, unto whom there was also a sacrifice offered; for since the infortunate love of his mother, who voluntarily made herself away, having not sacrificed unto Venus, this was the first time that he was moved thereto, as being incited by certain dreams of Melissa to worship and adore the said goddess. Now to every one of the guests invited to this banquet, there was a coach brought, richly appointed and set out accordingly, for to convey and conduct them to the place appointed, for that it was the Summer season, and all the port-way from the city, as far as to the seaside, was full of dust, and resounded with great noise by reason of a number of chariots and a world of people going to and fro between. As for Thales, seeing at my gates a coach standing and ready to carry him, he fell a smiling and laughing, and so sent it back again: he and I then put ourselves in our way, and went fair and softly together on foot over the fields; and a third there was, who bore us company, to wit, Niloxenus of Naucratia, a man of good worth, and one who had been familiarly acquainted with Solon and Thales beforetime in Egypt, and as then was he sent the second time unto Bias, but wherefore, himself knew not, unless (as he suspected) it were to bring unto him a second question enclosed and sealed within a packet; for this charge and commandment he had: That if Bias refused and would not take upon him to assoil and expound the same, he should show it to the wisest Sages of the Greeks. Then began Niloxenus: An happy feast (quoth he) is this to me (my masters) and unexpected, wherein I shall find you all together, for I carry with me thither a packet as you see, and with that he showed it unto us: Then (quoth Thales smiling) if you have therein any hard and untoward question to be dissolved, carry it again to Pyrene, for Bias will declare the meaning thereof, like as he assoiled the former: What former question was that (quoth I:) Mary (quoth he again) he sent unto him a sheep for sacrifice, commanding that he should take out of it the best and worst piece thereof, and so to send the said flesh unto him: he therefore well and wisely plucked forth the tongue, and sent it unto him; for which he was (by good right) well praised, highly esteemed, and held in great admiration. It was not therefore only (quoth Niloxenus) that he came to so great a name, but also for that he refused not the amity of princes and kings as you do: for Amasis admired many more things in you, and namely among others, when you took the measure of the height of the Pyramid in Egypt, he wondered exceedingly, and made high account of your conceit, for that without any great hand-labour, and the same requiring no instrument at all, by setting up a staff only plumb upright, at the very point and end of the shadow which the said Pyramid cast, and by two Triangles which the beams of the sun caused, you made demonstration, that what proportion there was between the length of both shadows, to wit, of the Pyramid and the staff, the same was between the height of the one and the other. But as I said before, you were accused unto the same king Amasis for bearing no good will unto kings and their estate, which was the cause of your disgrace and disfavour with him; beside, there were brought unto him and presented many slanderous speeches and contumelious answers of yours as touching tyrants: as for example; when Molpagoras a great lord of jonia demanded upon a time of you what strange thing you had in your time seen? you answered: A tyrant living to be an old man: Again, at a certain banquet there being some speech moved as touching beasts which was the worst and did most harm? you made answer, that: Of wild beasts a tyrant, and of tame beasts a flatterer was most dangerous; for I may tell you: Kings howsoever they say that they differ from tyrants, yet take they no pleasure at such Apothegms as those. That answer (quoth Thales again) was none of mine, but Pittacus it was, who made it one day in scoffing merrily to Myrsilus: for mine one part, I do not so much marvel at an aged tyrant, as I do wonder to see an old pilot: howbeit as touching this transposition and taking one for another, I am of the same mind, and am willing to say, as that young man did who flung a stone at a dog, and missing the dog hit his own stepmother and felled her withal; whereat: It makes no matter (quoth he) for even so, the stone hath not light amiss. For, and in truth I myself always esteemed Solon a right wise man, for that he refused to be the tyrant of his own country: and even so Pittacus if he had never come to take upon him a monarchy, would not have delivered this speech; How hard a thing is it to be a good man! And it should seem that Periander being seized upon (as a man would say) by the same tyranny, as an hereditary disease from his father, did not amiss to endeavour what he could to free himself and get out of it, by conversing with the best men and frequenting their company, as he hath done to this day, and training unto him the society of Sages and philosophers, and being ruled and advised by them, not approving nor admitting the perilous and unhappy counsel of my countryman Thrasibulus, persuading him to cut the chief men shorter by the heads: For a tyrant who chooseth to command and rule slaves and vassals rather than free men indeed, nothing differeth from the husbandman, who had leifer gather locusts and catch fowls, than reap and bring in good grain of wheat and barley; for these sovereign dominions and principalities bring with them this only good thing in stead and recompense of many evils; to wit, a kind of honour and glory: if men be so happy as in ruling over good men, they be better themselves, and in commanding great persons become greater themselves; as for such as in their government and place of command, aim at nothing but their security, without respect of honour and honesty, deserve to be set over a number of sheep, horses, or beasts, and not of men: but this good gentleman stranger here, hath (I wot not how) cast us upon such discourses which are nothing convenient for our present purpose, omitting both to speak and also to demand those matters that befit better those who go to a 〈◊〉 for think you not that the guest who is bidden, ought not to go prepared as well as the very master himself is to make preparation? For the Sybarites (as it should seem) solemnly invite their dames to their feasts, & seem to bid them a whole year before, of purpose that they might have time enough to trim themselves at their good leisure with rich array and jewels of gold against they go to a feast; and for mine own part, I assure you of this mind I am, that the right preparative of one who is to go unto a great dinner as he should, would require a longer time than so, by how much harder it is to find fit and decent ornament for the manners of the mind, than to provide for the superfluous, needless, and unprofitable setting out of the body: for a wise man who hath wit and understanding, goeth not to a feast carrying with him his body as a vessel to be filled, but he goes thither with an intention to pass the time either in serious discourses, or pleasant and merry talk; to speak I say and hear according as the time shall give occasion to the company, if they mean with joy and mirth to converse together one with another. A man that is come to a feast may if he like not a dish of meat, or if it be nought refuse it; or if the wine be not good, have recourse unto the nymphs; but a troublesome guest, a talkative busibodie, and an unmannerly or untaught neighbour sitting at the board, marreth all the grace of the viands, be they otherwise never so dainty, he corrupteth the wine, yea and all the sweetness of the music, how melodious so ever it be. Neither may a man when he list vomit and cast up readily again this trouble and vexation once received: but in some, a mutual discontentment and offence taken at the table one with another, sticketh by them and continueth as long as they have a day to live, insomuch as they cannot endure the interview one of another again; but like an old surfeit, arisen of wrong done, or of anger conceived by drinking wine, the spite remaineth feltering & corrupting in the stomach and never will be digested. In mine opinion therefore did Chilon very well and wisely, who being invited as it were yesterday to a feast, would never promise to come before he knew what other guests he should meet with there, even every one of them; for this was his saying: That a man must endure will he nill he if he be once at sea, a rude companion and uncivil fellow-passenger in the same ship where he is embarked; as also in warfare a trouble some mate in the same pavilion, for that he is forced of necessity to sail with the one and encamp with the other; but for a man to sort himself indifferently and without discretiion with all kinds of men at a banquet, bewrayeth one that is void of all wit and judgement. As for the fashion and manners of the Egyptians, namely to bring in place ordinarily at their feasts a Scelet, that is to say, a dry and withered anatomy of a dead man, and there to show it before all the guests at the board, to put them in mind of death, and that within a while they all should become such; although I must needs say that such a one were an unwelcome guest, and came very unseasonably among them; yet it cannot be denied but there is some good use thereof; for although he cheer not up the guests there to drink freely and to make merry, yet he inviteth and stirreth them up to carry mutual love and affection one to the other, in admonishing them to remember that their life being of itself short, they should not seek to make it long and tedious by troublesome business and affairs.  
Thus spent we the time by the way, until at length we were come to the banqueting house. And as for Thales he refused to wash or go into a bane: For that (quoth he) I am anointed already; but in the mean time that the rest were bathing, he went walking up and down to see the pleasant races, the wrestling places, and the fair grove which along the sea was very well planted and kept accordingly; not because he wondered at the sight of any of all these delights, but for that he would not seem to despise Periander, or disdain his magnificence in any thing. As for the others, according as any of them were washed or anointed, the servitors were ready to conduct them into the hall or dining place, appointed for men, and that through a porch or gallery, within which sat Anacharsis, and before him stood a damosel plaiting and combing the hair of his head with her hands (whom as she ran toward Thales) most willingly and courteously he kissed, and after a smiling manner: Well done (quoth he) make that stranger, who of himself is the mildest and gentlest man in the world, to have pleasant and fair countenance, that he look not upon us featfull and hideous to see to. I inquired then what pretty maiden this was: Why (quoth Thales) know you not that wise damosel so famous and so much renowned, Eumet is? for that is the name that her father gave her, howsoever the people call her after her fasthers' name Cleobuline. You praise this virgin (quoth Niloxenus, do you not) for her quick spirit in propounding, and her subtle wit and wisdom in assoiling riddles and dark questions, such as be called Aenigmes? For by report there be some of her enigmatical questions, which are gone as far as Egypt: No marry (quoth Thales again) I say not so; for she useth them but as dice or coc-kall bones, when she list to disport herself and pass away the time with those that encounter her, and are disposed to enter into contention with her: but of a wonderful courage and haughty mind she is; a politic head she hath of her own worthy to govern a State; of a courteous nature she is beside, and of sweet behaviour; in regard of which her carriage, she maketh her father to seem a more mild and popular ruler among his citizens and subjects. It may well be so (quoth Niloxenus) for surely she seemeth no less, if a man behold her homely apparel, and how simply she goes: but how cometh this inward affection and kindness to Anacharsis that so lovingly she dresseth and's trimmeth him? Because (quoth Thales) he is a temperate and sober man, and besides a great scholar and a learned clerk, and for that he hath willingly and at large recounted unto her the manner of the Tartarians life, and namely how they use to charm the maladies of those that are sick; and I verily believe that even now whiles she maketh so much of the man, stroking his head, plaiting and broiding his hair, she learneth somewhat of him, or discourseth with him about some point of learning. Now when we drew near to the hall or dining chamber abovesaid, who should meet us but Alexidemus the Milesian, a bastard son of Thrasybulus the Tyrant? who was newly come forth from thence in a great heat, distempered and troubled, and saying (I wot not what) to himself in a pelting chafe: for understand we could not plainly what his words were, he spoke them so huddle: he had no sooner his eye upon Thales, but he seemed to reclaim himself, and so stayed a little, breaking out into these audible terms: Periander (quoth he) hath offered me abuse & done me great wrong, in that he would not give me leave to depart, when I was willing and ready to embark, but by his entreaty hath importuned me to stay supper; and now forsooth that I am come, he hath set me at the table in a place most dishonourable for my person, and hath preferred the Aeolians, the Islanders, and other base companions, and indeed whom not, and before Throsybulus; for apparent it is, that he despiseth my father who sent me, and meaneth that the disgrace offered unto me should redound upon him. How now (quoth Thales) is it so indeed? and are you afraid that like as the Egyptians hold opinion & say? That the stars in making their ordinary revolutions, are one while elevated on high, & another while afterwards falling as low, and according to their heights, or baseness of the place, become either better or worse than they were? so you in regard of the place that is given you, should be advanced or debased more or less; for by this means you are worse & more base minded than the Laconian, who being by the master of the ceremonies set in the lowest place of the choir or dance, was no more moved thereat, but said: Well done of you, I see you can skill of the means how to make this place more honourable: for when we be set at a table, we ought not to look and regard, either beneath whom awe sit, or after whom we are placed, but rather how we may accommodate and frame ourselves to sort and agree with those next to whom we sit; showing presently at the very first that we have in ourselves the beginning and handle (as a man would say) of amity, in that we can find in hearts not to be offended with the place that is given us, but to praise our fortune in that we are matched with so good company: for he that is angry about a place or seat, is more offended with him to whom he sitteth next, than with the master of the feast that bade him, and he maketh himself odious as well to the one as the other. Tush (quoth Alexidemus) these are but words; for very deed I have observed, that even you who would be counted Sages and wise men, lay for means enough to make yourselves honoured; and with that he passed by us and went his way. Now as we mused and wondered much at this strange fashion and behaviour of the man: Thales turning unto us; This man (quoth he) is a brainsick fool, and of a monstrous nature, as you may well know by one trick that he played when he was a very youth: for when there was brought unto Thrasybulus his father, a most excellent, sweet and precious ointment, he powered it out all into a great bowl or standing cup, and wine-likwise upon it, and when he had so done, drunk it up himself every drop, working by this means enmity in stead of friendship to Thrasybulus. Immediately after this there comes to me a servitor with these words: Periander requesteth you to take Thales & this other stranger with you, and to come and see a thing that is newly presented and brought unto him, for to know your opinion, whether he is to take it as an occurrent happened by mere chance, or rather a prodigy that doth presage and prognosticate some strange event, for he himself is much troubled in mind thereat, and mightily feareth that it be some pollution or stain to this his festival sacrifice; he had no sooner said this, but he brought us into one of the houses that stood upon the garden, where we found a young lad, seeming unto us to be some herdsman, he had not yet an hair on his face, and otherwise (believe me) he was fair enough and well-favoured, who opening a leather poke or bag that he had, showed unto us a young monstrous babe, which (as he said) was borne of a mare; in the upper parts about the neck and arms shaped like a man, but all the rest resembling an horse; howbeit, crying and wrawling, as like as possibly might be to an infant new come into the world: at which sight Niloxenus turning his face at one side, cried out: God bless us, & turn away his displeasure from us. But Thales after he had looked wistly a good while upon the young lad aforesaid, smiled at the matter (as his manner was to play and make good game with me about mine art:) Are you not minded (quoth he) o Diocles to go about some 〈◊〉 sacrifice for this prodigious sight, and to set on work those gods whose care and charge it is to divert such imminent perils and misfortunes, this being as it is so fearful a prodigy and unlucky accident? How else? (quoth I again) for I assure you this is a token presaging discord and sedition; and I much fear lest this matter proceed as far as to marriages, and the act of generation, even to the prejudice of posterity, considering that the goddess before the expation and satisfaction of her former anger, threateneth thus the second time, as you see. Thales answered never a word to this, but departed laughing. And when Periander met us at the very hall door, and inquired what we thought of this strange occurrent which we went to see? Thales left me, and taking him by the hand: As touching that (quoth he) which Diocles will persuade you unto, do you as he willeth you at your best leisure: for mine own part, mine advice and counsel unto you is, that you entertain no more such youths as this to keep your mares, or at leastwise, that you give them wives to wed. At the hearing of which words, it seemed unto me that Periander was exceeding well pleased; for he laughed a good, and after he had embraced Thales, kissed him. Then Thales turning unto me: I suppose verily (quoth he) o Diocles that this prodigious token hath wrought the effect, and is come to an end already; for see you not what an evil accident is befallen unto us, in that Alexidemus will not dine with us? Well, when we were come within the hall, Thales beginning to speak with a loud voice: And where is the place (quoth he) wherein this honest man thought scorn, & took such snuff to be set: which when it was showed unto him, he turned about, and went to sit there himself, and so took us with him; saying withal, I would (for mine own part) have given any money (rather than failed) to sit at the same board with Ardalus. Now was this Ardalus a Troezenian, by profession a Piper, and a Priest serving the Ardalian Muses, whose images ancient Ardalus the Troezenian had erected and dedicated. Then Aesop, who not long before had been sent by king Croesus, as well to Periander as to the oracle of Apollo in the city of Delphos, being set upon a low settle near to Solon, who sat above him, came in with his fable, and thus said: A mule (quoth he) of Lydia having beheld the form and shape of his own body within a river, and wondering much at the beauty and goodly stature thereof, began to run with full career, to fling and shake his head and his main, like a lusty brave horse; but within a while, remembering that he was an asses son, and foaled by an ass, he stayed his swift course all on a sudden, and laid away his pride and insolent bravery. At these words, Chilo briefly in his Laconian language: Thou hast told (quoth he) a tale by thine own self, who being a slow-backe like and ass, will needs run as the said mule. After this entered in dame Melissa, and took her place close unto Periander: Eumetis also sat down to supper with them: Then Thales addressed his speech unto me who sat next above Bias, and said: My friend Diocles, how happeneth it that you tell not Bias that your friend and guest Niloxenus of Naucratia is come from beyond sea the second time sent from his lord the King unto him with new questions and riddles for to assoil, to the end that he may take knowledge of them while he is sober, and in case for to study and think upon their solutions? Then Bias taking the word out of his mouth: It hath been (quoth he) his old fashions of long time, for to seem to fright & astonish me with such admonitions & advertisements as these; as for me I know full well that as Bacchus otherwise is a wise and powerful god, so in regard of his wisdom he is surnamed Lysius, which is as much to say, as unfolding and undooing the knots of all difficulties; which is the cause that I have no fear at all, that if I be full of him, I shall be less hearty and able to maintain the combat when I come to it and am put to dispute. These and such like pleasant speeches passed to and fro in merriment as they sat at meat. Now when I saw the setting out, and provision of this supper more frugal and sparie than ordinary, I thought in my mind that to make a feast and give entertainment to wise and good men, putteth a man to no greater cost and expenses, but rather easeth him of some charges: for that it abridgeth all curiosity of dainty viands, exquisite cates, costly perfumes, precious ointments, confitures and march-pains brought from foreign and far countries, yea and fine and delicate wines, wherewith Periander being served daily at his ordinary, according to the magnificence of his princely estate, riches, affairs and occasions, yet at such a time he took a glory among these Sages and wise men, in sobriety, frugality, and slender provision; for not in other things only he cut-off and concealed all superfluity and needless furniture which was usual in his housekeeping, but also in his wife's attire and ornaments, whom he showed to his friends and guests nothing costly arrayed, nor keeping state, but meanly set out and adorned. Now when the tables were taken away, and that Melissa had given and dealt chaplets of flowers unto us round about, we rendered thanks and said grace unto the gods, in pouring out unto them devoutly a little wine; and the minstrell-woman having sung a while after our grace, and according to our vows, departed out of the room.  
Then Ardalus calling unto Anacharsis by name, demanded of him whether among the Scythians there were any such singing women & minstrel wenches that could play upon wind instruments? unto which demand he answered extempore and without studying for the matter; No (quoth he) nor so much as vines; and as Ardalus replied again: But yet there are some gods among them, are there not? Yes iwis (quoth he) that there be, and those who understand the speech and language of men; but yet the Scythians are not of the same mind that the Greeks, who although they think themselves to speak more freely and elegantly than the Scythians, yet they hold opinion that the gods take more pleasure to hear the sound of bones and wood, whereof their flutes and hautboys are made than the voice of man. But my good friend (quoth Aesop then) what would you say, if you knew what these pipe-makers do now a days, who cast away the bones of young hind-calves and fawns, and choose before them asses bones, saying forsooth that they make a better sound? whereupon Cleobuline made one of her aenigmes or riddles touching a Phrygian flute, Of braying ass Did force the ear Of mighty stag when he dead was, with sound so clear with horns to brag The long shanke-bone. Upright anon, As hard as stone. in such sort, that it is a wonder how an ass which is otherwise a most blockish and absurd beast, of any other most remote from all sweet harmony of music, should yield a bone so slick, so smooth, and proper, to make thereof a most musical instrument. Certes, (quoth Niloxenus then) this is the reason that the inhabitants of the city Busiris, reproach all us of Naucratia, for that we likewise have already taken two asse-bones for the making of our pipes; and as for them, it is not lawful to hear so much as the sound of a trumpet, because it somewhat doth resemble the braying of an ass; and you all know that the ass is infamous and odious with the Egyptians, because of Typhon. Upon this every man held his peace for a while; and when Pertander perceived that Niloxenus had a good mind to speak, but yet durst not begin or broach any speech; My masters (quoth he) I do like very well of the custom of cities and head-magistrates, in that they give audience and dispatch unto all strangers, before their own citizens; and therefore me thinks it were well that for a time both you & we forbear our speeches which are so familiar and as it were native and home-born among us in our own country, to give access and audience, as it were in a solemn counsel and assembly of estate, unto those questions and demands which our good friend here hath brought out of Egypt; and namely such as are moved from the king to Bias, and Bias I doubt not will confer with you about the same. Then Bias seconding this motion of his: And in what place (quoth he) or with what company would a man wish rather for to hazard and try his skill than in this, for to make answers accordingly and give solutions, if he be put unto it and need require? especially, seeing that the king himself hath given express commandment, that in proposing this question he should first begin within, & afterwards go round about the rest & present the same unto you all? hereupon Niloxenus delivered unto him the king's letter, desiring him to break it open, and to read the same with an audible and loud voice before all the company. Now the substance or tenor of the said letter ran in this form. Amasis' the king of the Egyptians, unto Bias the wisest Sage of all the greeks sendeth greeting. So it is, that the king of the Aethiopians is entered into contestation and contention with me, as touching wisdom: and being in all other propositions put down by me and found my inferior, in the end after all, he hath imposed upon me a commandment very strange, wonderful, and hard to be performed, willing me forsooth to drink up the whole sea. Now if I may compass the solution of this riddle and dark question, I shall gain thereby many towns, villages & cities of his: but in case I cannot assoil the same, I must yield unto him all my cities within the country Elephantine. These are therefore to request you, that after you have well considered of the premises, you send back unto me Niloxenus incontinently with the interpretation thereof. And if either yourself or any of your citizens and countrymen have occasion to use me in your affairs and occasions, be sure you shall no fail of me wherein I may stead you. Farewell.  
This letter being read, Bias made no long stay, but after some little pause and meditation with himself, he rounded Clcobulus it the care, who sat close unto him: And then, what is that you say (my friend of Naucratia) will your master and lord king Amasis (who commandeth so great a multitude of men, and possesseth so large, so fair and plentiful a country) drink all the sea, for to get thereby, I wot not what poor towns and villages of no importance? Then Niloxenus laughing at the matter: I pray you (quoth he) consider upon the point what is possible to be done, even as you will yourself: Mary then (quoth he) let him send word unto the Aethiopian king, and enjoin him to stay the course of all rivers that discharge themselves into the sea, until he have drunk up in the mean time all the water in the sea that is now at this present; for of that only, his demand and commandment is to be understood, and not of the sea that shall be hereafter. These words were no sooner spoken, but Niloxenus took so great a contentment therein, that he could not hold, but needs he must embrace and kiss him immediately for it; yea, and all the rest commended and approved likewise his speech: but Chilo laughing heartily: O my friend (quoth he) of Naucratia, I beseech you before all the sea be dry and clean spent, sail home with all speed, and do the king your master to understand, that he shall not need to travel and busy his brains in searching how he may consume so great a quantity of salt water, but rather how he may make his regiment and royal rule (now brackish and unpleasant) to be sweet and potable unto his subjects; for in these feats Bias is a most cunning workman and a singular master, which when king Amasis hath well and thoroughly learned of him, he shall not have any use of that golden basin to wash his feet in, and for to contain the Egyptians in awe and obedience, but they shall serve him all willingly and love him affectionately, when they shall see him become a good prince, although he were a thousand times more odious unto them than he seemeth now to be. Certes (quoth Periander) than it were worthily done of us all to contribute unto K. Amasis' such like first fruits & presents 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as Homer speaketh, that is to say, every one of us by the poll, and one after another in order; for by this means the accesarie haply and addition will arise to a greater matter, and be more worth unto him than the principal or stock for the negotiation wherefore this voyage was undertaken, and beside, there will accrue unto each of us also some great profit. Meet it were then (quoth Chilo) that Solon should begin the speech; not only for that he is of all our ancient, and hath the highest place of the table, but also because he beareth the greatest and most absolute office, being the man who ordained and established the laws of Athens. Niloxenus then turning toward me, and speaking softly in mine ear: I believe verily (quoth he) o Diocles, that many things go for currant and are believed, although they be untruths, and many men there be who are delighted with the false rumours and sinister reports that go of great and wise men, both which themselves do devise, and also which they receive readily from others; as namely those be which are brought unto us as far as into Egypt, of Chilon, namely, that he should renounce all amity and hospitality with Solon for maintaining this: That all laws were mutable. A foolish and ridiculous report is this (quoth I:) for if it were so, Chilon should have fallen out with Lycurgus, and condemned him, who together with his laws, altered and changed the whole State of the Lacedæmonians. Then Solon, after a little pause made, began to speak in this wise: For mine own part, I am of this mind, that a king or sovereign prince can find no means to make himself more glorious, than by turning his monarchy or absolute government into a democraty or popular state, in communicating his authority sovereign indifferently to his subjects. In the second place spoke Bias, and said: That a prince could not do better for his own honour, than to be the first man that submitted himself to the positive laws of his country. After him opined Thales: I repute (quoth he) that prince and sovereign ruler happy, who liveth to old age, and dieth by a natural death. Anacharsis inferred thus much more in the fourth place: If he be only wise. With that said Cleobulus in his turn: If he repose no confidence in any one about his person. Sixtly came Pittachus with his opinion, saying: If a prince could so nurture and school his subjects, that they should not fear him, but for his sake. And after him, in the last place, delivered Chilo this speech: That a prince ought to amuse his mind about no mortal and transitory things, but meditate only upon that which was eternal and immottall. Now when every one of these Sages had given out his mot, we requested of Periander, that he also would say somewhat for his part; but he with a countenance nothing merry and cheerful, but composed to sadness and severity: I will tell you (quoth he) what I think of all these sentences thus delivered by these my lords; that they all in a manner be enough to fright a man who is of judgement and understanding, from all sovereign rule and government. Then Aesop as one who ever loved to be cross and finding faults: It were meet therefore (quoth he) that every one of us should deal in this point apart and severally, lest in pretending to be counsellors unto princes, and make profession of friendship unto them, we become their accusers. Then Solon laying his hand upon his head, and smiling withal: Think you not (quoth he) o Aesop, that he maketh a ruler more reasonable and a tyrant more gracious and inclined to clemency, who persuadeth him that it is simply better, not to rule, than to rule? And who is he (quoth Aesop again) that will believe you in this, rather than the very god himself who delivered unto you this sentence, by way of oracle: 
I hold that city happy alone,  
Where voice is heard of 
* 〈◊〉  Sergeant one.  Why (quoth Solon) Is there any man heareth at Athens now any more voices than of one Sergeant, and one sole magistrate, which is the Law? notwithstanding, the city hold of a popular State, but you Aesop are so deeply seen in hearing and understanding the voices of crows and gays, that you hear not well and perfectly in the mean time your own speech and language; for you that think according to the oracle of Apollo, that city most happy which heareth the voice but of one, suppose notwithstanding that it is the grace of a feast, when all the guests therein met, may reason and discourse, yea and of every matter. True it is (quoth Aesop) for you have not yet set down a law, that household servants should not be allowed wherewith to be drunk; like as you have made one at Athens, forbidding servants to make love or to be anointed dry, that is, without the bane. Solon began to laugh at this reply of his: and Cleodemus the Physician inferred thereupon: In mine opinion (quoth he) it is all one to anoint (as you say) dry, and to talk freely when a man is well whittled and drenched with wine, for most delectable and pleasant is both the one and the other. Chilo taking hold of this speech; Why then (quoth he) so much the rather it behoveth to abstain from it. Aesop rejoined again; and verily Thales seemed to say, that it is a means whereby a man shall very quickly age and look old. Hereat Periander began to take up a laughter and said: Now truly Aesop, we are well enough served, and are worthily punished according to our desert, in that we have suffered ourselves to be carried away into other discourses and disputations, before we have heard out all the rest of the contents in King Amasis' letters, according as we purposed in the beginning; and therefore good sir Niloxenus go on with that which followeth in your letters missive, and make use of these personages here assembled, whiles they be all in place together. Now truly (quoth Niloxenus) in my conceit that demand of the Aethiopian, a man may well and properly say to be nothing else (but if I may use the words of Archilochus) a tewed or bruised whip: but King Amasis your host, in proposing of such questions is more gentle and civil; for he propounded unto him these demands to be answered: What thing in the whole world is eldest or most ancient? What is the fairest? What the greatest? What most wise? What most common? Over and beside, What most profitable? What is most hurtful? What most puissant? and What most easy? What (quoth Periander) did the Aethiopian prince answer to these demands, & assoil them all? Will you see (quoth Niloxenus then) what answers he made? and after you have heard his answers, be you judge whether he satisfied them or no? for the king my master hath proceeded therein so sincerely, that he would not for any thing in the world, be justly thought to cavil and carp like a sycophant at the answers of another, and yet his care and endeavour is, not to fail in reproving that wherein one hath erred and is deceived: but I will from point to point recite unto you his answers. What is most ancient? Time (quoth he.) What most wise? Truth. What most beautiful? The light. What most common? Death. What most profitable? God. What most hurtful? The Devil. What most mighty? Fortune. What most easy? The thing that pleaseth. When these answers were read (o Nicharchus) they all remained silent for a time: and then Thales asked of Niloxenus, whether King Amasis' approved these solutions or no: Niloxenus answered, that some of them he allowed; but with others of them he rested not well contented: And yet (quoth Thales again) there is not one of them all but deserveth great reprehension, for they do every one bewray much error and gross ignorance; and to begin withal; How can it be held and maintained, that Time should be the eldest thing that is, considering that one part thereof is passed already; another present; and a third yet to come? for the future time which is to follow us, can not choose but by all reason be esteemed younger than all men, or all things which are present. Again, to think that verity were wisdom, in my judgement is as much as if a man should say, that the eye and the light is all one. Furthermore, if he reputed the light to be a fair thing (as no doubt it is) how happeneth it that he forgot the sun? Moreover, as touching his answers of God and the devils, they are very audacious and dangerous. But concerning Fortune, there is no probalitie or likelihood of truth therein; for if she were so powerful and puissant (as he saith) how cometh it about that she turneth and changeth so easily as she doth? Neither is death the commonest thing in the world; for common it is not to the living. But because it shall not be thought, that we can skill of nought, but reproving and correcting others; let us confer a little our particular opinions and sentences in this behalf with his: and if Niloxenus think so good, I am content to offer myself first, to answer unto these demands beforesaid, one after another. Now will I therefore declare unto you (Nicharchus) in order the interrogatories and answers, according as they were propounded and delivered. What is most ancient? God (quoth Thales) for he never had beginning nor nativity. What is greatest? Place; for as the world containeth all things else, so place containeth it. What is fairest? The world. And why? because whatsoever is disposed in lively order, is a part thereof. What is wisest? Time; for it hath found all things already devised, and will find out all inventions hereafter. What is most common? Hope; for it remaineth still with them who have nothing else. What most profitable? Virtue; in that it maketh all things commodious, according as they be used. What is most hurtful? Vice; for it marreth all good things beside, wheresoever it is. What is most mighty? Necessity; for that only is invincible. What is most easy? That which agreeth to nature; for even pleasures many times we do abandon and forsake. Now when all the company had approved and commended highly the answers of Thales: These be questions in deed (quoth Cleodemus unto Niloxenus) meet for kings and princes, both to propose and also to assoil: as for that barbarous king of Aethiopia, who enjoined king Amasis to drink up the sea, deserveth as short an answer as that was which Pittacus made to king Alyattes, who when he demanded somewhat of the Lesbians by his arrogant and proud letters, had no other answer returned him from Pittacus but this: That he should eat oinions and hot bread. upon which words Periander inferred and said: I assure you Cleodemus, it hath been the manner in old time among the ancient Greeks, to propose one unto another such questions as these. For we have heard by report, that in times past, the most skilful and excellent Poets which were in those days, met at the funerals and obsequies of Amphidamas within the city of Cholcis: Now had this Amphidamus been a man of great honour in government of the commonweal in his country; who having put the Eretrians to much trouble in those wars which they waged against those of Cholcis, in the quarrel of Lilantes, happened to lose his life at the last in a battle. And for that the curious verses which the said poets provided and brought to be scanned of, were intricate and hard to be judged of by those who were chosen as judges of the doubtful victory; and besides the glory of two renowned concurrents, Homer and Hesiodus held the judges in great perplexity, and shame to give their sentences as touching two so famous personages, they grew to suchas these questions in the end: and propounded one unto another as Lesches saith after this manner. 
Now help me Muse for to indite what things have never been,  
Nor henceforth whiles the world endures for ever shall be seen?  unto which demand, Hesiodus answered readily and extempore in this wise. 
When steeds to win the prize, with sound of feet shall run amain,  
And at the tomb of Jupiter, their chariots break in twain.  For which cause especially it is reported he was so highly admired, that thereby he 〈◊〉 the trefeets of gold. And what difference (quoth Cleodemus) is there between these questions and the riddles put forth by Eumetis? which haply are no more unseemly for her to devise in sport and mirth, and when she hath (as it were) twisted them, to propose unto 〈◊〉 like herself, than for other women to delight for their pastime, to busy their heads in, and working girdles of tissue, or knitting network coifs and cawles; but certainly that men of wisdom and understanding should make any account thereof, were very ridiculous and a mere mockery. At which speech of his it seemed that Eumetis was willing enough to have replied, and said somewhat unto him again, but that maidenly modesty stayed her; for her blood was up, and she blushed as red as scarlet all her face over: But Aesop taking her part as it were to revenge her quarrel: Nay were it not (quoth he) more ridiculous far, not to be able to solve such questions? and namely such a riddle as this, which she put forth unto us a little before supper: 
A man I saw, with help of fire, who set a piece of brass,  
Fast to a man, so as it seemed to him it soldered was.  Now tell me, can you with all'your cunning say what this should be? No iwis (quoth Cleodemus, neither mean I to beat my brains about the knowledge of it: And yet there is no man (quoth he) knoweth this thing better, nor useth it more than you; and if you deny it, I will call to witness your ventoses and cupping boxes. hereat Cleodemus could not choose but laugh: for there was not a physician in those days that used cupping and boxing so much as he, and in regard that he practised it so much, this remedy or devise in physic was in no small request and reputation. But Mnesiphilus the Athenian a familiar friend and zealous follower of Solon, began to speak in this wise unto Pertander: Sir, if I might be so bold, I think it good, & my desire is, that the speeches and discourses of this good company, may not be dealt among the rich and noble persons only who are here in place, but parted equally and indifferently among them all, and go round like a cup of wine, as the manner is in democraty or state of a city, governed by the people: this I speak for that we who live in a popular commonwealth, participate in nothing of all that which you have right now delivered as touching sovereign rule of prince & king: we think it reason therefore that you would enter every one of you into a discourse of popular government, & deliver your several opinions upon the point, beginning first again at Solon. To this motion they all agreed; whereupon Solon thus began to speak: As for you (o Mnesiphilus) like as all the other inhabitants of Athens, you have heard heretofore what mine opinion is concerning the government of a weal public: and yet if it please to hear me now also, I say again that in my judgement that city is right well governed, and maintaineth best the popular estate and liberty, wherein those very persons who have not been wronged and oppressed, do prosecute the law upon an oppressor and wrong doer, yea and seek to punish him, no less than the party himself who hath sustained the injury & outrage. After him Bias opined thus: That the popular government was best, in which all the inhabitants feared the law as much as a rigorous tyrant. Then Thales followed in this manner: That he reputed such a commonwealth best ordered which had in it neither too wealthy, nor yet over poor citizens. Next to him took Anacharsis his turn and delivered his mind in these words: That in his conceit that city was right well governed wherein all other things being equally determined among the inhabitants, the better condition was measured by virtue, & the worse by vice. In the fifth place Cleobulus affirmed; That the policy of that popular city was simply best, the citizens whereof did more dread dishonour than the law. Then Pittacus in his course gave his opinion thus: That he accounted a State passing well governed in which wicked persons might not bear any authority but good men only. Then Chilo when his turn came; pronounced: That policy to excel all others when as the people gave greatest care unto the laws, and least harkened unto orators. After them all Periander in the last place gave his judgement, saying: That he reckoned that popular estate seemed to be best, which came nearest unto an aristocraty or regiment of a wise and noble Senate.  
Now when this disputation was ended, I requested them to proceed farther, and to instruct us as touching economy or an household, how it ought to be ordered; for that few men were called unto the government of cities and realms, but every one of us had an house and family of his own to be governed: Not so (quoth Aesop, & therewith he laughed) if you reckon Ancharsis in the number of us; for no house hath he of his own, and (forsooth) he glorieth therein, that none he hath, saying: That he maketh his abode in a chariot, as (men say) the sun doth, who is carried round about the world in his chair, and one while goeth to this quarter, and another while to that quarter of the heaven: And even in this respect (quoth Anacharsis) the sun only is free, or at leastwise more at liberty, and at his own dispose, than any other of all the gods, commanding all, and not commanded of any; and therefore he reigneth in deed, and having the reins in his own hand, conducteth his own chariot himself: but me thinks you never conceived and comprised the grandence and beauty of the sun, how excellent and admirable his chariot is; for otherwise you would never in board and by way of merry jest have compared it to ours: furthermore, it seemeth that you take an house to be these cloisters covered with tile, and walled with clay or earth; which is as much to say, that a tortoise is the shell, and not the living creature which is therein: and therefore I nothing wonder that you mocked Solon upon a time, for that he having viewed the palace of king Croesus, richly furnished and sumptuously adorned, deemed not by and by the owner and lord thereof to be stately and happily lodged; but desired first to see and behold the good parts that were within him, rather than the goods which were about him; and herein it seemeth unto me, that you have forgotten your own tale of the fox, who being come to contest and debate with the leopard, whether of the twain were beset with more colours and diverse spots, required of the judge between them, that he would not regard and consider so much the outward painting of the skin, as the variety of the spirit and soul within, for that he should find the same bedight with a world of diverse spots; but you look only to the workmanship of cutters in stone, and of masons, esteeming that only to be the house, and not that which is domestical and within, to wit, children, wife, friends and servitors, unto whom (being wise, sober and of good conditions) the father of the family, and householder, communicating and imparting that which he hath (say he were within a birds-neast or in an emmets hole) may avouch that he dwelleth in a good and blessed house. Lo what mine answer is to Aesop, as also for my part, what collation and dole I contribute unto Diocles; now for the rest of you, let every man confer (as reason is) to it, what he thinketh good, and utter his mind. Then Solon: That house (in mine opinion) is best, the goods wherein, were neither gotten by unjust and indirect means, nor bred any fear, suspicion and doubt for the keeping, ne yet drew repentance for the spending of them. After him Bias opined: That he held the family best, the master whereofwas of himself the same man within, as (for fear of the law) abroad. Then Thales: Wherein the master may live at most ease and greatest leisure. And Cleobulus: Wherein there be more persons that love, than fear the master. Next delivered Pittacus his mind, and said: That he took that to be the best house, wherein there was no desire of superfluities, nor miss of necessaries. After him came Chilo with his sentence: That an house ought as much as is possible, to resemble a city or state governed by the absolute commandment of a king; adding moreover, that which Lycurgus answered sometimes unto one who advised him to establish in the city Sparta the popular government: Begin (quoth he) first thyself to ordain in thine own house a popular estate, where every one may be as great a lord and master as another. After this speech also finished, Eumetis and Melissa went forth. Then Periander taking a great cup in his hand, drank to Chilon, and Chilon likewise in order to Bias. Then Ardalus stood up, & addressing his speech unto Aesop: Will not you neither (quoth he) let the cup come unto us, seeing that they there send it round about from hand to hand among them, as if it were the can of Bathycles, and will not impart and let it pass to others? Then (quoth Solon) neither is this cup (so far as I see) any whit popular, standing as it hath done a long time before Solon only. Whereat Pittacus calling unto Mnesiphilus by name: What is the reason (quoth he) that Solon drinketh not, but goeth against his own Poems, wherein himself hath written these verses: 
The sports of Venus' lady bright,  
And Bacchus, now are my delight:  
In music eke I pleasure take,  
For why? these three, men's joys do make.  Then Anacharsis helped him out, and spoke in his behalf, saying: He doth it (Pittacus) for fear of you and that severe and rigorous law of yours, by which you have ordained, that whosoever by occasion of drunkenness chanceth to commit a fault, whatever it be, shall incur a double penalty, and be fined twice as much as if he had done it whiles he was sober. Then Pittacus: Yet nevertheless (quoth he) you carry yourself so proudly and disdainfully in mockage of this my statute, that both the last year not long since, being at my brother Lybis his house, when you were drunk, you demanded to have the prize thereof & called for the garland & crown. And why not (quoth Anacharsis) considering there was proposed a reward for the victory to him that drunk most? and if I were overcharged with wine & drunk with the first, should not I challenge by right the prize & reward of victory? or else tell me what other end is there of drinking lustily, than to be drunk? Pittacus hereat began to laugh; & than Aesop told such a tale as this: The wolf (quoth he) perceiving upon a time the shepherds to eat a mutton within their cottage, approached unto them and said; Oh what a stir and outcry would you have made at us if I had done that which you do? hereat Chilon: Aesop (quoth he) hath well revenged himself now (whose mouth erewhile we stopped that he had not a word to say) seeing at this present as he doth, that others had taken the answer out of Mnesiphilus his mouth, and not given him liberty to speak, being demanded the question why Solon drank not? and like it was that he should have answered in his behalf. Then Mnesiphilus rendered this reason and said; That he wist well Solon was of this opinion, that the proper work of every art and faculty, as well divine as human, was rather the effect and thing by it wrought, than that whereby it was effected; and the end thereof rather than the means tending thereto: for so I suppose that a weaver will say, that his work is to make a web for a mantle, a coat or such a rob, and not to spoole, wind quills, lay his warp, shoot oufe, or raise and let fall the weights and stones hanging to the loom: Also that the work of a smith is to solder iron, or to give the temper of steel for the edge of an axe head rather than any other thing needful to such an effect, to wit, the kindling of coals and setting them on fire, or the preparing of any stone-grit serving for the former purpose. Semblably, a carpenter or mason employed in architecture, would much more complain and find fault with us, if we should say, that neither a ship nor an house were their work, but the boaring of holes in timber with an auger or the tempering of mortar. In like manner would the muses take exceeding great indignation, and not without good cause, if we should think that their works were either haps, lutes, pipes, and such instruments of music: and not the reforming and institution of folk's manners, the dulcing and appeasing of their passions who delight in song, harmony, and musical accord. And even so we must confess that the work of Venus is not carnal company and meddling of two bodies; nor of Bacchus, wine-bibbing and drunkenness, but rather mirth and solace, affectionate love, mutual amity, conversation, and familiarity one with another, which are procured unto us thereby: for these be the works indeed which Plato calleth divine and heavenly: and these he saith that he desired and pursued when he grew aged and was well stepped in years. For I assure you Venus is the workmistresse of mutual concord, solace and benevolence between men and women, mingling and melting (as it were) together with the bodies their souls also, by the means of pleasure: Bacchus likewise in many who before had no great familiarity together, nor any knowledge and acquaintance to speak of, by softening and moisting the hardness of their manners, and that by the means of wine (like as fire worketh iron to be gentle and pliable) hath engendered a beginning of commixtion and incorporation one with another. True it is I must needs say, that when such personages are met and assembled together, as Periander hath hither invited, there is no need either of cup or flagon for to bring them acquainted: for the muses setting in mids before them a cup of sobriety, to wit, their conference and speech, wherein there is not only store of pleasure and delight, but also of erudition, learning, and serious matter, do excite, drench, enlarge and spread abroad by the means of discourse and talk, the amiable joy of such guests, suffering for the most part the wine pot or flagon to stand still above the cup or goblet: a thing that Hesidiodus forbade expressly among such as could skill better to carouse than to discourse. And whereas we read thus in Homer, 
For howsoever other Greeks that we are their hatre so long,  
Do drink about their measure just allowed them among:  
Your cup I see stands ever full, no gage to you is set,  
But hearty draughts you may carouse, no man there is to let.  Me thinks I hear and understand hereby that our ancients called this manner of drinking one to another by way of challenge & provocation 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 according to the term that Homer giveth it, and so every man drank a certain measure in order: yea and afterwards (like as Ajax did) each one divided portions of flesh to his next fellow sitting at the board: Now when Mnesiphilus had thus said: Chersias the poet, whom lately Periander had quit of certain imputations charged upon him, and who was newly returned into his favour at the earnest request of Chilon: I would gladly know (quoth he) whether Jupiter gauge the rest of the gods with a certain measure and stint of drinking, (for that they use to drink one to another when they dine and sup with him) like as Agamemnon dealt by the princes of the Greeks when they were at his table? Then Cleodemus: If it be true (quoth he) friend Chersias as you and other poets do say, that certain doves flying hardly and with great difficulty over the rocks called Planctae, bring unto Jupiter that celestial meat named Ambrosia; think you not likewise that he had much ado to get the heavenly drink Nectar, and that he had but small store thereof, whereby he could not choose but make spare and give of it to every one according to measure? Yes verily (quoth Chersias) and peradventure they had it distributed equally among them: but since we are fallen again into a fresh discourse of housekeeping, which of you will go on and finish the rest which remaineth to be said thereof? Then Cleobulus inferred this speech and said: As for wise men indeed, the law (quoth he) hath given them a prescript measure; but as touching fools, I will tell you a tale which I heard my mother once relate unto a brother of mine: The time was (quoth she) that the moon prayed her mother to make her a petticoat fit & proportionable for her body: Why, how is it possible (quoth her mother) that I should knit or wove one to sit well about thee considering that I see thee one while full, another while croissant or in the wain, & pointed with tips of horns, & sometime again half round? Even so (friend Chersias) a man is not able to set down a definite & just proportion of substance & goods to maintain an house unto a foolish or a naughty person; for such a one hath need one while of this thing, and another while of that, according to his diverse desires & variable events & occasions, much like to Aesop's dog, who as he saith, in the winter season shrinking together, & lying round for cold wherewith he is ready to be frozen and sterved, is of mind to build himself an house: but in summer when he lies sleeping stretched out at length, he thinks himself to be very great, and supposeth it a needless thing to build an house, and besides no small piece of work to set up a frame big and large enough to receive his body. See you not likewise o Chersias, that these kind of folk will be thought now but small and little, and restrain themselves into a narrow compass, proposing forsooth a straight and laconical manner of life; but anon all at once they will be aloft, and if they may not have all that they see, and possess not only the estate of private persons, but also of kings and princes, they are undone for ever, and complain as if they were pined and ready to die for hunger: at which words Chersias held his peace. But Cleodemus then began and said: Howbeit, we all see (quoth he) that you my masters yourselves who are sage and wise, have your goods and possessions unequally dealt among you, if a man would go about to measure and count them. True indeed my good friend (answered Cleobulus again) and this is because the law (like unto a good weaver or knitter) hath given unto every one of us that which is fit, suitable, and convenient for us; and even so your you self sit, in your direction for diet, nourishment, and purging of your patients by reason, after the prescription (as it were) of law, do not set them down receipts and orders all alike, but such as are agreeable and meet for every one. Upon this speech Ardalus replied, saying: How then? Is there a law that commandeth Epimenides here our familiar friend and Solon's host, to forbear all other viands, and by taking only in his mouth a little of the composition called Alimon, which hath virtue to put-by hunger (which pleasant electuary or confection he maketh himself) to continue a whole day without meat and drink, without dinner and supper. This speech moved attention and silence in the whole company there in place: only Thales after a jocund and merry manner answered: That Epimenides did well and wisely not to busy and trouble himself about grinding corn, baking meal, or dressing his own meats (as Pittacus did): for myself (quoth he) whiles I was in the Isle Lesbos, heard a wench of a foreign country, as she turned the querne about, sing thus, Grind mil, Grind; for even Pittacus the king of Great Mitylenae, is a miller and grindeth. But Solon said; I wonder much Ardalus, that you never read in Hesiodus his Poem, the receipt of the regiment of that man's diet: for he was the first who gave unto Epimenides the seeds of this nourishment, and taught him to search: 
In Mallows and in Asphodels, which grow on every ground:  
What use and profit manifold, for man there may be found.  Why? think you (quoth Periander) that Hesiodus had any such meaning in that verse; and not rather (as he is always a great praiser of sparing and frugality) that he exhorted us unto the simplest viands, as to those which were most pleasant: for surely the Mallow is good to eat, and the asphodel stem very sweet in taste: as for those which the Physicians came Alima and Adipsa, that is to say, putting-by hunger and thirst; I hear say and understand that they be medicines and not meats, and that among other ingredients that go to their making, they receive honey and a certain barbarous kind of cheese, besides many other seeds which are easy enough to come by: for how else should not (as we read in Hesiodus) 
The plough beam hang aloft in smoothrie smoke,  
The ox and mule cease both to draw in yoke.  if need there were of so great provision? But I marvel much Solon, at your host, that having but lately celebrated a solemn feast of Purification among the Delians, he observed not how they themselves brought with great ceremony into their temple, the ensigns and monuments of the ancient and primitive nourishment of mankind? and namely, among other things very common, and which grow of themselves without man's hand, the Mallow and the asphodel: which two herbs (it is very probable and like) that Hesiodus also recommended unto us for their simplicity & profit. Not in those regards only (quoth Anacharsis) but for that they both the one as well as the other, are commended as especial herbs for the health of man. True (quoth Cleodemus) and great reason you have so to say: for Hesiodus was well seen in Physic, as may appear by that which he hath written so exactly and skilfully of diet, and the regiment of our feeding, of the manner of tempering wine, of the virtue and goodness of water, the use of baines, baths and women, of the time of keeping company with them, and of the positure of infants in the womb, and when they should be borne. But to judge aright, Aesop had more reason than Epimenides to avow himself the disciple of Hesiodus, for the talk which the hawk had with the nightingale, gave unto Aesop the first beginning of his fair, variable, and many tongued learning of his. But willing I am to hear Solon; for very like it is, that he having lived and conversed so familiarly many years together with Epimenides at Athens, asked of him oftentimes and knew full well upon what accident or occasion, and for what purpose he chose and followed this straight course of life. And what need was there (quoth Solon) to demand that of him? for all the world knoweth, and most evident it is, that as the greatest and most sovereign good of man, is to have no need at all of nouriture; so the next unto it is to require the least nourishment that is: Not so (quoth Cleodemus if I may be so bold as to speak my mind: For I do not think that the sovereign good of man is to eat nothing, especially when the table is laid and furnished with meat; for to take away the viands set thereupon, is as much as to subvert the altar and sacrifice unto the gods, and to overthrow the amity and hospitality among men. And like as Thales saith: That if the earth were taken out of the world, there must of necessity ensue a general confusion of all things; even so we may say, put down the board, you do as much as ruinate the whole house; for with it you abolish fire which keepeth the house; the tutelar-deitie of Vesta; the amiable custom of drinking together out of one bowl and cup; the laudable manner of feasting friends; the kind fashion of entertaining strangers, and all reciprocal hospitality, and mutual usage of guests; which be the principalland most courteous conversations that can be devised among men one with another: and to speak in sum more truly; farewell then, all the sweetness of human life and society, in case there be allowed any retreat at all, solace and passion apart from business and affairs, whereof the need of sustenance and the preparation thereto belonging, yieldeth most matter, and affordeth the greatest part. Moreover, the mischief hereof would reach as far as to agriculture, and that were great pity, considering that if husbandry were laid down with the decay & ruin thereof, there would ensue again a rude & deformed face of the whole earth, as being neglected, & not cleansed from fruitless trees, bushes & weeds, and overflowed with the inundation of waters & rivers running out of their channels to and fro without order, for want of good husbandry and the diligent hand of man: over and beside, perish there shall with it, all arts and handicrafts which the table maintaineth and keepeth in train, giving unto them their foundation & matter, in such sort as they will come all to nothing, if you take it away: nay more than that; What will become of religion and worship done to the gods? for surely, men will exhibit but little or none honour at all unto the Sun, and much less unto the Moon, as having nought else from them but their light & heat only: and who will ever cause an altar to be reared and furnished as it ought to be, to Jupiter, for sending down seasonable rain, or to Ceres the patroness of agriculture, or to Neptune the protector of trees and plants? who will ever-after offer any sacrifices unto them? how shall Bacchus be the author of joy and mirth, if we have no more any need of that pleasant liquor of wine which he giveth? what shall we sacrifice? what shall we power upon the altars? what oblations shall we offer unto the gods? and whereof shall we present any first fruits? In one word, this abuse would bring with it a total subversion and general confusion of the best and chiefest things. True it is, that to follow all kind of pleasures, and in every manner were brutishness; and even so to fly them all, and in no wise to embrace them, were no less folly and sottishness. The soul may well enough enjoy other pleasures and delights, which are better and more noble; but the body can find none at all more harmless and honest, to content itself with, than to eat and drink, whereby it is fed and nourished; a thing that there is no man but he both knoweth and acknowledgeth; in regard whereof, men use to set and spread their tables in public and open places, for to eat and drink together in the broad daylight; whereas to take the pleasure of Venus, they wait for the night, and seek all the darkness they can, supposing it to be as beastly and shameless to do the one in public and common, as not at all to do the other but forbear it altogether. When Cleodemus herewith broke off, and ended his speech, I followed in the same train, and seconded his words in this wise: But you overpass one thing beside, namely, that by this means, together with our food and nourishment, we banish and drive away all sleep: now if there be no sleep, there will be no dreams, & so by consequence, we may bid farewell to a most ancient kind of oracle and divination which we have by them. Over and beside, our life will be always after one fashion, and to no purpose, but in vain shall the soul be clad (as a man would say) within the body, seeing that the greatest number and the principal parts of the said body were made and framed by nature for to serve as instruments of nourishment; as for example, the tongue, the teeth, the stomach and the liver, etc. for there is nothing in the whole structure and composition of man's body, that either lieth still & idle, or is ordained for any other use; insomuch as whosoever hath no need of food, needeth not the body also; which is as much to say, as that he standeth in no need of himself; for every one of us doth consist aswell of body as soul. Thus much may serve for my part, to have spoken in the defence of the belly; now if Solon or any other have aught to say and object against it, by way of accusation, ready we are and disposed to give him the hearing. Yes mary (quoth Solon) unless we would be reputed of less judgement and understanding than the Egyptians, who ripping open the belly of a dead body, show it unto the sun, and cast away the guts and entrails together with the paunch, into a running river; but afterwards, when they have thus rid away the garbage, and cleansed the corpse, the rest they imbaulme and be careful of: for to say a truth, these inwards, be the very pollution and inquination of the flesh, and to speak properly, the very hell of our body; for so they say, that the place of the damned is full of (I wot not what) horrible rivers and winds confused together with fire and dead carcases. For no creature living, is nourished with any food that liveth; but we (in killing those creatures which have souls, or in destroying plants, herbs and fruits which participate likewise of life, inasmuch as we see them to be nourished and grow) do evil, and sin very grievously, forasmuch as whatsoever is transmuted and turned into another, loseth that nature which it had before, and wholly is corrupted, for to become nourishment to another. As for abstinence from eating of flesh, as (by report) Orpheus did in old time, is rather a subtle shift of Sophistry, than any perfect shunning or forbearing of those sins which are committed in delicious fare and superfluous gourmandize; but the only way to avoid enormity in this behalf, and the means to keep a man's self perfectly pure and undefiled, according to the absolute rule of justice, is to be content with that which is within himself, and to live without desire of any thing without, whatsoever: but he that is by God framed to that nature and condition, that without the damage and hurt of another, he can not possibly preserve his own being and safety; unto him he hath given a nature which will continually move him to injustice, & to commit wrong. Were it not then (my good friend Diocles) very meet and requisite to cut off together with injustice and sinfulness, the belly, stomach and liver, yea, and all other such parts which give unto us the appetite of nothing in the world that is honest, but resemble partly the instruments of a cook, and vessels of the kitchen, to wit, chopping-knives, cauldrons, pots and kettles, and in part are like unto the utensils of a mill, of a chimney, oven or furnace, or such tools as serve either to dig pits, or be used in bakehouse and pastry? for to say a truth, you may plainly see and perceive that the soul in many men lieth hidden within the body, as it were in a certain mil-house, turning round continually (as one would say) about a querne, in pursuit after the necessities thereof, even as we here, erewhile perceived by experience in our own selves, when we neither saw nor heard, nor regarded one another; but every one of us inclining forward and stooping down to our victuals served our own need & looked to our food, but now when the tables be taken up, as you see, having chaplets of flowers on our heads, we take delight in devising together, & holding honest discourses, we rejoice in fellowship & good company, we pass the time away in ease & repose, being once come to that point, that we have no more any desire or need of nourishment: If then we could hold us so still, & continue while we live in this present state, so that we neither feared want & poverty, nor yet knew what was covetousness & desire of riches, should we not lead (think you) a blessed and easy life, as having leisure to converse together and joy in our mutual society? For know well this, that looking after the needle's 〈◊〉 immediately ensueth upon the appetite and desire of things necessary. But whereas Cleobulus is of this opinion, that needs there must be meat & food, to the end that their might be tables and standing cups upon them, that men may drink one to another, also that they might sacrifice to dame Ceres & her daughter Proserpina: another man may as well and truly say: There aught to be wars and battles, to the end that we may have walls and fortifications for our cities, arcenals for our navy, and armouries also, that for the kill of an hundred enemies, we might in thanksgiving to the gods offer sacrifices thereupon, called Hecatomphonia, according as they say, there is a statute importing so much among the Messenians. Or all one it were as if some other should be angry or offended with health, saying: It were great pity, if because there are none sick, any more there should be no use of easy beds, fine linen sheets, soft pillows and cover, nor any need to sacrifice unto Aesculapius or other gods, to divert and turn away our maladies; and so the art of physic, with all the tools, instruments, drugs and medicines belonging thereto, be cast aside and neglected, without honour and regard. For what odds is there between the one and the other, considering that we receive food as a medicine to cure our hunger? Besides, all they that keep a certain diet, are said to cure themselves, using this remedy, not as a pleasure delightsome and desirable, but as means to content and satisfy nature. For surely we may reckon more pains than pleasures, that come unto a man by his feeding; or to speak more truly, the pleasure of eating hath but a little place, and continueth as small a while in man's body; but the trouble and difficulty which it hath in providing and preparing, with how many shameful inconveniences and painful travels it pestereth us, what should I relate unto you? for I suppose, that in regard of all these vexations, Homer took upon him to prove, that the gods died not, by this argument, that they received no food: 
For neither eat they bread in heaven, nor pleasant wine to drink:  
Thus bloodless since they be, we them immortal name and think.  As if by these verses he would give us to understand, that our eating and drinking is not only the means of our life, but also the cause of our death: for thereupon a number of diseases take hold of our bodies, which are gathered within the same, and proceed no less from fullness than emptiness, and many times we have more ado to concoct, consume, and dissipate our food, than we had to get and provide it. And much like as if the daughters of Danaus were in doubt what to do, and what life to lead, or how to be employed, after they were delivered and freed once from their servile task imposed upon them, for to fill their tun boared full of holes; even so doubt we (in case we were come to this pass, as to cease from stuffing and cramming this unsatiable flesh of ours, which will never say Ho, with all sorts of viands that land or sea may afford) what we should do? and all because for want of experience & knowledge what things be good & honest, we love all our life time to seek for to be provided of necessaries: and like as they who have been slaves a long time, after they come once to be delivered from servitude, do of themselves and for themselves the very same services, which they were wont to perform for their masters, when they were bound; even so, the soul taketh now great pains and travel to feed the body, but if once she might be dispatched and discharged from this yoke of bondage, no sooner shall she find herself free and at liberty, but she will nourish and regard herself, she will have an eye then, to the knowledge of the truth, and nothing shall pluck her away, or divert and withdraw her from it. Thus much o Nicharchus as touching those points which were then delivered concerning nourishment. But before that Solon had fully finished his speech, Gorgias the brother of Periander entered into the place, being newly returned from Taenarus, whither he had been sent before by occasion of (I wot not what) oracles, for to carry thither certain oblations unto Neptune, and to do sacrifice unto him; we all saluted him and welcomed him home; but Pertander his brother coming toward and kissed him, causing him afterwards to sit down by himself upon the bedside, where he made relation unto him alone of certain news. Pertander gave good ear unto his brother, and showed by his countenance that he was diversely affected, and very passionate upon that which he heard him to report; and by his visage it seemed one while that he sorrowed and grieved, another while that he was angry and offended; he made semblant for a time, as if he disinherited and would not give credit unto him, and anon again he seemed as much to wonder and stand in admiration; in the end he laughed and said unto us: Very gladly would I out of hand recount unto you the tidings which my brother hath told me, but hardly dare I, neither will I be over hasty so to do, for fear of Thales, whom I have heard otherwise to say: That well we might make report of news that be probable and like to be true; but touching things impossible, we ought altogether for to hold our peace. Hereupon Bias: But as wise a saying (quoth he) was this of Thales: That as we ought not to believe our enemies in things that be credible, so we are not to discredit our friends even in those things that are incredible. For mine own part, I think verily by this speech of his, that he took those for his enemies who were lewd and foolish, and reputed for friends such as were good and wise. I would advise you therefore (o Gorgias) that either you would declare your news here before all this company, or rather reduce that narration which you come withal to pronounce aloud unto us, into those new kind of verses which are called Dithyrambes. Then Gorgias set tale on end and began to speak in this manner: After we had sacrificed for the space of three days together, and the last day performed in a general assembly all the night a festival solemnity with plays and dances along the strand by the sea side, as the moon shone at full upon the sea, without any wind in the world stirring at all, so as there was a gentle general calm, and every thing still and quiet; behold we might discover a far off a certain motion or trouble in the sea, bending toward a promontory or cape, and as it approached nearer thereto, raised withal a little scum, and that with a great noise by reason of the agitation of the water and waves that it made in such sort, as that all the company of us wondered what it might be, and ran toward the place whereunto it seemed to make way and bend the course for to arrive; but before that we could by any conjecture guess what it was, (the swiftness thereof was such) we might evidently descry with our eye a number of dolphin's, some swimming round about it thick together, others directing the whole troop toward the easiest and gentlest landing place of the bank, and some there were again that followed behind as it were in the rearward: now in the mids of all this troop there appeared above the water I wot not what lump or mass of a body floating aloft, which we could neither discern nor divise what it was, until such time as the said dolphin's all close together and shooting themselves into the shore, landed upon the bank a man both alive and also moving; which done they returned toward the rock or promontory aforesaid, leaping and dancing wanton as it should seem for very joy more than they did before: which the greatest part of our company (quoth Gorgias) seeing, were so greatly afraid, that they fled from the sea amain all amazed; myself with some few others took better heart and approached near, where we found that it was Arion the harper, who of himself told to us his name, and easy he was otherwise to be known, for that he had the same apparel which he was wont to wear when he played in public place upon his harp: So we took him up incontinently and brought him into a tent (for harm he had none in the world, save only that by reason of the swiftness & violent force of his carriage he was weary and seemed ready to faint) where we heard from his mouth a strange tale, and to all men incredible, unless it were to us who saw the end and issue thereof. For this Arion reported unto us, that having been of long time resolved to return out of Italy and so much the rather because Periander had written unto him for to make haste & come away upon the first opportunity presented to him of a Corinthian carrack that made fail from, thence, he presently embarked, but no sooner were they come into the broad and open sea, and that with a gentle gale of wind, but he perceived that the mariners conspired together for to take away his life, whereof the pilot himself also of the same ship gave him advertisement secretly, namely, that they intended to put the thing in execution that night. Arion thus finding himself destitute of all succour, and not knowing what to do; it came into his mind as it were by a certain heavenly and divine inspiration (whiles he had yet some time to live) for to adorn his body with those ornaments which he accustomed to put on when he was to play upon his harp for a prize in some frequent Theatre; to the end that the same habit might serve him for his funeral weed now at his death; and withal to sing a doleful song and lamentable ditty before his departure out of this life, and not to show himself in this case less generous than the swans: being therefore thus arrayed and decked accordingly, and doing the mariners to wit before hand, that he had a wonderful desire to chant a sonnet or hymn unto Apollo Pythius, for the safety of himself, the ship and all those fellow passengers who were within it, he stood upright on his feet in the poop close to the ship side, and after he had founded a certain invocation or prayer to the sea-gods, he chanted the canticle beforesaid, and as he was in the mids of his song, the sun went down and seemed to settle within the sea, and with that they began to discover Peloponnesus. Then the mariners who could no longer stay nor tarry for the dark night, came toward for to kill him; when he saw their naked swords drawn, and beheld the foresaid Pilot how he covered his face, because he would not see so villainous a spectacle, he cast himself over shipboard, and leapt as far into the sea from the ship as he could; but before that his whole body was under the water, the dolphin's made haste, and from beneath were ready to bear him up for sinking. Full of fear and perturbation of spirit he was at first, insomuch as being astonished thereat, he wist not what it might be; but within a while after, perceiving that he was carried at ease, and seeing a great float of dolphin's environing gently round about him; and that they succeeded and seconded one another by turns, for to take the charge of carrying him, as if it had been a service imposed upon them all, and whereunto they were necessarily obliged; and seeing beside that the carrike was a good way behind (by which he gathered that he went apace, and was carried away with great celerity:) He was not (quoth Gorgias) so fearful of death, or desirous otherwise to live, as he had an ambitious desire to arrive once at the haven of safety, to the end that the world might know that he stood in the grace and favour of the gods, and that he reposed an assured belief and firm affiance in them, beholding as he did the sky full of stars, the moon arising pure and clear with exceeding brightness, and the whole sea about him smooth and calm; but that the course of these dolphin's traced out a certain way and path, so that he thought thus within himself, that the divine justice had not one eye alone, but as many eyes as there were stars in the heaven, and that God beheld all about whatsoever was done both by sea and land: Which cogitations and thoughts of mind (quoth he) mightily strengthened and sustained my body, which otherwise was ready to faint and yield with travel and weariness: finally, when the dolphin's were come as far as to the great promontory of Tenarus, so high and steep, they were very wary and careful that they ran not upon it, but turned gently at one side, and swom behind it a long the coast, as if they would have conducted a bark safe and sound, to a sure bay and landing place, whereby he perceived evidently that carried he was thus by the guidance of the divine providence. After that Arion (said Gorgias) had made all this discourse unto us, I inquired of him, where he thought that the ship above said intended to arrive. At Corinth (quoth he) without all doubt, but it will be very late first, for it being toward evening when I leapt into the sea, I suppose that I was carried upon the dolphin's backs no less than a course of five hundred furlongs, and no sooner was I from shipboard, but there ensued presently a great calm at sea. Moreover, Gorgias said: That he having learned the names aswell of the shipmaster as the pilot, and withal known what badge or ensign the ship carried, made out certain pinnaces, and those manned with soldiers, for to observe what creeks, commodious bay, and landing places there were upon the said coast; but as for Arion, Gorgias conveyed him secretly with him, for fear lest if the mariners should have had any advertisement of his delivery and safety, they might fly away and escape: But as God would have it, every thing fell out so, as we might see (quoth Gorgias) the very immediate hand of the divine power; for at one and the same instant that I arrived here, I had intelligence also that the said ship was fallen into the hands of those soldiers whom I set out; and so the mariners and passengers within it were taken all prisoners. Hereupon Periander commanded Gorgias presently to arise to apprehend them, and lay them up fast in close prison, where no person might have access unto them, or certify them that Arion was alive and safe. Then Aesop: Mock on now (quoth he) at my gays and crows that talk and tell tales, when you see that dolphin's also can in this wise play their youthful parts, and achieve such prowesses. Nay (quoth I then) we are able to report, Aesop, another narration like to this, which hath benefer down in writing, and received for currant and good these thousand years passed and more, even from the days of Ino and Athamas. Then Solon taking occasion of speech by these words: Yea, but these matters, o 〈◊〉 (quoth he) concern the gods more nearly, and surpass our puissance; but as for that which befell to Hesiodus, was a mere human accident and not impertinent unto us, for I suppose you have heard the history told. No I assure you (quoth I:) But worth it is the hearing (quoth Solon again.) And thus by report it was. A certain Milesian with whom as it should seem Hesiodus had familiar acquaintance, in so much as they lodged, eat and drunk together ordinarily in the city of Locres kept their host's daughter secretly, and abused her body, so as in the end he was taken with the manner. Now was Hesiodus suspected to have been privy to him of this villainy from the very beginning; yea and to have kept the door and assisted him in concealing the same, whereas indeed he was in no fault at all, nor culpable any way; howbeit, by means of false suspicions and sinister surmises of people, he incurred much anger and was hardly thought of, neither could he avoid the unjust imputations of the world: for the brethren of the young damosel lay in ambush for him near unto a wood about Locri, set upon and slew him outright together with his servant or page Troilus, who tended upon him. After this murder committed, and their bodies cast into the sea, it chanced that the corpse of Troilus being carried forth into the river Daphnus, rested upon a rock environed and dashed round about with the water, and the same not far from the sea, which rock thereupon took his name, and is so called at this day. But the dead body of Hesiodus, immediately from the land was received by a float or troop of Dolphins, and by them carried as far as to the capes Rhion and Molychria. It fortuned at the very same time that the citizens of Locri, held a solemn assembly and celebrated festival sacrifices, called Rhia, which they perform even at this day also in the very same place with great magnificence and state: this corpse being espied floating toward them, (you may well think) caused all the company there to marvel not a little, who thereupon ran all to the shore, and taking knowledge that it was the corpse of Hesiodus, because it seemed fresh killed, they laid all other business apart & with all speed, sent about and made inquisition of this murder, by reason of the great renown and name that went of Hesiodus: and this they followed with such diligence, that quickly they found out the murderers, whom after they were apprehended, they threw alive headlong presently into the sea, drowned them, and razed their house. Now was the corpse of Hesiodus interred near unto the said Nemeium; howbeit, few strangers there be that know of this his sepulchre, for concealed of purpose it is, by reason of the Orchonenians who made search for it (by report) and were desirous by the appointment of certain oracles to take up his relics, and bury them in their country. If then the Dolphins be so kind and lovingly affected to the dead, much more probable it is, that they be willing and ready to help those who are alive, especially if they be drawn and alured by the sound of the pipes, flutes or other harmony: for who is there of us all that knoweth not how these creatures are delighted in song, following and swimming along those vessels where they hear music, as taking great pleasure in the songs and musical instrument of those passengers, who do sing or play in a fair and calm season: also they are not a little pleased to see young children swimming & they joy and strive to be doussing, badling, & diving together with them: and therefore provided it is by an unwritten law, as touching their security, that they should not be hurt; by virtue whereof none do fish for them, no nor do them any harm, unless haply when they chance to be taken in any nets, they hinder the taking of other fishes, or otherwise hurt them, and then beaten they are and corrected gently for it, like as little children who have done amiss and made a fault. And here I call to mind what I have heard recounted for certainty of the inhabitants of Lesbos, that in times passed within their country, there was a young maiden saved by a Dolphin, from peril of being drowned in the sea: but for that Pittacus should know this much better, it were more reason that he himself reported it. True it is indeed (quoth Pitracus) the tale is very notorious and related by many. For there was an answer given by oracle to those founders, who first peopled Lesbos; that when in failing upon the sea they arrived at a rock called Messogaean, that is to say, Mediterranean, they should cast into the sea for Neptune a bull, but for dame Amphitrite and the Nymphs Nereids a virgin alive. Now seven principal conductors & kings there were of that company which were to inhabit there, and Echelaus made the eight, expressly named by the oracle for the planting of a colony, and he as yet a bachelor & unmarried. Now when the other seven, who had daughters marriageable, & yet unwedded, cast lots among themselves whose daughter should be offered (as is before said) it fell out so, that the lot light upon the daughter of Smintheus; her therefore they arrayed with rich robes, & adorned with costly jewels of gold for that purpose, and being come to the place appointed, after they had made their prayers and orisons accordingly, as in such a case, and were now at the very point to throw her into the sea; a certain young man, one of the passengers in the ship, of a gentle nature and good disposition (as it appeared) whose name was Enalus, being enamoured of the said young damosel, entered presently into a resolution to succour her in this extremity, although he saw well that it was in manner impossible, and embracing her fast about the middle, he cast himself and her together into the sea: and even then there ran a rumour, although without any certain ground or author; howbeit believed by many of the army, that both of them were carried to land and saved alive: but afterwards (by report) the said Enalus was seen in the isle Lesbos, who made relation, that he and she both were mounted upon dolphin's backs, and so carried safe to the firm land without any danger. I could rehearse other strange narrations belonging hereto, more marvelous than these, able as well to ravish with admiration, as to affect with delectation the minds of any that shall hear them; but hard it is to aver them all for true, and to bring proof thereof, namely: That when there arose a mighty huge billow of water about the island like a rock, so as no men durst approach near unto the sea, Enalus only came thither and a number of Polype fishes, or poulpes followed after, and accompanied him to the temple of Neptune, where the biggest of them brought unto Enalus, a stone which he took and dedicated there in memorial of this miracle; which stone we call Ei to this day. But in sum (quoth he) if a man knew well the difference between impossible and unusual, and could distinguish between that which is contrary to the order or course of nature, and the common opinion of men, in not believing too rashly, nor discrediting a thing too easily, he might observe well from time to time your rule o Chilon, [Nothing overmuch] which you ordain to be kept. After him spoke Anacharsis, saying: That is not to be wondered at, that the goodliest and greatest matters in the world were done by the will and providence of God, considering that according to the good and wise opinion of Thales, there is in all the chief and principal parts there of a certain soul: for as the organ and instrument of the soul is the body; so the instrument of God is the soul: and like as the body hath many motions of the own, but the greater part of them, and namely those which are most noble, proceed from the soul; even so the soul likewise doth work some of her operations by her own instince, but in others she yieldeth herself to be ordered, turned, managed and directed by God, as it pleaseth him to use her, being indeed of all instruments the most meet and handsome: for it were a very strange and absurd thing, that wind, water, clouds & rain, should be God's instruments, by means whereof he nourisheth and maintaineth many creatures, and whereby he destroyeth and overthroweth as many; and that he should use the ministery of no living creatures in any work of his: Reason it is yet and probable, that seeing such creatures depend wholly upon the puissance and omnipotency of God, that they should serve all his motions, yea and obey his wills and second his purposes, more than bows are accommodate to the Scythians, and haps or hautboys to the greeks. After this speech the poet Chersias made mention of many others who had been miraculously and beyond all hope & expectation saved from death, and among the rest he gave instance of Cypselus the father of Periander, whom being but a young babe and infant new borne, certain bloody murderers were sent to kill, and upon the sight of him, for very pity turned away and forbore to commit so bloody afact; but afterwards bethinking themselves, and repenting such foolish compassion, they returned back again to seek him out but could not find him, for that his mother had hidden him within a little corn flasket or twiggen hamper, called in Greek Cypsels: in remembrance whereof Cypselus afterwards when he was a man dedicated a chapel within the temple of Apollo in Delphos, as believing how at that time he had been miraculously preserved, and by the hand of God kept from crying, which might have bewrayed him to the murderers. Then Pittacus addressing his speech to Pertander said thus: Chersias hath done me a great pleasure to mention this chapel or cell; for many a time desirous I was to know of you what should be the meaning of those frogs which are seen graven round about the foot of the palm tree therein; and what they did concern either the said God Apollo, or the man himself who built and dedicated the said house. And when Periander willed him to ask Chersias that question, who wist well enough what it was, for that he was with Cypselus at the dedication thereof; Chersias smiled and said: I will not expound the mystery thereof, unless I may know first of them that be here, what is meant by these old said saws; Nothing too much. Know thyself: and that other mot, (which hath caused some to continue single and unmarried, others to forbear suretyship, and many to be distrustful, to be mute and silent) to wit, Give thy word and pay: Be surely, and be sure of a shrewd turn. And what need is there quoth Pittacus that we should interpret and declare these sentences, considering you so greatly praise the fables that Aesop hath composed, which show the substance of every one? Aesop answered: So saith Chersias indeed when he is disposed to jest and be merry with me: but when he speaketh in good earnest, he affirmeth that Homer was the first author of these sentences, saying that Homer knew himself well enough, who advancing forward to set upon other captains of the Greeks, 
Refused well and wisely for to fight,  
With Ajax, son of Telamonius that knight.  He saith moreover, that Ulysses approved and commended this sentence, Nothing too much; when he admonished Diomedes in these terms: 
Sir Diomedes, praise not me overmuch  
Ne yet dispraise I love no doings such.  And as for suretyship, others are of opinion that he condemneth it as a lewd, naughty, and dangerous thing in these words 
Who sureties are for men distressed and in calamity,  
Taste oftentimes for their kind heart much infortunity.  But this Poet Chersias here saith: That the fiend Ate, which is as much to say as Plague or infortunity, was by Jupiter flung down from heaven to earth, for that she was present at the caution or warrantise which he interposed as touching the nativity of Hercules, whereby Jupiter was circumvented and overtaken. Then Solon: Seeing it is so (quoth he) I am of this mind, that we should give ear and credit to the most wise Poet Homer, whose counsel this is: 
Since that the night comes on apace, and hath suprised us,  
Full meet it is her to obey, and end our speeches thus.  After we have therefore given thanks in pouring out wine and offering it to the Muses, Neptune and Amphitrite, let us (if you think so good) end this our assembly and banquet. Thus Nicarchus this our merry meeting broke up, and was for that time dissolved.    

INSTRUCTIONS FOR THEM THAT MANAGE AFFAIRS OF STATE.  

The Summarie.  
Tyranny in any public government, be it of prince, seignourie or people, as it is dangerous and detestable; so we are no less to fear anarchy, and the horrible confusion of those States where every one is a lord & master. The wise man said very well: That a people or city destitute of government, is near to ruin; and public affairs prosper well, when there be store of good counsellors. And on the other side, experience showeth, that human society can not stand without magistrates, the maintainers of laws & good order, which be the nerves or sinews, the cords and props of our life and conversation one with another. But if there be any way in the world slippery, it is that of the management of State affairs, by reason of the lewdness of some, whom I may call Sage fools, who run by heaps after public offices, not suffering men of honour to enter into them, as fearing to be afterwards ranged and ordered by reason. Since then that ambition is a mortal plague in the mind and understanding of him who would advance himself by crooked and indirect means, it behoveth on the contrary side, that those who have a sincere affection to serve in public place, take heed that they be not discouraged, although otherwhiles they be kept under and put down by such persons as by good right aught to serve, and not command. To hold therefore some mean in this case, between mounting up unto vainglory, and falling into cowardice, Plutarch for to content and satisfy a friend of his, giveth good instructions to every man that entereth into the managing of State affairs: and in the first place he requireth at his hands a good will, free from vanity and lightness, void of avarice, and delivered from ambition and envy: afterwards, his advice is, that he endeavour to know those well, whom he must govern, for to acquit him well in his own duty, in case he be inducted unto any high degree, in reforming himself, and being furnished with a good conscience, knowledge & eloquence, proper instruments for to go thorough all difficulties. This done, he teacheth a Statesman to manage well his own words, also what way he ought to take for the entrance into the conduct of his weighty affairs; what friends he is to choose, and how he is to demean himself as well with them as his enemies: afterwards, he discusseth and handleth this question, to wit, Whether such a person as he whom he hath represented, aught to intermeddle and deal in all offices, and resolveth that he ought to manage none but that which is of greatest importance. From this he proceedeth to speak of that discretion which is requisite for the ranging and bringing into order of slanderers and enemies; and withal, with what manner of affairs a politician should busic and 〈◊〉 himself, and whereto his spirit and mind is to tend; wishing above all, that he should entertain the amity of other lords and rulers, who are able to further and advance the public good; and in the mean time to be well advised that he do not go about to save, or ruinate rather, his own country by foreign means. Hereupon he discourseth of those maladies whereunto commonwealths be subject, and holdeth this: That if there do arise any mischief, it ought to be repressed, ketp down and cured at home. Consequently, he showeth unto a magistrate the manner of conversing with his colleagues or companions in office: and after he had commended those who walk singly, & goroundly and plainly to work, he entereth very prettily into a discourse arising from the precedents, namely, as touching policte and good government, declaring wherein it doth consist: and so toucheth in a word, the duty of good subjects in a statewell ruled. Which done, he returneth to his former purpose, and maketh mention of certain cases, wherein a magistrate may accommodate and frame himself to his own people: also what persons he ought to use & employ for assistance in the execution of important affairs, and from what vices he is to keep himself pure and clean; how he ought to esteem and regard true honour, standing upon two points: the one, that he do trust and rely upon himself: the other, that he be well beloved of the people, unto whom he ought to show himself liberal. To this abovesaid, there is joined a certain discretion to be used in the largesses of magistrates to their subjects (a thing much practised in old time, and in these dates turned clean against the hair) proposing all in one train, the true and most expedite way how to gain the hearts of men, to which no prince nor governor shall ever attain unless he be such an one as our author doth describe: and representing on the other side, the ridiculous and unhappy condition of ambitious persons, and other such as thirst after shameful glory, whose name serveth for nought else but to play with the least peties in a commonwealth. And for a final conclusion, he treateth of seditions and civil wars; namely, how a good magistrate ought to carry himself therein; what a care he should have to quench with all speed such fire, and keep his subjects in good unity and concord, and how he should easily come thereto, which is the very closing up of the book, enriched with notable arguments, sentences, similitudes and examples, for those especially, who have the command of others, and yet are beside, to appear before the throne of their sovereign, the examination, trial and fearful judgement of whom, they can not avoid.   

INSTRUCTIONS FOR THEM that manage affairs of State.  
IF there be any speech in the world, sir Menemachus, unto which a man may properly apply these verses of the Poet Homer: 
Of all the greeks there is no man,  
Who blame these words or gainsay can;  
But yet forsooth you say not all,  
Nor come are to the finiall.  certes, it is in the case of those Philosophers, who exhort sufficiently in general terms, to undertake the affairs of State and public government: but they teach us not how, nor give us precepts and directions thereto; who (me thinks) may well be resembled to those, who snuff and draw out the wick of a lamp, but they power no oil into it. Seeing then that you have upon very good reason deliberated and resolved to meddle in the State affairs of your country, and desire according to the nobility of your house and native country, from whence you are descended, 
To frame your speech with seemly grace,  
And deeds perform, meet for your place.  and considering that you are not yet come to that maturity of years, as to have seen evidently the life of a wise man and true Philosopher in matters of government, or viewed his carriage and demeanour in State affairs; ne yet to be a spectator of worthy and goodly examples practised in deed and effect, and not discoursed upon in word only; in which regards you have requested me earnestly to give unto you certain rules, precepts, and advertisements for your better knowledge & instruction, how you ought to behave yourself in this behalf; me thought I I could not with any honesty deny your request: but my desire & wish rather is, that whatsoever I have collected to this purpose, may be answerable both to the ardent zeal of your intention, and also to the willing forwardness of mine affection; and verily to gratify your mind, I have accompanied these precepts with many fair and beautiful examples.  
First and foremost therefore, let this be laid for a sure ground & strong foundation, That whosoever mindeth to be a State's man, and to manage affairs of policy, bring with him a good intent, moved by reason and judgement, and in no wise arising upon any blind passion, or desire of vainglory, or jealousy and emulation of another, or finally upon default of other occupations: for like as there be some who spend most of their time in the common-hall or market place, although they have nothing there to do, because they have no good thing at home to be employed about; even so, you shall have divers men that thrust themselves into civil and public affairs, for that they have no private business of their own, worth tending, and so they use policy as a course of life, or rather a pastime and recreation. Others there be again, who being by some fortune or chance arrived, or rather cast upon the management of commonweal, and having thereof enough & (as it were) their bellies full, can not with any ease withdraw and retire themselves, when they are once in, resembling those for all the world, who being embarked in some vessel take the sea, only for to be rocked & shaken therein a little for their exercise; but after they be carried by a gale of wind into the deep, when their heads once begin to turn, and their stomachs sick and ready to cast, they look out back toward the land, but for all that, forced they be to tarry still on shipboard, and to frame themselves to their present fortune. 
Their lovely joys and pleasures are then gone,  
To walk upon the hatches gaily dight,  
With rowers seats in foist or gallion,  
Whiles sea is calm and weather fair and light:  
Which yields prospect most pleasant to their sight,  
And hearts content, to cut the waves aright.  And these are they, who as much as any, or rather most of all, discredit the thing, in that they repent and be much discontented with their choice; namely, when in stead of glory which they promised themselves, they fall into infamy, and whereas they looked to be feared of others by the means of their great credit and authority, they be carried into a world of affairs full of troubles and dangers. But he who cometh to the government of weal public, and beginneth to enter upon it by sound judgement and true discourse of reason, as a most honest vocation in itself, and most agreeable to his estate and quality, will no whit be discouraged or dismayed at any of these accidents, nor ever change his resolution. For a man is not to take upon him the managent of State affairs, with intent to negotiate and traffic there, or to make a gainful trade and occupation thereof to himself, like as in times passed at Athens, Stratocles and Dromoclidas, with those about them, for to go unto their golden harvest (for so by way of jest and merry speech they called the Tribunal seat, and public pulpit where orations were made unto the people) no nor upon any fit of a sudden passion that cometh upon him, as Cajus Gracchus did at Rome sometime, who at the very time when his brother's troubles were hot, and his death fresh and new, retired for a while out of the way, and betook himself to a private course of life, far remote from the commonwealth affairs; but afterwards, being suddenly enkindled and inflamed again with choler, upon certain outrageous dealings and opprobrious words given him by some, would needs in all the haste upon a spleen, rush into the government of State, and quickly had his hands full of businesses, and his ambitious humour was soon fed and satisfied: but then when as he would with all his heart have withdrawn himself, changed his life, and taken his repose, he could not by any means lay down his authority and puissance (to such greatness it was grown) but was killed before he could bring that about. As for these who compass and dress themselves as players for to act upon the scaffold in some great Theatre, and champions to contend with other concurrents, or else aim at vainglory; it can not be, but they must needs repent of that which they have done, especially when they once see that they must serve those whom they thought they were worthy to rule, or that they can not choose but displease them, whom they were desirous to gratify and content. And verily this is my conceit of such, that they run headlong upon policy and State matters, like unto those who by some misadventure, and sooner than they looked for, be fallen into a pit; for it can not otherwise be, but they be woonderously disquieted, seeing the depth thereof, and wish they had never come there, but were out again, whereas they, who considerately, and upon good deliberation go down into the said pit, carry themselves soberly with quietness and contentment of spirit, they are vexed, offended and dismayed at nothing, as who at their first entry, put on a resolute mind, proposing unto themselves virtue and their duty only, and intending no other thing for to be the scope and end of all their actions.  
Thus when as men have well grounded their choice in themselves, until it be so surely settled & confirmed, that unneath or hardly it can be altered or changed; then they ought to bend all their wits to the consideration and knowledge of the nature, of their citizens and subjects, whose charge they have undertaken, or at leastwise of that disposition, which being compounded (as it were) of them all, appeareth most and carrieth greatest sway among them. For at the very first and all at once, to go about a change and to order and to reform the nature of a whole commonalty, were an enterprise, neither easy to be effected nor safe to be practised: as being a thing that requireth long time and great authority and power. But do they must as wine doth in our bodies; which at the beginning is moistened (as it were) and overcome by the nature of him who drunk it, but afterwards by gentle warming his stomach, and by little and little entering into his veins, it becometh of strength to affect the drinker, and make a change and alteration in him; semblably, a wise politician and governor, until such time as he hath won by the confidence reposed in him, and the good reputation that he hath gotten, so much authority among the people, that he is not able to rule and lead them at his pleasure, will accommodate and apply himself to their manners and fashions such as he findeth them, and thereby conjecture and consider their humours, until he know wherein they take pleasure, whereto they are inclined, and what it is, wherewith they will soon be lead and carried away. As for example, the Athenians as they are given to be hasty and choleric; so they be as soon turned to pity and mercy; more willing to entertain a suspicion quickly, than to have patience and at leisure to be informed, and take certain knowledge of a thing; and as they be more inclined and ready to succour base persons and of low condition; so they love, embrace and esteem merry words and pleasant conceits, delivered in game and laughter, more than sage and serious sentences; they are best pleased when they hear themselves praised, and least offended again with those that flout and mock them; terrible they are and dread, to their very rulers and magistrates, and yet courteous and mild enough, even to the pardoning of their professed enemies. The nature of the Carthaginian people is far otherwise, bitter, fell, fierce, stern and full of revenge; obsequious to their betters and superiors; churlish and imperious over their inferiors and underlings; in fear most base and cowardly; in anger most cruel; firm and constant in their resolution, and where they have taken a pitch; hard to be moved with any sports, pastimes, and jollity; and in one word, rough & untractable. You should not have seen these fellows, if Cleon had requested them sitting in counsel (forasmuch as he had sacrificed unto the gods, and was minded to feast some strangers that were his friends, and come to visit him) to put off their assembly to another day; to arise laughing and clapping their hands for joy; nor, if whiles Alcibiades was a making unto them a solemn oration, a quail should have escaped from under his gown and gotten away, would they have run after her away to catch her, and given her to him again? nay they would have fallen all upon him; they would have killed them both in the place, as if they had contemned them and made fools of them: considering that the banished captain Hanno, because in the camp and army when he marched, he used a lion as a sumpter horse to carry some of his baggage; saying, that this savoured strongly of a man that affected tyranny. Neither do I think that the Thebans could ever have contained themselves, but have opened the letters of their enemies, if they had come into their hands: like as the Athenians did, who having surprised king Philip's posts and curriers would never suffer one of their letters missive to be broke open, which had the superscription to Queen Olympias my wife; nor discover the love-secrets and merry conceits passing from an husband being absent in another country, and writing to his wife. Neither do I think, that the Athenians on the other side, would have endured and borne with patience the proud spirit and scornful contempt of Epaminondas, who would not make answer to an imputation charged against him, before the body of the people of Thebes, but arose out of the Theatre where the people was assembled, and thorough them all went his way, and departed into the place of public exercises. The Lacedæmonians likewise would never have put up the insolent behaviour and mockery of Stratocles, who having persuaded the Athenians to sacrifice unto the gods, in token of thanksgiving for a victory, as if they had been conquerors, and afterwards upon the certain news of a defeature and overthrow received, when he saw the people highly offended and displeased with him, demanded of them what injury he had done them, if by his means they had been merry and feasted three days together?  
As for the flatterers that belong to Prince's courts, they play by their-lords and masters, as those fowlers do, who catch their birds by a pipe counterfeiting their voices; for even so they, to wind and insinuate themselves into the favour of kings and princes, do resemble them for all the world, and by this devise entrap and deceive them. But for a good governor of a State, it is not meet and convenient that he should imitate the nature and the manners of the people under his government; but to know them and to make use of those means to every particular person, by which he knoweth that he may best win and gain them to him: for the ignorance and want of skill in this behalf, namely, how to handle men according to their humours, bringeth with it all disorders, and is the cause of irregular enormities, as well in popular governments, as among minions and favourites of princes. Now after that a ruler hath gotten authority and credit once among the people, then ought he to strive and labour, for to reform their nature and conditions if they be faulty; then is he by little and little to lead them gently (as it were) by hand unto that which is better: for a most painful and difficult thing it is to change and alter a multitude all at once: and to bring this about the better, he ought first to begin with himself, and to amend the misdemeanours and disorders in his own life and manners, knowing that he is to live from thence forth (as it were) in open Theatre, where he may be seen and viewed on every side. Now if haply it be an hard matter for a man to free his own mind from all sorts of vices at once, yet at least wise he is to cut-off, and put away those that be most apparent and notorious to the eyes of the world. For you have heard (I am sure) how Themistocles when he minded to enter upon the managing of State-matters, weaned himself from such company wherein he did nothing but drink, dance, revel and make good cheer; and when he fell to sitting up late and watching at his book, to fasting and studying hard, he was wont to say to his familiars, that the Tropheae of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep and take his rest. Pericles in like case altered his fashions in the whole course and manner of his life, in his person, in his sober and grave going, in his affable and courteous speech, showing always a stayed and settled countenance, holding his hand evermore under his rob, and never putting it forth, and not going abroad to any place in the city, but only to the tribunal and pulpit for public orations, or else to the counsel house. For it is not an easy matter to wield and manage a multitude of people, neither are they to be caught of every one, and taken with their safety in the catching; but a gracious and gainful piece of work it were, if a man may bring it thus much about, that like unto suspicious & crafty wild beasts, they be not affrighted nor set a madding at that which they hear and see, but gently suffer themselves to be handled, and be apt to receive instruction; and therefore this would not in any wise be neglected, neither are such to have a small regard to their own life and manners, but they ought to study and labour as much as possibly they can, that the same be without all touch and reproach: for that they who take in hand the government of public affairs, are not to give account, nor to answer for that only which they either say or do in public, but they are searched narrowly into, and many a curious eye there is upon them at their board; much listening after that which passeth in their beds; great sifting and scanning of their marriages and their behaviour in wedlock, and in one word all that ever they do privately, whether it be in jest or in good earnest. For what need we write of Alcibiades, who being a man of action and execution, as famous and renowned a captain as any one in his time, and having borne himself always invincible and inferior to none in the managing of the public State, yet notwithstanding ended his days wretchedly, by means of his dissolute looseness and outrageous demeanour, in his private life and conversation at home, insomuch as he bereft his own country of the benefit they might have had by his other good parts and commendable qualities, even by his intemperance and sumptuous superfluity in expense? Those of Athens found fault with Cimon, because he had a care to have good wine: and the romans finding no other thing in Scipio to reprove, blamed him for that he loved his bed too well: the ill-willers of Pompey the Great, having observed in him that otherwhiles he scratched his head with one finger, reprochedhim for it. For like as a little freckle, mole or pendant-wert in the face of man or woman is more offensive, than black and blue marks, than scars or maims in all the rest of the body; even so, small and light faults otherwise of themselves, show great in the lives of Princes, and those who have the government of the weal-public in their hands, and that in regard of an opinion imprinted in the minds of men touching the estate of governors and magistrates, esteeming it a great thing, and that it ought to be pure and clear from all faults and imperfections. And therefore deserved Julius Drusus, a noble Senator and great ruler in Rome to be highly praised, in that, when one of his workmen promised him (if he so would) to devise and contrive his house so, that whereas his neighbours overlooked him, and saw into many parts thereof, they should have no place therein exposed to their view and discovery, and that this translating and alteration thereof should cost him but five talents: Nay (quoth he) thou shalt have ten talents, and make mine house so, that it may be seen into on every side, to the end that all the city may both see and know how I live; for in truth he was a grave, wise, honest, and comely parsonage. But peradventure it is not so necessary that a house lie so open as to be looked into on all sides: for the people have eyes to pierce and enter into the very bottom of governors manners, of their counsels, actions, and lives, which a man would think to be most covert & secret, & no less quicksighted are they in their private carriage, as in that which they see them do, and hear them speak in public; loving some with a kind of admiration, and hating others in disdainful and contemptuous manner. What? will some one say, do not some cities otherwhiles love to be ruled by governors, whom they know to be dissolute and disordinate in their manner of life? Yes, I believe it very well. And so forsooth, we see some women when they are with child, long many times to eat grit of stones, and they who are stomacke-sicke, and have a peevish appetite, desire saltfish, and such other naughty meats; but within a while after, when the fit is once past, they reject, refuse and loath the same; even so many States and Commonalties oftentimes upon an insolency, wantonness and disordinate desire, or for default of better governors, be served with those that come first, and they care not with whom, notwithstanding they have them in contempt and detestation, but afterwards they are very well content when such speeches go of them, as Plato a comical Poet in one of his Comedies inferreth to be spoken by the people themselves: 
Take me by hand, take hold and that right soon,  
Agyrrius else I'll captain choose anon.  And again in another place, he bringeth in the people calling for a basin and a feather for to provoke vomit, saying thus: 
At my tribunal seat most eminent,  
Herself to me Mantile doth present.  And a little after, 
Astinking head it keeps and feedeth now,  
Amaladie most foul, I do avow.  And the people of Rome, at what time as Carbo avouched a thing, and bound it by a great oath, yea, and the same with a curse and execration, if it were not so; yet for all that all with one voice swore aloud to the contrary, and protested that they would not believe him. Also at Lacedaemon, when one Demosthenes, a wicked and dissolute person, had delivered his opinion and advice, very well fitting and behoveful to the matter in question, the people rejected it; but the Ephori having chosen one of their Ancients and honourable counsellors of Estate, willed him to speak to the same point and the like effect; which was as much as if they had taken it out of one foul and filthy vessel, and put the same into another that was fair and clean, and all to please and content the people and multitude so effectual is for the government of an Estate, the assured persuasion of the honesty of a parsonage, and as forcible likewise is the contrary. I write not thus to this end, that we should neglect the grace of eloquence and the powerful skill of well-speaking, as if all should lie upon virtue, and nothing else, but that we are to think, that Rhetorical speech and brave utterance is not the thing alone which persuadeth the people, but that it is a good help, and doth cooperate in persuasion, so that we may in some sort correct and amend that sentence of Menander: 
The honest life of him that speaks in place,  
And not his tongue, doth credit win and grace.  For life and language both aught to concur, unless haply one would say, That it is the pilot only that governeth the ship, and not the helm; and the rider alone turneth the horse head, and not the reins or bridle; semblably, that the science of policy and government of weal-public useth manners and not eloquence, as an helm or bridle, to manage, direct and govern a whole city, which is (according to Plato) a creature (as one would say) most easy to be turned, so that it be conducted and guided, as it were, in the poop: for seeing that those great kings, the sons of Jupiter (as Homer calleth them) set out and puff up their magnificent part, with long robes of purple, with sceptres in their hands, with a guard of squires and pensioners about their persons, with whom they were environed on every side, yea, and with the oracles of the gods in their favour, subjecting unto their obeisance (by this outward venerable show) the common sort, and imprinting an opinion that they are in greater state than men; and yet for all this, were desirous to learn how to speak wisely, and not careless and negligent to win grace by good speech, 
And eloquence, whereby more perfect they  
In warlike feats might be another day.  not recommending themselves to Jupiter only the Counsellor, nor to bloody Mars and warlike Minerva, but invocating the Muse Calliope, 
Who doth upon great kings attend,  
And makes them ay more reverend.  with her persuasive grace and virtue dulcing and appeasing the violent mood and fierceness of the people. Seeing (I say) that mighty princes be furnished with so many helps and means; is it possible that a private person, with a simple rob and popular habit, taking upon him to wield and rule a whole city or State, should ever be able to effect his purpose, namely, to tame and range into order an unruly multitude, unless he have eloquence to aid him in this business, for to persuade and bring them to the bent of his bow? for mine own part, I think No. As for the masters and captains of galleys and other ships, they have other officers under them, as their boatswaines, to give knowledge what they would have to be done; but a good governor of State ought to have within himself the skill and knowledge of the steersman to sit at stern and guide the helm, and besides that, good speech also to make known his will and pleasure, to the end that he need not at all the voice of another, nor be forced to say as Iphicrates did when he was overcome and braved out by the eloquent words of Aristophon: My adversaries player acteth better than mine, but surely my play is much better than theirs: and that he have not need oftentimes to have in his mouth these verses of Euripides: 
Would God the seed and race of mortal men  
Were speechless clean, or could not speak words ten.  As also of these: 
Oh God, that men's affairs and causes all  
Required no words, and for no speech did call,  
That orators, whose tongues do plead so hard,  
Were not employed, nor in so good regard.  For these sentences perhaps might give leave to some Alcamenes, Nesiots, and Ictines, or such manner of people, who live by their handiwork, get their living by the sweat of their brows, and are past all hope to attain unto any perfection of eloquence, to fly therefrom: as it is reported of two Architects or great Masons at Athens sometimes, who came in question for their skill, whether of the twain was more sufficient to make a great fabric and public piece of work; the one, who could speak very well and express his mind with variety and elegancy of words, pronounced a premeditate oration as touching the frame and building thereof; which he did so well, that he moved the whole assembly therewith; the other, who was more skilful in Architecture, & the better workman by far, but one that could not deliver his mind so eloquently, when he came before the people, said no more but thus: My masters of Athens, that which this man here hath said, I will do. And verily such good fellows as these, acknowledge no other goddess or patroness than Minerva the artisan, surnamed Ergane, and who as Sophocles saith: 
Upon the massive anvil tame,  
With weighty strokes of hammer strong,  
A lifeless bar of iron, and frame  
Obeisant to their labours long.  But the minister or prophet to Minerva Polias, that is to say, the protectress of cities, and to Themis or Justice the protectress of counsel: 
Who of men's counsels precedent,  
Dissolves, or holds them resident.  he (I say) having but one instrument to use and occupy, which is his speech, by forming and fashioning some things to his own mould, and others which he findeth untoward and not pliable to the desseine of his work (as if they were knurres and knots in timber, or flaws and risings in iron) by softening, polishing and making plain and smooth, embelisheth in the end a whole city. By this means the Commonwealth of Pericles, in name and outward appearance being popular, was in truth and effect a principality and regal State, governed by one man the principal person of the city: and what was it that did the deed? surely the force and power of his eloquence: for at the same time there lived Cimon, a good man, Ephialtes also and Thucydides, who being one day demanded by Archidamus the king of the Lacedæmonians, whether he or Pericles wrestled better: That were (quoth he) very hard to say; for when in wrestling I bear him down to the ground, he is by his words able to persuade the standers by and beholders, that he is not fallen, and so goeth clear away with it. And verily, this gift of his brought not only to him honour & glory, but also safety to the whole city; which being by him ruled and persuaded, preserved and maintained full well the wealth and estate which it had of her own, and forbore to desire the conquest of any other: whereas poor Nicias, although he had the same good meaning and intention, yet because he wanted that persuasive faculty with his smooth tongue and eloquent speech, like unto a gentle bit, when he went about to bridle & restrain the covetous desire of the people, could not compass it, but maugre and in spite of his heart was overswaied, carried away, and haled by the very neck into Sicily; such was the violence of the people. An old said saw it is, and a true proverb: That it is not good holding of a wolf by the ears; but surely of a city or State, a man must principally take hold by the ears; and not as some do, who are not sufficiently exercised nor well seen in the feat of eloquence, search other absurd and foolish handles to catch hold by, for to win and draw the people unto them: for diverse you shall have, who think to draw and lead the multitude by the belly, in making great feasts and banqueting them; others by the purse, in giving them largesses of silver; some by the eye, in exhibiting unto them goodly sights of plays, games, warlike dances and combats of fencers at the utterance; which devices are not to draw and lead the people gently, but to catch them rather cunningly: for the drawing or leading of a multitude, is properly to persuade them by force of eloquence; whereas the other allurements and enticements resemble very well the baits that are laid for to take brute and wild beasts, or the fodder that herdsmen use to feed them with. Since than it is so, that the chief instrument of a wise and sage governor, is his speech, this principal care would be had, that the same be not too much painted and set out, as if he were some young gallant that desired to show his eloquence in a Theatre and frequent assembly of a great fair or market, composing his oration as a chaplet of flowers with the most beautiful, sweet and pleasant phrases or terms that he can choose; neither ought the same to be so painfully studied and premeditated as that oration of Demosthenes was, which Pytheas said (by way of reproach) that it smelled of lamp-oil; nor full of overmuch sophistical curiosity of enthymemes and arguments too witty and subtle; nor yet with clauses and periods exactly measured to the rule and compass. But like as Musicians are desirous that in touching and stroke of their strings there should appear a sweet and kind affection, and not a rude beating; even so in the speech of a sage ruler, whether it be in giving counsel or decreeing any thing, there ought not to be seen the artificial cunning of an Orator, nor any curious affection; neither must it in any wise tend to his own praise, as if he had spoken learnedly, formally, subtly, wittily and with precise respect and distinctions: let it be full rather of natural affection without art, of true heart and magnanimity, of frank and fatherly remonstrance, as may become the father of his country, full of forecast and providence, of a good mind and understanding, careful of the commonweal, having together with honest and comely dignity a lovely grace that is attractive, consisting of grave terms, pertinent reasons, and proper sentences, and the same significant and persuasive. For in truth the oration and style of a Statesman and governor admitteth in comparison of a lawyer or advocate pleading at the bar in court, more sententious speeches, histories, fables and metaphors, which do then move and affect the multitude most, when the speaker knoweth how to use them with measure, in time and place convenient; like as he did, who said: My masters, see that you make not Greece one-eied: (speaking of the city of Athens, when they were about to destroy it) and according as Demades also did, when he said, that he sat at stern to govern, not a ship, but the shipwreck of a city and Commonwealth: Semblably Archilochus in saying, 
Let not the stone of Tantalus  
This isle always hang over thus.  Likewise Pericles when he gave advice and commanded to take away that eyesore of the haven Pirean, meaning thereby the little isle Aegina. In the same manner Photion speaking of the victory achieved by General Leosthenes, said thus; The stadium or short race of this war is good, but I fear (quoth he) the dolichus thereof; that is to say, the afterclaps and length thereof. In sum, a speech standing somewhat of haughtiness, gravity, and greatness, is more besitting a governor of State: and for example hereof, go no further than to the orations of Demosthenes penned against king Philip, and among other speeches, set down by Thucydides, that which was delivered by the Ephorus Sthenelaidas: also that of king Archidamus, in the city Plataeae: likewise the oration of Pericles after that great pestilence at Athens. As for those long sermons, carrying a great train of sentences and continued periods after them, which Theopompus, Ephorus and Anaximenes, bring in to be pronounced by captains unto their soldiers when they be armed and stand arranged in battell-ray, a man may say of such as the Poet did: 
What fools would speak thus many words,  
So near to edge and dint of swords.  Over and beside; true it is that a man of government may otherwhiles give a taunt and nipping seoffe, he may cast out also a merry jest to move laughter, and namely, if it be to rebuke, chastise, yea and to quip one and take him up for his good, after a modest manner, and not to touch him too near and wound him in honour and credit to his disgrace, with a kind of scurrility. But above all it may beseem him thus to do when he is provoked thereunto, and is driven to reply and give one for another by way of exchange: for to begin first in that sort, and to come prepared with such premeditate stuff, is more befitting a pleasant or common jester, who would make the company laugh, besides that, it carrieth also an opinion of a malicious and spiteful mind: and such are the biting frumps and broad jests of Cicero and Cato the elder; likewise of one Euxitheus a familiar and disciple of Aristotle; for these many times began first to scoff and taunt; but when a man never doth it but by way of reply or rejoinder, the sudden occasion giveth him pardon to be revenged, and withal such requitals carry the greater grace with them. Thus dealt Demosthenes by one who was deeply suspected to be a these: for when he would seem to twit Demosthenes by his watching and sitting up all night at his book for to indite and write: I wot well (quoth Demosthenes) that I trouble and hinder thee very much with keeping my candle or lamp burning all night long. Also when he answered Demades, who cried out aloud: Demosthenes would correct me (as much to say forsoorth) as if according to the common proverb, the sow should teach Minerva: Minerva (quoth he, taking that word out of his mouth) what's that you say? Minerva was surprised not long since in adultery. Semblably it was with no ill grace that Xenetus answered his countrymen and fellow citizens, who cast in his teeth and upbraided him, for that being their leader and captain he fled out of the field: With you (quoth he) my loving and dear friends, I ran away for company. But great regard and heed would be taken, that in this kind he overpass not himself, nor go beyond the bonds of mediocrity in such ridiculous jests, for fear that either he offend and displease the hearers unseasonably, or debase and abject himself too grossly, by giving out such ridiculous speeches: which was the fault of one Democrates, who mounting one day up into the pulpit or public place of audience, said openly to the people there assembled; That himself was like unto their city, for that he had small force, and yet was puffed up with much wind. Another time also, and namely when the great field was lost before Chaeronea, he presented himself to speak unto the people in this manner: I would not for any thing that the common wealth were driven to such calamity and so hard an exigent, that you should have patience to hear me, and need to take counsel at my hands: for as in the one he showed himself a base and vile person, so in the other he played the brainsick fool and senseless ass: but for a man of State, neither is the one nor the other decent and agreeable. Furthermore, Photion is had in admiration for his brevity of speech, insomuch as Polyeuctus giving his judgement of him, said: Demosthenes indeed is the greatest Orator, and the most famous Rhetorician, but Photion believe me, is the best speaker; for that his pithy speech was so couched, that in few words it coutained much substance and good matter. And even Demosthenes himself, howsoever he made no reckoning of all other orators in his time, yet if Photion rose up to deliver a speech after him, would say: Lo here standeth up now the hatchet or pruning knife of my words. Well then, endeavour you as much as possibly you can, when you are to make a speech before the multitude to speak considerately and with great circumspection, directing your words so, as they may tend to safety and security, and not in any case to use vain and frivolous language: knowing well that Pericles himself, that great governor, was wont to make his prayer unto the gods before he entered into his oration in public audience: That he might let fall no word out of his mouth impertinent to the matter which he was to handle; and yet for all this, you must be well exercised nevertheless, and practised in the knowledge how to be able to answer and reply readily; for many occasions pass in a moment, and bring with them as many sudden cases and occurrences, especially in matters of government. In which regard, Demosthenes was (by report) reputed inferior to many others in his time, for that otherwhiles he would withdraw himself and not be seen when occasion was offered, if he had not well premeditated and studied aforehand of that which he had to say. Theophrastus' also writeth of Alcibiades, that being desirous to speak, not only that which was convenient, but also in manner and form as it was meet; many a time in the mids of his oration would make a stay, and be at a nonplus, whiles he sought and studied for some proper terms, and laboured to couch and compose them sitting for his purpose: but he who taketh occasion to stand up for to make a speech of sudden occurrences, and respective to the occasions and times presented unto him, such a one I say of all others doth most move and astonish a multitude, he I say is able to lead them as he list and dispose of them at his pleasure. After this manner played Leon the Bizantine, who was sent upon a time from those of Constantinople unto the Athenians, being at civil debate and dissension among themselves, for to make remonstrances unto them of pacification and agreement: for a very little man was he of stature, and when the people saw him mounted up into the place of audience, every one began to teigh, tittre, and laugh at him; which he perceiving well enough: And what would you do and say then (quoth he) if you saw my wife, whose crown of her head will hardly reach up so high as my knee? At which word, they took up a greater fit of laughter then before throughout the whole assembly: And yet (quoth he again) as little as we both be, if we chance to be at variance and debate one with another, the whole city of Constantinople is not big enough for us, nor able to hold us twain. Pytheas likewise, the Orator, at what time as he spoke against the honours which were decreed for king Alexander, when one said unto him: How now sir, dare you presume to speak of so great matters, being as you are, so young a man? And why not (quoth he) for Alexander whom you make a god among you by your decrees, is younger than myself.  
Furthermore, over and beside a ready tongue and well exercised, he ought to bring with him a strong voice, a good breast and a long breath, to this combat of State government; which I assure you, is not lightly to be accounted of, but wherein the champion is to be provided for all feats of masteries or fight; for fear lest if it chance that his voice fail or be weary and faint, he be overcome and supplanted by some one 
Catchpoll, Crier, and of that rank,  
Wide-mouthed Juggler or mount-banke.  And yet Cato the younger, when he suspected that either the Senate or the people were forestalled by graces, labouring for voices and such like prevention, so as he had no hope to persuade and compass such matters as he went about, would rise up and hold them all a day long with an oration; which he did to drive away the time, that at leastwise upon such a day there should be nothing done or pass against his mind. But as touching the speech of a governor, how powerful and effectual it is, and how it ought to be prepared, we have this already sufficiently treated, especially for such an one as is able of himself to devise all the rest, which consequently followeth hereupon.  
Moreover, two avennes (as it were) or ways there be to come unto the credit of government; the one short and compendious, yielding an honourable course to win glory and reputation; but it is not without some danger; the other longer and more base and obscure, howbeit always safe and sure. For some there be, who making sail and setting their course (as a man would say) from some high rock situate in the main sea, have ventured at the first upon some great and worthy enterprise, which required valour and hardiness, and so at the very beginning entered into the mids of State-affairs, supposing that the Poet Pindarus said true in these his verses: 
A worthy work who will begin,  
Must when he enters first therein,  
Set out a gay fore front to view  
Which may far off the lustre show.  For certainly the multitude and common sort being satisfied and full already of those governors whom they have been used to a long time, receive more willingly all beginners and new-comers, much-like as the spectators and beholders of plays or games have better affection a great deal to see a new champion entering fresh into the lists. And verily all those honours, dignities and powerful authorities which have a sudden beginning and glorious increase, do ordinarily astonish and daunt all envy: for neither doth the fire (as Ariston saith) make a smoke which is quickly kindled; and made to burn out of a light flame; nor glory breed envy when it is gotten at once and speedily; but such as grow up by little and little, at leisure, those be they that are caught therewith, some one way and some another. And this is the cause that before they come to flower (as it were) and grow to any credit of government, fade and become dead and withered about the public place of audience. But whereas it falleth out according to the Epigram of the courier or runner Ladas, 
No sooner came the sound of whip to ear,  
But he was at the end of his carreare,  
And then withal, in one and selfsame trice  
He crowned was with laurel for his price.  that some one hath at first performed an embassage honourably, road in triumph gloriously, or conducted an army valiantly, neither envious persons nor spiteful ill-willers have like power against such as against others. Thus came Aratus into credit the very first day, for that he had defaited and overthrown the tyrant Nicocles. Thus Alcibiades won the spurs, when he practised and wrought the alliance between the Mantimeans and the Athenians against the Lacedæmonians. And when Pompey the great would have entered the city of Rome in triumph, before he had showed himself unto the Senate, and was withstood by Sylla, who meant to impeach him, he stuck not to say unto him: More men there be sir, who worship the Sun rising, than the Sun setting; which when Sylla heard, he gave place and yielded unto him without one word replying to the contrary. And when as the people of Rome chose and declared Cornelius Scipio Consul all on a sudden, and that against the ordinary course of law, when as himself stood only to be Aedile, it was not upon some vulgar beginning and ordinary entrance into affairs of State, but for the great admiration they had of his rare and singular prowess, in that being but a very youth, he had maintained single fight and combat hand to hand with his enemy in Spain, and vanquished him; yea, and within a while after, in the neck of it, had achieved many worthy exploits against the Carthaginians, being but a military Tribune or Colonel of a thousand foot: for which brave acts and services of his, Cato the elder as he returned out of the camp cried out with a loud voice of him: 
Right wise and sage indeed alone is he,  
The rest to him but flitting shadows be.  But now sir, seeing that the cities & States of Greece are brought to such terms, that they have no more armies to conduct, nor tyrants to be put down, nor yet alliances to be treated and made, what noble and brave enterprise would you have a young gentleman perform at his beginning and entrance into government? Mary, there are left for him public causes to plead, ambassages to negotiate unto the Emperor or some sovereign potentate; which occasions do ordinarily require a man of action, hardy and ardent at the first enterprise, wise and wary in the final execution. Besides, there be many good and honest customs of ancient time, either for-let or grown out of kind by negligence, which may be set on foot, renewed and reform again: many abuses also by ill custom are crept into cities, where they have taken deep root, and been settled, to the great dishonour and damage of the commonwealth: which may be redressed by his means. It falleth out many times, that a great controversy judged and decided aright; the trial likewise and proof of faithful trust and diligence in a poor man's cause maintained and defended frankly and boldly against the oppression of some great and mighty adversary; also a plain and stout speech delivered in the behalf of right and justice, against some grand Signior who is unjust and injurious, have afforded honourable entries unto the management of State affairs. And many there be, who have put forth themselves, made their parts known, and come up, by entertaining quarrels and enmities with those personages, whose authority was odious, envied and terrible to the people: for we always see that presently the puissance and power of him that is put down and overthrown, doth accrue unto him who had the upper hand, with greater reputation: which I speak not as if I did approve and thought it good for one to oppose himself by way of envy unto a man of honour and good respect, and who by his virtue holdeth the chief place of credit in his country, thereby to undermine his estate, like as Simmias dealt by Pericles, Alcmaeon by Themistocles, Clodius by Pompeius, and Meneclides the Orator by Epaminondas; for this course is neither good nor honourable, and beside, less gainful and profitable: for say that the people in a sudden fit of furious choler commit some outrage and abuse upon a man of worth; afterwards, when they repent at leisure (being cool) that which they did hastily in their heat of blood, they think there is no readier nor juster means to excuse themselves to him, than to deface, yea, and undo the said party who first moved and induced them to those proceedings. And verily, to set upon a wicked person, who either by his audacious and inconsiderate rashness, or by his fine & cautelous devices hath gotten the head over a whole city, or brought a state to his devotion, such as were in old time Cleon and Clitophon at Athens; to set upon those (I say) for to bring them under, yea, and utterly to destroy them out of the way, were a notable preamble (as it were) to the Comedy for him that is mounted upon the stage of a commonwealth, and newly entered into the government thereof. I am not ignorant likewise, that some by clipping the wings, or paring the nails (as a man would say) of an imperious Senate and lordly Seignoury, taking upon them too much, and try nnizing by virtue of their absolute sovereignty, which was the practice of one Ephialtes at Athens; and another in the city Elis, whose name was Phormio, have acquired honour and reputation in their country: but I hold this to be a dangerous beginning for to be enterprised by them that would come to the managing of State-affairs. And it seemeth that Solon made choice of a better entrance than so, for the city of Athens being divided into three parts or regions; the first of those that did inhabit the hill; the second of them who dwelled upon the plain; and the third of such as kept by the waterside; he would not seem to side with any one of these three parts, but carried himself indifferent unto them all, saying & doing what he could to reconcile and reunite them together: by which means chosen he was, by the general consent of them all, the lord Reformer, to draw new laws and conditions of pacification among them; and by this practice he established and confirmed the State of Athens. Thus you see how a man may enter into the government of the commonwealth by honourable and glorious commencements: and this may suffice for the former avenne of the twain aforesaid unto the affairs of State.  
As for the other way, which as it giveth more sure access, so it is not so expedite and short; there have been many notable men who in old time made choice thereof, and loved it better: and by name, Aristides, Photion, Pammenes the Theban, Lucullus in Rome, Cato and Agesilaus at Lacedaemon: for like as the ivy windeth about trees stronger than itself, and riseth up aloft together with them; even so each one of these beforenamed, being yet young novices and unknowen, joining and coupling themselves with other ancient personages who were already in credit by rising leisurely under the wing and shadow of others, and growing with them, grounded themselves and took good root against the time that they undertook the government of State. Thus Clisthenes raised Aristides; Chabrias advanced Photion; by Sylla, Lucullus rose; Cato by Fab. Maximus; Epaminondas came up by Pammenes; and Agesilaus by Lysander; but this man named last, upon a certain inordinate ambition and importune jealousy did wrong unto his own reputation, by casting and rejecting behind him a worthy parsonage, who guided and directed him in all his actions: but all the rest wisely and honestly reverenced, acknowledged, yea, and aided with all their power, even to the very end, the authors of their rising and advancement; much like unto those bodies which are opposed full against the Sun, in returning and sending back the light that shineth upon them, do augment and illustrate the same so much the more. Thus when evil tongued persons, who envied and maligned the glory of Scipio, gave out that he was but the player and actor only of those worthy feats of arms which he executed; for the author thereof was Laelius his familiar friend: yet Laelius for all these speeches was never moved nor altered in his purpose, but continued still the same man to promote and second the glory and virtue of Scipio. As for Afranius the friend of Pompeius, notwithstanding he was but of base and low degree, yet being upon terms to be chosen Consul, when he understood that Pompeius favoured others, gave over his suit, and let fall the possibility that he had; saying withal: That it would not be so honourable unto him for to be promoted unto that dignity of Consulate, as grievous and troublesome, to obtain the same against the good will, and without the favour and assistance of Pompeius; and so in deferring and putting off the matter but one year longer, he had not the repulse when the time came, and therewith he kept his friend still, and enjoyed his favour. And by this means it cometh to pass, that those who are thus led by the hand of others, and trained to the way of preferment and glory, in gratifying one, do gratify many withal; and beside, if any inconvenience chance to ensue, the less odious they be and hateful for it: which was the reason that Philip king of Macedon earnestly exhorted and admonished his son Alexander that he should provide himself of many friends and servitors whiles he might, and had leisure, even during the reign of another, namely, by conversing and conferring graciously with every one, and by cheerful behaviour and affability to all, for to win their love and favour; but when he was once invested in the kingdom, to choose for his guide and conductor in the managing of State-affairs, not simply him who is of most credit and greatest reputation, but rather the man who is such an one by his desert and virtue: for like as every tree will not admit a vine to wind about the trunk & body thereof; for some there be that do choke & utterly mar the growth of it; even so in the government of cities & States, those who are not truly honest and lovers of virtue, but ambitious and desirous of honour and sovereignty only, afford not unto young men the means and occasions of worthy enterprises and noble acts, but upon envy and jealousy hold them under and put them back as far as they can, and thus make them to consume and languish, as if they detained from them their glory, and cut them short of that which is their only food and nourishment. Thus did Marius in Africa first, and afterwards in Galatia by Sylla, by whose means he had performed much good service; and in the end would not use him at all, but cast him off; for that in truth, he was vexed at the heart to see him grow up as he did, and to win so great reputation under him, howsoever he would have seemed to colour the matter, and make the signet in the colet of his ring which he sealed withal, the pretence and cloak thereof. For Sylla being treasurer in Africa, under Marius the lord General, was sent by him unto king Bocchus, and brought with him Jugurtha prisoner; and being a young gentleman as he was, and beginning to taste the sweetness of glory, he could not carry himself modestly in this good fortune of his, but must needs wear upon his finger a fair seal ring, wherein he caused to be engraven the history of this exploit, and namely how Bocchus delivered into his hands Jugurtha prisoner: hereat Sylla took exceptions, laid this to his charge, and made it a colourable occasion of rejecting and putting him out of his place: but he joining himself with Catulus and Metellus, good men both, and adversaries of Marius; soon after chased Marius and turned him out of all in a civil war, which was well near the ruin and overthrow of the Roman empire. Sylla dealt not so with Pompeius, for he evermore advanced & graced him from his very youth, he would arise out of his chair, and vail bonnet unto him when he came in place: semblably he carried himself toward other young gentlemen and gallants of Rome, imparting unto some the means of doing the exploits of captains and commanders: yea quickening and putting others forward who were unwilling of themselves; and in so doing he filled all his armies with zeal, emulation, and desire of honour, striving who should do better, and by this means became himself superior evermore, and ruled all; at length desirous to be not the only man, but the first and the greatest among many that were likewise great. These be the men therefore with whom a young State's man ought to join; to these he ought to cleave, & in them as it were to be incorporate: not as that cockatrice or Basilisk in Aesop's fables, who being carried aloft on the shoulders of the eagle, no sooner came near to the sun beams, but suddenly took his flight, and came to the place before the eagle: and after that manner to rob them of their honour, and secretly to catch their glory from them; but chose to receive it of them with their consent and good favour, and to give them to understand that they had never known how to rule unless they had learned first of them to obey well, as Plato saith.  
Next after this followeth the election and choice that they ought to make of their friends: In which point, they are not to take example either by Themistocles or Cleon: As for Cleon when he knew that he was to undertake the government upon him, assembled all his friends together, and declared unto them that he renounced all their amity, saying; That friendship was oftentimes a cause that disabled men, and withdrew them from their right intention in affairs of State; but it had been far better done of him to have exiled and chased out of his mind all avarice and contentious humours, to have cleansed his heart from envy and malice: for the government of cities hath not need of those who are friendless and destitute of familiar companions, but of such as be wise and honest: but when he had banished and put away his friends, he entertained round about him a sort of flatterers, who daily stroked and licked him, as the comical poets use to say. He became rough and severe to good and civil men, but in stead thereof he debased himself to court, flatter, and please the multitude, doing and saying all things to content them, and taking rewards at every man's hand, combining and sorting himself with the worst and most lewd people in the whole city, by their means to make head, and set against the best and most honourable persons. Themistocles yet took another course, who when one said unto him; You shall do the part of a good ruler and magistrate, in case you make yourself equal unto every one alike; answered thus; I pray God I may never sit in such a throne or seat, wherein my friends may not prevail more with me, than they that are not my friends. But herein he did not well, no more than the other, thus to promise any part and authority of his government unto those with whom he had amity, and to submit the public affairs unto his private and particular affections: howbeit, for all this, he answered very well unto Simonides, requesting somewhat at his hand that was not just: Neither were he a good musician or poet, (quoth he) who should sing against measures: nor the magistrate righteous who in favour of any person doth aught against the laws. For in truth a shameful thing it were and a great indignity; that in a ship the master or owner thereof should give order to be provided of a good pilot and steersman; that the pilot also should choose good boteswaines and other mariners, 
Who can the helm rule in the stern below,  
And hoist up sail above, when winds do blow.  Also that an architect or master builder, knoweth how to choose those workmen and labourers under him, who will in no case hurt his work, but set it forward, and take pains with him for his best behoof: and a Statesman or governor, who as Pindarus saith well, 
Of justice, is the architect,  
And policy ought to direct.  not know at the very first to choose friends of the same zeal and affection that he is himself, to second and assist him in his enterprises, and to be as it were the spirits to inspire him with a desire of well doing; but to suffer himself to be bend and made pliable unjustly and violently; now to gratify the will of one; and anon, to serve the turn and appetite of another: For such a man resembleth properly a carpenter or mason, who by error, ignorance, and want of experience, useth his squires, his plumbs, levels and rules so, that they make his work to rise crooked and out of square in the end. For certainly friends be the very lively tools, and sensible instruments of governors; and in case they do amiss and work without the right line, the rulers themselves are not to slip and go awry with them for company, but to have a careful eye unto this, that unwitting to them they do not err and commit a fault. For this it was that wrought Solon dishonour, and caused him to be reproached and accused by his own citizens, for that having an intention to ease men's grievous debts, and to bring in that which at Athens they called Sisachthia, as if one would say, an aleviation of some heavy burden which was a pleasing and plausible name, importing a general striking out of all debts, and a canceling of bonds; he imparted this design and purpose of his to some of his friens, who did him a shrewd turn, and most unjustly wrought him much mischief; for upon this inkling given unto them, they made haste to take up and borrow all the money they could, as far as their credit would extend: not long after when this edict or proclamation aforesaid concerning the annulling of all debts was come forth and brought to light; these friends of his were found to have purchased goodly houses, and fair lands, with the moneys which they had levied. Thus Solon was charged with the imputation of doing this wrong, together with them, when as himself indeed was wronged and abnused by them. Agesilaus also showed himself in the occasions and suits of his friends most weak and feeble minded, more iwis than in any thing else, resembling the horse Pegasus in Euripides, 
Who shrunk full low and yielded what he could,  
His back to mount, more than the rider would.  and helping his familiar friends in all their distresses more affectionately and willingly than was meet and reason: for whensoever they were called into question in justice for any transgressions, he would seem to be privy and party with them in the same. Thus he saved one Phaebidas, who was accused to have surprised secretly the castle of Thebes called Ladmia, without commission and warrant, alleging in his defence, that such enterprises ought to be executed by his own proper motive, without attending any other commandment. Moreover, he wrought so with his countenance and favour, that one Ephodrias, who was attaint for an unlawful and heinous act, and namely, for entering by force and arms with a power into the country of Attica, what time as the Athenians were allied and confederate in amity with the Lacedæmonians, escaped judgement, and was found unguilty; which he did, being wrought thereto and mollified (as it were) by the amorous prayers of his son. Likewise, there is a missive of his found, and goeth abroad to be seen, which he wrote unto a certain great lord or potentate in these terms: If Nicias have not trespassed, deliver him for justice sake; if he have transgressed, deliver him for my sake; but howsoever it be, deliver him and let him go. But Photion chose would not so much as assist in judgement Charillus his own son in law, who had married his daughter, when he was called into question and indicted for corruption & taking money of Harpalis, but left him and departed, saying: In all causes just and reasonable I have made you my ally, and will embrace your affinity; in other cases you shall pardon me. Timoleon also the Corinthian, after that he dealt what possibly he could with his brother by remonstrance, by prayers and entreaty to reclaim and dissuade him from being a tyrant; seeing that he could do no good on him, turned the edge of his sword against him, and joined with those that murdered him in the end: for a magistrate ought to friend a man and stand with him not only with this gage, as far as to the altar, that is to say, until it come to the point of being forsworn for him, according as Pericles one day answered to a friend of his, but also thus far forth only, as not to do for his sake any thing contrary to the laws, against right, or prejudicial to the commonweal: which rule being neglected and not precisely observed, is the cause that bringeth great loss and ruin to a state; as may appear by the example of Phoebidas and Sphodrias, who being not punished according to their deserts, were not the least causes that brought upon Sparta the unfortunate war and battle at Leuctrae. True it is, that the office of a good ruler and administrator of the weale-publicke, doth not require precisely and force us to use everity and to punish every slight and small trespass of our friends; but it permitteth us after we have looked to the main-chance and secured the State, then as it were of a surplusage to succour our friends, to assist and help them in their affairs, and take part with them. Moreover, there be certain favours which may be done without envy and offence; as namely, to stand with a friend rather than another, for the getting of a good office; to bring into his hand some honourable commission, or an easy and kind ambaslage, as namely, to be sent unto a prince or potentate in the behalf of a city or State, only to salute him and do him honour; or to give intelligence unto another city of important matters, in regard of amity, league and mutual society; or in case there fall out some business of trouble, difficulty and great importance, when a magistrate hath taken upon himself first the principal charge thereof, he may choose unto him for his adjunct or assistant in the commission some especial friend, as Diomedes did in Homer: 
To choose mine own companion, since that you will me let,  
ulysses that renowned knight, how can I then forget?  Ulysses likewise as kindly rendereth unto him the like praise again: 
These coursers brave, concerning which of me you do demand,  
O aged fire, arrived here of late, from Thracian land  
Are hither come, and there were bred: their lord them lost in fight,  
Whom valiant Diomedes slew by force of arms outright,  
And twelve friends more and doughty knights, as ever horse did ride,  
Were with him slain for company, and lay dead by his side.  This modest kind of yielding and submission to gratify and pleasure friends, is no less honourable to the praisers than to the parties praised; whereas chose, arrogancy and self-love (as Plato saith) dwelleth with solitudes, which is as much to say, as it is forsaken and abandoned of all the world. Furthermore, in these honest favours and kind courtesies which we may bestow upon some friends, we ought to associate other friends beside, that they may be in some sort interessed therein also; and to admonish those who receive such pleasures at our hands, for to praise and thank them, yea, and to take themselves beholden unto them, as having been the cause of their preferment, and those who counseled and persuaded thereto: but if peradventure they move us in any undecent, dishonest and unreasonable suits, we must flatly deny them; howbeit, not after a rude, bitter & churlish sort, but mildly and gently by way of remonstrance, and to comfort them withal, showing unto them that such requests were not beseeming their good reputation and the opinion of their virtue. And this could Epaminondas do of all men in the world best, and shift them off after the cleanliest manner; for when he refused at the instant suit of Pelopidas, to deliver out of prison a certain Tavernor, and within a while after, let the same party go at liberty at the request of his lemon or harlot whom he loved, he said unto him: Pelopidas, such graces and favours as these, we are to grant unto our paramours and concubines, and not unto such great captains as yourself. But Cato after a more surly and boislerous sort in the like case answered unto Catulus, one of his inward and most familiar friends. This Catulus being Censor, moved Cato who then was but Questour or Treasurer, that for his sake he would dismiss and set free one of his clerks of the Finances under him, against whom he had commenced suit and entered process in law: That were a great shame in deed (quoth he) for you, who are the Censor, that is to say, the corrector and reformer of our manners, and who ought to school and instruct us that be of the younger sort, thus to be put out of your course by our under officers and ministers: for he might well enough have denied to condescend unto his request in deed and effect, without such sharp and biting words, and namely, by giving him to understand that this displeasure that he did him in refusing to do the thing, was against his will, and that he could neither will nor choose, being forced thereto by justice and the law.  
Over and beside, a man in government hath good means with honesty and honour to help his poor friends, that they may advantage themselves and reap benefit by him from the commonwealth. Thus did Themistocles after the battle at Marathon: for seeing one of them that lay dead in the field to have hanging at his neck chains, and collars, with other bracelets of gold about his arms, passed by, and would not seem for his own part to meddle with them, but turning back to a familiar friend of his, one of his followers; Here (quoth he) off with these ornaments and take them to yourself, for you are not yet come to be such an one as Themistocles. Moreover the affairs and occurrences daily incident in the world, do present unto a magistrate and great ruler such like occasions, whereby he may be able to benefit and entich his friends: for all men cannot be wealthy nor like to you o Menemachus. Give then unto one friend a good and just cause to plead unto and defend, which he may gain well by and fill his purse; unto another, recommend the affairs and business of some great and rich parsonage, who hath need of a man that knoweth how to manage and order the same better than himself; for another, hearken out where there is a good bargain to be made, as namely, in the undertaking of some public work, or help him to the taking of a good farm at a reasonable rent, whereby he may be a gainer. Epaminondas would do more than thus; for upon a time he sent one of his friends who was but poor unto a rich burgess of Thebes, to demand a whole talon of money freely to be given unto him, and to say, that Epammondas commanded him to deliver so much; The burgess wondering at such a message, came unto Epaminondas, to know the cause why he should part with a talon of silver unto him; mary (quoth he) this is the reason; The man whom I sent is honest, but poor, and you by robbing the commonwealth are become rich. And by report of Xenophon, Agesilaus took no small joy & glory in this, that he had enriched his friends, whiles himself made no account at all of money.  
But forasmuch according to the saying of Simonides, as all larks ought to have a cap or crest upon the head; so every government of State bringeth with it enmities, envies, and litigious jealousies; this is a point wherein a man of estate and affairs ought to be well informed and instructed. To begin therefore to treat of this argument, many there be who highly praise Themistocles and Aristides, for that whensoever they were to go out of the territory of Attica, either in embassage or to manage wars together; they had no sooner their charge and commission, but they presently laid down all the quarrels and enmity between even in the very confines and frontiers of their country, and afterwards when they were returned, took up and entertained them again. Some also there are who be wonderful well pleased with the practice and fashion of Cretinas the Magnesian. This Cretinas had for his concurrent an adversary in the government of State, a noble man of the same city named Hermias, who although he were not very rich, yet ambitious he was, and carried a brave and haughty mind: Cretinas in the time of the war that Mithridates made for the conquest of Asia, seeing the city in danger, went unto the said Hermias, and made an offer unto him to take the charge of captain general for the defence of the city, and in the mean while himself would go forth to retire to some other place; or otherwise, if he thought better that himself should take upon him the charge of the war, than he would depart out of the city into the country for the time, for fear lest if they tarried both behind and hindered one another as they were wont to do by their ambitious minds, they should undo the state of the city: This motion liked Hermias very well, who confessing that Cretinas was a more expert warrior than himself, departed with his wife and children out of the city: Now Cretinas made means to send him out before with a convoy, putting into his hands his own money, as being more profitable to them who were without their houses and fled abroad, than to such as lay besieged within the city, which being at the point to be lost, was by this means preserved beyond all hope and expectation: for if this be a noble and generous speech proceeding from a magnanimous hart, to say thus with a loud voice: 
My children well I love, but of my hart,  
My native soil by far hath greater part.  Why should not they have this speech readier in their mouths, to say unto every one? I hate this or that man, and willing I would be to do him a displeasure; but my native country I love so much the more? For not to desire to be at variance and debate still with an enemy, in such causes as for which we ought to abandon and cast off our friend, were the part of a most fell, savage, and barbarous nature: yet did Photion and Cato better in mine opinion, who entertained not any enmity with their citizens in regard of difference and variance between them about bearing rule and government; but became implacable and irreconcilable only in public causes, when question was of abandoning or hurting the weal public; for otherwise in private matters, they carried themselves kindly enough, without any rancour or malice even toward them, against whom they had contested in open place, as touching the State; for we ought not to esteem or repute any citizen an enemy, unless such an one be bred amongst them as Aristion, or Nabis, or Catiline, who are to be reckoned botches rather, and pestilent maladies of a city than citizens; for all others if haply they be at a jar or discord, a good magistrate ought to bring them into tune and good accord again, by gently setting up and letting down, as a skilful Musician would do by the strings of his instrument; and not in anger to come upon those that are delinquents, roughly and after an outrageous manner, even to their detriment and disgrace; but after a more mild and civil sort, as Homer speaketh in one place: 
Certes, fair friend, I would have held,  
That others for your wit you had excelled.  As also in another: 
You know, if that you list (iwis)  
To tell a better tale than this.  Yea, and when they shall either say or do that which is good and convenient, not to show himself to grieve and grudge at their credit and reputation which they win thereby, nor to be sparie in affording them honourable words to their commendation and advantage: for in so doing, thus much will be gained, that the blame which shall be laid upon them another time when they deserve it, will be better taken, and more credit given to it: and beside, by how much more we shall exalt their virtues, so much the more we may beat down and depress their vices when they do amiss, by making comparison of them both, and showing how much the one is more worthy and beseeming than the other: for mine own part, I hold it meet and good, that a man of government should give testimony in the behalf of his adversaries in righteous & just causes; also assist and help them out of troubles, in case they be brought into question by some lewd sycophants, yea, and discredit and disable the imputations charged upon them, namely, when he seeth that such matters for which they are molested, be far from their intention and meaning. Thus Nero, a cruel tyrant though he was, a little before he put Thraseas to death, whom he hated and feared most of all men in the world, notwithstanding one laid to his charge before him that he had given a wrong doom or unjust sentence: I would (quoth he) that I could be assured that Thraseas loved me so well as I am sure he a is most upright and just Judge. Neither were it amiss for the astonishing & daunting of others, who be of a naughty nature, when they do commit any gross faults, to make mention otherwhiles of some adversary of theirs who is of a more modest behaviour and civil carriage, by saying: Such an one (I warrant you) would never have said or done thus. Moreover, it were not impertinent to put some, who do offend, in mind of their fathers and ancestors, that have been good and honest, like as Homer did: 
A son (iwis) sir Tydeus left behind,  
Unlike himself, and much grown out of kind.  And Appius Claudius being the concurrent to Scipio Africanus, when they stood both for one magistracy, said unto him as he met him in the street: O Paulus Aemilius, how deeply wouldst thou sigh for grief and sorrow, in case thou wert advertised that one Philonicus a Publican or Banker and no better, accompanied and guarded thy son thorough the city, going down toward the assembly of Cornices for to be chosen Censor? This manner of reprehension, as it admonisheth the offender, so it doth honour unto the admonisher. Nestor likewise in a Tragedy of Sophocles, answereth as politicly unto Ajax, when he reproached him, saying: 
I blame not you sir Ajax, for your speech,  
nought though it be; your words are nothing liech.  Semblably, Cato who had contested against Pompey, for that being combined and in league with Julius Caesar, he assaulted and forced the city of Rome, when as afterwards they were grown to open war one against the other, opined and gave his advice to confer the charge and regiment of the commonweal upon Pompeius, saying withal: That they who could do most mischief, were the sittest men to stay the same: for thus a blame or reproose mingled with a praise and commendation, especially, if the same grow to no opprobrious terms, but be contained within the compass of a frank and free remonstrance, working not a spiteful stomach, but a remorse of conscience and repentance, seemeth kind and dutiful; whereas despiteousreproches are never seemly and decent in the mouth of a magistrate and man of honour. Mark the opprobrious terms and taunts that Demosthenes let fly against Aeschines, those also that Aeschenes gave him; likewise the bitter frumps which Hyperides wrote against Demades; and see if Solon ever delivered such, or if there came the like out of the mouth of Pericles, of Lycurgus the Lacedaemonian, or of Pittacus the Lesbian; and as for Demosthenes, he forbore such sharp and cutting terms otherwise, and never used them but in pleading against some criminal causes; for his orations against Philip are clear and void of all nips, flouts, and scoffs whatsoever: and in truth such manner of dealing diffameth the speaker more, than those against whom they be spoken; they bring confusion in all affairs; they trouble assemblies both in counsel house and also in common hall; In which regard, Photion yielding upon a time to one that was given to rail, broke off his oration, held his peace for a while and came down; but after, the other with much a do held his tongue and gave over his foul language, he mounted up into the place of audience again, and going on in his former speech which was interrupted and discontinued, said thus: Now that I have already my masters spoken sufficiently of horsemen, men of arms, and soldiers heavily armed at all pieces, it remaineth to discourse of light footmen, and targuatiers nimbly appointed.  
But forasmuch as this is an hard matter unto many, to bear with such broad language, and to contain, and oftentimes these taunting scoffers meet with their matches, and have their mouths stopped, and are put to silence by some pretty replies; I would wish that the same were short, pithy, and delivered in very few words, not showing any heat of anger and choler, but a kind of sweet mildness, after the manner of a grave laughter, yet withal somewhat tart and biting; and such ordinarily be those that are returned fitly in the same kind against them that first began: for like as those darts which are recharged upon them that flung them first, seem to be driven with good will, and sent back again with great force and firm strength of him who was strooken with them; even so it seemeth that a sharp and biting speech retorted against him who first spoke it, cometh forcible and with a power of wit and understanding from the party who received it; such was the reply of Epaminondas unto Callistratus, who reproached and upbraided the Thebans and Argives with the parents of Oedipus and Orestes, for that the one being borne in Thebes slew his own father, and the other at Argos killed his mother: true indeed quoth Epaminondas, and therefore we banished them out of our cities, but you receive them into yours. Semb able was the answer of Antalcidas a Lacedaemonian unto an Athenian, who said unto him after a boasting and vaunting manner: We have driven you oftentimes from the river Cephasus; but we (quoth he) never yet drove you from the river Eurotas: In like sort replied Photion pleasantly upon Demades when he cried aloud, The Athenians will put thee to death if they enter once into their raging fits: But they (quoth he) will do the same by thee, if they were in their right wits: and Crassus the orator when Domitius demanded this question of him; When the lamprey which you kept and fed in your pool was dead, did you never weep for it, and say true? came upon him quickly again in this wise: And you sir when you had buried three of of your wives one after another, did you ever shed tear for the matter, & tell troth? And verily these rules are not only to be practised in matters of State-affairs, but they have their use also in other parts of man's life.  
Moreover, some there be who will intrude and thrust themselves into all sorts of public affairs, as Cato did; and these are of opinion, that a good citizen should not refuse any charge or public administration so far forth as his power will extend: who highly commend Epaminondas; for that when his adversaries and evil willers upon envy had caused him to be chosen a bailiff and receiver of the city revenues, thereby to do him a spite and shrewd turn; he did not despise & think basely of the said office; but saying, that not only magistracy showeth what manner of man one is, but also a man showeth what the magistracy is, he brought that office into great dignity and reputation, which before was in no credit and account at all, as having the charge of nothing else but of keeping the streets clean, of gung-farming and carrying dung forth out of the narrow lanes and blind allies, and turning watercourses. And even I Plutarch myself doubt not, but I make good sport and game unto many who pass through our city, when they see me in the open streets otherwhiles busy and occupied about the like matters; but to meet with such, I might help myself with that which I have found written of Antisthenes; for when some there were that marveled much at him for carrying openly in his hands through the market place a piece of salt fish, or stockfish which he had bought: It is for mine own self (quoth he aloud) that I carry it; but contrariwise mine answer is to such, as reprove me when they find me in proper person present, at the measuring and counting of bricks and tiles, or to see the stones, sand, and lime laid down, which is brought into the city; it is not for myself that I build, but for the city and commonwealth, for many other things there be, which if a man exercise or manage in his own person and for himself, he may be thought base minded and mechanical; but in case he do it for the commonwealth and the State, and for the country and place where he liveth, it cannot be accounted a vile or ungentleman-like service, but a great credit even to be serviceable, ready and diligent to execute the meanest functions that be. Others there are, who think the fashion that Pericles used to be more starely, grave, and decent, and namely Critelaus the peripatetic among the rest, who was of this mind, that as the two great galiasses, to wit, Salaminia at Athens, and Paralos were not shot or launched into the sea for every small matter, but only upon urgent and necessary occasions; even so a man of government should be employed in the chief & greatest affairs, like as the sovereign and king of the world, according to the poet Euripides, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
For God himself doth manage and dispense things of most weight, by his sole government.  
But matters high and of small consequence, he doth refer to fortune's regiment.  For we cannot commend the excessive ambition, the aspiring and contentious spirit of Theagenes, who contented not himself to have gone through all the ordinary games with victory, and to have won the prizes in many other extraordinary masteries and feats of activity, to wit, not only in that general exercise Pancratton, wherein hand and foot both is put to the uttermost at once, but also at buffets, & at running a course in the long race: Finally, being one day at a solemn anniversary feast or yeeres-maund in the memorial of a certain demigod (as the manner was) when he was set, & the meat served up to the board, he would needs rise from the table for to perform another general Pancratium: as if forsooth it had belonged to no man in the world to achieve the victory in such feats but himself, if he were present in place: by which profession he had gotten together as good as twelve hundred coronets, as prizes at such combats, of which the most part were of small or no value at all; a man would say they had been chaff or such refuse and riff-raff. Like unto him for all the world be those, who are ready (as a man would say) at all hours to cast of all their clothes to their very single wastcot or shirt, for to undertake all affairs that shall be presented; by which means, the people have enough and too much of them; they become odious and irksome unto them; in such sort that if they chance to do well and prosper, they envy them; if they do otherwise than well and miscarry, they rejoice and be glad at heart therefore. Again, that which is admired in them at their first entrance into government, turneth in the end to a jest and mere mockery, much after this order, Metiochus is the General captain; Metiochus looketh to the high ways; Metiochus bakes our bread; Metiochus grinds our meal; Metiochus doth every thing, and is all in all; finally, Metiochus shall pay for this one day, and cry woe is me in the end. Now was this Metiochus one of Pericles his followers and favourites, who making use of his authority out of measure and compass, by the countenance thereof, would employ himself in all public charges and commissions whatsoever, until at the last he became contemptible and despised. For in truth a man of government ought so to carry himself, as that the people should evermore have a longing appetite unto him, be in love with him, and always dosirous to see him again, if he be absent. This policy did Scipio Africanus praclife, who abode the most part of the time in the country; by this means both easing himself of the heavy load of envy, and also giving those the while, good leisure to take breath, who seemed to be kept down by his glory. Timesias the Clazomenian, was otherwise a good man and a sufficient politician, howbeit little wist he, how he was envied in the city, because he would seem to do every thing by himself, until such time as there befell unto him such an accident as this. There chanced to be playing in the mids of a street as he passed by, a company of boys, and their game was, who could draw with a cudgel a certain cockall bone out of an hole. Some boys there were who held, that the bone lay still within; but he who had smitten it, maintained the contrary (and said withal) I would I had as well dashed out Timesias brains out of his head, as I am sure this bone was strucken out of the hole: Timesias overheard this word, and knowing thereby what envy and malice all the people bore unto him, returned home presently to his house, and told his wife the whole matter, commanding her to truss and pack up all both bag and baggage, and to follow after him; who immediately went out of doors, and departed for ever out of the city Clazomene. It should seem also that Themistocles was almost in the same plight, & wanted but a little of the like shrewd turn from the Atheniuns, when he was driven thus to say unto them: Ah my good friends and neighbours, why are you weary and think much to receive so great good at my hands? But as touching these persons above said, some words of theirs were well placed, & others not. For a wise Statesman, in care, affection & forecast, ought not to refuse any public charge whatsoever, but to take pains in having an eye to all, & to understand and know every particular; and not to reserve himself close, as it were, some holy anchor or sacred tackling laid up in some secret cabin of a ship, and not to attend only upon extremities, and to tarry until he be employed upon occasions of great necessity and utmost danger. But like as good patrons or masters of a ship, lay their own hands to some business, but others they perform sitting themselves a far off by the means of their tools and instruments, and by the hands of other servitors, turning about, stretching and winding up, or letting down and slacking the ropes as they see cause, employing the mariners, some to row, others to attend and be occupied in the proo and foreship; and others again to cry unto their fellows to ply their work; and some of them they call many times into the poop, and putting the helm into their hands, set them to steer and guide the stern; even so ought a wise governor of the commonwealth to yield now and then unto others the honour of command, and otherwhiles to call them after a gracious and courteous sort to the pulpit or public place of audience, to make orations to the people, and not to move all matters belonging to the State by his own personal speeches nor by his decrees, sentences, and arts (and as it were) with his own hands execute every thing; but to have about him faithful and trusty persons to be his ministers, who might second and assist him; and those he should employ, some in this charge, and others in that, according as he seeth them to be sufficient meet and fit for employment. After this manner did Pericles use Menippus for his expeditions and conduct of war affairs: thus by the means of Ephialtes he took down and abridged the authority of the high court Areiopagus. Charinus he employed in compassing and contriving the law or decree that passed against the Megarians; and Lampon he sent with a colony for to people the city of Thurii. And in this doing, he not only diminished the envy of the people against himself, in that it seemed that his power and authority was thus divided and parted among many; but also he managed the affairs of the State better and more commodiously by far. For like as the division of the hand into fingers enfeebleth not the force of the whole hand, but maketh it more fit for use, to handle all tools and instruments, or to work any thing more artificially; even so, he that in matters of government doth communicate part of the management of the public affairs with his friends, causeth by this participation all things to be better done, and with more expedition: whereas that man, who upon an unsatiable desire to show himself, to have credit, and to win name and authority, layeth all the weight of the State upon his own shoulders, and will be doing of every thing; undertaking oftentimes that charge, whereunto he is neither framed by nature, nor fitted by exercise; as Cleon did in leading an army; Philopoemenes in conducting a navy; and Hannibal in making orations to the people, maketh himself inexcusable, if haply ought fall out otherwise than well. To such an one may well be applied a verse out of Euripides: 
You work not in timber, but in other matter  
Being yourself but only a Carpenter.  even so, you not able to deliver an eloquent speech, have undertaken an embassage; being idle and given to take your ease, you will needs have the charge of a steward and govern an house: not skilful and ready in casting accounts, you will needs be a Treasurer or receiver, being aged and sickly, you are become a commander and general of an army. Pericles did far better than so; for he parted the government with Cimon; and retaining to himself the whole power of ruling within the city, he left unto Cimon full commission and authority to man the Armado, and in the mean while to make war upon the Barbarians, because he knew his own self more fit for civil regiment at home, & the other more meet for warlike command abroad. In this respect Eubulus the Anaphlystian is highly commended, who, notwithstanding the people had a great affiance and trust in him, yea and gave him as much credit as no man more, yet could he never be brought to deal in the foreign affairs of Greece, nor to take upon him the conduct of an army; but resolving with himself ever from the beginning to attend & be employed in many matters he mightily increased the revenues of the city, and enriched the State exceedingly. But Iphicrates for exercising & practising to make declamations at home in his own house in the presence of many others made a fool of himself, & was laughed to scorn for his labour: for say that he had proved no bad orator, but a most excellent speaker; yet should he have stood contented with the reputation that he had won of a good warrior, by feats of arms, and have left the schools of Rhetoric, for sophisters, orators, and such professors.  
But forasmuch as all common people are by nature malignant, especially to those who are in place of authority, taking pleasure to quarrel and find fault with them; and suspecting ordinarily that many profitable acts and ordinances by them set down, unless they be debated by factions & with some contradiction, are contrived by secret intelligence under hand, & by way of conspiracy; even this is the thing that most of all bringeth the private amities and societies of Statesmen and governors into an ill name and obloquy: howbeit, for all this, we are not to admit or grant unto them any true enmity in deed or discord, as did sometimes a popular man and a governor of Chios, named Onomademus, who after he had in a certain seditious tumult gotten the upper hand of his adversaries, would not banish out of the city all those who had taken part against him: For fear lest that (quoth he) we fall out with our friends, when we have no more enemies: for surely this were mere folly. But whensoever the people shall suspect any ordinance or act proposed which is of great consequence and tending to their good, it behoveth not at such a time, that all (as it were) of one complot should deliver one and the same sentence; but that two or three opposing themselves without violence, should contradict their friend, and afterwards being convinced and overweighed by sound reasons, change their mind and range themselves to his opinion; for by this means they draw the people with them, namely, when they seem themselves to be brought thereto in regard of a public benefit and commodity. And verily in trifling matters & of no great importance, it were not amiss to suffer our very friends in good earnest to differ and disagree from us, and to let every one take his way and follow his own mind, to the end that when some main points and principal matters of greatest moment shall come in question and be debated, it might not be thought that they have complotted together, and so grown to a point and accord about the best.  
Moreover, we are thus to think: That a wise man and a politician is by nature always the governor and chief magistrate of a city, like as the king among the Bees: and upon this persuasion he ought to have evermore the reins in his hand, and to sway the affairs of State: howbeit he is not very often nor too hotly for to seek after and pursue the offices and dignities which the people do nominate and choose by their free voices: for this office-managing, and desire to be always in place of authority, is neither venerable for his person, nor yet plausible to the people; and yet must not he reject the same, in case the people call him lawfully to it, and confer the same upon him, but to accept thereof, although peradventure they be offices somewhat inferior to the reputation that he hath already, yea, and to employ himself therein willingly and with good affection: for reason it is and equity, that as we ourselves have been honoured already by places of great dignity, so reciprocally we should grace and countenance those which be of meaner quality; and whensoever we shall be chofen to supreme magistracies, to wit, unto the estate of L. Governor and general captain in the city of Athens, or the Prytanship in Rhodes, or Boeotarchie which is here in Boeotia, it may beseem us very well in modesty to yield and rebate a little of the sovereign power in our port, and with moderation to exercise the same; but chose unto meaner rooms to add more dignity, and show greater countenance, to the end that we be not envied in the one or despised in the other.  
Now for a man that entereth newly into any office whatsoever it be, he ought not only to call to remembrance, and use the speeches that Pericles made the first time that he took upon him the rule of State, and was to show himself in open place: namely, Look to thyself Pericles, thou rulest free men and not bondslaves; thou governest Greeks and not Barbarians; nay, thou art the head magistrate of the citizens of Athens; but also he is to reason and say thus to himself: Thou art a commander and yet a subject withal; thou art the ruler of a city under Roman Proconsul's, or else the procurators, Lieutenants and Deputies of Caesar. Here are not the plains (as he said) of Lydia, for to run with the lance, nor the ancient city Sardeis, ne yet the puissance of the Lydians which was in times past. The rob must not be made so large, it must be worn more strait; your eye must be always from the emperors pavilion unto the tribunal seat of justice; and you are not to take so great pride, nor trust so much unto a crown standing upon the head, seeing how horned shoes of the Roman Senators are above the same: but herein you ought to imitate the actors and players in Tragedies, who add somewhat of their own to the roll or written part that they do play, to wit, their passionate affection, gesture, accent and countenance which is fit and agreeable to the person that they do represent; and yet withal, they forget not to have an eye and ear both, to the prompters. This (I say) we must do, for fear lest we pass those bounds and exceed the measures of that liberty which is given us by those who have the power to command us, for I assure you, to go beyond those precincts and limits, bringeth with it danger; I say not to be hissed from off the stage, and to be laughed out of our coats; but many there have been 
Upon whose necks for punishment,  
The edge of trenchant axe and gleave  
Hath fallen, to end all their torment,  
And head from body soon did reave.  as it befell to Pardalus your countryman, with those about him, for stepping a little at one side without their limits. And such another also there was, who being confined into a certain desert isle, became (as Solon saith) 
A Sicinit an or Pholegandrian,  
Who borne sometime was an Athenian.  We laugh heartily at little children, to see how otherwhiles they go about to put their father's shoes upon their own feet, or to set crowns upon their heads in sport; and governors of cities relating foolishly oftentimes unto the people, the worthy acts of their predecessors; their noble courage and brave minds, their notable enterprises achieved, far different and disproportioned to the present times & proceedings in their days, and exhorting them to follow the same, set the multitude aloft: but as they do ridiculously, so afterwards (believe me) they suffer not that which deserveth to be laughed at, unless haply they be so base minded, that for their baseness there is no account made of them. For many other histories there be of ancient Greece, which afford examples to be recounted unto men living in this age, for to instruct and reform their manners; as namely, those at Athens which put the people in remembrance, not of the prowess of their ancestors in martial affairs, but for example to decree of that general abolition and oblivion of all quarrels and matters past, which sometimes was concluded there, after that the city was delivered and freed from their captivity under the thirty Tyrants, as also another act, by virtue whereof they condemned in a grievous fine the Poet Phrymchus, for that he represented in a Tragedy the winning and racing of the city Miletus. Likewise, how by a public ordinance, every man wore chaplets of flowers upon their heads, when they heard say that Cassander re-edified Thebes: and how, when intelligence came of the cruel execution and bloody massacre committed in Argos, wherein the Argives caused to be put to death 1500. of their own citizens, they caused in a solemn procession and general assembly of the whole city, an expiatory sacrifice to be carried about, that it might please the gods to avert and turn away such cruel thoughts from the hearts of the Athenians; semblaby, how at what time as there was a general search made throughout the city in every house for those who banded with Harpalus, they passed by one house only of a man newly married, and would not suffer it to be searched. For in these precedents & such like, they might well enough in these days imitate and resemble their ancient forefathers. But as for the battle of Marathon: the field fought near the river Eurynedon, and the noble fight at Plateae, with other such examples which do nothing else but blow and puff up a multitude with vanity, they should leave such stories for the schools of Sophisters and masters of Rhetoric.  
Well, we ought not in our several governments to have a due regard only to maintain ourselves and our cities so wisely, that our sovereigns have no occasion to complain; but we must take order also to have one great Signior or other, who hath most authority at Rome, and in the court of the emperor, to be our fast and special friend; who may serve us in steed of a rampire to back us, and to defend all our actions and proceedings in the government of our countries: for such lords and great men of Rome stand ordinarily passing well affected to those affairs, which their dependents and favourites do follow, and the fruit which may be reaped by the amity and favour of such grand-Seigniours, it were not good and honest to convert into the advancement and enriching of ourselves, and our particular private friends; but to employ the same as Polybius did sometime and Panaetius, who by the means of the good grace of Scipio wherein they stood, did benefit and advantage their country exceeding much: in which number may be ranged Arius, for when Caesar Augustus had forced the city Alexandria, he entered into it, holding Arius by the hand, and devising with him alone of all his other friends what was to be done more: afterwards when the Alexandrians looked for no other but sackage and all extremities, and yet besought him to pardon them; I pardon you (quoth he) and receive you into my grace and favour, first in regard of the nobility and beauty of your city; secondly for Alexander the great his sake, the founder thereof; and thirdly for the love of this my friend Arius your citizen. May a man with any reason compare with this gracious favour, the most large and gainful commissions of ruling and governing provinces, which many make so great suit for at the court, and that with such abject servitude and base subjection, that some of them have even waxen old in giving attendance thereabout, at other men's gates; leaving in the mean while their own home affairs at six and seven? were it not well to correct and amend a little the sentence in Euripides, singing and saying it thus? If it be honest and lawful to watch and make court at the gates of another, and to be subject to the suit of some great Signior: surely most commendable and behoveful it were so to do, for the love and benefit of a man's country, in all other cases to seek and embrace amities, under just and equal conditions.  
Moreover, a governor in yielding and reducing his country unto the obedience of mighty sovereigns abroad, aught to take good heed that he bring it not into servile subjection, lest when it is once tied by the leg, he suffer it to be bound also by the neck: for some there be who reporting all things both little and great unto these potentates, make this their servitude reprochable; or to speak more truly, they deprive their country of all policy and form of government, making it so fearful, timorous, and fit for no authority and command at all; and like as they who use themselves to live so physically, that they can neither dine nor sup, nor yet bathe without their physician, have not so much benefit of health as nature itself doth afford them; even so those cities and States which for every decree and resolution of their counsel, for all grace and favour, yea and for the smallest administration of public affairs, must needs adjoigne the consent, judgement, and good liking of those Seigniours and good masters of theirs, they even compel the said great lords to be more powerful and absolute over them than they would themselves. The causes hereof commonly be these; to wit, the avarice, jealousy, and emulation of the chief and principal citizens in a State; for that being desirous otherwhiles to oppress and keep under those who be their inferiors, they constrain them to abandon their own cities, or else being at some debate and difference with other citizens their equals, and unwilling to take the foil one at another's hand in their own city; they have recourse unto other superior lords, and so bring in foreigners who are their betters. Hereupon it cometh to pass, that Senate, people, judicial courts, and all that little authority and power which they had is utterly lost. A good governor therefore ought to remedy this mischief, by appeasing such burgesses as be private and mean citizens, by equality, and those who are great and mighty, by reciprocal yielding one to another; and so by this course to keep all affairs within the compass of the city, to compose all quarrels, and determine all controversies at home, curing and healing such inconveniences as secret maladies of a commonwealth, with a civil and politic medicine; that is to say, to choose rather for his own part for to be vanquished and overthrown among fellow-citizens, than to vanquish & win the victory by foreign power, & not to offer wrong unto his natural country, and be a cause to overthrow the rights and privileges thereof; as for all others, he is to beseech them, yea and to persuade with them particularly one by another, by good reasons and demonslrances, of how many calamities peevish obstinacy is the cause; and now because they would not each one in his turn & course frame and accommodate themselves at home to their fellow-citizens, who many times be of one mind and lineage to their neighbours and companions in charges and offices, and that with honour and good favour; they are come to this pass, as to detect and lay open the secret dissensions and debates of their own city, at the gates of their advocates, and to put their causes into the hands of pragmatical lawyers (at Rome) with no less shame and ignominy, than loss and damage.  
Physicians are wont when they cannot expel and fully exclude out of the body inwardly some kind of maladies, to turn and drive the same without forth to the superficial parts; but chose, a man of government, if he be not able to keep a city altogether in peace & concord, but that some troubles will arise, yet at leastwise he must endeavour to contain that within the city which is the cause thereof, and nurceth the sedition, and in keeping it close to labour for to heal and remedy it; to this end, that if it be possible he have no need either of physician or physic from foreign parts; for the intentions of a man of State and government ought to be these, namely, to proceed in his affairs surely, and to fly the violent and furious motions of vainglory, as hath been said already, howbeit in his resolution, 
A courage bold and full of confidence  
Undaunted heart, and fearless be must have  
Which will not quatle for any consequence,  
But see the end: much like to sculdiors brave  
In field themselves who manly do behave,  
And hazard limbs and life for to defend  
Their country dear, and enemies to off end.  and not only to oppose himself against enemies, but also to be armed against perilous troubles and dangerous tumults, that he may be ready to resist and make head: for he ought not in any case himself to move tempests and raise commotions, no nor when he seeth boisterous storms coming, forsake and leave his country in time of need. He must nor (I say) drive his city under his charge upon apparent danger, but so soon as ever it once begin to be tossed, and to float in jeopardy, than is it his part to come to succour, by casting out from himself (as it were) a sacred Anchor, that is to say, to use his boldness and liberty of speech, considering that now the main point of all lieth a bleeding, even the safety of his country. Such were the dangers that happened unto Pergamus in Nero's time, and of late days to the Rhodians, during the Empire of Domitian, as also before unto the Thessalians, while Augustus was Emperor, by occasion that they had burned Petraeus quick. In these and such like occurrences, a man of State and government, especially if he be worthy of that name: 
Never shall you see  
Sleepy for to be.  nor drawing his foot back for fear, no nor to blame and lay the fault of others, ne yet to make shift for one, and put himself out of the medley of danger, but either going in embassage, or embarked in some ship at sea; or else ready to speak first, and to say not only thus 
We we Apollo, have this murder done  
From these our coasts, avert this plague anon.  but although himself be not culpable at all with the multitude, yet will he put his person into danger for them. For surely this is an act right honest, and besides the honesty in itself, it happeneth diverse times; that the virtue and noble courage of such a man hath been so highly admired, that it hath daunted the anger conceived against a whole multitude, and dispatched all the fierceness and fury of a bitter menace: like as it befell unto a King of Persia in regard of Bulis and Sperthis two gentlemen of Sparta: and as it was seen in Pompey to his host and friend Sthenon: for when he was fully determined to chastise the Mamertines sharply, and to proceed against them in all rigour, for that they had rebelled, the said Sthenon stepped unto him, and thus frankly spoke: That he should do neither well nor justly, in case he did to death a number of innocents, for one man who alone was faulty; for it is I myself (quoth he) who caused the whole city to revolt and take arms, inducing my friends for love, and forcing mine enemies for fear. These words of his went so near unto the heart of Pompey, that he pardoned the city, and most courteously entreated Sthenon; semblaby, the host of Sylla, having showed the like valour and virtue, although it were not to the like person, died a noble death: for when Sylla had won the city Praenesle by assault, he meant to put all the inhabitants thereof to the sword, excepting only one host of his, whom in regard of old hospitality he spared and pardoned: but this host & friend said flatly unto him, that he would never remain alive to see that bloody massacre, not hold his life by the murderer of his country; and so cast himself into the troop of his fellow-citizens in the heat of execution, and was killed with them. Well, pray unto the gods we ought to preserve and keep us that we fall not into such calamities and troublesome times; to hope also and look for better days.  
Moreover, we are to esteem of every public magistracy, and of him who exerciseth it, as of a great and sacred thing, and in that regard to honour the same above all. Now the honour which is due unto authority, is the mutual accord and love of those who are set in place to exercise the same together: and verily this honour is much more worth, than either all those crowns and diadems which they bear upon their heads, or their stately mantles and robes of purple, wherewith they be arrayed. Howbeit, they that laid the first ground and beginning of amity; their service in wars, when they were fellow-souldiors, or the passing of their youthful years together; and chose, take this a cause now of enmity, that they either are joined captains in commission for the conduct of an army, or have the charge of the Commonweal together, it can not be avoided, but that they must incur one of these three mischiefs. For either if they esteem their fellows and companions in government to be their equals, they begin themselves first to grow into terms of dissension; or if they take them to be their betters, they fall to be envious; or else in case they hold them to be inferior unto them in good parts, they despise, & contemn them. Whereas they should indeed make court unto the greater, honour and adorn their equals, and advance their inferiors, and in one word to love and embrace all, as having an amity and love engendered among themselves, not because they have eaten at one table, drunk of the same cup, or met together at one feast, but by a certain common band and public obligation, as having in some sort a certain fatherly benevolence, contracted and grown upon the common affection unto their country. Certes, one reason why Scipio was not so well thought of at Rome was this; that having invited all his friends to a solemn feast at the dedication of his temple to Hercules, he left out Mummius his colleague or fellow in office: for say that otherwise they took not one another for so good friends; yet so it is that at such a time and upon such occasions, they ought to have honoured and made much one of the other, by reason of their common magistracy. If then Scipio, a noble parsonage otherwise, and a man of wonderful regard, incurred the imputation and note of insolency and presumption, because he forgot or omitted so small a demonstration and token of humanity: how can it be, that he who goeth about to impair the dignity and credit of his companions in government, or discrediteth and digraceth him in those actions, especially which proceed from honour and bounty, or upon an arrogant humour of his own, will seem to do all, and attribute the whole to himself alone, how can such an one (I say) be reputed, either modest or reasonable? I remember myself, that when I was but of young years, I was sent with another, in embassage to the Proconsul; and for that my companion stayed about (I wot not what behind) I went alone and did that which we had in commission to do together: after my return, when I was to give an account unto the State, and to report the effect of my charge & message back again; my father arose, and taking me apart, willed me in no wise to speak in the singular number, & say, I departed or went, but We departed; Item, not I said, or (quoth I) but We said; & in the whole recital of the rest to join always my companion, as if he had been associate & at one hand with me in that which I did alone. And verily this is not only decent, convenient, and civil, but that which more is, it taketh from glory that which is offensive, to wit envy, which is the cause that great captains attribute and ascribe their noble acts to fortune and their good angel, as did Timoleon, even he who overthrew the Tyrannies established in Sicily; who founded and erected a temple to Good-Fortune. Pythou also when he was highly praised and commended at Athens for having slain king Cotys with his own hand; It was God (quoth he) who for to do the deed used my hand. And Theopompus king of the Lacedæmonians, when one said unto him that Sparta was saved and stood upright, for that their kings know how to rule well; Nay rather (quoth he) because the people know how to obey well: and to say a truth, both these depend one upon the other; howbeit, most men are of this opinion, and so they give out; that the better part of policy or knowledge belonging to civil government lieth in this, to fit men, and frame them meet to be well ruled and commanded; for in every city there is always a greater number of subjects than rulers, and each one in his turn (especially in a popular state) is governor but a while, and for it, afterwards continueth governed all the rest of his life, in such sort, that it is a most honest and profitable apprenticeship (as it were) to learn for to obey those who have authority to command, although haply they have meaner parts otherwise, and be of less credit and power than ourselves: for a mere absurdity it were, that (whereas a principal or excellent actor in a Tragedy, such as Theodorus was or Potus, for hire waiteth oftentimes upon another mercenary player who hath not above three words in his part to say, and speaketh unto him in all humility and reverence, because peradventure he hath the royal band of a diadem about his head, and a sceptre in his hand) in the true and unfeigned actions of our life, and in case of policy and government, a rich and mighty person should despise and set light by a magistrate for that he is a simple man otherwise, and peradventure poor and of mean estate, yea and proceed to wrong, violate and impair the public dignity wherein he is placed, yea and to offer violence thereby unto the authority of a State; whereas he ought rather with his own credit and puissance, help out the defect and weakness of such a man, and by his greatness, countenance, his authority: for thus in the city of Lacedaemon, the kings were wont to rise up out of their thrones before the Ephori, and whosoever else was summoned & called by them, came not an ordinary footpace, or fair and softly, but running in great haste, in token of obedience, and to show unto other citizens how obeisant they were, taking a great joy and glory in this, that they honour their magistrates, not as some vainglorious and ungracious sots, void of all civility and manners, wanting judgement and discretion, who to show forsooth their exceeding power upon which they stand much and pride themselves, will not let to offer abuse unto the judges and wardens of the public games, combats, and pastimes, or to give reproachful terms to those that lead the dance, or set out the plays in the Bacchanal feast, yea and mock captains, and laughed at the precedents & wardens of the public exercises for youth, who have not the wit to know; That to give honour is oftentimes more honourable than to be honoured: for surely to an honourable person who beareth a great sway, & carrieth a mighty port with him in a city, it is a greater ornament & grace to accompany a magistrate, and as it were to guard and squire him, than if the said magistrate should put him before or seem to wait upon him in his train; and to say a truth, as this were the way to work him displeasure and procure him envy from the hearts of as many as see it; so the other would win him true glory which proceedeth of love and benevolence: And verily when such a man is seen otherwhiles in the magistrates house, when he saluteth or greeteth him first, and either giveth him the upperhand, or the middle place as they walk together, he addeth an ornament to the dignirie of the city, and looseth thereby none of his own, Moreover, it is a popular thing, and that which gaineth the hearts of the multitude, if such a person can bear patiently the hard terms of a magistrates whiles he is in place, and endure his choleric fits; for than he may with Diomedes in Homer say thus to himself: 
How ever now I little do say,  
It will be mine honour another day.  Or as one said of Demosthenes; Well, he is not now Demosthenes only, but he is a lawgiver, he is a precedent of the sacred plays and solemn games, and a crown he hath upon his head, etc. and therefore it is good to put up all now, and to defer vengeance until another time; for either we shall come upon him when he is out of his office, or at least wise we shall gain thus much by delay, that choler will be well cooled and allayed by that time.  
Moreover, in any government or magistracy whatsoever, a good subject ought to strive (as it were) a vie with the rulers, especially if they be persons of good sort and gracious behaviour, in diligence, care, and forecast for the benefit of the State; namely, in going to them, to give notice and intelligence of whatsoever is meet to be done, in putting into their hands for to be executed that which he hath with mature deliberation rightly resolved upon, in giving means unto them for to win themselves honour, and that by the benefit of the commonweal: But if such persons they be, as either for fear & false heart, or upon a froward peevishness & disposition give no ear to such motions, and are not willing to put that in execution which is presented unto them; than it is his part himself in person to go and declare the same in public place to the body of the people, and in no wise to neglect, disannul, or pass with connivance any thing that concerneth the weal-public, and never to pretend any colourable excuse, by saying, it appertained unto none other but the head magistrate, thus to deal curiously and be busisie occupied in meddling with the affairs of State; for a general law there is which giveth always the first and principal place of rule in a commonwealth unto him who dealeth justly, practiseth righteousness, and knoweth what is expedient and profitable, as we may see by the example of Xenophon, who in one place writeth thus of himself: There was in the army (quoth he) one named Xenophon, who was neither Lord General, nor Lieutenant; but for skill and knowledge of that which was to be done, and for resolution to enterprise and execute the same, put himself forward and gave charge unto others, wherein he so behaved himself that he saved the Greeks. And the most glorious feat of arms that ever Philopaemen achieved was this, that when he heard news how king Agis had surprised the city of Messene, and that the general of the Achaeans would not go with aid and rescue, but drew back for fear; he with a troop of the most forward and resolute gallants, without warrant or commission from the State, delivered the said city from out of the hands of Agis: which I write not as if I allowed innovations or such new enterprises and extraordinary attempts upon every small and light occasion, but only either in time of need and extremity, as Philopaemen did then, or for honest occasions, as Epaminondas, who continued in his Beotarchie four months longer than was ordinary by the laws of the country, during which time he put on arms, and entered into Laconia, re-edified Messene, and peopled it, to the end that if afterwards there should ensue any complaint or imputation, we may answer with credit, and either allege for excuse, necessity, or set against it the peril to which we exposed ourselves, the braveness of the exploit, and the service so well performed, to make amends and recompense.  
There is reported a sentence of Jason who long since was the Tyrant or Monarch of Sictlie, which he had often in his mouth, and always repeated so often as he did violence or outrages to any of his subjects, that they cannot choose but commit unjustice in small matters, who would do justice in great causes; as if a man would say, that necessary it is for him to offer wrong in detail who mindeth to do right in the gross. But as touching this sentence, a man may soon perceive at the first sight, that it is a speech meet for him that intendeth to make himself an absolute lord, and to usurp tyranny. Yet is this rule more civil and politic, that a governor to gratify the peole, is to pass by small matters, and to wink at them, that he may in greater things stand against them, and stay them from breaking out to far. For he that in every thing will be peering and looking too narrowly without any yielding or relaxation, but is always severe rigorous and inexorable, doth by his example train and accustom the people likewise to be quarrelsome and contentious with him, yea and to be ready upon all occasions to take offence and discontentment: 
But softly for to strike the sail  
Or slack the helm doth much avail  
With violence when billows great  
Arise and on the ship do beat.  and even so a governor ought in some things to yield, and not to be so precise and strait laced himself, but to sport as it were and take his pastimes graciously with his people, as namely to celebrate festival sacrifices, behold solemn plays, games, and combats, and to sit in the theatres with them, partly in making semblant as though he neither saw nor heard many things, like as we are wont to do by the faults at home of our little children; to the end that the authority of reproving them roundly, and admonishing them frankly, like unto the virtue of a medicine not dull and enervate with much use, but remaining still in full vigour and strength, may be more effectual, carry the greater credit, touch the quick indeed, and sting in matters of greater consequence. Alexander the great, when he heard that his sister had been too familiarly acquainted with a lusty young gentleman and a beautiful, was nothing displeased therewith, but said; We must give her also a little leave to enjoy-somewhat the pleasure and prerogative of a prince; which was neither well done of him to allow such things in her, nor yet with good respect of his own honour and dignity; for we ought not to think this the fruition, but the ruin and dishonour rather of a princely State. And therefore a wise governor will not permit as much as possibly lieth in him, that the body of the people shall do injury to any particular inhabitants, as namely in confiscation of other men's goods, or in distribution and parting among themselves the money of the common stock; but to resist such courses with all his power, and with remonstrances, persuasions, threats, and menaces withstand the inordinate desires of a multitude: contrary to the practice of Cleon and his followers at Athens, who feeding and fostering such foolish appetites and corrupt humours of the people, caused many drone bees (as Plato saith) to breed in the city, who did no other good but sting and prick one or other. But if the people at any time take occasion by solemnising some festival day, according to the custom of the country, or by the honour of some god or goddess, to set out any goodly show, play or stately spectacle, or to distribute some small dole, or to exhibit a pleasant gratuity, honest courtesy, or public magnificence; lawful it is and reasonable, that they should in such cases enjoy in some sort the fruit both of their liberty, and also of their wealth and prosperity. For in the governments of Pericles and Demetrius Phalereus, there be many examples extant of the like nature; as for Cimon he beautified the market place of Athens with rows of palm trees, planted directly, and ranged by him, with pleasant walks and fair allies. And Cato seeing about the time of Catiline's conspiracy, that the commons of Rome were in a commotion and hurly burly by the faction of Julius Caesar; and grown in manner to these terms, for to bring in a change and alteration of the whole State; persuaded the Senate to ordain, that there should be some petty dole of money given among the poor commoners; which coming in so good and fit a time, appeased the tumult, and repressed the sedition and insurrection that was like to grow. For like as a learned and expert physician, after he hath taken away a great quantity of corrupt blood from his patient, giveth him anon some little nourishment that is good and wholesome; even so a discreet and well advised ruler of a popular State, when he hath put the people by some great matter which tended to their shame and loss, will again by some light gratuity and pleasure which he is content to grant, cheer and recomfort them, yea and allay their mood when they be ready to whine and complain. And otherwhiles, good policy it is, of purpose to withdraw them from some foolery, unto which without all sense and reason their mind and affection standeth, to draw and lead them unto other things that be good and profitable; like as Demades his practice was, at what time as he had the receipt of all the revenues of the city under his hands; for when the people of Athens were fully bend to send forth certeing galleys, for to succour those who had taken arms and rebelled against Alexander the great, and to that effect commanded him to disburse money for the charges, he made this speech unto them; My masters, there is money ready for you, for I have provided so, that I purpose to deal among you at this feast of Bacchanales, that every one of you may have half a Mua of silver now if you list to employ the fame money to the setting out of a fleet, you may do what pleaseth you with your own, use it, or abuse it at your pleasure, it is all one to me: by this cunning device, having turned them from the rigging and manning of the armada which they purposed to set out, and all for fear they should lose the benefit of the foresaid dole or largesse which he promised and pretended, he stayed them from offending king Alexander, that he had no cause to find himself grieved with them. Many such fits and humours are the people given unto, both hurtful and damageable unto them; which it were impossible to break them of, going directly to work; but a man must go about with them, & by turnings & windings compass them to his mind: like as Photion did upon a time when the Athenians would have had him in all haste to make a road & invade the country of Boeotia; for he caused incontinently proclamation to be made by sound of trumpet; That all citizens from fourteen years of age upward unto threescore, should show themselves in arms and follow him; upon which proclamation, when there arose a great noise and stir among the elder sort, who began to mutiny, for that he would force them at those years to the wars: What a strange matter sirs is this (quoth he) I myself am fourscore years of age, and you shall have me with you for your captain. By this means a politic governor may put by and break the rank of many unseasonable and needless embassages; namely, by joining many of them in commission together, and those whom he seeth to be unfit altogether for such voyages; thus may he stay the enterprises of going in hand with many great buildings unnecessary and to no purpose, in commanding them at such times to contribute money thereto out of their own purses; also hinder the process of many uncivil and undecent sures, namely, by assigning one and the same time for appearance in court, and for to be employed in soliciting causes abroad in foreign parts: & for to bring these things about, he must draw and associate unto him those principal authors who have drawn out in writing any such bills to be proposed, or have incited the people and put those matters in their heads; and to them he shall intimate those cross courses abovesaid; for either if they start back and keep out of the way, they shall seem themselves to break that which they proposed; or if they accept thereof and be present, they shall be sure to take part of the trouble and pains that is imposed upon them. Now when there shall be question of any exploit to be done of great consequence, and tending much to the good of the State, which requireth no small travel, industry, and diligence; then have a special regard and endeavour, I advise you, to choose those friends of yours who are of most sufficiency, and of greatest authority, and those among the rest which are of the mildest and best nature; for such you may be sure will cross you least, and assist you most; so long as they have wit at will, and be withal void of jealousy and contention. And herein it behoveth a man to know well his own nature, and finding that whereunto he is less apt than an other, to choose for his adjuncts those rather whom he perceiveth to be better able to go through with the business in hand, than such as otherwise be like unto himself: for so Diomedes being deputed to go in espial for to view the camp of the enemies, chose for his companion the wariest & best advised person of all the Greeks, & let pass the most valiant soldiers. By this means all actions shall be counterpoised best, & less jealousy and emulation will grow between them who are desirous to have their good parts & valour seem indifferent in virtues & qualities. If you have a cause to plead, or be to go in embassage; choose for your companion & assistant (if you find yourself not meet to speak) some man that is eloquent, like as Pelopidas in the like case chose Epaminondas. If you think yourself unmeet to entertain the common people with courtesy & affability, and of too high and lofty a mind for to debase yourself and make court unto them, as Callicratidas the captain of the Lacedæmonians was; take one unto you who is gracious, and can skill to court it and give entertainment. If your body be weak or feeble, and not able to endure much pains; have one with you who hath a stronger body, and who can away with travel, as Nicias did Lamachus. For this is the reason that Geryones was so wonderful, because that having many legs, many arms, and many eyes, yet he with all them was ruled and governed by one soul. But wise governors if they accord and agree well, may confer and lay together not only their bodies and goods, but also their fortunes, their credits and their virtues, and make use of them all in one affair, in such sort that they shall compass and execute fully whatsoever they enterprise, much better than any other whatsoever: and not as the Argonauts did, who after they had left Hercules, were constrained to have recourse unto the charms, sorceries and enchantments of women for to save themselves, and to steal away the golden fleece.  
Certain temples there be, into which whosoever did enter, must leave without doors all the gold that they had about them; and as for iron they might not presume to go withal into any one whatsoever. Considering therefore that the tribunal and judicial seat of justice is the temple of Jupiter, surnamed the Counsellor and Patron of cities, of Themis also and Dice, that is to say, equity and justice; before ever thou set foot to mount up into it, presently rid and clear thy soul of all avarice and covetousness of money, as if it were iron, and a very malady full of rust, and throw it far from thee into the merchant's hall, into the shops of tradesmen, occupiers, bankers and usurers: 
As for thyself, fly from such pelf.  shun it I say as far off as you can, & make this reckoning, that whosoever enricheth himself by the managing of the commonweal, is a churchrobber, committing sacrilege in the highest degree, robbing temples, stealing out of the sepulchres of the dead, picking the coffers of his friends: making himself rich by treachery, treason, & false-witness: think him to be an untrusty and faithless counsellor, a perjured judge, a corrupt magistrate, and full of bribery; in one word polluted and defiled with all wickedness, and not clear of any sin whatsoever that may be committed; and therefore I shall not need to speak more of this point.  
As for ambition, although it carry with it a fairer show than avarice, yet nevertheless it bringeth after it a train of mischiefs and plagues, no less dangerous and pernicious unto the government of a commonwealth: for accompanied it is ordinarily with audacious rashness more than it; inasmuch as it useth not to breed in base minds, or in natures feeble and idle, but principally in valiant, active, and vigorous spirits; and the voice of the people, who by their praises lift it up many times and drive it forward, maketh the violence thereof more hard to be restrained, managed, and ruled Like as therefore Plato writeth, that we ought to accustom young boys even from their very infancy to have this sentence resounding in their ears: That it is not lawful for them neither to carry gold about their bodies as an outward ornament, nor so much as to have it in their purses, for that they have other gold as a proper coffer of their own, and the same incorporate in their hearts: giving us to understand by these enigmatical and covert speeches (as I take it) the virtue derived from their ancestors, by descent and continuation of their race; even so we may in some sort cure and remedy this desire of glory, by making remonstrance unto ambitious spirits, that they have in themselves gold, that cannot corrupt, be wasted or contaminated by envy, no nor by Momus himself the reproover of the gods, to wit Honour, the which we always increase and augment, the more we discourse, consider, meditate, and think upon those things which have been performed & accomplished by us in the government of the commonweal: and therefore they have no need of those other honours, which are either cast in moulds by founders, or cut and graven in brass by man's hand, considering that all such glory cometh from without forth, and is rather in others than in them, for whom they were made. For the statue of a trumpeter which Polycletus made, as also that other of an halbarder are commended in regard of the maker, and not of those whom they do represent, and for whose sake they were made. Certes, Cato at what time as the city of Rome began to be well replenished with images and statues, would not suffer any one to be made for himself saying: That he had rather men would ask, why there was no image set up for him, than why it was? For surely such things bring envy, and the common people think themselves indebted still & beholden unto those, upon whom they have not bestowed such vanities: and chose, such as receive them at their hands are odious & troublesome unto them, as if they had sought to have the public affairs of the State in their hands, in hope to receive such a reward and salary from them again. Like as therefore he that hath sailed without danger along the gulf Syrtis, if afterwards he chance to be cast away and drowned in the mouth of the haven, hath done no such doughty deed, nor performed any special matter of praise in his voyage and navigation; even so, he that hath escaped the common Treasury, and done well enough and saved himself, from the public revenues, customs, and commodities of the State; that is to say, hath not defiled his hands, either with robbing the citie-money, or dealt underhand with the farmers and undertakers of the cities hands, revenues, etc. and then shall suffer himself to be overtaken and surprised with a desire to be a precedent and sit highest, or to be the head man and chief in counsel of a city, is run in deed upon an high rock that reacheth up a fit, but drenched he is over the ears, and as like to sink as the rest, nevertheless. In best case he is therefore, who neither seeketh nor desireth any of these honours, but rejecteth and refuseth them altogether. Howbeit, if peradventure it be no easy matter to put back a grace and favour, or some token of love, that the people otherwhiles desire to show unto them who are entered into combat, as it were in the field of government, not in a game and mastery for a silver prize, or rich presents, but in the game in deed which is holy and sacred, yea and worthy to be crowned, it may suffice and content a man to have some honourable inscription or title, in a tablet, some public act or decree, some branch of laurel or the olive: like as Epymenides who received one branch of the sacred olive, growing in the castle of Athens, because he had cleansed and purified the city: and Anaxagoras refusing all other honours which the people would have ordained for him, demanded only, that upon the day of his death the children might have leave to play, and not go to school all that day long. The seven gallant Gentlemen of Persia, who killed the Tyrants, called Magis, were honoured only with this privilege, that both they and their posterity might wear the Persian pointed Cap or 
* Tiara  Turban, bending forward on their heads: for this was the signal which they were agreed upon among themselves when they went to execute the said enterprise, Likewise the honour which Pittacus received, did show some modesty & civility: for when his citizens had permitted & granted unto him to have and enjoy of those lands which he had conque red from the enemy, as much as he would himself; he stood contented with so much, & no more as lay within one fling or shot of the javelin which he lanced himself. And Cocles the Roman took so much ground only as he in his own person could ear with a plough in one day, being as he was a lame and maimed man. For a civil honour ought not to be in the nature of a salary for a virtuous act performed, but a token rather and a memorial that the remembrance thereof might continue long, as theirs did whom erewhiles we named: whereas in those three hundred statues of Demetrius Phalereus, there gathered not so much as rust, canker, or any ordure or filth whatsoever, but were all of them ere himself died, pulled down and broken. And as for the images of Demades, melted they were every one, and of the metal were made pisspots and basins for close stools: yea and many such honours have been defaced, as being displeasant and odious to the world, not in regard only of the wickedness of the receiver, but also of the greatness and richness of the thing given and received: and therefore the goodliest and surest safeguard of honour, that it may endure and last longest, is, the least costliness and price bestowed thereupon: for such as be excessive massy and immeasurall in greatness, may be well compared unto huge colosses or statues not well ballaised and counterpoised, nor proportionably made, which soon fall down to the ground of themselves. And here in this place I call Honours, these exterior things which the common people (so far forth as beseemeth them, according to the saying of Empedocles) so call. Howbeit I also affirm as well as others, that a wise governor & man of State ought not to despise true honour which consisteth in the benevolence & good affection of those who have in remembrance the services and benefits that they have receivedneither ought he altogether to contemn glory, as one who forbore to please his neighbours among whom he liveth, as Democritus would have him: for neither ought horse-keepers or esquierries of the stable, reject the affection of their horses lovingly making toward them; nor hunters the sawning of their hounds & spaniels; but rather seek to win & keep the same, for that it is both a profitable, and also a pleasant thing, to be able for to imprint in those creatures who are familiar, & do live & converse with us such an affection to us as Lysimachus his dog showed toward his master; & which the poet Homer reporteth that Achilles horses showed to Patroclus. For mine own part I am of this mind, that Bees would be better entreated & escape better, in case they would make much of those, & suffer them gently to come toward them, who nourish them and have the care and charge of them, rather than to sting and provoke them to anger as they do; whereas now, men are driven to punish them and chase them away with smoke: also to break and tame their frampold and unruly horses with hard bits and bridles, yea and cursed dogs which are given to run away, they are feign to lead perforce in collars, or tie up and hamper with clogs. But verily there is nothing in the world that maketh one man willingly obeisant and subject to another, more than the affiance that he hath in him for the love which he beareth, and the opinion conceived of his goodness, honesty and justice; which is the reason that Demosthenes said very well: That free cities have no better means to keep and preserve themselves from tyrants, than to distrust them; for that part of the soul whereby we believe, is it, which is most easy to be taken captive. Like as therefore the gift of prophesy which Cassandra had, stood her countrymen and fellow-citizens in no steed, because they would never give credit or belief unto her: for thus she speaketh of herself, 
God would not have my voice prophetical  
When I for etell of things, to take effect,  
Nor do my country any good at all:  
Or why? always they do my words reject,  
In their distress and woes, they would correct  
Their folly past, then am I wise and sage:  
Before it come, they say I do but rage.  even so, on the otherside, the trust and confidence that the citizens reposed in Archytas, the good will and benevolence which they bore unto Battus, served them in right good stead: for that they used and followed their counsel, by reason of the good opinion which they conceived of them.  
This is then the first and principal good which lieth in the reputation of Statesmen, and those who are in government, namely, the trust and confidence which is in them; for it maketh an overture, and openeth the door to the enterprise and execution of all good actions. The second, is the love and affection of the people, which to good governors is to them a buckler and armour of defence against envious and wicked persons: 
Much like unto a mother kind who keeps away the flies  
From tender babe whiles sweetly it a sleep in cradle lies.  putting back envy that might arise against them; and in regard of might and credit, making equal a man meanly borne & of base parentage, with those who are nobly descended, the poor with the rich, & the private person with the magistrates: and to be brief, when virtue & verity are joined together with this popular benevolence, it is as mighty as a strong and steady gale of a forewind at the poop, and driveth men forward to the managing and effecting of all public affairs whatsoever. Consider now and see what contrary effects the disposition of people's hearts, doth produce and bring forth by these examples following. For even they of Italy when they had in their hands the wife and children of Denys the Tyrant, after they had villainously abused, and shamefully forced their bodies, did them to death, and when they had burnt them to ashes, threw and scattered the same out of a ship into the sea. Whereas one Menander who reigned graciously over the Bactrians, in the end, when he had lost his life in the wars was honourably interred: for the cities under his obeisance joined altogether, and by a common accord solemnised his funerals and obsequies with great mourning and lamentation; but as touching the place where his relics should be bestowed, they grew into a great strife and contention one with another, which at the last with much ado was pacified upon this condition and composition, that his ashes should be parted and divided equally among them all, and that every city should have one sepulchre and monument of him by itself. Again, the Agrigentines after they were delivered from the Tyrant Phalaris, enacted an ordinance: That from thence forth, it should not be lawful for any person whatsoever to wear a robe of blue colour, for that the Guard & Pensioners attending about the said Tyrant, had blue cassocks for their liveries. But the Persians took such a love to their Prince Cyrus, that because he was hauke-nosed, they ever after and even to this day, affect those who have such noses, and take them to be best favoured. And verily of all loves, this is the most divine, holy and puissant, which cities and States do bear unto a man for his virtue: as for other honours so falsely called, and bearing no true ensigns in deed to testify love, which the people bestow upon them, who have builded theatres and shew-places, given them largesses, congraires and other doles, or exhibited combats of Sword-fensers at the sharp: these wrong entitled honours do resemble the glozing flatteries of harlots and strumpets, who smile upon their lovers, so long only as they give them any thing or gratify them in any pleasure; and such a glory as this lasteth not long, but after a day or two passeth away and is gone.  
He whosoever he was, that said first: That he who began to give money by way of largesse unto the people, taught the very high way to overthrow a popular state, knew very well, that the people lose their authority, when they make themselves subject and inferior by taking such gifts: and even they also who are the givers must know thus much: That they overthrew themselves in buying their reputation so costly & at so high a price: & by that means they make the multitude more haughty and arrogant, because thereby the people do presume, that it is in their power to give or take away so great a thing. I write not this, as though I would have a man of estate in his lawful expenses and allowable liberalities, to show himself too near and mechanical, especially when his State will bear and maintain the same: for that, in truth, the people carry a greater hatred to a rich man, who will not part with any of his goods among them, than a poor man who robbeth the common chest: for they suppose the one to proceed from pride and contempt of them, and the other from mere need and necessity. I would wish therefore that first and principally these largesses should come by way of gratuity and for nothing, for that in such a sort, they make the authors thereof better esteemed and admired, and beside they bind and oblige the receivers so much the more. Secondly, I would that they were done upon a good, honest, and laudable occasion, as namely for the honour of some god; a thing that draweth on the people more and more to devotion and religion, because withal, it imprinteth in the hearts of the people a vehement opinion and strong apprehension that the majesty of the gods, must needs be a great and venerable thing, when they see those who honour them, and whom they repute for so worthy and noble personages, so affectionate unto them, as for their service and worship to be at such cost and spend so liberally. Like as therefore Plato forbade young men who went to the Music school, that they should not learn either the Lydian & Phrygian harmony; for that the one stirred up in our hearts all lamentable, doleful, and dampish affections, the other increased the inclination to pleasure, riot, and voluptuous sensuality; even so, as touching these largesses and public expenses, banish and chase out of your city as much as you can, those which provoke in our hearts beastly, barbarous, and bloody affections, or such as feed looseness and scurrilie: or if you be not able to rid them out clean, yet do your endeavour at least wise to hold off and contest against the people, to your uttermost power, who call upon you for such spectacles; & order the matter so always, that the subject matter of your dispense may be honest and chaste, the end and intention good and necessary, or at least wise that the pleasure and mirth be without wrong and hurt to any person. But if peradventure your State be but mean, and that the centre & circumference of your goods contain and comprehend no more than to serve and supply necessities, know well this: that it argueth neither a base mind nor an illiberal & ungentlemanlike heart to be known of your poverty, and so to give place unto other, who have wherewith to defray such ambitious expenses & liberalities, and in by endebting & engaging yourself in the usurers books, to be a spectacle both to be pitied & laughed at, for such public ministries: forasmuch as they whosoever they be that so do, cannot go to work so secretly, but it will be thought and known how they enterprise above their ability, be driven to trouble and make bold with their friends in borrowing of them, or else to statter and court usurers to take up money at interest, in such sort as that they shall win no honour and credit, but rather shame and contempt by such expenses; in which regard, good it were in these cases to set always before your eyes the examples of Lamachus and Photion. For Photion one day when the Athenians at a solemn sacrifice called instantly upon him to contribute some money toward the charges: I would be ashamed (quoth he) to give you any thing, and in the mean while not be able to keep my credit, and pay that I owe to this man here, and withal he pointed unto Callicles the usurer unto whom he was then indebted. As for Lamachus in his accounts of charges whiles he was lord general of an army under the Athenians in any expedition, put in always, Thus much for a pair of shoes or pantofles for himself; Item, so much for a garment. The Thessalians ordained and allowed unto Hermon who refused to be their captain general, because he was poor, a flagon or little runlet of wine monthly, and a measure or bushel and half of meal every four days: whereby you see it is no shame for a man to confess his poverty; neither have poor men less means to win credit and authority in the government of cities, than they who lay out and spend much in making feasts or exhibiting public shows and spectacles, for to gain the good will and favour of the people; provided always, that by their virtue they have gotten reputation and liberty to speak their minds frankly and freely unto them. And therefore a good governor ought wisely to master and rule himself in these cases; he must not (I say) enter into the plain and champion ground on foot for to encounter with horsemen; nor being poor, to be seen in the race and shewplace for to set out games, or upon the scaffold & theatre to represent plays, or in great hals full set with tables to make feasts, and all to contend with rich men about glory and magnificence; but he is to study how to manage the people by virtue, by gentleness, by wit and understanding joined always with wise words, wherein there is not only honesty and a venerable port, but also a kind of grace more amiable, attractive, and desirable, 
Than Croesus' coin of silver and gold,  
Or all the money that can be told.  For to a good man it is not necessary to have a surly, coy, and presumptuous look; neither is it required that a wise and sober person should carry a stern and rigorous countenance, 
Who as he walks along the streets, in city or in town,  
Doth cast a sharp and hideous eye, and on his neighbour's frown.  But chose, a good man is first and foremost affable and lightsome of language, of easy access, and ready to be spoken withal whosoever comes, having his house open always, (as it were) an haven or harbour of refuge, to as many as have occasion to use him. Neither is this debonairity and care of his, seen only in the business and affairs of such as employ him, but also in this; that he will as well rejoice with them who have had any fortunate and happy success, as condole & grieve with those unto whom there is befallen any calamity or misfortune; never will he be known to be troublesome, and look for double diligence of a number of servitors and varlets to wait upon him to the baines or stouphes; nor to keep a stir for taking up and keeping of places for him and his train at the theatres where plays and pastimes are to be seen, ne yet desire to be conspicuous and of great mark above others in any outward signs of excessive delights and sumptuous superfluities; but show himself to be equal, like and suitable to others in apparel, in his fare and furniture at the table, in the education and nouriture of his children, in the keeping of his wife for her state and array, and in one word, be willing to carry and demean himself in all things, as an ordinary and plain citizen, bearing no greater port and show than others of the common multitude; moreover, at hand to give advise and counsel friendly to every man in his affairs, ready to entertain, defend, & follow their causes as an advocate, freely, and without taking fee or any consideration whatsoever; to reconcile man and wife when they be at odds, to make love-days and peace between friends, not spending one little piece of the day for a show at the tribunal seat, or in the hall of audience for the commonwealth, and then afterwards all the day & the rest of his life, drawing unto himself all dealings, all negotiations and affairs from every side for his own particular behoof and profit, like unto the northeast wind Caecias, which evermore gathereth the clouds unto it; but continually bending his mind and occupying his head in careful study for the weal public, and in effect making it appear unto the world, that the life of a State-man and a governor, is not as the common sort think it, easy and idle, but a continual action and public function: by which fashions and semblable courses that he taketh, he gaineth and winneth unto him the hearts of the people, who in the end come to know, that all the flattering devises and enticements of others be nothing else but false baits and bastard allurements, in comparison of his prudence and careful diligence. The flatterers about Demetrius vouchsafed not to call any other princes and potentates of his time, Kings, but would have Seleucus to be named the Commander of the elephants; Lysimachus the keeper of the treasury; Ptolomeus the admiral of the sea; and Agathocles the governor of the islands. But the people although peradventure at the first they reject a good wise and sage person among them; yet in the end after they have seen his truth, and known his disposition and kind nature, they will repute him only to be popular, politic, and worthy to be a magistrate indeed, and as for the rest, they will both repute and call one, the warden and setter out of the plays; another the great feaster; and a third, the precedent of games, combats, and public exercises. Moreover, like as at the feasts and banquets that Callias or Alcibiades were at the cost to make, none but Socrates was heard to speak, and all men's eyes were cast upon Socrates; even so in cities and States governed aright, well may Ismenias deal largesses; Lichas make feasts, and Niceratus defray the charges of plays, but Epaminondas, Aristides, Lysander, and such as they, are those which bear the magistracy, they govern at home, they command and conduct armies abroad. Which being well and duly considered, there is no cause why you should be discouraged or dismayed at the reputation and credit that they win among the people, who have for them builded theatres, and erected shew-places, founded halls of great receipt, and purchased for them common places of sepulture, for to bury their dead: all which glory lasteth but a while, neither hath it any great matter, or venerable substance in it, but vanisheth away like smoke, and is gone even assoon as either the plays in such theatres, or games in shew-places are done and ended.  
They that have skill and experience of keeping and feeding bees, do hold opinion and say, that those hives wherein the bees yield the biggest sound, make most humming and greatest stir within, like best, are most sound, healthful, and yield most store of home: but he upon whom God hath laid the charge and care of the reasonable swarm (as I may say) and civil society of men, will judge the happiness and blessed state thereof most of all by the quietness and peace therein, and in all other things he will approve the ordinances and statutes of Solon, endevoring to follow and observe the same to his full power; but doubt he will and marvel what he should mean by this, when he writeth, that he who in a civil sedition would not range himself to a side, and take part with one or other faction, was to be noted with infamy: for in a natural body that is sick, the beginning of change toward the recovery of health, cometh not from the diseased parts, but rather, when the temperature of the sound and healthy members is so puissant, that it chaseth and expelleth that which in the rest of the body was unkind & contrary to nature; even so in a city or State where the people are up in a tumult & sedition, so it be not dangerous and mortal, but such as is like to be appeased and ended, there had need to be a far greater part of those who are sound and not infected, for to remain and cohabit still, for to it there cometh and hath recourse that which is natural and familiar, from the wise and discreet within, and the same entereth into the other infected part and cureth it: but such cities as be in an universal uproar and hurly burly, utterly perish and come to confusion, if they have not some constraint from without, and a chastisement which may force them to be wise and agree among themselves. Neither is my meaning, that I would have you a politic person and Statesman in such a sedition and civil discord to sit still, insensible and without any passion or feeling of the public calamity, to sing and chant your own repose and tranquility of blessed and happy life, and whiles others be together by the ears, rejoice at their folly; for at such a time especially you are to put on the buskin of Theramenes, which served as well the one leg as the other; then are you to parley and common with both parties, without joining yourself to one more than to the other; by which means, neither you shall be thought an adversary, because you are not ready to offend either part, but indifferent to both, in aiding as well the one as the other, and envy shall you incur none, as bearing part in their misery, in case you seem to have a fellow-feeling and compassion equally with them all: but the best way were to provide and forecast, that they never break out to terms of open sedition; and this you are to think for to be the principal point, and the height of all policy and civil government; for evident it is, and you may easily see, that (of those greatest blessings which cities can desire, to wit, peace, liberty, and freedom, plenty and fertility, multitude of people, and unity and concord) as touching peace, cities have no great need in these days of wise governors, for to procure or maintain the same, for that all wars both against the greeks and also the Barbarians are chased away and gone out of sight; as for liberty, the people hath as much as it pleaseth their sovereigns and princes to give them, and peradventure if they had more it would be worse for them; for the fertility of the earth, and the abundance of all fruits, the kind disposition and temperature of all seasons of the year, 
That mothers in due time their babes into the world may bear,  
Resembling in all points their sires, to wit, their father's dear.  and that children so borne may live and be livelike, every good and wise men, will crave at God's hands in the behalf of his own fellow citizens. Now there remaineth for a Statesman and politic governor, of all those works proposed one only, and that is nothing inferior to the rest of the blessings abovenamed, to wit, the unity and concord of citizens that always dwell together, and the banishing out of a city of all quarrels, all jars and malice, as the manner is in composing the differences and debates of friends; namely, by dealing first with those parties which seem to be most offended, and to have taken the greatest wrong, in seeming to be injuried as well as they, and to have no less cause of displeasure and discontent than they; afterwards by little and little to seek for to pacify and appease them, by declaring and giving them to understand, that they who can be content to strike sail a little, do ordinarily go beyond those who think to gain all by force; surmount them I say not only in mildness and good nature, but also in courage and magnanimity, who in yielding and giving place a little in small matters, are masters in the end and conquerors in the best and greatest; which done, his part is to make remonstrance both particularly to every one, and generally to them all, declaring unto them the feeble and weak estate of Greece, and that it is very expedient for men of sound and good judgement to enjoy the fruit and benefit which they may have in this weakness and imbecility of theirs, living in peace and concord one with another as they do; considering that fortune hath not left them in the midst any prize to win or to strive for. For what glory, what authority, what power or pre-eminence will remain unto them that haply should have the better hand in the end, & be masters over their adversaries, but a proconsul with one commandment of his will be able to overthrow it, and transport it unto the other side, as often and whensoever it pleaseth him; but say that it should continue still, yet is it not worth all this labour and travel about it. But like as scarefires many times begin not at stately temples and public edifices, but they may come by some candle in a private and little house, which was neglected or not well looked unto, and so fell down and took hold thereof, or haply straw or rushes and such like stuff might catch fire and suddenly flame, and so thereupon might ensue much loss, and a public wasting of many fair buildings; even so it is not always by means of contention and variance about affairs of State, that seditions in cities be kindled, but many times brawls and riots arising upon particular causes, and so proceeding to a public tumult and quarrel, have been the overthrow and utter subversion of a whole city. In regard whereof, it pertaineth unto a politic man, as much as any one thing else, to foresee and prevent, or else to remedy the same, to see (I say) that such dissensions do not arise at all, or if they be on foot to keep them down from growing farther and taking head, or at leastwise that they touch not the State, but rest still among whom it began: considering this with himself & giving others to understand, that private debates are in the end causes of public, and, small of great, when they be neglected at first, and no convenient remedies used at the very beginining. Like as by report the greatest civil dissension that ever happened in the city of Delphos, arose by the means of one Crates, whose daughter Orgilaus the son of Phalis was at the point to wed: now it happened by mere chance that the cup, out of which they were to make an essay or effusion of wine in the honour of the gods first, and then afterwards to drink one to another, according to the nuptial ceremonies of that place, broke into pieces of itself, which Orgilaus taking to be an evil presage, forsook his espoused bride, and went away with his father, without finishing the compliments of marriage. Some few days after, when they were sacrificing to the gods; Crates conveyed covertly or underhand a certain vessel of gold, one of those which were sacred and dedicated to the temple, unto them, and so made no more ado, but caused Orgilaus and his brother, as manifell church-robbers, to be pitched down headlong from the top of the rock at Delphos, without any judgement or form and process of law: yea and more than that, killed some of their kinsfolk and friends, notwithstanding they entreated hard, and pleaded the liberties and immunity of Minerva's temple, surnamed Provident, into which they were fled and there took sanctuary. And thus after diverse such murders committed, the Delphians in the end put Crates to death and those his complices, who were the authors of this sedition, and of the money and goods of these excommunicate persons (for so they were called) seized upon by way of confiscation, they built those chapples which stand beneath the city. At Syracuse also, of two young men who were very familiarly acquainted together, the one being to travel abroad out of his country, left in the custody of the other a concubine that he had, to keep until his return home again; but he in the absence of his friend abused her body: but when his companion upon his return home knew thereof, he wrought so, that for to cry quittance with him he lay with his wife and made him cuckold: this matter came to hearing at the counsel table of the city, and one of the ancient Senators moved the rest, that both twain should be banished out of the city, before there arose further mischief, and lest the city by occasion of their deadly feud should be filled with parts taking of both sides, and so be in danger of utter destruction; which when he could not persuade and bring to pass, the people grew into an open sedition, and after many miserable calamities, ruinated and overthrew a most excellent State & government. You have heard I am sure of domestical examples, and namely the enmity of Pardalus and Tyrrhenus, who went within a very little of overthrowing the city of Sardis, and upon small and private causes, had brought the same into civil war and open rebellion by their factjoins and particular quarrels. And therefore a man of government ought always to be watchful and vigilant, and not to neglect, no more than in a body natural the beginnings of maladies, all little heart-burnings and offences that quickly pass from one to another, but to stay their course, and remedy the same with all convenient speed. For by a heedful eye and careful prevention, as Cato saith, that which was at first great, becometh small, and that which was small cometh to nothing. Now to induce and persuade other men so to do, there is not a more artificial device, nor a better means, than for a man of government to show himself favourable, inclined to pardon, & easy to be reconciled in like cases; in principal matters of weight & greatest importance resolute and constant without any rancour or malice, and in none at all seem to be self-willed, peevish, contentious, choleric, or subject to any other passion which may breed a sharpness and bitterness in necessary controversies, and doubtful cases which can not be avoided. For in those combats at buffets which champions perform for pleasure in manner of foils; the manner is to bind about their fists certain round muffles like balls, to the end that when they come to coping and to let drive one at another, they might take no harm, considering the knocks and thumps that they give are so soft, and can not put them to any pain to speak of; even so in the suits, processes and trials of law which pass between citizens of the same city, the best way is to argue and plead by laying down their allegatiions and reasons, simply and purely, and not to sharpen or envenime their matters like darts and arrows, with poisoned taunts, railing terms, opprobrious speeches and spiteful threats, and so to make deep wounds, and the same festure with venom, whereby the controversies may grow incurable, and augment still in such sort, that in the end they touch the State. He that can so carry himself in his own affairs, as to avoid these foresaid mischiefs and dangers, shallbe able to compass others in the like, and make them willing to be ruled by reason: so that afterwards, when once the particular occasions of privy grudges be taken away, the quarrels and discords which touch a commonwealth, are sooner pacified and composed, neither do they ever bring any inconveniences hard to be cured or remediless.    

WHETHER AN AGED MAN OUGHT TO MANAGE PUBLIC AFFAIRS.  

The Summarie.  
THe title of this discourse discovereth sufficiently the intention of the Author: but, for that they who manage affairs of State, and namely men in years, fall oftentimes into one of these two extremities as touching their duty, namely, that they be either too slack and remiss, or else more stiff and severe than they ought; these precepts of Plutarch, a man well conversed in high places and offices, and who (as we may gather by his words) was well stricken in age when he wrote this Treatise, aught to be diligently read, considered and practised by men of authority. And albeit this book containeth some advertisements in that behalf, which sort not wholly with the order of government put in practice in these our days: yet so it is, that the fundamental reasons are so well laid, that any politician or Statesman building thereupon, may assure himself that he shall raise & edify some good piece of work. Now he beginneth with the resutation of one common objection of certain men, who enjoin & command elder folk to sit still and remain quiet, and he proveth the contrary, namely, that then it is meet that they should put themselves forth more than ever before; but he addeth this correction and caveat withal, that they have been a long time already broken (as it were) to the world, and beaten in public affairs, to the end that they be not taxed and noted for their slender carriage or light vanity, nor prove the cause of some great mischief, meddling as they do in that which they had not well comprehended before. After this he proposeth and layeth abroad the examples of men well qualified, who have given good proof of their sufficiencte in old age: whereupon he inferreth, that those be the persons indeed unto whom government doth appertain, and that to go about for to make such idle now in their latter days, were as absurd and as much injury offeredunto them, as to confine a prudent Prince and wise King to some house in the country: and this he enforceth and verifieth by eloquent compcrisons, and by the example of Pompeius. Which done he setteth down the causes which ought to put forward, and move a man well stepped in years to the government of a commonweal, confuting those who are of the contrary opinion, and proving that elderly persons are more fit therefore than younger, because of the experience and aut boritte that age doth afford them, as also in regardof many other reasons: then he returneth the objection upon them, and showeth that young folk are unmeet for public charges, unless they have been the disciples of the aged, or be directed and guided by them: he resuteth those also who esteem that such a vocation resembleth some particular traffic or negotiation: and when he hath so done, he taketh in hand again his principal point, detecting and laying open the folly of those who would bereave old men of all administration of public matters: and then he exhorteth them to take heart and shun idleness (which he doth diffame wonderfully) and setteth before their eyes their duty, which he also considereth inparticular: then he adviseth them not to take so much upon them; not to accept any charge unworthy, or not beseeming that gravity which time and age hath given them, but tooccupie and busy themselves with that which is honourable and of great consequence; to endeavour and strive for to serve their country, and above all in matters of importance; to use good discretion as well in the refusal as the acceptation of dignities and offfices, carrying themselves with such dexterity among young men that they may induct & set them into the way of virtue. And for a conclusion, he teacheth all persons who deal in State affairs what resolution they should put on and carry thither; that they have an assured testimony in themselves; that they be affectionate ser vitour of the commonweal.   

WHETHER AN AGED MAN ought to manage public affairs.  
WE are not ignorant o Euphanes that you are wont highly to praise the poet Pindarus, and how you have oftentimes in your mouth these words of his, as being in your conceit well placed and pithily spoken to the point, 
When games of price and combats once are set,  
Who shrinketh back and doth pretend some let,  
In darkness hides and deep obscurity  
His fame of virtue and activity.  But forasmuch as men ordinarily allege many causes and pretences, for to colour and cover their sloth & want of courage to undertake the business and affairs of State, & among others, as the very last, and as one would say, that which is of the sacred line & race, they tender unto us old age, & suppose they have found now one sufficient argument to dull or turn back the edge, and to cool the heat of seeking honour thereby, in bearing us in hand & saying: That there is a certain convenient & meet end limited, not only to the revolution of years, proper for combats and games of proof, but also for public affairs and dealings in State. I thought it would not be impertinent nor besides the purpose, if I should send and communicate unto you a discourse which sometimes I made privately for mine own use, as touching the government of commonweal managed by men of years; to the end that neither of us twain should abandon that long pilgrimage in this world which we have continued in traveling together, even to this present day, nor reject that civil life of ours, which hither to we have led in swaying of the commonweal, no more than a man would cast off an old companion of his own age, or change an ancient familiar friend, for another with whom he hath had no acquaintance, & who hath not time sufficient to converse & be made familiar with him But let us in God's name remain firm & constant in that course of life which we have choson from the beginning, & make the end of life & of well living all one and the same, if we will not (for that small while which we have to live) discredit, & diffame that longer time which we have already led, as if it had been spent foolishly and in vain, without any good & laudable intention. For tyrannical dominion, is not a fair monument to be interred in, as one said sometime to Denys the tyrant: for unto him this monarchical & absolute sovereignty gotten & held by so unjust & wicked means, the longer that it had continued before it failed, the greater & more perfect calamity it would have brought; according as Diogenes afterwards seeing the said Dionysius his son become a poor private man, & deposed from the princely & tyrannical dignity which he had: O Dionysius (quoth he) how unworthy art thou of this estate, & how unfitting is it for thee! for thou oughtest not to live here in liberty, & without any fear or doubt of any thing with us, but remain there still as thy father did, immured up & confined (as it were) within a fortress all thy life time, until extreme old age came. But in truth, a popular government which is just and lawful, wherein a man hath been conversant and showed himself always no less profitable to the commonwealth, in obeying than in commanding, is a fair sepulchre for him, to be buried honourably therein, and to bestow in his death the glory of his life: for this is the last thing (as Simonides said) that descendeth and goeth under the earth; unless we speak of them whose honour, bounty and virtue dieth first, and in whom the zeal of performing their duty doth fail and cease before that the covetous desire of things necessary to this life giveth over: as if the divine parts of our soul, & those which direct our actions were more frail, & died sooner than the sensual & corporal; which neither were honesty to say, nor good to believe, no more than to give credit unto those who affirm that in getting and gaining only, we are never weary: but rather we are to bring that saying of Thucydides to a better purpose, & not to believe him who was of mind that not ambition alone and desire of glory, aged in a man but also (and that much rather) sociality or willingness to live & converse with company, & civility or affection to policy & managing of public affairs; a thing that doth persevere & continued always to the very end, even in ants and bees: for never was it known that a be with age became a drone; as some there be who would have those who all their life time were employed in the State, after the vigour & strength of their age is past to sit still & keep the house, doing nothing else but eat & feed as if they were mewed up, suffering their active virtue, through ease and idleness to be quenched & marred, even like as iron is eaten and consumed with rust & canker, for want of occupying. For Cato said very wisely: That since old age had of itself miseries enough of the one, they ought not to add moreover thereunto the shame that proceedeth from vice, for to mend the matter. Now among many vices that be, there is not one that more shameth and defameth an old man than restiveness, sloth, delicacy and voluptuousness: namely when he is seen to come down from the hall and courts of Justice, or out of the counsel chamber and such public places, for to go and keep himself close in a corner of his house like a woman, or to retire into some farm in the country to oversee only his mowers, reapers, and harvest-folke, of whom it may be well said, as we read in Sophocles: 
What is become of wise Oedipus,  
In riddles areeding who was so famous?  For to begin to meddle in affairs of State in old age, and not before (as it is reported that one Epimenides laid him down to sleep when he was very young, and wakened an old man fifty years after) and ere he have shaken off and laid aside so long repose and rest that hath stuck so close unto him by use and custom, to go and put himself all at once upon a sudden into such travels and laborious negotiations, being nothing trained nor enured therein, not framed nor exercised thereto in any measure, without conversing at all beforehand with men experienced in matters of Estate, nor having practised worldly affairs, might peradventure give good occasion to one that were disposed to reprove and find fault, for to say that which the prophetess Pythias answered once to one who consulted with the oracle of Apollo about the like case: 
For government and rule of city state,  
Who ever thou be, thou comest too late:  
An hour this is undecent and past date,  
Thus for to knock at Court or Palace-gate,  like an unmannerly guest, who cometh to a feast; or a rude traveller, who seeketh for lodging when it is dark night; for even so thou wouldst remove not to a place, nor to a region, but to a life whereof thou hast no proof and trial. As for this sentence and verse of Simonides, 
The city can instruct a man.  true it is, if it be meant of them who have sufficient time to be taught and to learn any science which is not gotten but hardly and with much ado after great study, long travel, continual exercise and practise; provided also, that it meet with a nature painful and laborious, patient and able to undergo all adversities of fortune. These reasons a man may seem very well and to the purpose to allege against those who begin when they be well stricken in years to deal in public affairs of the State. And yet we see the contrary, how men of great wisdom and judgement divert children and young men from the government of commonweal, who also have the testimony of the laws on their side, by ordinance whereof, at Athens the public Crier or Bedle calleth and summoneth to the pulpit or place of audience, not such as young Alcibiades or Pytheas, for to stand up first and speak before the assembly of the people, but those that be above fifty years of age; and such they exhort both to make orations, and also to deliver their minds, and counsel what is most expedient to be done. 
* There is a defect or fault at leastwise in the Greek original.   
And Cato being accused when he was fourscore years old and upward, in pleading of his own cause, thus answered for himself: It is an harder matter my masters (quoth he) for a man to render an account of his life, and to justify the same before other men, than those with whom he hath lived. And no man there is, but he will confess that the acts which Caesar Augustus achieved a little before his death in defaiting Antonius, were much more royal and profitable to the weale-publicke, than any others that ever he performed all his lifetime before: and himself in restraining and reforming secretly by good customs and ordinances, the dissolute riots of young men, and namely, when they mutined, said no more but thus unto them: Listen young men, and hear an old man speak, whom old men gave ear unto when he was but young. The government also of Pericles was at the height and of greatest power and authority in his old age, at what time as he persuaded the Athenians to enter upon the Peloponesiacke war: but when they would needs in all haste and out of season, set forward with their power to encounter with threescore thousand men all armed and well appointed, who forraied and wasted their territory, he withstood them and hindered their designed enterprise, and that in manner by holding sure the armour of the people out of their hands, and (as one would say) by keeping the gates of the city fast locked and sealed up. But as touching that which Xenophon hath written of Agesilaus, it is worthy to be delivered word for word, as he setteth it down in these terms: What youth (quoth he) was ever so gallant, but his age surpassed it? what man was there ever in the flower and very best of all his time, more dread and terrible to his enemies, than Agesilaus was in the very latter end of his days? whose death at any time was more joyful to enemies than that of Agesilaus, although he was very old when he died? what was he that emboldened allies and confederates, making them assured and confident, if Agesilaus did not, notwithstanding he was now at the very pits brink, and had in manner one foot already in his grave? what young man was ever more miss among his friends, and lamented more bitterly when he was dead, than Agesilaus, how old so ever he was when he departed this life? The long time that these noble personages lived, was no impediment unto them in achieving such noble and honourable services; but we in these days play the delicate wantoness in government of cities, where there is neither tyranny to suppress, nor war to conduct, nor siege to be raised; and being secured from troubles of war, we sit still with one hand in another, being roubled only with civil debates among citizens, and some emulations, which for the most part are voided and brought to an end by virtue of the laws and justice only with words. We forbear (I say) and draw back from dealing in these public affairs for fear, confessing ourselves herein to be more cowardly and falsehearted (I will not say) than the ancient captains and governors of the people in old time, but even worse than Poets, Sophisters and Players in Tragedies and Comedies of those days. If it be true, as it is, that Simonides in his old age won the prize for inditing ditties and setting songs in quires and dances, according to the epigram made of him, which testifieth no less in the last verses thereof, running in this manner: 
Fourscore years old was Simonides  
The Poet, and son of Treoprepes,  
Whom for his carols and musical vain,  
The prize he won and honour did gain.  It is reported also of Sophocles, that when he was accused judicially for dotage by his own children, who laid to his charge that he was become a child again, unfitting for governing his house, and had need therefore of a guardian; being convented before the judges, he rehearsed in open court the entrance of the chorus, belonging to the Tragedy of his, entitled Oedipus in Colono, which beginneth in this wise: 
Welcome stranger at thy entry,  
To villages best of this country,  
Renowned for good steeds in fight,  
The tribe of fair Colonus height;  
Where nightingale doth oft resort,  
Her doleful moans for to report:  
Amid green bowers which she doth haunt,  
Her sundry notes and lays to chant,  
With voice so shrill as in no ground,  
Elsewhere her songs so much resound, etc.  And for that this canticle or sonnet wonderfully pleased the judges and the rest of the company, they all arose from the bench, went out of the Court, and accompanied him home to his house with great acclamations for joy, and clapping of hands in his honour, as they would have done in their departure from the Theatre where the Tragedy had been lively acted indeed. Also it is confessed for certain, that an epigram also was made of Sophocles, to this effect: 
When Sophocles this sonnet wrote  
To grace and honour Herodote,  
His days of life by just account,  
To fifty five years did amount.  Philemon and Alexis, both comical Poets, chanced to be arrested and surprised with death even as they played their Comedy upon the stage for the prize, and were about to be crowned with garlands for the victory. As for Paulus [or Polus] the actor of Tragedies, Eratosthenes and Philochorus do report, That when he was threescore years old and ten, he acted eight Tragedies within the space of four days, a little before his death. Is it not then a right great shame, that old men who have made profession either to speak unto the people from the tribunal seat, or to sit upon the bench for to minister justice, should show less generosity and magnanimity than those who play their parts upon a scaffold or stage? and namely, in giving over those sacred games and combats indeed, to cast off the person of a politician and man of honour, and to put on another (I wot not what) in stead thereof: for I assure you, to lay down the royal dignity of a king, for to take up the parsonage of an husbandman, were very base and mechanical: and considering that Demosthenes said how the sacred galley Paralus was unworthily and shamefully misused, when it was put and employed to bring home for Meidias, wood and timber, slates and tiles, fed muttons or such like fatlings: if a man of honour and estate should at any time give up and resign his dignity of superintendency over the public feasts of Boeotarchie, or government over Boeotia, of presidentship in that great counsel or assembly of estates called Amphyctiones, and then afterwards be seen occupied in measuring and selling meal, or the refuse & cakes either of grapes and olives after they be pressed, or to weigh fleeces of wool, or to make merchandise of their fells; were not this as much altogether, as (according to the old proverb) to put on the age of an old horse without constraint of any person? Moreover, to go to any base and vile occupation or handicraft, or to traffic in merchandise, after one hath borne office of government in the commonweal, were all one as to turn a gentlewoman well descended, or a sober matron, out of all her fair and decent apparel, for to give her an apron only and a single petticoat to cover her shame, and so to set her for to keep in some tavern or victualling house; for even so, all the dignity, majesty and continuance of virtue politic is quite lost, when it is debased to any such vile ministries and trades, smelling only of luere and gain. But in case (which is the only point remaining behind) they call this a sweet and healthful life, and the true enjoying and use of goods, to be given over to delicacies and pleasures, and do invite and exhort a politician or man of State, in aging therein, and spending his old years so, to waste and consume by little and little to nothing: I wot not well unto which of these two pictures, dishonest and shameful both twain, this life of his were better to be likened; whether to that of the mariners, who would solemnize the feast of Venus all their life time, being not yet arrived with their ship into the haven or harbour, but leaving it still under sail in the open sea; or to the painted table of Hercules, whom some painters merrily and in sport, but not seemly and with reverence, depaint how he was in the royal Palace and Court of the Lydian queen Omphale, in a yellow coat like a wench, making wind with a fan, and setting his mind with other Lydian damosels and waiting-maids, to broid his hair and trick up himself: even so we despoiling a man of estate of his lion's skin, that is to say, of his magnanimous courage and a mind to be always profiting the commonwealth, and setting him to take his ease at the table, will make him good cheer continually, and delight his ears with pleasant songs, with sound of flutes and other musical instruments; being nothing at all ashamed to hear that speech which sometime Pompeius Magnus gave unto Lucullus, who (after his wars and conducts of armies, giving over all regiment of State, wholly was addicted to banes and stouphes, to feasting, to wantonness and company with women in the day time, to all dissolute life and superfluous delights, even so much, as to build sumptuous edifices, beseeming rather men of younger years) reproved Pompeius for his ambition and desire of government above that which became his age; for Pompetus answered unto him, and said: It is more unseasonable for an aged man to live loosely and in superfluity, than to govern and bear rule. Again, the same Pompey being one day fallen sick, when his Physician had prescribed him a blackbird for to eat, which was at that time out of season, and could not be had in the market for any money, and one made answer that Lucullus had good store of them, for he kept and fed them in mue all the year long; he would neither send to him for one, nor receive any from him, saying withal: What? unless Lucullus be a belly-god and glutton, can not Pompey tell how to recover and live? For say that nature seeketh by all means possible to take her pleasure and delight, yet surely she disableth the body of old folk, and denieth it the fruition of all pleasures, unless it be in some few necessities of this life; 
For why? not Venus' only is  
Offended with old folk iwis.  as Eurypides the Poet saith, but also their appetite to eat and drink is for the most part dull and overthrown with moss, and as one would say toothless, in such sort as they do but mumble, touch their victuals a little aloft, and hardly and with much ado enter and pierce inwardly into the same. In which regard they ought to be furnished and provided of pleasures of the mind, not such as are base, illiberal, and vile as Simonides said unto those who reproached him for his avarice: for being bereft of all other fleshly and corporal pleasures by reason of his years, he entertained one still which fed and maintained his old age, and that was the delight which he took in getting money & gathering good: but the life politic of those who manage affairs, hath many pleasures, and those right great and honest, in which only or principally it should seem that the gods themselves take joy and contentment; and these be they that proceed from beneficence, or doing good unto many, and the glory of some worthy and noble act. For if the painter Nicias pleased his own mind so well in his workmanship, and was so affectionate to the operation of his art, that oftentimes he forgot himself, and would ask his servants whether he had washed, and whether he had dined or no: If Archimedes also was so bend & intentive unto the table before him, in which he drew his figures geometrical, that his servitors were feign to pluck him from it by force, for to wash and anoint him, and yet in the mean time that they were anointing of him, he would be drawing and describing of new figures upon his own body: If Canus likewise the player of the fluit (a man whom you know well enough) was wont to say: That men wist not how much more mirth he made unto himself in his playing, than he did unto those that heard him sound; and that they that came to hear his music, ought rather to receive a reward of him, than beslow any money upon him. Do we not conceive and imagine in ourselves, what great pleasures virtues do yield unto those who effect any commendable action tending to the good of their country, & turning to the profit of the commonweal? they tickle not, they itch not, neither do they after a stroking manner give contentment, as do these sweet motions, and gentle pricks of the flesh; for such bring with them a certain impatient itch, an unconstant tickling mingled with a furious hear and inflammation; but those pleasures which come from notable and praiseworthy deeds, such as they be, whereof the ordinary workman and author is he, who governeth a commonweal aright, and as it appertaineth unto him for to do, lift up and raise the soul to a greatness and haughtiness of courage accompanied with joy, not with gilded plumes (as Euripides saith) but with celestial wings (as Plato was wont to say) And that the truth hereof may the better appear; call to remembrance yourself, that which oftentimes you have heard concerning Epaminondas, who being asked upon a time what was the greatest pleasure that ever he felt in all his life? answered thus: Marry even this (quoth he) that it was my fortune to win the field at the battle of Leuctres, my father and mother both being yet living. And Sylla, the first time that he came to Rome after he had cleared Italy from civil and domestical wars, could not sleep one wink, nor lay his eyes together a whole night, for exceeding great joy and contentment wherewith his spirit was ravished, as if it had been with a mighty and violent wind: and thus much he wrote of himself in his own Commentaries. I can therefore hold well with Xenophon in that he saith: That there is no sound or speech more delectable to a man's ear, than the hearing of his own praises; and even so it must be confessed: That there is no spectacle no sight, no report and memorial, no cogitation, nor thought in the world, that bringeth so great pleasure & delectation to the mind, as doth the contemplation and beholding of those good and laudable deeds, which a man hath performed whiles he was employed in the administration of State and in bearing offices, as being conspicuous, eminent, and public places to be seen afar off. True it is moreover, that the amiable grace and favour thereby gotten, accompanying always virtuous acts and bearing witness thereto; the commendation also of the people who strive a vie and contend who can give out greatest praise and speak most good (the very guide which leadeth the way of just and due benevolence) doth add a gloss and lustre (as it were) unto the joy proceeding from virtue, for to polish and beautify the same. Neither ought a man by negligence to suffer for to fade and wither in old age, the glory of his good deeds, like unto a cornet or garland of green leaves which was won at some games of prize; but evermore to bring forth some fresh and new demerits, to stir up and awaken (as a man would say) the grace of the old deeds precedent, and thereby to make the same both greater, and also more permanent and durable. For like as the carpenters and shipwrights who had the charge to maintain the ship called the Gallion of Delos evermore made supply of new pieces of timber, as any of the old began to decay, keeping it in continual reparation by putting in one rib and plank for another, and so preserved it always entire and whole, as it was the very first day when it was built; even so a man is to do by his reputation and credit. And no harder matter is it for to maintain glory once up and on foot, than to keep a fire continually flaming which is once kindled, by putting eftsoons fresh fuel under (be it never so little) for to feed the same: but if they be once out and thoroughly quenched indeed, than it is no small matter to set either the one or the other a burning again. And like as Lampas the rich merchant, and shipmaster, being demanded how he got his goods: Marry (quoth he) my greatest wealth I gained soon and with ease, but my smaller estate with exceeding much pain and slowly; even so it is no easy matter at the beginning to acquire reputation, or to win credit and authority in the managing of civil affairs, but to augment it after the foundation is laid, or to preserve and uphold the same, when it is once come to greatness, is not so hard, for every little thing, & the smallest means will do it. And so we see that a friend when he is onece had, requireth not many great pleasures & offices of kindness & friendship for to be kept and continued a friend still, but petty tokens & small signs of courtesy, passing continually from time to time between, are sufficient to preserve mutual love and amity, semblably, the good will and affection of the people, their trust & confidence which they have conceived towards a man, although he be not able evermore to give largesses among them, although he do not always defend and maintain their causes, nor sit continually in place of magistracy and office, yet nevertheless it holdeth still, if he do but show himself only to carry a good heart unto them, & not to cease for to take pains & care for the common good, nor refuse any service in that behalf: for even the very expeditions and voyages in war, have not always battles araunged, nor fields fought and bloody skirmishes, ne yet besieging and beleaguing of cities; but they afford between while, festival sacrifices, parleys & interviews, some leisure also and time of rest, to follow games, disports, and pastimes. How then cometh it, that an old man should be afraid to meddle in State affairs, as if it were a charge unsupportable, full of infinite and innumerable travels, without any comfort and consolation at all? considering that there be allowed at times, variety of plays and games, goodly sights and shows, solemn precessions, and stately pomps, public doles and largesses, dances, music and seasts, and ever and anon the honourable service and worship of one god or other, which are able to unknit the frowns and unbend the brows, to dispatch and dissipate the cloudy cares and austerity of the judges in court hall, and of senators also in counsel chamber, yielding unto them much more pleasure & contentment in proportion to their travels and pains belonging to their place. As for the greatest mischief which is most to be feared in such administrations of the commonweal, to wit, envy, it settleth & taketh least hold upon old age of any other; for like as Heraclitus was wont to say: That dogs do bay & bark at those whom they know not; even so envy assaileth him who beginneth to govern, just at the door as it were, and the entry of the tribunal and throne of estate, seeking to impeach his access and passage thither; but after it is accustomed and acquainted once with the glory of a man, and when it hath been nourished and fed therewith, it is not so troublesome and churlish, but becometh more kind and gentle; and this is the reason that some have likened envy unto a smoke, which at the first when the fire beginneth to kindle, ariseth gross and thick, but after that it burneth light and clear, vanisheth away and is gone. In all other pre-eminences and superiorities, men are wont ordinarily to debate and quarrel, namely, about virtue, nobility of blood and honour, as being of opinion, that the more they yield unto others, the more they do abridge from themselves; but the prerogative or precedence of time, which properly is called Presbeion, as if a man would say; the Honour of age, or Time-right, is void of all jealousy and emulation, and there is no man but will willingly yield it to his companion; neither is there any kind of honour whereunto so well sorteth this quality, namely to grace him more who giveth the honour, than the party who is honoured, as to the prerogative which is given to old men. Moreover, all men do not hope nor expect to have credit one time or other by their riches, by their eloquence or wisdom; whereas you shall not see so much as one of those that rule in commonwealth, to despair of coming one day to that authority and reverence which old age bringeth men unto. He therefore who after he hath wrestled long against envy, retireth in the end from the administration of the commonweal, at what time as it is well appeased and at the point to be extinguished or laid along, should do like unto that pilot who in a tempest having wind and waves contrary, spreadeth sail and roweth in great danger, but afterwards when the weather is fair, and a gentle gale of forewind serveth, doth go about to strike sail and ride at anchor in the pleasant sunshine; he should I say in so doing, abandon together with his public affairs, the society, fellowship, alliance and intelligences which he had with his good friends; for the more time that he had, the more friends by good reason he ought to have gotten, for to stand with him and take his part, whom he neither cannot all at once lead forth with him, like as a master of carols his whole choir of singing men; nor meet it is and reason that he should leave and forsake them all: but as it is not an easy piece of work to stock up by the root old trees, no more is it a thing soon done to extirp a long government in the commonweal, as having many great roots, and those interlaced & enwrapped one within another, by reason of sundry and weighty affairs, the which no doubt must needs work more trouble and vexation to those that retire and depart from it, than to those that tarry still by it; and say there remained yet behind for old men some relics of envy, emulation, and contention, which grew in the time of their government; it were far better to extinguish and quench the same by power and authority, than to turn both side and back unto them, all naked and disarmed: for envious persons and evil willers never do assail them so much with despite, who make head again and stand their ground, as they do by contempt those who yield back and retire: and to this acordeth well that which in times past that great Epaminondas said unto the Thebans. For when the Arcadians had made offer unto them, yea and requested them to enter in their cities, during the winter season, and there to lodge and abide under covert; he would not permit them so to do, nor to accept of their courtesy: For now (quoth he) all while that they behold you exercising and wrestling in your armour, they have you in great admiration, as valiant and hardy men; but if they should see you once by the fire side punning and stamping beans, they would take you to be no better than themselves; even so I would make my application, and infer hereupon; that it is a venerable and goodly sight to behold a grave and ancient parsonage speaking to the people, dispatching affairs of State, and generally to be honoured of every man; but he who all the day long stirs not out of his warm bed, or if he be up, sitteth still in some corner of a gallery, prating and talking vainly, or else reaching, hawking, spitting, or wiping his nose that drops for cold; such an one I say, is exposed to contempt. Homer verily himself hath taught us this lesson, if we will mark and give good ear to that which he hath written. For old Nestor being at the war before troy, was had in honour and reputation; whereas chose Peleus and Laertes who tarried behind at home were set little by and despised. For the habitude of wisdom doth not continue the same, nor is any thing like itself, in those who give themselves to ease, and do not practise the same; but through idleness and negligence it diminisheth, and is dissolved by little and little, as having need always of some exercise of the cogitation and thought which may waken the spirit, clear the discourse of reason, and lighten the operative part of the mind to the dealing in affairs, 
Like as both iron and brass is bright and clear,  
All while man's hand the same doth use and wear:  
Where as the house wherein none dwells at all,  
In tract of time must needs decay and fall.  Neither is the infirmity and feebleness of the body so great an hindrance unto the government of State, in those who above the strength of their age seem either to mount into the tribunal, or to the bench, or to the general's pavilion and place of audience within the camp, as otherwise their years bring good with them, to wit, considerate circumspection & stayed wisdom: as also not to be troubled or driven to a non plus in the managing of any business, or to commit an absurdity & error, partly for want of experience, in part upon vainglory, & so to draw the multitude therewith and do mischief to the commonwealth all at once; like unto a sea tossed with winds; but to treat and negotiate gently, mildly, and with a settled judgement, with those who come unto them for advice, or have any affairs or to do with them. And hereupon it is, that cities after they have sustained some great shake or adverse calamity, or when they have been affrighted, desire straight ways to be ruled by ancient men, and those well experienced; in which cases they have many times drawn perforce an old man out of his house in the country, for to govern them, who thought or desired nothing less; they have compelled him to lay his hand upon the helm, for to set all straight and upright again in security, rejecting in the mean while green headed generals of armies, eloquent orators also, who knew well enough how to speak aloud, and to pronounce long clauses and periods with one breath, and never fetching their wind; yea and believe me brave warriors and worthy captains indeed, who had been able and sufficient to have affronted their enemies, and fought valiantly in the field. Like as upon a time at Athens, the orators there showing before Timotheus and Iphicrates, who were far stepped in years, one named Chares the son of Theochares, who was a lusty young man, in the flower of his age, and mighty of body, stripped out of his apparel, desired that, he who was to be captain general of the Athenians, were such an one as he for years and for person: God forbid (quoth Timotheus) but rather I could wish the general's varlet to be such an one, who is to carry after him his bed and the furniture thereto belonging. As for the commander and leader of an army, he ought to be a man that knoweth how to see into the State, both before and behind, and who will not suffer his counsels and resolutions for the weal public, to be troubled and disordered by any passion whatsoever: for Sophocles when he was now become aged: I am well apaid (quoth he) that I am now escaped from wanton love and the delights of Venus; as being delivered from the subjection of a furious lord and raging master. But in the administration of the commonwealth, a man is not to avoid and fly one sort of masters, to wit, the love of boys and wenches, but many others which be more outrageous than it, and namely emulation and a contentious spirit, desire of vainglory, and a longing to be always and in every thing the first and the greatest; a vice that engendereth most of any other, envy, jealousies, conspiracies, and factions; of which old age doth let slack some, and dull their edge, others it cooleth and extinguisheth clean, neither diminisheth and impaireth it the inclination and affection to well doing so much, as it represseth and cutteth off the passions which are too violent and overhot, to the end that it may apply unto the care and study about affairs, the discourse of reason, sober, stayed, and well settled: howbeit in very truth, and in the judgement of the readers, let this speech of the poet 
Lie still poor weretch, and keep thy bed  
Stir not from thence, and have no dread.  be alleged and spoken for to dissuade and distract him, who would with his grisled beard and grey head begin now to be young and play the youth, as also to tax and reprove an old grandsire, who after long repose in his house, out of which he hath not stirred, no more than in the time of a languishing disease, will needs start up now on a sudden, and all at once bestir his old bones to be a captain forsooth in all haste, to lead an army, or else to take upon him the charge of governing a city. But he that would call away and reclaim one, who hath been trained and employed all the days of his life in politic affairs, and thoroughly beaten to the world, and the administration of the commonweal, not suffering him to run forward in that course of life until he have attained the goal, nor until he have gained the prize of his victory, but will seem to turn him out of his long journey for to take another way; he (I say) is altogether senseless and unreasonable, and nothing resembleth the man we speak of. Like as he who to divert an old man being set out like a youth, with a chaplet of fresh flowers on his head, perfumed with sweet odours, and already to be married, would allege those verses which in a Tragedy were sometime said unto Philoctetes, 
What maiden young, what fresh and lusty bride  
Will marry thee, to lie close by thy side?  
Alas, poor man for pity, at this age  
Thus for to venture upon marriage?  were nothing absurd nor out of the way, and beside the purpose; for even old folk themselves when they are disposed to be merry, have many such jests as these pass currant among them: 
I marry old, how fair I am bestead?  
Well wot I, for my neighbour I do wed.  But he that would persuade a man already married, to leave his wife with whom he hath lived so long in wedlock, and dwelled together in one house without quarrels and complaints, supposing that because he is now grown in years with her, he should forsake her, and live either a single life apart by himself, or else keep a lemon or concubine in stead of his lawful wedded wife, in my conceit were a very absurd sot in the highest degree; even so, it standeth to good reason, for to deal with an old man who having one foot already in his grave, or with one Clidon who had been an husbandman all his life time; or with on Lampon the merchant venturer, who hath done nothing all his days, but used shipping & traffic beyond sea; or with some of these Philosophers out of Epicurus his orchard, who love a life to sit still and do nothing, to admonish and dissuade them from approaching unto the public affairs of the people, and to counsel them to hold them still to their former accustomed course of life, far from troubles and busy dealings in commonweal: marry, he that took such an one as Photion, Cato or Pericles by the hand, and said: My friend of Athens or Rome, whoever you are, now that you be arrived to withered old age, make a divorce with the common weal, quit from this day forward all public administration, all cares and affairs, aswell of counsel as of war; abandon both the tribunal seat in the city and also the praetorie or pavilion of State in the camp, retire yourself into an house in the country, and live the rest of your life there with one maid-servant to attend upon you; follow your husbandry, or else employ yourself in your private household, to take accounts and reckonings of your receivers and factors; surely he should persuade him to unjust things, and exact of a Statesman and politician that which neither pleaseth nor yet beseemeth him. How then? will some man say unto me, never heard we the old soldier, how he speaketh thus in the Comedy? 
My hoary hairs from warfare set me free,  
That from henceforth enroled I shall not be.  Yes forsooth good sir, it is very true; for requisite it is, and fit, that the squires and servitors of Mars should be in the flower and full strength of their age, as those who make profession of war and the painful services belonging thereto, whose grey hairs, although the head piece and morion do hide and cover, yet inwardly their limbs are heavy and decayed by years, and their strength is not to their good will, nor their hand answerable to their heart. But of the ministers of Jupiter surnamed Counsellor, Orator, and Patron of cities, we require not the works of feet nor of hands, but of counsel, forecast & eloquence; and yet not such eloquence I mean, as should make a stir, or raise a noise, outcry and shout among the people, but that which is full of ripe understanding, of considerate wisdom, and of good directions and plots well and surely laid. In which persons, the white head and grey beard (which some laugh and make good game at) the crowfoot about the eyes, the furrows in the forehead, the rivels and wrinkles in the face besides appearing, bear witness of long experience, and add unto them a reputation and authority, which help much to persuade and to draw the minds of the hearers unto their will and purpose. For to speak truly, youth is made (as it were) to follow and obey, but age to guide and command: and that city or State is preserved, wherein the sage counsels of the elders and the martial prowess of the younger, bear sway together. And for this cause highly and wonderfully are these verses following praised in Homer, and namely in the first place: 
Then to begin, a goodly sort of ancient captains bold  
Assembled he in Nestor's ship, a counsel there to hold.  upon the same reason also, that counsel of the wisest and principal men assistant unto the kings of Lacedaemon, for the better government of the State, the oracle of Apollo Pythius first called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 i. Elders: and Lycurgus afterwards directly and plainly termed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 i Old men; and even at this very day, the counsel of Estate in Rome is named a Senate, that is to say, an assembly of ancient persons. And like as the law and custom, time out of mind, hath allowed unto Kings and Princes the diadem, that is to say, a royal band or frontlet, the crown also to stand upon their heads, as honourable mots & ensigns of their regal dignity and sovereign authority; even so hath nature given unto old men the white head and hoary beard as honourable tokens of their right to command, and of their pre-eminence above others. And for mine own part, I verily think that this noun in Greek, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which signifieth a prize or reward of honour, as also the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which is as much to say, as to honour, continue still in use, as respective to the honour due unto old men (who in Greek are called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) not for that they bathe in hot waters, or sleep in softer beds; but because in cities well and wisely governed, they be ranged with kings for their prudence, the proper and perfect goodness whereof, as of some tree which yieldeth winter fruit which is not ripe before the latter end of the year, nature bringeth forth late and hardly in old age: and therefore there was not one of those martial and brave courageous captains of the Greeks, who found fault with that great king of kings Agamemnon for making such a prayer as this unto the gods: 
That of the Grecian host which stood of many worthy men,  
Such counsellors as Nestor was, they would vouchsafe him ten.  but they all agreed with him, and by their silence confessed, That not only in policy and civil government, but also in war, old age carrieth a mighty great stroke: for according as the ancient proverb beareth witness: 
One head that knows full wisely for to reed,  
Out goesten hands, and maketh better speed.  One advice likewise, and sentence grounded upon reason, and delivered with persuasive grace, effecteth the greatest and bravest exploits in a whole State. Well, say that old age hath many difficulties and discommodities attending upon it, yet is not the same therefore to be rejected: for the absolute rule of a king, being the greatest and most perfect estate of all governments in the world, hath exceeding many cares, travels and troubles; insomuch, as it is written of king Seleucus that he would oftentimes say, if the people wist how laborious and painful it were to read and write only so many letters as he did, they would not deign to take up his diadem, if they found it thrown in their very way as they go. And Philip being at the point to pitch his camp in a fair ground, when he was advertised that the place would not afford forage for his labouring beasts: O Hercules (quoth he) what a life is this of ours, that we must live (forsooth) and care to serve the necessity of our asses? Why, then belike it were high time to persuade a king when he is aged, for to lay down his diadem, to cast off his robes of purple, to clad himself in simple array, to take a crooked staff in hand, and so to go and live in the country, for fear lest if he with his grey hairs reigned still, he should seem to do many superfluous and impertinent things, and to direct matters out of season? Now if it were unseemly and a mere indignity, to deal with Agesilaus, with Numa and Darius, all kings and monarches, after this sort; unmeet likewise it is, that we should remove and displace Solon out of the counsel of Ariopaguses, or depose Cato from his place in the Roman Senate, because of their old age. Why should we then go about to persuade such an one as Pericles to give over and resign his government in a popular State? for over & beside, there were no sense at all, that if one have leapt and mounted into the tribunal seat or chair of estate in his young years, and afterwards discharged upon the people & commonwealth those his violent passions of ambition and other furious fits, when ripe age is now come, which is wont to bring with it discretion and much wisdom gathered by experience, to abandon and put away (as it were) his lawful wife, the government which he hath so long time abused. The fox in Aesop's fables would not suffer the urchin to take off the tiques that were settled upon her body: For if (quoth she) thou take away these that be already full, there will come other hungry ones in their place; and even so, if a State rejected evermore from administration of the commonwealth those governors that begin once to be old, it must needs be quickly full of a sort of young rulers, that be hungry and thirsty both after glory, but altogether void of politic wit and reason to govern: for how can it otherwise be? and where should they get knowledge, if they have not been disciples to learn, nor spectators to follow and imitate some ancient magistrate that manageth state affairs? The Cards at sea which show the feat of sailing and ruling ships, can not make good seamen or skilful pilots, if they have not been themselves many times at the stern in the poop, to see the manner of it, and the conflicts against the waves, the winds, the black storms and dark tempests, 
What time in great perplexity,  
The mariner doth wish to see  
Castor and Pollux, twins full bright,  
Presaging safety with their light.  How then possibly can a young man govern and direct a city well, persuade the people aright, & deliver wise counsel in the Senate, having but read one little book treating of policy, or haply written an exercise or declamation in the School Lyceum touching that argument? unless beside, he have stood close unto the reins, or hard by the helm many a time, & by marking both city rulers and martial captains, how they have but been put to their trial, and according to the sundry experiences and accidents of fortunes, inclining now to the one side and then to the other, after many dangers and great affairs, have gotten sufficient knowledge and instruction before hand? I can not see how it can be: but if there were no other thing at all beside; yet surely an ancient man is to manage still the affairs of State, and it were but to train and teach the younger, that be to come up after him: for like as they who teach children music, or to read, do themselves Sol, fa, & sing the note, they finger & strike the key or string, they read & spell the letters before them, & all to show how they should do; even so the ancient politician doth frame and direct a young man, not only by reading unto him, by discoursing and advertising him without forth; but also in the very managing and administration of affairs, fashioning, forming and casting him (as it were) lively in a mould, as well by operation and example, as by words and precepts. For he that is schooled and exercised herein, not in the schools of the Sophisters that can speak in number & measure, as in the wrestling hall where the body is anointed with a composition of oil & wax together, against exercises performed without any danger at all: but (as it were) at the very public games indeed, in the view of the whole world, such as the Olympics and Pythicks were: he (I say) followeth the tracts and footsteps of his master and teacher, as saith Simonides: 
As suckling foal, that keeps just pace,  
And runs with dam in every place.  Thus did Aristides under Calisthenes, Cimon under Aristides, Photion under Chabrias Cato under Fabius Maximus, Pompeius under Sylla, and Polybius under Philopaemen. For all these personages when they were young, drew near and joined themselves with others that were ancient, and having taken root close by them, grew up together with them in their actions and administrations, whereby they got experience and were enured to the managing of the State with honour and reputation. Aeschines the Academic Philosopher, when certain envious sophisters of his time charged him and said: That he made a semblance and show, that he had been the disciple and hearer of Carneades, whereas he never was. I say unto you (quoth he) that I heard the man, when as his speech abandoning the bruit applause and tumultuous noise of the people, by reason of his old age was shut up close and housed (as it were) for to do good more familiarly in private conference. And even so it is with the government of an aged person, when as not only his words, but also his deeds be far remote from affected pomp in outward shows, and all vain glory. Much like as is reported of the black Stork, called Ibis, who by that time that she is become old, hath exhaled and breathed forth all that strong and stinking savour which she had, and beginneth to yield a sweet and arromaticall smell; even so, there is no counsel nor opinion in old men, vain, turbulent, or inconstant, but all grave, quiet, and settled. And therefore in any wise (as I said before) if it were but for young men's sake only and no more; elder persons are to wield the affairs of State: to the end that as Plato speaking of wine mingled with water, said that it was to make the furious god wise, by chastising him with another that was sober and temperate: the stayed wisdom of old age tempered with youth, swelling and boiling before the people, and transported with the greedy desire of honour, and with ambition, might cut off that which is furious, raging and over violent.  
But over and beside all that hath been said before, they who think, that to be employed in the managing of public affairs, is all one as to sail for traffic, or to go forth to war in some expedition, are much deceived: for both navigation & also war, men undertake for a certain end, and no sooner have they attained thereto but they cease: but the managing of State affairs is not a commission or office pretending or intending any profit and commodity for the scope that it shooteth at; but it is the life and profession of a living creature, which is gentle, tame, civil, and sociable, borne to live so long as it pleaseth nature, civilly, honestly, and for the public good of human society. This is the reason, that of a man it should be said, that he still is occupied in such affairs of commonweal, and not that he hath been so employed: like as to be true, and not to have been true; to be just and not to have been just; to love his country and citizens, and not to have loved them, is his duty and profession. For even nature herself directeth us hereto, and singeth this lesson in our ears (I speak to those who are not altogether corrupted and marred with sloth and idleness) 
Thy father thee, a man hath once begat:  
To profit men always, in this or that.  Again: 
Let us not cease nor any end find  
To do all good unto mankind.  As touching them who pretend and allege for excuse, feebleness or impotency, they do accuse sickness & the maimed indisposition of the body rather than age. For you shall see many young men sick & feeble, and as many old folk lusty & strong; so we are not to remove aged persons simply from the adminstration of the commonweal, but the impotent only and unsufficient; nor to call unto that vocation young men, but such as be able to undergo the charge: for Aridaeus was young enough, and Antigonus in years; and yet this man as old as he was, went within a little of conquering all Asia; but the other had never but the bare name only of a King, like as in a dumbe-shew upon a stage, making a countenance only with a guard of partisans and halberds about him, without speaking one word; and so he was a ridiculous pageant and laughing stock among his nobles and peers, who were always his rulers, and led him as they list. And even as he who would persuade Prodicus the Sophister, or Philetas the poet (young men both, howbeit lean, feeble, sickly, and for the most part of their time bedridden) for to meddle with government of State, were a very fool and senseless ass; so he were no whit better, who should debar such old men as Photion, as Masanissa the African, or Cato the Roman, from exercising public magistracy in city, or taking the charge of a Lord General in the seld: for Photion one day when the Athenians all in the haste, would needs have gone forth to war at an unseasonable time, commanded by proclamation that as many as were not above threescore years of age, should arm and follow him now when they were offended and wroth hereat: Why? my masters (quoth he) what cause have you to complain? I will go with you myself and be your captain, who carry already above fourscore years on my back. And of Masanissa, Polybius writeth in his story, that he died when he was fourscore and ten years old, and left behind him at his death a son of his own body begotten, but four years old: also that a little before his dying day, he overthrew the Carthaginians in a ranged battle, and the morrow after was seen eating favourly at his very tent door a piece of brown bread: and when some marveled at him why he so did, he answered thus out of the Poet Sophocles: 
For iron and brass, be bright and clear  
All while man's hand the same doth wear,  
But the house wherein none dwells at all  
In time must needs decay and fall.  and even as much may be said, of the the lustre, gloss and resplendent light of the mind, by which we discourse, we remember, conceive and understand. And therefore it is generally held and said, that kings become much better in wars and military expeditions, than they be all the whiles they sit still quietly at home. In such sort, that it is reported of King Attalus, the brother of Eumenes, how being enervate by long peace and rest, Philopaemen one of his favourites led him up and down as he list by the nose, and indeed being fed as fat as a beast, he might do with him what he would; so as the Romans were wont to ask by way of mockery ever and anon, as any sailed out of Asia, whether the king were in grace and favour with Philopaemen, and might do any thing with him? There could not easily be found many Roman captains more sufficient warriors in all kind of service than was Lucullus, so long as he was in action, and maintained his wit and understanding entire; but after that he gave himself over once to an idle life, and sat mewed up (as it were) like an house-bird at home, and meddled no more in the affairs of the commonweal, he became very dull, blockish and benumbed, much like to sea-spunges after a long calm, when the salt water doth not dash and drench them; so that afterwards he committed his old age to be dieted, cured and ordered unto one of his affranchised bondslaves, named calisthenes, by whom it was thought he was medicined with amatorious drinks, and bewitched with other charms and sorceries, until such time as his brother Marcus displaced this servitor from about him, and would needs have the government and disposition of his person the rest of his life, which was not very long. But Dartus the father of Xerxes was wont to say: That in perilous times and dangerous troubles, he became the better and much wiser than himself. 
* 〈◊〉  Aeleas a King of Scythia said, that he thought himself no better than his horsekeeper, when he was ilde. Dionysius the elder being demanded upon a time, whether he were at leisure and had nought to do? God defend (quoth he) that ever it should be so with me: for a bow (as they say) if it be overbent will break, but the mind if it be overslacke. For the very musicians themselves, if they discontinue overlong the hearing of their accords; the Geometricians likewise, to prove & resolve their conclusions, the Arithmeticians also to exercise continually their accounts and reckonings, together with the very actions do impair by long time and age the habitudes that they had gotten before in their several arts, albeit they be not so much practic as speculative sciences: but the politic habitude, which is Prudence, Discretion, Sage, advise, and Justice, and besides all these, Experience which can skill in all occurrences how to make choice of opportunities and the very point of occasions, as also a sufficiency to be able with good words to persuade that which is meet; this habitude (I say) and knowledge can not be preserved & maintained, but by speaking often in public place, by doing affairs, by discoursing and by judgement: and a hard case (it were) if by discontinuing and leaving off these goodly exercises, it should neglect and suffer to void out of the mind so many fair and laudable virtues: for very like it is, that in so doing all humanity, sociable courtesy, and gratitude in time, for want of use and practice would decay and fade away, which in deed should never cease nor have an end. Now if you had Tithonus for your father, who indeed was immortal, howbeit by reason of extreme age standing in need continually of great help and careful attendance, would you avoid all good means? would you deny or be weary of doing him dutiful service, namely, to wait upon him, to speak unto him, to find talk with him, and to succour him every way, under a colour and pretence that you had ministered unto him long enough? I trow you would not. Our country then, resembling our father, or our mother rather according to the term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which the Candiots give it, which is more aged, and hath many more rights over us, and straighter obligations of us, than hath either father or mother, how durable and long lived so ever it be, yet notwithstanding subject it is to age, and is not sufficient of itself, but hath always need of some careful eye and good regard over it, and requireth much succour and vigilance; she (I say) plucketh unto her a man of honour and policy, she takes sure hold and will not let him go, 
She 〈◊〉 him by skirt of robe behind,  
And holds him fast, lest that he from her wind.  you know well that there be many Pythiades, that is to say, five years terames gone over my head, since I began first to minister as Priest unto Apollo Pythius: but yet (I suppose) you would not say thus unto me: Plutarch, you have sacrificed enough now; you have gone in procession often enough, already, or you have lead a sufficient number of dances in the honour and worship of your god; now you are grown in years and become aged; it were time now, that you laid off the coronet which you wear on your head in token of your priesthood, and give over the oracle by reason of your old age. Neither would I have you think that it is lawful for you, notwithstanding you be far stepped in years, to relinquish and resign up your holy service of Jupiter the tutor and patron of cities, the precedent of civil assemblies and counsels; you (I say) who are the sovereign high priest, and the great prophet of the sacred ceremonies of religion politic wherein you thus long time have been entered and professed.  
But laying aside if you think good, these arguments that may distract and pull an old man from the administration of the State; let us discourse philosophically, and consider a little upon this point: namely, that we do not impose upon old age any enterprise and travel, which is either too grievous or unbeseeming, considering that in the universal government of the commonweal, there be many parts befitting well enough and agreeable to that age whereunto both you and I at this present be arrived. For like as if of duty we were commanded to continue singing all our life long, we are not bound after that we be grown to great age for to reach unto the highest, loudest, and most shrill notes, considering that there be in music many diverse tunes and different intentions of the voice, which the musicians call harmonies; but reason would that we make choice of that which is easiest for our years, and most suitable to our nature and disposition; even so since that to speak and manage affairs is to men more natural during their whose life, than singing to swans even unto their hour of death, we mustnot abandon that affection of saying and doing, as if we should fling away an harp too high set, but we ought to let the same down by little and little, taking in hand those charges and offices which be less painful, more moderate, and better according with the strength and manners of old folk: for even our very bodies, we that are aged do not suffer to rest still without all exercise, and allow them no motion at all, because we can no more handle the spade to dig the ground, nor wield the plummets of lead in the exercise of dancing, nor pitch the bar, fling the hammer, cast the coit, or throw a stone far from us, or fight and skirmish in our armour, or handle sword and buckler as we could have done in those days; yet we can abide to swing and hang at a rope for to stretch our limbs, we can away with shaking of our bodies moderately in a pendant ship, coach, or easy horselitter; we like well enough of walking gently, and devising one with another upon the way, and maintaining pleasant discourses, wakening and reviving our vital spirits, and blowing as it were the coals to kindle our natural heat: and therefore let us not suffer ourselves to grow over cold, nor stiff and stark as if we were frozen and congealed through our sloth and idleness; neither on the other side overcharge ourselves with all offices, nor be ready to lay our hand to all ministries and functions, nor enforce our old age convinced of impotency to come at length to these or such like words, 
Ah good right hand, how gladly wouldst thou take  
The lance to couch, and pike in skirmish shake:  
But now alas, this forward will to fight,  
Thy feebleness doth check, and work thee spite.  For neither is the man himself, who is able enough and in the flower of his years, commended, if he should undergo and lay upon his shoulders all the affairs of the commonweal, and not suffer any man else with him to take some part (like as the Stoics affirm that Jupiter is content to do) but engaging himself in all things, and meddling in every matter, either upon an unsatiable desire of glory, or for envy that he beareth to those, who in some measure would have their part of honour and authority in the commonweal. But unto an ancient person I assure you, (although you should ease him of infamy in this behalf) yet it were a painful ambition, and a most laborious desire of rule to be present personally at all elections of magistrates; yea and a miserable curiosity to wait and attend every hour of judgement in court, and all meetings and assemblies in counsel; also an intolerable humour of vainglory to stand at receipt and catch every occasion of embassage, or know every verduict of our grand-jurie, or undertake the patronage of all public causes whatsoever; and say that all this might be performed with the favour and love of every man, yet grievous it is, and above the ordinary strength of that age. But what will you say if they meet with the clean contrary? for to young men they be odious, because they let nothing pass their own hands, but intercept from them all occasion and means of action, not giving them leave to arise and put themselves forth; as for their equals, this covetous desire of theirs to hold the highest place in all things, and to have the sole authority every where, is no less hated of them, & accounted infamous, than either avarice or loose life, and voluptuousness in other old folk. And therefore like as (by report) king Alexander the great, not willing to overcharge his horse Bucephalus when he grew in age, used to mount other coursers before the fight began, for to ride up and down to review his army and all the quarters and regiments thereof, but after he had ranged it in array, & set his squadrons and companies in ordinance of battle, and given the signal, he would alight and get upon his back again as he was wont, and presently march directly affront his enemies, give the charge, and hazard the fortune of the field: even so a politic man of State, if he be wise and of sound) judgement, will favour his strength a little, when he feeleth himself aged, as he holdeth the reins in his own hand, he will forbear to deal in those charges which are not altogether so necessary, and suffer younger men to manage matters of less importance; but in weighty affairs of great consequence, he will lay to both his own hands in good earnest, contrary unto the practice of the champions in public games and combats of prize, who carefully look unto their bodies without touching at all any necessary works, and all to employ and use them in needless, unprofitable, and superfluous feats: but we chose letting pass by the petty and slight charges, are to reserve ourselves whole and entire unto those that be serious and of moment indeed: for a young man as Homer saith, all things beseem indifferently & alike, all the world smileth on him, every body loveth him; if he enterprise small matters, and many in number, they say he is a good commonwealths man, he is popular, he is laborious; if he undertake great works and honourable actions, he hath the name of generous, noble & magnanimous: yea, and diverse occurrences there be, wherein rashness itself and a contentious humour of emulation have a kind of grace, and become gaily well such as be fresh and gallant youths; but for a man of years, who during the administration of the commonweal, undertaketh these and such like ministries and commissions; namely, the letting to farm the customs & revenues of the city, the charge of maintaining an haven, or keeping of the market place and common hall in order and reparation; over and beside, the embassies and voyages in foreign parts to princes and potentates, or the riding in post thither, to treat about no matter of necessity nor weighty affairs of any importance, but only to salute them or make court unto them, or perform some offices of course and courtesy: In my conceit, and be it spoken unto you my good friend, he is to be pitied for it, and his case is rather lamentable than commendable. To others haply it may seem an odious trouble & a burdensome matter for him so to be employed; for surely this is not an age wherein a man should be encumbered with any offices, but such as wherein there is dignity, grandence & reputation, such as that is, which yourself at this time do execute in Athens, to wit, the presidence of the counsel or senate called Ariopagus, and verily of that kind also is that dignity of being one of that honourable counsel and assembly of the States, called Amphyctiones, which your country hath conferred upon you by patent to hold all your life time, the labour belonging whereto is pleasant, the pains easy, and the travel tolerable. Howbeit I would not have an ancient person to range and hunt after these offices, nor to accept them, as demanding the same, but to receive them by way of refusal, so as he may seem to take them volens nolens, not as means for to be himself in honour, but as one that meant by his acception to grace and honour them. For it is no shame as Tiberius Caesar was wont to say, for men above threescore years of age to reach forth their hand to a physician for to have their pulse felt; but rather to stretch out their hands to the people, in praying them to give their voices or suffrages with them at the election of magistrates; for this is a very vile and base thing: as chose there is in this a certain venerable majesty, and a dignity right honourable; that when the country hath elected one to be a magistrate, when they call upon him and give attendance at his door, he should then come down unto them out of his house, with a kind of reciprocal honour of his part, a cheerful countenance and courteous behaviour to the people again, to salute, embrace, welcome, and accept this their present, worthy indeed and beseeming honourable old age. semblably also in some sort an ancient man ought to use his speech in the congregation and assembly of the people, not running ever and anon and leaping up into the pulpit or place of audience to make an oration unto the people, nor ready always like as a cock croweth again when he heareth others, to counterchaunt (as it were) to all those that make any speech, nor in fastening upon them, and striving to take hold and vantage of their words, to unbridle the reverence that young men bear toward him, nor to breed in them by that means matter to exercise and accustom themselves in disobedience and unwillingness to hear him: but he must otherwhiles seem topasse by, and make semblance as though he saw and heard nothing, and give them leave a little to brave it, to fling out, and cast up the head like a wanton young horse, neither to be present, among or to search curiously into every thing that is done or said, especially when the danger is not great, nor a matter touching the safety of common weal, nor any honour and reputation; for there in such cases he ought not to stay until he be called, but to put forth himself and to run even above the ordinary strength of his age, or else if he be not able, to yield his body to be led by hand and sustained up by folks arms, yea and to be carried in a chair; as the history doth report of Appius Claudius, who having heard that the Senate of Rome after a great fought field which king Pyrrhus had won of the romans, inclined to accept of articles and capitulations tending to a composition and to peace, could not endure that indignity, nor contain himself, (blind though he were of both his eyes) but would needs be carried through the common place even to the senate house; and being entered in upon his feet, he stood in the mids of them all and said: My masters, hitherto I have been grieved for the loss of mine eyesight, in that I could not see; but now I wish that I had lost the use also of mine ears, and that I might not hear the shameful counsels & courses that you take, besides the lewd exploits that you perform: then partly by reproving them sharply, and in part by his effectual reasons and remonstrations exciting them, he wrought so, that persuaded they were presently to resume arms for to fight with Pyrrhus, for the signory and empire of Italy. And Solon at what time as the flatterers of Pisistratus wherewith he abused the people of Athens, were openly derected and discovered, and that it appeared once that he aimed at nothing else but to usurp tyranny over them, and when no man durst make head against him and impeach or cross his designs, himself alone bringing forth armour out of his house, and laying the same in the street before his very doors; cried with a loud voice unto the citizens for to aid him; which when Pisistratus heard, he sent unto him for to demand & know upon what assurance that he had, he durst be so bold as thus to do? Mary (quoth he) I presume upon mine old age. Such occurrences as these so necessary, do rekindle and set on fire again old men, who were in manner extinct and clean dead before, provided, that there remained in them any spark or breath at all: but in other smaller occasions, an ancient parsonage shall do well and wisely to excuse himself otherwhiles, and refuse base or vile ministries, wherein greater toil and pains groweth unto them that be amploied therein, than profit and commodity doth accrue unto the parties for whose sake they be undertaken. It falleth out also sometimes, that if he stay until he be called and sought unto, until he be desired, & that they send to seek for him at his house, he shall win more credit and authority among his citizens by coming among them in the end at their request: and say that he be present in place, he shall be silent himself for the most part & suffer younger men to speak, as being the judge of civil contention and emulation among them, provided always that the same exceed not a certain mean; for than he shall reprove them mildly, after a kind & loving sort cut off all opinionative debates, all headstrong opinions, all opprobrious terms and heat of choler. Now the advices and opinions delivered of any matter in question, his part is to comfort and encourage him that cometh short of the point, not reproving and blaming him at all, but rather teaching him how to do better against another time, yea and to praise him boldly, who hath done well, and suffer his own self willingly to take the worse and be overcome, giving the place to some many times, and not disdain to be overmatched and persuaded by reason: to the end that they may take the better heart and be more bold, and ready to help out and supply others in their defects, and that with good words and fair language, like as that old Nestor did in Homer: 
Of all the Greeks there is no man,  
Who blame these words or gainsay can:  
But yet for soothe you say not all,  
Nor come are to the finiall.  
For why? you seem but young by your visage,  
And well my son you may be for your age.   
Moreover, this were more civilly done, not to reprove and check them openly nor in public place, although it be without any great biting and nipping, which is enough to abate and cast down the courage of young men; but rather apart and privately, especially such as be well framed and disposed by nature to government of State another day; instructing and leading them gently into the right way, setting before their eyes some excellent sayings, examples and inventions tending to policy, and inciting them always to good and honest enterprises, heartening and imboldning them by that means, that they may show a lively and lightsome spirit, and even at the beginning, making the people cast a liking and love unto them, and be more gentle and tractable afterwards: like as it is the manner of those, who when they teach young men to sit and ride an horse, bring them first one that is gentle and easy to be mounted upon; now if peradventure one of them at his first entrance do fail and catch a fall, he must not let him lie along, and so break the heart of a youth for ever, but lift him up and set him on his feet again, yea, and give him comfortable and gracious words. Thus did Aristides in times passed by Cimon, and Mnesiphilus by Themistocles, whom the people at the first could not abide and brook, as having but a bad name in the city for their audaciousness and loose life; and yet these good men stood their friends, brought them into credit, and mightily encouraged them. It is reported also even of Demosthenes himself, that the first time he came to the bar, he suffered a disgrace, and was rejected by the people, which he took to heart & was wondrously dismayed, until such time as an ancient and fatherly citizen, one who had sometime heard Pericles making orations to the people, took him by the hand & said unto him: That he resembled Pericles for all the world in speech and gesture, and that he did himself great wrong upon such an occasion to be fainthearted and cast down. Semblably, Euripides after the same manner emboldened Timotheus the Musician, who at his first coming upon the stage was hissed out by the people, as one that by his novelties which he brought up, seemed to violate and break the laws of Music; but he willed him to be of good cheer for all that, saying: It would not be long after, but he should be able to draw and lead the whole Theatre after him as he would, and have the people at his devotion. To be brief, like as the term of time limited and appointed for the vestal virgins or nuns votaries at Rome, was divided into three parts: The first, to learn that which pertained to their religion; the second, to practise; and the third, to teach the younger. And likewise, as in the city of Ephesus every one of those maidens vowed to the service of Diana, was at the beginning called Melliere, which is as much to say, as a Novice to be a priestresse hereafter; then Heir, that is to say, a full priestresse in deed; and last of all, Pariere, which signifieth one that had power to imitate and profess others in the same orders; even so, he that is a perfect politician and Statesman, at the first is but a learner and a questionist (as it were) to do his acts, and so to commence in that profession; but in the end, he teacheth others, he is a regent over novices, and showeth them the secrets of policy. For to be a precedent and overseer of others that try masteries or combats, is not to be a fencer or champion himself; but he that suiteth and traineth a young man to public affairs and matters of State, framing and fitting him for his country another day, in showing him how 
To frame his words with comely grace,  
And deeds perform meet for his place.  is a good profitable member of the commonwealth, not in a small and base kind of service, but in a ministery of great consequence; and to which especially and principally, Lycurgus having given himself and aimed at, accustomed young men even from their infancy to obey and do reverence to every elder, no less than to a ruler and lawgiver. For in what regard else, and to what other purpose said Lysander? That there was no place in the world, where it was so honourable for to be old, as in Lacedaemon. Was it because it was permitted and lawful there for elder persons more than for any other, to till the ground, to put out money to usury, to play at dice, being set together, and to keep good fellowship, drink merrily as they are close at their game, and playing hard at hazard? I suppose neither you nor any man else will so say. But it was because all such, being after a sort in place of rulers, of fatherly governors and tutors over youth, have not a vigilant eye over the public affairs only, but a particular regard also always to every action of young men, inquiring and learning not slightly, and as it were passing by their whole demeanour, namely, how they exercise their bodies in public place; how they play and disport themselves; what their diet is, and how they converse and live together, showing themselves dread and terrible to those that do ill, but venerable and desirable to the good; for in truth young folk always observe & look after them, and to such they make court; for that ancient persons do labour for to make them better, & augment the generosity of their mind, without all envy. For this passion, as it beseemeth no time of man's age, howsoever in young men it be entitled with a number of fair and honest names, to wit, emulation, zeal, and desire of honour; so in old men it is altogether unseasonable, absurd, rude, savage, unmanly and base. And therefore a man of years, who is a politician, must be very far off from this humour of envy, and not like unto old runt-trees or dodils, which repining as it were at others, do manifestly hinder and take away the spring and growth of young poles and plants which come up under them, or grow near about them: but chose, he ought to admit and receive them kindly, yea, and to offer himself lovingly unto those that make to ward him and be glad to sort and converse with him; such he ought to inform, to direct, to dead and lead by the hand, yea, and to cherish and nourish them, not only with good instructions, sage counsels and wise admonitions, but also in yielding unto them the place and means to exercise some functions of government, whereby there may grow unto them some honour and glory, in preferring them to those charges and commissions which be not hurtful to the State, but pleasing and acceptable to the common people. As for others, which at the first entry be untoward and show some resistance, be difficult, dangerous and hard to be achieved (like unto some medicines and potions which presently do gnaw and wring the belly, or make the stomach sick) and where of the honour and profit ensueth long after; it is not good to put such into young men's hands, nor to help them to such hard bargains, ne yet to expose them raw as they be and unacquainted, to the mutinous exclamations and obloquys of the rude multitude, which is hard to be pleased; but rather he himself is to undergo the displeasure and ill-will of the people for the weal public; for this will cause the younger sort to be more affectionate unto him, and better willing a great deal to enterprise all other services. But over and beside all that hath been delivered already, this would be well remembered, that to administer and govern the commonwealth, lieth not only in bearing an office, or going in embassage, or in crying with a loud voice to an assembly, or in the pulpit or tribunal for public orations, to far as if he were mad and out of his wits, in vehement preaching to the multitude, or in penning a number of decrees, acts and edicts, wherein the common sort suppose that all policy and government doth consist, like as they imagine also; that to be a Philosopher, is nothing else, but to discourse and dispute in the schools at certain times of philosophical points aloft in a chair, and read lecture at their hours out of their books, and in the mean while be ignorant of that civil administration and philosophy which is continually seen in works and daily actions. For this were all one, according to Dicaearchus, as is one should say, that they only walked, who fetched many turns up and down in galleries, and not they, who went into the country on foot, or visited their friends. But we must think, that to govern a commonwealth, is very like unto the profession of Philosophy: for Socrates was not to be thought a Philosopher only, when he caused stools and forms for to be made ready to sit upon, against a conference, or when he sat him down in a chair, or when he observed precisely the hours of lecture, of disputation, or of walking in the schools, which were appointed for his disciples and familiar followers; but also otherwhiles, when he was at his game and play, as it fell out, when he drank and eat, when he was in warfare or in the camp with some, bargaining, buying and selling with others; and finally, when he was in prison, and even then, when as he drunk that cup of hemlock for his poison; having taught and proved plainly before, that man's life at all times, in all parts, in every occasion and accident, and generally in all affairs admitteth the use of Philosophy. And even so, we are to make account of civil government; namely, to think that fools or lewd persons do not administer the commonweal, either when they be Generals of armies, or L L. Chancellors, or when they seem to lead the people after them with their elo quent tongue; but rather raise tumult and sedition among them, or flatter and insinuate into their favour, or declare for ostentation, or else execute some charge and office, and do that which they do compelled by force. Whereas chose, a good and true politician in deed, who affecteth his citizens, loveth his country, hath a care and heedful regard of the weale-publicke, although he never be clad in his rich coat of arms, nor have the royal mantle of estate upon him, yet he is daily and hourly employed in the administration of public affairs, inciting and exhorting to action those that are sufficient, instructing such as be unskilful and wanting, assisting as many as come to him for counsel, reclaiming them who are ill given and about to practise mischief, confirming and encouraging those who be well minded, and showing evidently in effect, and not for form and fashion, that he is amused and wholly bend upon the good of the State: not because there is to grow thereby any interest to him or his, or in regard that he is called by name to go first into the Theatre, or to be the principal and first man in the assembly of counsel, or otherwise by way of recreation, as if he came thither to see plays & games, or to hear some pleasant music when he is there; but chose, when he cannot be present personally, yet to be there in spirit and advice; and after he hath intelligence of the proceedings there, to approve some things well done, and to show himself displeased in other things For neither Aristides the Athenian, nor Cato the Roman, were in place many times of chief government, yet they ceased not for all that, during their whole life, to be in action for the good and service of their countries. And Epaminondas achieved (I must needs say) many noble acts and valiant exploits, whiles he was captain general for Boeotia; howbeit, one act there is reported of his, when he was neither general nor in any office at all, which he exploited in Thessaly, not inferior to any one of his other worthy deeds: for at what time as the captains of Thebes had engaged a batailon or regiment so far into a difficult place and a ground of much disadvantage, whereby the enemies charged sore upon them so violently, that they were in great affright, and ready to be defaited, he being in the forefront among the footmen heavily armed, was called back, and at his first coming appeased all the trouble & affright of the army, and put them in assured hope with his very presence: afterwards he set in order and arranged in battel-ray, that squadron which had broken their ranks and were in confusion, delivered them easily out of this straight and difficult passage, and made head again upon the enemies, who hereupon were so daunted, that they changed their minds and retired. Also when Agis the king of the Lacedæmonians led his army in ordinance of battle ready to fight with his enemies in Arcadia, there was one ancient Spartan cried aloud unto him, and said: My lord, you think to remedy one mischief by another: (giving him thereby to understand, that his meaning was by this present and unseasonable forwardness of his, in giving battle unto the enemy, for to salve and cure (as it were) his former speedy retreat and departure from the siege before the city Argos, according as Thucydides reporteth in his story) which when Agis heard, he gave credit unto the man, retired presently, but afterwards he had the victory. This Agis caused his chair of estate to be set every day before his palace gate, and many times the Ephori would rise from their Consistory, and repair unto him thither, for to ask his advice, and consult with him about the affairs of greatest importance; for he seemed to be a man of great reach, and is renowned in the histories for a most wise and sage prince. And therefore upon a time, after that the strength of his body was utterly decayed, in such sort as for the most part of the day he kept his bed and stirred not forth; when the Ephori sent unto him and requested that he would give them meeting in the common hall of the city, he arose out of his bed, and strained himself to walk thither; but when he was gone a pretty way with much pain and difficulty, he chanced to meet with certain little boys in the street, and demanded of them, whether they knew any thing more powerful than the necessity to obey their master; and when they answered No, he made this account, that his impotency ought to be the end and limit of his obeisance, and so returned back immediately to his own house. For surely, ones good will ought not to shrink before his power; but when might faileth, the good will would not be forced further. Certes, it is reported that Scipio both in war abroad & also in civil affairs at home, used the counsel of Caius Laelius, insomuch as some there were, who gave out and said, that of all those noble exploits Scipto was the actor, but Laelius the author. And Cicero himself confesseth, that in the bravest & most honourable counsels which he exploited during his consulship, by the means whereof he saved his country, he consulted with Publius Nigidius the Philosopher. So that we may conclude, that in many kinds of government and public functions, there is nothing that impeacheth and hindereth old men, but that they may well enough show their service to the commonwealth, if not in the best simply, yet in good words, sage counsel, liberty and authority of frank speech and careful regard, according as the Poets say: for they be not our feet, nor our hands, nor yet our whole body and the strengeth thereof, which are the members and goods only of the commonweal; but first and principally, the soul and the beauties thereof, to wit, justice, temperance and prudence; which if they come slowly and late to their perfection, it were absurd and to no purpose, that men should enjoy house, land and all other goods and heritage's, and should not themselves procure some profit and commodity to their common country, by reason of their long time which bereaveth them not so much of strength able for to execute outward ministries, as it addeth sufficiency of those faculties which are requisite for rule and command. Lo, what the reason was that they portrayed those Hermes, that is to say, the statues of Mercury, in years, without either hands or feet; howbeit, having their natural parts plump and stiff; giving us thereby covertly to understand, that we have least need of old men's labour and corporal travel, so that their words be active, and their speeches full of seed and fruitful, as it is meet and convenient.    

THE APOTHEGMS OR NOTABLE SAYINGS OF KINGS, PRINCES AND GREAT CAPTAINS.  

The Summarie.  
IF speech be the sign and lively picture of the mind, as it is indeed, a man may judgs by these Apophthemes or notable Sayings, and collected here together, how excellent in feats of arms, in politic government or otherwise particularly these personages were, who are here represented unto us; like as some special acts interlaced among their sayings do also show. Two sorts of people there be who abuse the fruit that good menmight draw out of the consideration & reading of these discourses. The one be certain glorious persons, who upon a vain desire of outward show, and to be seen, and for no other intent, following Aesop's crow, trim themselves with the plumes and feathers of others: these have gotten together a heap and storehouse as it were of wise sayings from ancients in old time, whereby they might be conspicuous, and seem to be of some valour and reputation among those who have not wit enough to see into them, and know what they are. The other are hypocrites, who having a loathsome stink and bitter gall in the heart, pretend sweetness and home at the end of their tongue, and all to seduce their neighbours, or rather to deceive their own selves, for that they have never any regard of their own duty.  
But here in this discourse there is to be seen nothing affected, nothing borrowed from others, nor far fet, but there is represented unto us a certain open, simple & admirable nature in this diversity of grave pleasant & learned speeches, wherein sweetness is mingled with profit, for to fit all persons, and to be aptly 〈◊〉 unto their manners and behaviour, of what calling and degree soever they be in the world. Item, beerein are represented acts proceeding from great wit, deepereach, and high conceit, of valour, of equity, modesty, good disposition, and singular carriage in the whole course and management of man's life: the which are proposed and manifested unto us to this end, that the wisdom and bounty of the almighty might so much the better appear, in that he hath vouchsafed such ornaments to public States, for to 〈◊〉 and uphold man's life amid those confusions which were brought into the world by occasion of sin. Moreover, this first collection may well be divided into five principal parts, whereof. The first containeth the notable sayings & deeds of the kings of Persia, and other strange nations. The second of the governors and potentates of Sicily. The third of the Macedonian kings, and namely of Alexander the great and his successors. The fourth of the great  
himself wounded in fight, he seized upon his enemy's body, & brought him perforce armed as he was alive, out of his galley into his own. Being encamped in the land of his friends and confederates, yet nevertheless he fortified his camp with a deep trench and high rampar round about very carefully; and when one said unto him, what needs all this? and whom are we to fear? The worst speech (quoth he) that can come out of a captains mouth is this; Had I wist, or I never looked for such a thing. As he was putting his army in array, for to give battle unto the Barbarians; he said that he feared nothing at all, but that they should not take knowledge of Iphicrates, whose very name and presence was enough to affright all their enemies. Being accused of a capital crime, he said unto the Sycophant who had informed and drawn a bill of inditement against him: Canst thou tell what thou dost good fellow? when the city is environed with war on every side, thou persuadest the people to consult about me, and not to take counsel with me. Harmodius (who was descended from the race of that ancient and noble Harmodius) reproached him one day for his mean parentage, as being come from an house of base degree: The nobleness (quoth he) of my line beginneth in me, but thine endeth in thee. An orator making a solemn speech in the assembly of the people, grew to these terms with him before them all: And what are you sir, if we may be so bold as to know, that you bear yourself so big, and think so well of yourself, are you a man at arms, are you an archer, a pike man, or a footman or what are you? I am not indeed (quoth he) any of these; but he I am, who knows how to command and direct all these?  
TIMOTHEUS had the name to be a fortunate captain, rather than otherwise a special warrior; and some who envied his good estate, showed him a picture, wherein certain cities were entrapped, and of themselves fallen into the compass of net and toil, whiles he lay asleep; whereupon he said unto them: Consider now, if I can catch and take such cities lying asleep, what shall I be able to do when I am awake? When one of these venturous and too forward captains, showed upon a glorious bravery unto the Athenians, what a wound he had received upon his body: But I (quoth he) myself was 
a It is no come mendable part in a captain to expose himself wilfully unto great hazard.  greatly abashed and ashamed one day, being your captain general before the city of Samos, that a shot discharged from the walls, light but near unto me. When the orators highly praised and recommended captain Chares, saying: Lo what a brave man is here to make the general of the Athenians, showing his goodly parsonage. Timotheus answered again with a loud voice: Never say General, but rather a good stout groom to carry the trust of a captains bedding after him.  
CHABRIAS was wont to say, that they were the best captains who had most intelligences of their enemy's designs & proceedings. Being accused together with Iphicrates of treason, he gave not over for all that, to frequent the public place of exercises, and to take his dinner at his accustomed hours: and when Iphicrates rebuked him for being so reckless, standing in such danger as he did; he answered him in this manner: In case the Athenians proceed against us otherwise than well, they shall put you to death, all foul and fasting, but me full and fair clean washed, anointed, and having well dined. This was his ordinary speech: That an army of stags and hinds having a lion for their leader, was better than an army of lions led by a stag.  
HEGESIPPUS surnamed Crobylus, solicited and incited the Athenians to take arms against King Philip: and when one spoke unto him aloud from out of the assembly: What Sir, will you that we draw upon us war: Yea verily (quoth he) and bring in 
b Love of 〈◊〉 east th' 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 not for dangers.  among us black mourning robes, solemn and public obsequies, yea and funeral orations too, if we desire to live free still, and not to be servile and subject to the Athenians.  
PYTHEAS being but yet very young, presented himself one day in open place to cross and contradict the public decrees which had passed by the people's voices, in the honour of King Alexander; what saith one unto him: Dare you presume, so young as you are to speak of these so weighty matters? And why not (quoth he) seeing that Alexander whom you will needs make a god by your suffrages, is younger than myself?  
PHOTION the Athenian was a man of so stayed and constant behaviour, that he was never seen of any person, either to laugh or weep. Upon a time in a great assembly of the city, one said unto him: You are very sad and pensive Photion, it seemeth you are in a deep study. Guess again (quoth he) and guess not so; for I am indeed studying and devising with myself how I may cut-off somewhat of that which I have to speak unto the Athenians. The Athenians understood by an oracle that they had one man among them in the city, who was thwart & contrary to the opinion & advice of all others: Now when they caused diligent search & enquiry to be made for this fellow, and cried out upon him in great fury whosoever he was; Photion stood up, and with a loud voice: I am the very man (quoth he) seek no further; for I am he 
c Wise men and 〈◊〉 hardly sort together.  alone, who am nothing at all pleased with whatsoever the people either doth or faith. One day, when he had delivered his advice in a frequent assembly of the people, he pleased the whole au dience very well, and seeing that they all with one accord approved his speech, he was abashed thereat, and turning toward his friends: What? (quoth he) have I let fall and escaped some words that are not good, and otherwise than I meant? The Athenians were minded upon a time to solemnize a great and festival sacrifice; and for the better furnishing of this solemnity, they demanded of every man a contribution of money toward it: all other gave liberally, only Photion after he had been called upon by name sundry times to do the like, in the end said thus unto them: 
d Poverty is no shame to a virtuous man.  I would be abashed to give any thing (I trow) unto you, and not be able to pay him there, pointing with his finger to an usurer, unto whom he was indebted. When Demades said unto him: The Athenians will one of these days kill thee, if they fall once into their furious fits: True indeed (quoth he) they will kill me in their mad mood, but thee they will put to death when they be come again into their right wits. Aristogiton the sycophant or false promoter, being condemned to death for troubling men with wrongful imputations, and at the point to be executed within the prison, sent unto Photion, requesting him to come and speak with him; but Photions' friends would not let him go to talk with such a lewd and wicked wretch: Why (quoth he unto them) in what place may honest men more willingly and better speak with Aristogiton? When the Athenians were highly offended and angry with the Bizantines, for that they would not receive into their city captain Chares, whom they had sent with a power for to aid them against king Philip, Photion came among them, and said: That they were not to be displeased with their confederates for being mistrustful, but rather with such captains as they mistrusted: upon which remonstrance of his, he was immediately himself chosen captain; who being admitted and well trusted by the Bizantines, defended them so valiantly against king Philip, that he forced him to raise his siege, and retire from thence without effect. King Alexander the great sent unto him a present of one hundred talents; but he demanded of the messengers that brought it, why the king their master sent unto him alone, considering there were so many Athenians besides himself; they answered: It was because he esteemed him to be the only honest and virtuous man among them all: Why then (quoth he) could not he let me both to seem and also to be a good man still? Alexander upon a time demanded of the Athenians certain galleys; whereupon the people called unto Photion by name, for to give his advice, and to counsel them what was best to be done in this case: then he stood up and said: My counsel unto you is this; That you make means either to be yourselves the 
c In war we must lay to be strongest, or friended by the strongest  stronger in arms, or else at the leastwise friended by them who are mightier than you. When a brute was blazed abroad, without any certain author, that king Alexander the Great was deceased, the orators at Athens mounted the pulpits byandby, and strave a-vie who could persuade the people most, even in all haste to put themselves in arms and rebel; 
f To make haste in matters of great consequence, and wherein there is no loss by delay, is dangerous.  but Photion was of a contrary mind to them all; and his opinion was; That they should stay and rest quiet, until more assured news came of his death: For (saith he) if he be dead to day, he will be so to morrow, yea and afterwards also. When Leosthenes had set the city all upon war, feeding the people's hearts with great hopes of recovering their freedom and the sovereignty of all Greece, Photion compared these projects of theirs 
g Frivolous orations be like to fruitless trees.  unto the Cypress trees: For they (quoth he) be saire, straight and tall, but not a whit of fruit do they bear: howbeit, when the Athenians at the first sped well in sundry battles and wan the field, whereupon the city made sacrifices unto the gods for the good news thereof, some would come unto him, and say: How now Photion, are you not pleased herewith? and would you wish all undone again? I am 
h A wise man will not repent of his good counsel, although the issue and event be not 〈◊〉 thereto.  contented very well (quoth he) that it hath so fallen out, but yet I repent never a whit of my former counsel. The Macedonians, immediately after this, made roads into the country of Attica, and began to overun, harry and spoil all the sea coasts: for remedy whereof, he caused all the lusty men of the city, who were of age to bear arms, to enter into the field; and when many of them came running unto him, some calling upon him to seize such an hill, others as instant with him to put his men in battell-ray in such a place: O Hercules (quoth he) what a number of captains do I see, and how few good soldiers? howbeit, he gave the enemy's battle, won the victory, and slew Nition the captain general of the Macedonians in the place. Not long after, the Athenians being vanquished in war, were constrained to receive a garrison from Antipater, and Menillus captain of the said garrison sent unto him in free gift certain money; wherewith he being offended, said: That neither Menillus was better than Alexander, nor the cause so good, for which he should take any gift at his hand at this present, considering that he refused the like from Alexander. Moreover, Antipater was wont to say: That he had two friends at Athens, the one of whom, to wit, Photion, he could never persuade to take any thing; and the other, who was Demades, he could not satisfy whatsoever he gave him. When Antipater was in hand with him to do a thing which was not just: 
i True friendship & 〈◊〉 will not suit well together.  You cannot (quoth he) o Antipater, have me to be your friend and a slatterer to. After the death of Antipater, when the Athenians had recovered their liberty and free state or popular government, concluded it was and pronounced in a general assembly and council of the people, that Photion together with his friends and associates, must suffer death: as for the rest, they went weeping and lamenting as they were led to execution, but Photion marched gravely, and gave not a word: now as he was going upon the way, one of his enemies met him and spit upon his face; whereupon he turned back to the magistrates, and said: Is there no man here to repress the insolency and villainy of this wretched varlet? one of them who were to suffer with him, took on and tormented himself exceedingly: What (quoth he to him) o Euippus, 
k It is an honour to die with good men.  doth it not thee good that thou goest to take thy death with Photion? And when the deadly cup was presented to him to drink his last draft of hemlock, he was asked the question, whether he had any more to say or no: then addressing his speech unto his son: I charge thee (quoth he) and beseech thee, not to carry any rancour and malice in thy heart to the Athenians for my death.  
PISISTRATUS, a tyrant of the Athaniens, being advertised that some of his friends having revolted and conspired against him, had seized upon the fort called Phyle, went towards them, carrying himself about at his back a farthel of his bedding, and the furniture thereto belonging: whereupon they demanded of him what he would? I come (quoth he) with an intent either to persuade you to return with me, or else with a resolution to tarry here with you myself; and therefore have I brought my baggage with me. He was advertised that his mother loved a young man, who secretly kept her and used to lie with her; howbeit in great fear, and refusing her company many times; whereupon he invited the man to supper, and after supper, he asked him how he did, and how he liked his entertainment? Gaily well 
A speech 〈◊〉 Pisistratus.  (quoth he: Thou shalt (quoth Pisistratus) find no worse every day so thou content and please my mother. Thrasibulus cast a good liking and fancy to his daughter; and as he met her on a time upon the way, bestowed a kiss upon her; whereat her mother was offended, so as she exasperated her husband against him for it: but he mildly answered her in this wise: Why woman, if we set ourselves against them that love us and grow to malice them, what shall we do to those who hate us? and so he gave the maiden in marriage to Thrasibulus. Certain lusty yoonkers after they had taken their cups well, went in a mask and played the fools through the city, and chancing to meet with his wife, abused her both in word and deed very unseemly and dishonestly; but the morrow after they came weeping before Pisistratus, acknowledging their fault, and craving pardon; who made them this answer: As for you, endeavour to be more wise and sober from hence forth: 
m A wise man will save the honour and credit of his wife what he may.  but I assure you, my wife yesterday went no whither abroad, nor stirred out of her doors. When he was about to marry a second wife; the children whom he had by the former, demanded of him, whether he were in any respect discontented with them, that he should in despite of them espouse another: No, (quoth he) that is the least of my thought; but clean contrary i is, because I like and love you so well, I would willingly have more children to resemble you.  
DEMETRIUS', surnamed Phalereus, counseled king Ptolomaeus to buy and read those books 
Of Lacedaemonam.  which treated of policy and government of kingdoms and seigneories; for that which courtiers and minions durst not say unto their princes, was written within those books.  
LYCURGUS, who did set down and establish the laws of the Lacedæmonians, accustomed his citizens to wear their hair long: For that (saith he) side hair, maketh those who are fair, seem more fair and amiable; but those who were foul more hideous and terrible. In the reformation of the Lacedaemonian State, some one there was who persuaded him to erect the popular government called Democraty, wherein every one in his course hath as much authority as another: unto whom he answered: Begin thou first to set up this government in thine own house. He ordained that in building of houses there should be used nothing but the saw & the axe: For that (quoth he) it were a shame to bring into houses so simply builded, any plate of silver and gold, rich hangings, carpets and furniture of beds, or costly and sumptuous tables. He forbade his citizens to fight at buffets, or to enter combat in that general exercise of hand, foot, teeth and all together, called Pancratium, to the end that they should not accustom themselves so much as in sport and game to faint, give over, or yield themselves overcome. Likewise he debarred them from encountering often with their very enemies; for fear they should make them more warlike and better soldiers: Whereupon afterwards when king Agesilaus was brought out of the battle very greevously wounded; one Antalcidas said unto him: You have met with a fair reward at the Thebans hand, and no less than you well deserve, for schooling and teaching them to fight whether they will or no.  
CHARILLUS the king, being asked the question why Lycurgus made so few laws? answered thus: That they who used few words, had no need of many laws. One of those slaves whom they call Elotes, had behaved himself somewhat too insolently and knavishly against him: Now I swear by the two twins (quoth he) Castor and Pollux, were I not angry, I would do thee to death out of hand. unto one who demanded the reason why the Lacedæmonians ware long hair: It is (quoth he) because of all trimming and ornaments of the body, it costeth least.  
TELECHUS king of Lacedaemon answered unto a brother of his, who complained unto him of the citizens of Sparta, saying: They use me more uncivilly and uncurteously, than they do you: It is for nothing else (quoth he) but because you know not how to endure and put up any wrongs.  
THEOPOMPUS, being in a certain city, was showed by one of the inhabitants the walls, and demanded whether he thought them not to be fair and high: Fair, (quoth he?) no in very truth, kept though they be by none but women.  
ARCHIDAMUS during the time of the Peloponnesian war, when as the allies and confederates of Lacedaemon requested him to set them down a certain tax and rate which they were to contribute to ward the charges thereof; answered them in this manner: War knoweth not how to be gauged and feed within the teddar.  
BRASIDAS chanced to find a mouse among certain dried figs, which bit him so, as he was glad to let her go; and thereupon said to those about him: See, how there is nothing so little, but it is able to make shift and save the own life, if it have but the heart to defend itself against those who assail it. In a certain skirmish his hap was to be hurt with the head of a partisan, or javelin, which went through his shield; and when he had drawn it out of his wound, with the very staff and steile of it, he slew his enemy: now when one asked him how it came to pass that he was thus wounded? Forsooth because my shield deceived and betrayed me. His fortune was afterwards to die in the country of Thrace, whither be had been sent to deliver and set free the Greeks who inhabited those marches: and the ambassadors who were sent from the said parts to Lacedaemon, went to visit his mother: who at the first asked them whether Brasidas her son did valiantly and like a man? the ambassadors highly praised him, insomuch as they said; That there would never be his like again: Oh, you are mightily deceived (quoth she:) true it is that Brasidas was a brave and valiant man, but Lacedaemon hath many fairy better men than he by far.  
King AGIS was wont to say, that the Lacedæmonians used not to ask how many their enemies were, but in what place they were. At Mantua he was forbidden to strike a battle, because the enemies were many in number to one: It must needs be (quoth he) that whosoever would rule and command many, should likewise fight with many. unto them who greatly commended the aliens for observing such good order and formality at the Olympic games: What great marvel is it (quoth he) if the aliens in four years space use justice one day? but when they continued still in their praise and commendations: What wonder is it (quoth he) if the Eliens use a good thing well, to wit justice. A naughty fellow there was and a troublesome, who importuned him exceeding much, by ask him oftentimes, who was the best man of all the Spartans'? Mary even he (quoth he) that is most unlike to thee. To another who questioned with him and would needs know how many the Lacedæmonians were in number: Enough (quoth he) to drive out all lewd and wicked persons: And when another asked him the same question, he answered: Thou wouldst say they were a great number if thou sawest them fight.  
LYSANDER would not accept of the rich and sumptuous robes, which Dionysius the Tyrant sent unto his daughters, saying: I am afraid that these garments will make them look the fouler. Some there were who reproved and blamed him, for that he exploited the most part of his acts by craft and subtlety, as if it were an unworthy thing for one who vaunted himself to be of the race of Hercules: unto whom he answered: That where the lion's skin would not serve, it were good to sow thereto a little piece of a fox's case. There was some difference and debate between the Argives and Lacedæmonians about their confines; and it seemed that the Argives alleged better reasons, and brought forth more pregnant evidences for the land in question; but he drawing out his sword: They (quoth he) who are the better men at handling this, are those who plead the better for the bonds of their territory. The Lacedæmonians found much difficulty in assaulting the walls of Corinth; and when he saw them draw back and go unwillingly about that service, he chanced to espy at the very same time an hare to start from within the trench and town ditch; whereupon he took occasion thus to say: why make you doubt to give the assault unto the walls of those men, who are so idle as to suffer hares to sleep within the very precinct of their walls? There was a certain Megarian, who in the general assembly of all the States of Greece, spoke unto him his mind freely and boldly; unto whom he answered thus: Thy 
n Brave words without means to effect matters, are 〈◊〉 nought.  words have need of a city, that is to say, that Megara, whereof he was a citizen, was not able to make good and maintain his words.  
AGESILAUS used to say: That the inhabitants of Asia, (to speak of free men) were but bad, & namely so long as they enjoyed liberty; marry they be passing good slaves (quoth he.) These Asians had a custom to call the King of Persia the Great King: And why (quoth Agesilaus) is he a greater king than I, if he be not more just and temperate? Being demanded his opinion as touching Fortitude & Justice, whether of them was the better virtue: We have no need or use (quoth he) of Fortitude if we were all just. Being enforced to break up his camp, and dislodge one night in great haste out of his enemy's country, and seeing a boy whom he loved well, weeping and all blubbered with tears, for that he was left behind, & could not follow by reason of weakness: It is (quoth he) an hard matter to be pitiful and wise both at once. Menecrates the physician who would entitle himself with the name of Jupiter, wrote a letter unto him with this superscription; Menecrates jupiter unto King Agesilaus long life, etc. Unto whom he returned this answer: King Agesilaus unto Menecrates better health: meaning in deed that he was brainsick. The Lacedæmonians having defaited those of Athens with their allies and confederates near unto the city of Corinth: when he heard what a number of enemies lay dead in the field: O unhappy and unfortunate Greece (quoth he) that hath destroyed so many men of her own, as had been able to have subdued all the Barbarians in the world. Having received an answer from the oracle of Jupiter at Olympta, according to his mind; the great Lords controllers, called Ephori, willed him also to consult with the oracle of Apollo as touching the same: when he was therefore at Delphos, he demanded of the said god, whether he were not of the same mind as his father was? When he sued for the deliverance of a friend of his who was taken prisoner, and in the hands of 
* or Scarieus.  Idrieus a prince of Carta, he wrote unto him about it in this manner: If Nicias have not trespassed, deliver him for justice sake; if he have transgressed, deliver him for my sake; but howsoever it be, in any wise deliver him. He was requested one day to hear a man sing, who could marvelous lively and naturally counterfeit the voice of a nightingale: I have heard (quoth he) the nightingale herself many a time. After the overthrow at the battle of Leuctres, the law ordained that as many as saved themselves by their good footmanship, should be noted with infamy: but the Ephori foreseeing, that in so doing the city would be dispeopled and empty, were willing to abrogat & disannul this ignominy, and for this purpose declared Agesilaus for lawgiver: who going into the market place, and mounting up into the pulpit, ordained that from the next morrow forward, the laws should remain in their ancient force and virtue. Sent he was upon a time to aid the King of AEgyt, where he together with the King was besieged by the enemies who were many more in number than they, & had begun to cast a great trench about their camp, & so beleaguered them that they could not escape: Now when the king commanded him to make a sally upon them, and to keep them battle: I will not (quoth he) impeach our enemies, but that they may (as I see them go about it) willingly fight with us so many to so many: and finding that their trench wanted but a little of both ends meeting and joining together; in that very distance and space between, he set his soldiers in battle array, and so coming to encounter on even hand he defaited his enemies. When he died, he charged his friends to make no image nor statue of him: For if I have (quoth he) 
o Virtue immortalizeth a man and not works in stone, wood of brass.  done any thing in my life worthy of remembrance, that will be a sufficient monument and memorial for me after my death: if not, all the statues and images in the world shall never be able to perpetuate my memory.  
ARCHIDAMUS the first time that ever he saw the shot discharged out of an engine or battering piece which had been newly brought out of Sicily, cried out aloud: 
p The invenuon of wanlike 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 valour.  O Hercules the prowess and valour of man I see well is now gone for ever.  
When Demades mocking at the Lacedaemonian courtilasses, said merrily; That they were so little and short, as that the jugglers and players at leger-demain, were able to swallow them down whole as they be. AGIS the younger answered very fitly and said: Yet as short as they be, the Lacedæmonians can reach their enemies very well with them. The Ephori charged him upon a time to deliver up his soldiers into the hands of a traitor: I will beware I trow (quoth he) to commit another man's soldiers to him who betrayed his own.  
CLEOMENES when one promised to give him certain cocks of the game, so courageous, that they would with fight die in the place and never give over: Give me not (quoth he) those that will die themselves, but such rather as in fight will make others to die.  
PAEDARETUS missing the place to be chosen one of the great council consisting of three hundred, returned from the assembly very jocund merry and smiling: I am well appaied (quoth he) that in the city of Sparta there be found three hundred better men and more sufficient than myself.  
DAMONIDAS being by the master of the Revels set in the last place of the dance: Well fare thy heart (quoth he) thou hast devised a good means to make this place honourable.  
NICOSTRATUS captain of the Argives, being solicited by Archidamus to take a good round sum of money for to deliver up unto him by treason, a place whereof he had the keeping, with a promise also, that he should espouse and wed what damosel he would himself choose in all Sparta, excepting those of the blood-roiall, made him this answer: You are not (quoth he) of the race of Hercules; for that Hercules went thorough the world, punishing and putting to death in all places, malefactors and wicked persons: but you go about to make those nought and lewd who are good and honest.  

* Or 〈◊〉 rather.  EYDAMONIDAS seeing in the great school Academy, Xenocrates an ancient man among other young scholars, students in Philosophy, and understanding that he sought for virtue: And when will he use virtue (quoth he) if he have not yet found it? Another time hearing a philosopher to maintain this paradox: That a learned Sage was only a good captain: Brave words (quoth he) and a marvellous position; but the best is, he that holdeth it, never in his life heard 
q It 〈◊〉 not a clerk to 〈◊〉 of arms.  the sound of a trumpet in the camp.  
ANTIOCHUS', one of those controllers in Sparta, named Ephori, being advertised that king Philip had given unto the Messenians their territory: But hath he withal (quoth he) given them the means to vanquish in battle when they shall be put to it, for to defend the same?  
ANTALCIDAS answered unto an Athenian who termed the Lacedæmonians ignorant persons: Indeed (quoth he) it may well be so, for we are the only men who have learned of you no evil. Another Athenian contested with him and said; we have driven you many a time from the river Cephtsus, which is in Attica: but he replied again and said: And we never yet chased you from the river Eurotas which is near Lacedaemon. There was a certain Rhetorician would needs rehearse an oration which he had made concerning the praise of Hercules: Why (quoth he) was there ever any man that blamed or despised him?  
So long as EPAMINONDAS was captain general of the Thebans, there was never seen in his camp any of these sudden foolish frights, without any certain cause, which they call Panic Terrores. He was wont to say, that no death was so honourable as to die in the wars: Also that a man of arms or warrior ought to keep his body not exercised after the manner of champions, for to be fair and full; but rather hardened with travel, and made lank as becometh good soldiers. He loved therefore to fight with those enemies who were corpulent; and such soldiers as he found in his own bands gross & fat, he would be sure to cassier & displace them, if it were for nothing else: For he was wont to say of them, that three or four bucklers would hardly cover their grand-panch, which bore out so big that they could not see for it their privy parts. Moreover, so strict and precise he was in his living, and hated so much all excess & superfluity, that one time above the rest being bidden to supper by one of his neighbours, when he saw in the house great provision of viands, cates, junquets, comfutures and sweet perfumes, he said unto him: I had thought you made a sacrifice, and not an expense of superfluity, and so went his way & would not stay supper. When the head cook or clerk of the kitchen gave up his account unto him and other his companions in government, of their ordinary charges for certain days; he misliked nothing in his bill but the great quantity of oil that was spent: and when his colleagues wondered that he should far so at that; he said unto them: That it was not the cost and expense that he stood upon, but only this, that so much oil should go down men's throats. The city of Thebes upon a time made a great public feast, and beside, privately they were all in their banquets, inviting one another, and meeting in companies to make merry together: he chose all this while, without being either anointed with oil and sweet perfumes, or clad in his best clothes, all pensive and sad, walked alone thorough the city; and when one of his familiar friends who met him, wondered thereat, and woulds needs know why he went so alone and out of order and formality: Mary (quoth he) that you all might in security follow your drinking and good cheer, and not be troubled with thinking of any other cares. He had caused a mean man and of base condition to be put in prison for some light trespass that he had committed, and Pelopidas requested him for to set him at large, but he denied him flatly; howbeit afterwards a woman whom he loved, entreated him, and at her suit he granted his liberty, saying: That in such petty favours and courtesies as these it became him to gratify concubines and harlots: but not generals and great warriors. When the Lacedæmonians came with a puissant power to make cruel war upon the Thebans, there were brought oracles unto the Thebans from sundry parts, some promising the victory, others menacing an overthrow: he went up therefore into the tribunal seat and commanded, that the oracles of victory should be set upon the right hand, and those of discomfiture on the left: when they were thus disposed and bestowed, he stood up, and in this wise spoke unto the Thebans: If you will be directed by your captains, show obedience unto them, and withal, put on a resolution and good heart to encounter your enemies; these here, (showing the good oracles on the right hand) be yours; but if for want of courage you cast doubts and start back for sear of perils, those there, (pointing to the bad oracles on the lefthand) are for you. Afterwards as he led the army into the field, for to meet with the Lacedæmonians, it began to thunder; whereat they that were nearest unto him asked, what he thought this might presage and signify: Surely (quoth he) it betokeneth thus much; That God hath aslonished our enemies, and put their brains out of temper, who having such commodious places near unto them for to encamp in, have pitched here where they are. Of all the honourable and happy fortunes that ever befell unto him, he said; This was most to his heart's joy and contentment; that he had defeated the Lacedæmonians in the battle at Leuctres, whiles his own father that begat him, and mother who bore him were both alive. Being a man who otherwise all his life time used to be seen abroad, fine, neat, & well anointed, with a cheeefull and merry countenance also; the morrow after the said battle, he came forth into the public place, all foul, sullied, heavy and pensive; whereupon, his friends by and by were in hand with him to know, whether any sinister accident was come unto him: None (quoth he,) but I perceived yesterday that for the joy of my victory, my heart was lifted up more than it ought, and therefore to day I do 
r Excessive joy in prosperity ought to be abated.  abate and correct that which was the day before too excessive and out of order: knowing full well that the Spartans' used to cover and hide as much as they could such misfortunes, and being desirous to make them see and acknowledge the great loss and overthrow which they had sustained, he would not in any wise permit them to gather their dead all together, and pile them up in one entire heap; but to every city he gave leave one after another to enterre them; by which it appeared, that there were more of the Lacedæmonians slain by a thousand. Jason a prince and monarch of Thessalia, being allied and confederate with the Thebans, came one day into the city of Tales, and sent unto Epaminondas a present of two thousand pieces of gold, knowing that indeed he was exceeding poor: this gold would not he receive at his hands; but the first time after that he saw Jason, he came unto him and said: You begun twice to offer me injury; and in the mean while he borrowed of a certain burgess of the city fifty drams of silver, for to defray the charges of a journey or expedition which he intended; and therewith entered in arms and invaded Peloponesus. After this, when the great king of Persia sent him thirty thousand pieces of gold called Dariques, he was displeased highly with Diomedes, and sharply checked him, ask him if he had undertaken so great a voyage, thinking to bribe and corrupt Epaminondas; and with that commanded him to deliver this message back unto the king his master; That so far forth as he intended and procured good unto the Thebans, he should make reckoning of him to be his friend without any penny cost; but if he wrought or practised any losle or displeasure unto them, he would be his enemy. When the Argives were entered into league and amity with the Thebans, those of Athens sent their ambassadors into Arcady, to assay if they could draw the Arcadians to side with them: So these ambassadors began to charge and accuse unto them, aswell the Argives as the Thebans, insomuch, as Callistratus the orator, who was their speaker, upbraided both cities, and hit them in the teeth with Orestes and Oedipus: then Epaminondas who sat in this assembly of council, rose up and said: We confess indeed (my masters) that in times passed there was in our city one parricide who killed his own father, like as another in Argos who murdered his own mother; but when we had chased and banished them for committing these facts, the Athenians received them both. And when the Spartans' had charged the Thebans with many great and grievous imputations: Why my masters of Sparta (quoth Epaminondas) these Thebans, if they have done nothing else, yet thus much they have effected, that you have forgotten your manner of short speech and using few words. The Athenians had contracted alliance and amity with Alexander the tyrant of Pheres in Thessaly, a mortal enemy of the Thebans, and who promised to the Athenians for to serve them flesh in the market at half an obolus a pound weight: And we (quoth Epaminondas) will furnish the Athenians with wood enough for nothing, to roast and seeth the said flesh; for if they begin busily to intermeddle more than we like of, we will fallen and cut down all the trees growing in that country. Knowing well enough that the Boeotians were lost for idleness, he determined and advised to keep them continually in exercise of arms: now when the time approached for the election of governors, and that they were minded to choose him their Boeotarches, that is to say, the ruler of Boeotia: Be well advised my masters (quoth he) what ye do, whiles it lieth in your hands; for if you elect me your captain general, make this reckoning, that to war you shall. He was wont to call the country of Boeotia, because it lieth plain and open, the stage and scaffold of war, saying that it was impossible for the inhabitants to keep and hold it, so long as they had not one hand within their shield and the other on their sword. Chabrias the captain of the Athenians having put to foil and defaited some few Thebans about Corinth (who for heat of fight had run disbanded and out of array) made a bravado: for which exploit, as if he had won some great field, he caused a tropheae to be erected in memorial of this victory: whereas Epaminondas scoffed and said: That he should not have set up a trophaeum there, but rather an hecatesium, that is to say, the statue of Proserpina, for that in times past, it was an ordinary thing to set up the image of Proserpina in manner of a cross, at the first carrefour or meeting of cross ways which was found near unto the gate of a city. When one brought him word that the Athenians had sent an army into Peloponesus bravely set out and appointed with new armour: Now surely (quoth he) Antigenidas will weep and sigh when he knoweth once that telis hath gotten him new flutes and pipes to play upon: now this telis was a bad minstrel, and Antigenidas an excellent musician. He perceived upon a time that his esquire or shield-bearer had received a good piece of money for the ransom of a prisoner, which was in his hands; whereupon he said unto him: Give me my shield, but go thou thy ways and buy thee a tavern or victualling house, wherein thou mayest lead the rest of thy life, for I see well, that thou wilt no more expose thyself to the dangers of war as beforetime, since thou art now become one of these rich and happy men of the world. He was once demanded the question, whom he reputed to be the best captain, himself, Chabrias, or Iphicrates, his answer was: It is hard to judge, so long as we all 
s The end 〈◊〉 men's works.  be alive. At his return out of of the country of Laconia, he was judicially accused for a capital crime, together with other captains joined in commission with him, for holding their charge longer by four months than the laws allowed: as for his companions and colleagues abovesaid, he willed them to derive all the fault from themselves, and lay it upon him, as if he had forced them so to do; but in his own defence he pleaded thus: 
t A good conscience is a brazen wall.  Albeit I can not deliver better words than I have performed deeds, yet if I be compelled (as I see I am) to say somewhat for myself before the judges, I request thus much at their hands, that if they be determined to put me to death, they would command to be engraven upon the square column or pillar of my sepulchre, my condemnation and the cause thereof, to the end that all the greeks might know how Epaminondas was condemned to die; for that he had forced the Thebans against wills to waste and burn the country of Laconia, which in five hundred years before had never been forraied nor spoiled; also that he had repeopled the city of Messene two hundred and thirty years after it had been destroyed and left desert by the Lacedæmonians: Item, that he had reunited, concorporated and brought into one league all the States and cities of Arcady; and last of all, that he had recovered and restored unto the Greeks their liberty: for all these acts have been achieved by us in this voyage: the judges when they heard this speech of his, rose from the bench, and went out of the court laughing heartily; neither would they so much as receive the voices or verdicts to be given up against him. After the last battle that ever he sought, wherein he was wounded to death; being brought into his tent, he called first for Diophantis, and after him for jolidas, but when he heard that they were both slain, he advised the Thebans to compound and grow to an 
u They that 〈◊〉 able to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 must 〈◊〉 for peace.  agreement with their enemies, as if they had not one captain more that knew how to lead them to the wars; and in truth, the event did verify his words, and bare witness with him that he knew his citizens best of any man.  
PELOPIDAS joint captain with Epaminondas in the charge of Boeotia, when his friends found fault with his neglect in one thing right necessary, to wit, the gathering of a mass of money together: Money indeed (quoth he) is necessary, but for such an one as this Nicomedes here, showing a poor cripple, maimed, lame and impotent in hand and foot. When he departed from Thebes upon a time to a battle, his wife prayed him to have a regard unto his own safety: This is (quoth he) an advertisement fit for others; as for a captain who hath the place of command, he is to be put in mind for to save those under his charge, and not himself. To one of his soldiers, who said unto him: We are fallen among our enemies: And why (quoth he) are we fallen among them more than they among us. Moreover, being treacherously held prisoner, and kept in irous during a truce, against the law of arms, by Alexander tyrant of the Phereans, he grew to heat and gave him some hard words, calling him perjured traitor: whereupon the tyrant asked him if he made so great haste to die: Yea (quoth he) to the end that the Thebans may be more provoked against thee, and that so much the sooner thou mayest be punished for thy disloyalty. Thebes the tyrant's wife came to visit him in prison, and seeing him, said that she marveled how he could be so jocund, being as he was, a prisoner and bound with chains: Yea, but I rather wonder at you, that being as you are, at liberty and not bound, you can endure such a wicked wretch as Alexander. When Epaminondas had delivered him out of prison, he said that he took himself much beholden to Alexander: For now (quoth he) by his means I have made a trial of myself and my resolution, more than ever before, and namely, how my heart is settled not against the fear of war only but also of death.  
MANIUS CURIUS, when one of his soldiers complained, that of the lands conquered 
〈◊〉.  from the enemies, he had given to every soldier very little, but had incorporated in the common weal the greatest part of the said demeans: I would it were Gods will (quoth he) that there were not a Roman who thought that land but little, which is sufficient to nourish and maintain one man. The Samnites, after that he had vanquished them in a battle, sent unto him as a present, a good sum of gold: him they found sitting by the fire side, tending the pot, wherein he boiled certain rape-roots: and when the Samnite ambassadors tendered unto him the said present, he made them this answer: That he who could content himself with such a supper, had no need at all of gold: also that he thought it more honourable to command them who had the gold, than to have gold himself.  
C. FABRICIUS hearing of the overthrow that King Pyrrhus had given the romans, 
* Some read thus: said unto Laevinus, that Pyrrhus, and not the Epuotes had over come the Romans.  said: That Pyrrhus had overcome Laevinus & not the Epirotes vanquished the romans. Being sent unto Pyrrhus to treat for the deliverance of certain romans taken prisoners, the king offered him a great sum of gold, but he would not receive it: the next morrow Pyrrhus commanded that the greatest Elephant which he had, should be brought and set just behind Fabricius without his knowledge, and that suddenly he should be forced to bray, which was done accordingly: whereat Fabricius turning him about, and looking behind him, began to smile and say: Neither thy gold yesterday, nor this beast thy Elephant to day, hath once astonished me. Pyrrhus' thought to have persuaded him to take his part and to stay with him, with promise that he should have all the authority in managing of the affairs next unto himself; but he answered him in this sort: This would not be good and expedient for you: and why? when the Epirotes shall know us both well, they will rather have me than you to be their king. When Fabricius was created Consul of Rome. King Pyrrhus his physician wrote unto him a letter, wherein he made promise unto him for to kill the king his master with poison if he would. Fabricius sent the very same letter incontinently unto King Pyrrhus, willing him to see by that, how his judgement served not him well to discern and to make choice of his enemies and his friends. When this ambush was discovered and directed thus unto Pyrrhus, which was laid for his life, he caused the said physician to be apprehended, and sent back those romans whom he had prisoners, unto Fabricius without any ransom paid: howbeit Fabricius would not receive them from him as in free gift; for he returned likewise as many of his men who remained prisoners with him: which he did, for that he would not be thought to take any thing at his hands by way of a reward or recompense for disclosing the foresaid treason: for he did it not so much to gratify King Pyrrhus and do him a pleasure, as for fear it should be thought that the romans practised his death by treachery, whom they could not vanquish by virtue.  
FABIUS MAXIMUS not willing to fight a set battle with Annibal, but by tract of time to spend his army; which by that means grew to a great default of victuals and money: went always as though he dogged and followed him, keeping the rough places and hilly grounds, coasting him otherwhiles, but evermore having him in his eye: for which manner of service many mocked him and called him the Praedagogue of Annibal: but he nothing at all regarding such words, persisted still continually in his designs & counsels particular to himself, saying thus to his friends: That he who could not abide a scoff, but feared frumps and reviling words, was a greater coward than he who fled before his enemy. When his colleague or brother in office Minutius, had discomfited certain of his enemies, in such sort, as there was no talk of him any more, but every man gave out of Minutius, that he indeed was a man worthy of Rome: he said: That he feared more the prosperity than the adversity of Minutius: and within a while after, when Minutius was fallen into the danger of an ambush that Annibal had set for him, so as he and all his men had like to have left their bodies dead behind them, Fabius came speedily to his rescue, and not only delivered him out of this peril, but also slew a number of his enemies; whereupon Hannibal said then unto his familiars about him: Did not I foretell you many times, seeing as I did this cloud louring upon the tops of the mountains, how it would one time or other power down a good shower upon our heads? After the overthrow at Canna, when he was chosen consul of Rome together with Claudius Marcellus a valiant and courageous man, who desired nothing more than ever to be fight with Hannibal; he was of a contrary mind, and hoped, that if he were not fought with, his army within a while by delays only and holding off, would of itself come to nothing; so as Hannibal would oftentimes say: That he feared more Fabius' that fought not, than he did Marcellus who was ever fight. It was told him that he had in his camp a Lucan, who was wont to steal out by night, forth of the camp, for the love of a woman whom he used to visit, but otherwise he heard say, that the man was a right good soldier and wonderful 〈◊〉 in arms; whereupon he gave commandment that the woman upon whom this soldier was so enamoured, should be secretly and without the man's knowledge attached and brought unto him: now when she was come, he sent for the soldier aforesaid: I am advertised (quoth he) that thou against the laws of military discipline, usest many times to lie out of the camp; and I understand likewise full well, that setting that fault aside, thou art a soldier good enough: well, in regard of thy good services, I am content to pardon all that is past, but from henceforth thou shalt abide and tarry with me, for I have a good pawn and surety within that thou shalt not start; and with that he caused the woman to come forth and appear, and so he gave her into his hands to be his wedded wife. Hannibal held all the city of Tarentum with a strong garrison, saving only the castle, but Marcellus by a wile and subtle stratagem, trained him as far as he could from thence, and then returning with all expedition, was master of the whole town, and sacked it: in the execution of which service his scribe or chancellor asked him what should be done with the sacred images of the gods among the rest of the pillage: Mary let us leave (quoth he) unto the Tarentines their gods, being thus angered as they are with them. When M. Livius, who had the keeping of the castle, vaunted and boasted that by his means the city was won, all the rest who heard him, laughed and mocked him; but Fabius answered: Thou sayest truth indeed, for if thou hadst not lost it once, I had never recovered it again. After he was stepped far in years, his son was chosen consul, and as he was giving audience in open place and dispatching certain public affairs in the presence of many, Fabius his father being mounted on horseback, came toward him; but the son sent one of his lictors or hushers before, to command him to alight from his horse: whereat all the rest there present were abashed, and thought it a great shame and unseemly sight; but the old man dismounting quickly from his horse, came toward his son as fast as his years would give him leave, embraced him and said: Thou hast well done my son, to know whom thou dost govern, and to show that thou art not ignorant what the greatness is of that charge which thou hast undertaken.  
SCIPIO the elder, whensoever he was at any leisure and repose either from military affairs or politic government, employed all that time in his private study at his book; whereupon he was wont to say: That when he was alone, he had most company; and when he was at leisure he had greatest business. After he had won by assault the city of New Carthage in Spain, some of his soldiers brought a most beautiful damosel taken prisoner, and her they offered unto him: I would receive her willingly (quoth he) if I were a private person, but being as I am, a captain general, I will none of her. Lying at siege before a certain city 
* Or named 〈◊〉, as some read, Balia a town 〈◊〉 Spain.  situated in a low place, and over which might be seen the temple of Venus, he gave order unto them that by virtue of writs were to make appearance in court, that they should come and plead before him within the said temple, where they should have audience the third day after; which he made good, for before that day he had forced the city. When one demanded of him being in Sicily, ready to embark and pass over to Africa, upon what confidence he presumed so much to cross the seas with his armada against Carthage: See you not here (quoth he) 300. men how they disport and exercise themselves armed all in military feats of arms, along an high tower situate upon the sea side? I tell you, there is not one of all this number, but if I bid him, will run up to the top of this tower, and cast himself down from thence with the head forward. Being passed over sea, and soon after master of the field; when he had burnt the camps of his enemies, the Carthaginians sent immediately unto him an embassage to treat of peace; in which treaty it was concluded, that they should quit all their vessels at sea, abandon their elephants, and beside pay a good gross sum of money: But so soon as Annibal was retired out of Italy into Africa, they repented themselves of these capitulations and conditions, for the trust which they had in the forces and person of Hannibal: whereof Scipio being advertised, said unto them: That although they would perform the articles of the foresaid agreement, yet the accord should not stand for good, unless over and above they paid 5000. talents, because they had sent for Hannibal to come over. Now after that the Carthaginians had been vanquished by him in open battle, they sent new ambassadors for to treat of peace again; but he commanded them presently to depart, for that he would never give them audience, unless they brought back unto him lord Terentius, a knight of Rome, and a man of worth and honour, who by the fortune of war was taken prisoner, and fallen into the hands of the Carthaginians: now when they had brought Terentius, he caused him to sit close by his side in the counsel, and then gave he audience to the foresaid ambassadors, and granted them peace. Afterwards when he entered Rome in triumph for this victory; the said Terentius followed hard after his triumphant chariot, wearing a cap of liberty on his head, like an affranchised slave, and avowing that he held his freedom by him: and when Scipio was dead, unto all those who accompanied his corpse when it was carried forth to sepulture, Terentius allowed to drink a certain kind of meed, made of wine and honey; and for all other compliments belonging to an honourable funeral, he took order with great diligence; but this was performed afterwards. Moreover, when king Antiochus saw that the Romans were passed over into Asia, with a puissant army to make war upon him, he sent his ambassadors to Scipio, for to enter into a treaty of peace: unto whom he answered: This you should have done before, and not at this present, now that your king and master hath already received the bit of the bridle in his mouth, and the saddle with the rider upon his back. The Senate had granted out a commission unto him that he should take forth certain money out of the public chest and chamber of the city; but when the treasurers would not suffer him that day to open the treasury, for to be furnished from thence; he said: He would be so bold as open it himself; Which (quoth he) I may well do, considering that by my means it was kept fast shut and locked first, for the great quantity of gold and silver which I have caused to be brought into it. Petilius and Quintus, two Tribunes of the commons, accused him before the people, and laid many grievous matters to his charge; but he in stead of pleading his own cause, and justifying himself, said thus: My masters of Rome, upon such a day as this, I defaited in battle the Carthaginians and Annibal, and therefore will I go myself directly from hence with a chaplet of flowers upon my head, up into the Capitol to sacrifice and give those unto Jupiter for my victory; mean while, whosoever will give his voice either for or against me, let him do as he thinketh good: and having thus said, he went out of the court, and all the people followed after him, leaving his accusers to plead there their fill to the bare walls.  
T. QUINTIUS, immediately upon his coming to the management of State affairs, grew to such reputation and renown, that before he had been Aedile, Praetour, or Tribune of the commonweal, he was chosen Consul of Rome, who being sent as captain and lieutenant general for the people of Rome, to war against Philip king of Macedonia, was counseled and persuaded to a parley and personal conference first with him: Philip for the better security of his own person, demanded of him hostages: Because (quoth he) the Romans have here many captains besides you, but the Macedonians have none but myself: No 〈◊〉 indeed (quoth Quintius) that you are here by yourself alone, for you have done to death all your kinsfolk and friends. After that he had vanquished in battle king Philip, he caused proclamation to be made in the solemnity of the Isthmian games; That he restored all the Greeks to their ancient liberties and full freedom, to live from that day forward according to their own laws: and thereupon, the Greeks caused all the Romans to be sought out throughout all Greece, who had been sold thither for slaves during the wars with Annibal, and having redeemed & bought them again out of their master's hands for 500 drams a poll, they presented them unto him as a free gift: these followed him in his triumph, with caps upon their heads, as the custom was of such slaves as were newly affranchised & endued with liberty. The Acheans were minded and fully purposed to enterprise the conquest of the isle Zacinthus: But he admonished them not to go forth of Peloponnesus, unless they would put themselves into evident danger, like unto the Tortoises, when they stretch soorth their heads out of their shells. When the brute was blown over all Greece that king Antiochus came with a mighty power, insomuch as all men wondered & were afraid to hear what numbers there were of soldiers and fight men, and what diversity of armours they brought with them; he made such a speech as this in the general counsel of the Acheans: It was my chance (quoth he) upon a time to be lodged in the house of an old host and friends of mine within the city of Chalcies, and as I sat with him at supper, I marveled how possibly he could come by so many sorts of venison which I saw served up to the board before me; at last mine host answered that all was but swine's flesh, and the same altered by sundry kinds of sauces and variety of dressing: Semblably (quoth he) be you not dismayed and troubled at this great army of king Antiochus whom you hear named, his men at arms and horsemen armed at all pieces, his light horse, his petronels and archers on horseback, and his footmen, for all these be no more but poor Syrians, men borne to servitude and slavery, and no better, differing one from another only in diversity of harness and weapons. Philopaemon was at that time captain general of the Acheans, who had a number sufficient both of horse and foot, but he wanted money for their pay: whereat Quintius merrily scoffing; Philopaemon (quoth he) hath hands and feet enough, but he wants a belly; which jest was indeed the more pleasant, for that Philopaemons' body was in truth naturally so shapen and made so flat, as if he had no belly at all.  
C. DOMITIUS, he whom Scipio the great left in his place, next after his brother L. Scipio in the war against king Antiochus; when he had viewed the army of his enemies standing in battle-array, the Roman captains who were about him, counseled him with all expedition to give them battle, but he answered them thus: That they had not day enough to massacre and hew in pieces so many millions of men; to spoil also and make pillage of their tents and baggage, and then to return when all was done into the camp for to refresh and look to themselves; so the morrow after he charged upon them and slew fifty thousand enemies.  
P. LICINIUS, a Consul of Rome, in one battle of horsemen was vanquished by king Perseus, and lost about two thousand and eight hundred men, partly slain, and partly taken prisoners in the field: after which victory, Perseus sent unto the said Consul, ambassadors to treat of peace and atonement; in which treaty the condition which the vanquished proposed to the Conqueror was: That he should submit himself wholly and his whole estate, unto the Romans for to do with them according to their will and discretion.  
PAULUS AEMILIUS making suit for his second Consulship, was rejected and took repulse: but afterwards when it was seen that the war against King Perseus was drawn out in length, and like to hold long, through the ignorance, sloth and idleness of those captains which were sent with the army: the romans chose him consul for the second time; but he said unto them I con you no thank at all now, for that you have not elected me for to gratify my self (because I sought for no office at this time) but in regard that yourselves stand in need of a captain. Being returned from the common-place into his own house, he found a little daughter that he had, named Tertia, weeping and all blubbered with tears: What is the matter (quoth he) that my pretty girl crieth and weary thus: with that the child: O father (quoth she) our Perseus is dead: (now a little puppy she had of that name:) In good hour be it spoken my sweet daughter (quoth he) I take it for a good osse and presage of happy fortune. When he was arrived and come into the camp, he found much bibble-babble there, and vaunting bravery on every hand of those soldiers, who would busily intermeddle in the affairs properly pertaining to the captain, and in more matters than concerned them: he willed 
* Captains are to direct. Soldiers to obey and exccute.  them to be quiet and still, not to be dealing in such things, but only to look well to their swords, whether they were sharp edged and well pointed: As for the rest (quoth he) I will provide therefore. Those that kept the night sentinels, he commanded neither to bear lance nor wear sword, to the end that knowing they had no means to fight, in case they should be surprised by the enemy, they should be the more vigilant and careful to withstand sleep. After that he had passed over the mountains in Macedon, and was newly entered into the camp, he found his enemies ready ranged in battell-array before him: whereupon Scipio Nasica advised him to charge out of hand: If I were (quoth he) as young as you, I should be of the same mind that you are; but now long experience forbiddeth me to advance forward, all weary as I am, upon any journey against mine enemies, being set strongly in ordinance of battle. After he had fully defaited Perseus in making feasts to his allies & confederates, for joy of victory, he said: That it belonged to one and the same skill and experience, to know how to range a terrible battle against enemies, and to set out an acceptable feast for friends. Perseus' being his prisoner, made earnest suit & humble supplication unto him, that he might not be lead in his triumph: That lies (quoth he) in your own power o Perseus: by which words he gave him good leave to make himself away. Among the treasures of this king, there was found an infinite mass of gold and silver, whereof he touched not one jot for his own proper use; only to Tubero his son-in-law, who had married his daughter, in honour of his virtue he gave one silver boul, weighing five 
* or pounds.  lytres: where (by the way) this is to be noted, that (by report) this was the first piece of silver plate that ever came into the house of the AEmilii. Of four childrenmales that he had, two of the eldest he had given away before from himself to be adopted into other noble families of Rome, and of the two youngest which remained behind in his own house and name; the one (being fourteen years of age) died five days before his triumph; the other (twelve years old) changed his life five days after: whereat the people sorrowed, and took it very heavily, bewailing & pitying his desolate estate: but he himself went into the common place to comfort them, saying: That now from hence forth, he thought to be out of all fear and danger in the behalf of the commonwealth, hoping that no infortunity would befall unto it: for that himself for them all, bore the heavy load of the envy attending upon so great prosperities which he had achieved for the weal public, 
* Great prosperity is to be suspected: to abate our pride, therefore God doth delay it with some crosses.  in that fortune had derived and cast all despite upon his family alone.  
CATO the elder, in a solemn speech before the people of Rome, reproving sharply their intemperance, riot and superfluous delicacies: I know full well (quoth he) that it is an hard matter to speak unto the belly which hath no ears. He said also, that he wondered how such a city could long stand, wherein a fish was sold dearer than an ox. Also inveighing against the overmuch liberty and power which generally was given to women: All other men (quoth he) do rule their wives, we rule all men, and our wives rule us. It was a speech likewise of his: That he had rather receive no favour and grace when he had done any good service, than not be punished when he had committed a fault: I pardon moreover (quoth he) all those, who upon error or ignorance have trespassed, 
z No man chastiseth wise men so much as themselves.  but I except myself. Furthermore, in soliciting and moving the magistrates to chastise those who offended the laws, he plainly said: That whosoever had rule and authority sufficient to repress malefactors, if they did not execute the same, were themselves the authors and commanders of evil. He delivered these words moreover: That young men who blushed when they were rerprooved, pleased him better than those that looked pale: and that he could not abide that soldier, who in his way as he walked, waggeth his hands; in fight stirreth his feet; and when he sleepeth snorteth louder than he holloweth as he encountereth his enemy. Item, that he was a bad ruler, who knew not how to rule himself. He was of opinion, that every one ought to have more reverence of himself, than of any other person whatsoever; for no man was ever from himself. Perceiving that many there were who made suit that their statues might be erected: I had rather (quoth he) that men should ask another day, why there was no image set up for Cato, than why he had any. He counseled them who had power to do what they would, to spare and make much thereof, to the end that their liberty might last with them for ever. They who deprive virtue 
z Honour attends upon virtue, and is the reward thereof.  of honour, take away virtue (quoth he) from youth. He was of advice that no man ought to entreat a magistrate or judge in good and just causes to maintain them, nor sue unto them in bad and unright, as matters to passe-by or wink at them. His saying was: That injustice and wrong doing, if it brought no peril to him that committed it, yet it was dangerous to all others. He admonished old folk not to add unto their age the foulness of vice: for that they had deformities enough beside. His opinion was, that anger and fury differed in nothing, but that the one endured longer than the other. He was wont to say that they were not lighlty envied, who knew how to use their fortune wisely and with moderation: For that (quoth he) it is not our person that is envied, but that which is about us. Also they who are earnest in ridiculous matters, make themselves laughing stocks in serious affairs. Over and beside, this was one of his sage saws: That fair and commendable actions ought to meet with fair and laudable words to set them forth, to the end that they never be without the glory to them belonging. He reprehended the citizens of Rome, for giving always their voices to one & the same person, at the elections of their magistrates: For it should seem (quoth he) in so doing, that either you do not much esteem the honour of magistracies, or else that in your judgement you have not men sufficient enough & worthy to bear them. He made semblant upon a time, that he had in great admiration the strength of one who sold and made away his lands that lay along by the sea-coast, as being a man more mighty and puissant than the very sea: For (quoth he) that which the sea undermineth, eateth & wasteth by little & little this good fellow hath swallowed & devoured all at once. When he stood to be chosen Censor, & saw that other of his competitors & concurrents trudged up & down, glavering, glozing and flattering to the people for to insinuate themselves into their good favour & grace: he chose went crying out: That the State & people had need of a rigorous & hard hearted physician, both to dismember & cut off some part, and also to give them a strong purgation: and therefore they were not to choose one who was most gracious, but him that was most severe; thus whiles he made these remonstrances, he was himself chosen before all the rest. In teaching young men for to sight valiantly and with resolution, he said: That a word oftentimes frighted the enemy more than the sword, the tongue also more than the hand, and caused him to take his heels and run away. Whiles he warred in Spain against those who inhabit along the river Boetis, he was in great danger, by reason of a great multitude of enemies who were in arms against him; neither could he be provided of aids upon a sudden, but from the Celtiberians, who for to succour him demanded two hundred talents: now the other Roman captains would not yield that he should make promise unto those barbarous nations of this money for their hire and salary; but Cato said: They were much deceived and out of the way; for if we win (quoth he) we shall be able to pay them, not of our own, but of our enemy's goods; if we lose the day, there will be none left either to be paid or to call for pay. Having won more towns in Spain, than he had been days there (according as he said himself) he reserved of all that spoil and pillage for his own use, no more than he did eat and drink; but he divided and dealt to every one of his soldiers a pound weight of silver, saying: That it were better that many should return home out of war with silver in their purses, than a few with gold; for that rulers and captains ought not to grow rich themselves by their provinces and places of government in any thing but in honour and glory. In that expedition or voyage of his, he had with him in his train five of his own servitors; of whom, one there was who bought three prisoners taken in war; but when he knew that his master had intelligence thereof, before that ever he came in his sight he hung and strangled himself. Scipio surnamed Africanus, prayed him to favour the causes of the banished and fugitive Achoeans, and to be good unto them, namely, that they might be recalled and restored again to their own country; but he made semblance as though he took no great heed and regard to such affairs; and when he saw that the matter was followed hotly in the Senate, and that there grew much speech and debate about it, he stood up and said: Here is a great stir indeed; and as though we had nothing else to do, we sit here & spend all the long day disputing about these old graybeard Greeks, and all forsooth, to know whether they shallbe carried forth to their burial by our porters and coresbearers here, or by those there. Posthumius Albius wrote certain histories in Greek, in the Preface and poem whereof, he prayed the readers and hearers to pardon him, if he had committed any soloecism or incongruity in that language; but Cato by way of a mock, scoffed at him, and said: That he deserved indeed to be pardoned for writing false Greek, in case that by the 
b Self do, self have.  ordinance and commandment of the high commission of the Amphyctiones, who were the chief Estates of all Greece, he had been compelled against his will, to enterprise and go in hand with the said histories.  
SCIPIO the younger, in four and fifty years (for so long he lived) neither bought nor sold, nor yet built: and it is for certain reported, that in so great an house and substance as his might seem to be, there was never found but three and thirty pound weight of silver plate, and two of gold, notwithstanding the city of Great Carthage was in his hand, and he had enriched his soldiers more than ever any captain did before him. Observing well the precept which Polybius gave, he hardly & without much ado would not return out of the market place, before he had assayed to make in some sort one new friend and familiar or other, of those whom he met withal. Being but yet young, he was of such reputation for his valour and wisdom, that Cato the elder being demanded his opinion as touching others that were in the camp before Carthage, among whom he was one, delivered this commendation of him: 
Right wise and sage indeed alone is he,  
The rest to him but slitting shadows be.  whereupon after his return to Rome from the camp, they that remained behind, called for him again, not so much by way of gratification and to do him a pleasure, but because they hoped by his means more speedily and with greater facility to win Carthage: now when he was entered to the very walls, and yet the Carthaginians fought from the castle, Polybius gave counsel to scatter in the sea between (which was not very deep between his camp and the said castle) certain colthrops of iron, or else planks beset with nail points, to overcast and spread the shallow shelves with sticking upon them, for fear lest that the enemies passing that arm or firth of the sea, might come to assail their ramparts; but he said: It was a mere mockery, considering that they had already gained the walls, and were within the city of their enemies, to make means not to sight with them. Finding the city full of statues and painted tables which were brought out of Sicily, he made proclamation, that the Sicilians from all their cities should come for to own and carry away whatsoever had been theirs; but of all the pillage he would not allow any one, either slave or newly affranchised of his own train, to seize upon, nor so much as buy aught, notwithstanding that there was driving and carrying away otherwise on all hands. The greatest and most familiar friend that he had, Laelius, sued to be consul of Rome; him he favoured and set forward his suit in all that he could: by which occasion he demanded of one Pompeius, who was thought to make labour for the same dignity, whether it were true that he was a competitor or no? now it was supposed that this Pompeius was a minstrels son that used to play on the flute; who made answer again, that he stood not for the consulship; and that which was more, he promised to assist Laelius, and to get all the voices that he could for him: thus while they believed his words, and expected his helping hand, they were deceived in the end; for they were given to understand for certain, that this Pompieus was in the common hall labouring hard for himself, going about unto every citizen one after another, requesting their voices in his own behalf; whereat, when all others took stomach and were offended, Scipio laughed apace, and said: We are even well enough served for our great folly, thus to stay and wait all this while upon a fluter and piper, as if we had been to pray and invocate not men, but the gods. Appius Claudius was in election and concurrence against him for the office of cenfourship, saying in a bravery: That he used to salute all the Romans by name and by surname upon his own knowledge of them, without the help of a prompter, whereas Scipio scarce knew one of them all: Thou sayest truth (quoth Scipio) for I have always been careful not to know many, but rather not to be unknowen of any. He gave counsel unto the Roman citizens, at what time as they warred against the Celtiberians, for to send both him and his competirour together into the camp, in quality either of lieutenants or of colonels over a thousand foot, to the end that they might have the testimony of other captains and expert warriors indeed, whether of them twain performed his service and devoir better. Being created censor, he deprived a young gallant of his horse, for that being given excessively to feast and make good cheer, whiles the city of Carthage was besieged, he had caused a certain marchpaine to be made by pastry-worke in form of a city, and called it Carthage, and when he had so done, set it upon the board to be spoiled and sacked (forsooth) by his companions; and when this youth would needs know of him why he was thus disgraced and degraded, as to lose his horse of service, which was allowed him from the State: Because (quoth he) you will needs rifle and pill Carthage before me. During the time that he was censor, he seeing one day C. Licinius as he passed by: Now surely I knew this man (quoth he) for a perjured person, but for that there is none to accuse him, I will not be both his judge and a witness also to give evidence against him. Being sent by the Senate a third commissioner with other Triumvirs, according as Clitomachus said: 
Mensmanners to observe and oversee,  
Where they do well and where they faulty be.  to visit also and look into the States of cities, nations, and kings: When he was arrived at Alexandria, and disbarked, as he came first to land, he went hooded as it were with his rob cast over his head; but the Alexandrians running from all parts of the city to see him, requested him to discover his head, that his face might be the better seen; and he had no sooner uncovered his visage, but they all cried out with great acclamations, applauding and clapping their hands in sign of joy. And when the king himself of Alexandria strained and strove with great pain, so gross (so idle, and delicate he was otherwise) to keep pace with him and the other commissioners, as they walked, Scipio rounded Panaetius softly in the ear and said: The Alexandrians have reaped already the frure, and enjoyed the benefit of my voyage, for that by our means they have seen their king to walk and go afoot. There accompanied him in this voyage a friend of his and a Philosopher named Panaetius, and five servitors beside to wait upon him, and when one of these five happened to die in this journey, he would not buy another in a foreign country for to supply his place, but sent for one to Rome, to serve in his turn. It seemed to the people of Rome that the Numantines were invincible and inexpugnable, for that they had vanquished and defeated so many captains and leaders of the Romans: whereupon they chose this Scipio Consul the second time for to manage this war; now when many a lusty young gallant made means and prepared to follow him in this service, the Senate impeached them, alleging colourably, that Italy thereby should be left destitute of men for the defence of the country, what need soever should be: so they would not suffer him to take that money out of the treasury which was priest and ready for him, but assigned and ordained certain moneys from the Publicans and farmers of the cities customs and revenues to furnish him, whose days of payment were not yet come: As for money (quoth Scipio) I stand not in such need thereof, that I should stay therefore, for out of mine own and my friends purses I shall have sufficient to defray my charges, but I complain rather that I may not be allowed to levy & lead forth my soldiers such as I would, and be willing to serve, considering that it is a dangerous war which we are to wage; for if it be in regard of our enemy's valour, that our people have so often been beaten and foiled by them, than we shall find it a hot piece of service and a hard, to encounter such; but if it be long of our own men's cowardice, no less difficult will it be, because we are to fight with the slender help of such. When he was newly arrived at the camp, he found there great disorder, much looseness, superstition, and wasteful superfluity in all things; so he banished presently all diviners, prophets, and tellers of fortune; he rid out of the way all sacrificing priests, all bawds likewise that kept brothelhouses he chased forth: and he gave slreight charge that every man should send away all manner of vessels and utensils, save only a pot or kettle to seethe his meat in, a spit to roast, and a drinking jugge of earth; & as for silver plate, he allowed no man more in all than weighed two pounds: he put down all baines and stouphes, but if any were disposed to be anointed, he gave order that every man should take pain to rub himself; for he said that beasts who had no hands of their own, needed another for to rub and curry them: he ordained that his soldiers should take their dinner standing, and eat their meat not hot and without fire, but at supper, they might sit down who that list, and feed upon bread or single gruel and plain potrage, together with one simple dish of flesh either boiled or roast: as for himself he wore a cassock or soldiers coat all black, buttoned close or buckled before, saying; That he mourned for the shame of his army. He met with certain garrons and labouring beasts belonging to one Memmius, a colonel of a thousand men, carrying drinking cups and other plate enriched with precious stones, and wrought curiously by the hands of Thericles; whereupon he said unto him: Thou hast made thyself unfit to serve me and they country for these thirty days, being such an one as thou art, and surely being given to these superfluities, thou art disabled for doing thyself good all the days of thy life. Another there was, who showed him what a trim shield or target he had, finely made and richly adorned; Here is a fair & goodly shield indeed (quoth he) my young man, but I 〈◊〉 thee, a Roman soldior ought to trust his right hand better than his left. There was one who carrying upon his shoulder a bunch of pales, or burden of stakes for to pitch in the rampar, complained that he was overladen: Thou art but well enough served (quoth he,) in that thou reposest more confidence in these stakes than in thy sword. Seeing his enemies the Numantines how they 
c It is good to lie off and temporize, when enemies are 〈◊〉  grew rash, desperate, and foolishly bend, he would not in that fit charge upon them and give battle, but held off still, saying: That with tract of time he would buy the surety and security of his affairs: For a good captain (quoth he) ought to do like a wise physician, who will never proceed to the cutting or dismembering of a part, but upon extremity, namely, when all other means of physic do fail: howbeit when he espied a good occasion and fit opportunity, he assaulted the Numantines and overthrew them: which when the old beaten soldiers or elders of the Numantines saw, they rebuked and railed upon their own men thus defaited, ask them, why they ran away and suffered themselves to be beaten by those who had foiled them so often before? but one of the Numantines answered; Because the sheep be the very same that they were in times past; mary they have changed their shepherd. After he had forced the city of Numance by assault, and entered now the second time with triumph into Rome, he fell into some variance and debate with C. Gracchus, in the behalf of the Senate and certain allies or confederates: whereupon the common-people taking a spleen and displeasure against him, made such clamours at him upon the Rostra, when he was purposed to speak and give remonstrances unto them, that thereupon he raised this speech: There was never yet any outcries and alarms of whole camps, nor shouts of armed men ready to give battle, that could astonish and daunt me; no more shall the rude cry of a cofused multitude trouble me, who know assuredly that Italy is not their mother, but their stepdame. And when Gracchus with his consorts and adherents cried out aloud: Kill the tyrant there, kill him: Great reason (quoth he) have they to take away my life, who war against their own country; for they know that so long as Scipio is on foot, Rome cannot fall, nor Scipio stand when Rome is laid along.  
CAECILIUS METELLUS, devising and casting about how to make sure his approaches and avenues for to assault a strong fort, when a Centurion came unto him and said: With the loss but of ten men you may be master of the piece: Wilt thou then (quoth he) be one of those ten? And when another who was a colonel and a young man, demanded of him what service he intended to do? If I wist (quoth he) that my waistcoat or shirt were privy to my mind, I would put it off presently and cast it into the fire. He was a great enemy to Scipio, so long as Scipio lived; but when he was once dead he 
d Enmities ought not to be immortal.  took it very heavily, and commanded his own sons to go under the bear, and carry him upon their own shoulders to burial, saying withal: That he gave the gods hearty thanks that Scipio was borne at Rome and in no place else.  
C. MARIUS being risen from a base degree by birth unto the government of State, and all by the means of arms, sued for the greater Aedileship, called Curule; but perceiving that he could not compass it, made suit the very same day for the less: and notwithstanding that he went beside both the one and the other, yet he said: That he doubted not one day to be the greatest man of all the Romans. Being troubled with the swelling of the veins, called Varices, in both his legs: he suffered the chirurgeon to cut those of the one leg, without being bound or tied for the matter, enduring the operation of his hand, and never gave one groan, or so much as bent his brows all the while; but when the chirurgeon would have gone to the other leg, Nay stay there (quoth he) for the cure of such a malady as this, is not worth the grievous pains that belongeth thereto. He had a nephew or sister's son named Lusius, who in the time that his uncle was second time Consul, would have forced and abused a youth in the prime of his years, named Trebonius, who began but then, under his charge to bear arms: this young springal made no more ado but slew him outright; and when many there were who charged and accused him for this murder, he denied not the fact, but confessed plainly that he had killed his captain, and withal declared the cause publicly: Marius himself being advertised hereof, caused to be brought unto him a coronet, such as usually was given unto those who had performed in war some worthy exploit, and 
c An example of singular justice.  with his own hand set it upon the head of this youth Tribonius. Being encamped very near to the camp of the Tentones, in a plot of ground where there was but little water; when his soldiers complained that they were lost for water, and ready to die for very thirst, he showed them a river not far off, running along the enemy's camp: Yonder (quoth he) there is water enough for to be bought with the price of your blood: Then lead us to it quickly, answered his soldiers whiles our blood is liquid and will run, and never let us stay so long till it be cluttered and dried up quite with drought. During the time of the Cimbrians war he endued at once with the right of free Burgeousie of Rome, a thousand men all 
* or Camertes  Camerines, in consideration of their good service in that war; a thing that was contrary to law: now when some blamed him for transgressing the laws, he answered and said: That he could not hear what the laws said, for the great rustling and clattering that harness and armour made. In this time of the civil war, seeing himself enclosed round about with trenches and ramparts, and straight beleaguered he endured all and waited his best opportunity, and when Popedius 
* The 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉.  Silo captain general of the enemies said unto him: Marius if thou be so great a warrior as the name goeth of thee, come forth of the camp, and combat with me hand to hand: Nay saith he, and if thou art so brave a captain as thou wouldst be taken, force me to combatif thou canst.  
CATULUS LUCTATIUS in the foresaid Cimbrian war, lay encamped along the river Athesis, and when the Romans saw that the Barbarians were about to pass over the water, and to set upon them, retired and dislodged presently, what reasons and persuasions soever their captain could use to the contrary: but when he saw he could do no good, nor cause them to stay, himself ran away with the foremost, to the end that it should not seem that they fled cowardly before their enemies, but dutifully followed their captain.  
SYLIA, surnamed Foelix, i Happy, among other prosperities, counted these two for the greatest: the one, that he lived in love and amity with Metellus Pius; the other, that he had not destroyed the city of Athens, but saved it from being razed.  
C. POPILIUS, was sent unto king Antiochus with a letter from the Senate of Rome, the tenor whereof was this: That they commanded him to withdraw his forces out of Egypt, and not to usurp the kingdom which appertained to the children of Ptolomaeus, being orphans. The king seeing Popilius coming toward him through his camp, faluted him a far off very courteously: but Popilius without any resalutations or greeting again, delivered him the letter; which Antiochus read, and after he had read it. answered him that he would think upon the matter that the Senate willed him to do, and then give him his dispatch: whereupon Popilius drew a circle round about the king, with a vine rod that he had in his hand, saying: Resolve I advise you sie, before you pass forth of this compass, and give me my answer: all that were present wondered and were astonished at the boldness and resolution of this man: but Antiochus presently answered him: That he would do whatsoever pleased the Romans: then Popilius faluted him most lovingly and embraced him.  
LUCULLUS in Armenia went with ten thousand footmen and one thousand horse, to meet with king Tigranes, who was an hundred and fistie thousand strong, for to give him battle: the sixth day it was of October, and the very day of the month upon which before time the Roman army under the conduct of one of the Scipios had been defeated by the Cimbrians: and when one said unto him: That the Romans fear that day exceedingly, as being dismal and infortunate: Why (quoth he) even therefore ought we this very day to fight courageously and valiantly, to the end that we may make this day to be joyful and happy, which the Romans hold as cursed and unhappy: Now when the Romans did most dread the men at arms of Armenia, seeing them in their complete harness, armed at all pieces, & mounted on bard horses, he had them be of good cheer and not to fear: (For saith he) you shall find more ado to despoil and disarm them, than you shall have in killing them: himself mounting first up to the top of a certain little hill, after he had well viewed and considered the Barbarians how they moved and waved too and fro; he cried out with a loud voice unto his soldiers: My good friends and companions, the day is ours: and in very truth, they were put to flight all at once of their own selves, without any onset or charge given them; and in such sort Lucullus followed the chase, that he killed in the very rout, above one hundred thousand, and lost not of his own but five men only.  
CNEUS POMPEIUS, surnamed Magnus i. the Great, was as well beloved of the Romans as his father before him was hated; who being yet very young, he sided to the faction of Sylla: and notwithstanding that he had no office of State, nor was so much as one of the Senate; yet he leived a mighty power of armed men from all parts of Italy: now when Sylla called him unto him, he said: That he would not make show of his soldiers unto his sovereign and general, before they had made some spoil and drawn blood of their enemies; and in very deed he came not unto him with his power, before that he had defaited in many battles sundry captains of his enemies. Afterwards, being sent by Sylla with commission of a commander into Sicily, understanding that his soldiers as they marched broke out of order and rank, and would go forth to rob and spoil, and commit many riots by the way, he put to death all such as without licence departed from their colours, and went running up & down the country: and as for such as he sent abroad with warrant about any commission or business of his, he sealed up their swords within the scabbards with his own signet. He was at the very point to have put all the Mamertines to the sword, for that they banded against Sylla; but Sthenis one of the inhabitants, an orator, and a man that could do much with the people, and lead them with his persuasive orations, said unto him: That it were not well, that for one man's fault he should cause so many innocents to die; for I (quoth he) am the only man culpable, and the cause of all this mischief, having by my persuasions induced my friends, & with threats forced mine enemies to take part with Marius and follow his standard: Pompeius wondering at this resolute remonstrance of his, said: That he was content to pardon the Mamertines, who suffered themselves to be led and persuaded by such a parsonage, as held the safety of his own country more dear than his own life; and so he forgave the whole city and Sthenis himself. After this, being passed over sea into Africa against Domitius, and having won the field, in a great battle, when his soldiers saluted him by the name of Emperor or Sovereign captain general, he said unto them: That he would not accept of that honourable title, so long as the rampar about his enemy's camp stood; he had no sooner said the word, but they ran all at once to this service, notwithstanding it was a great shower of rain, plucked down the pallaisada, mounted over the rampar, entered the camp and sacked it. At his return home, Sylla made exceeding much of him otherwise, and did him great honour, but among many other, he was the first man that styled him with the surname of Magnus: howbeit, when he minded to enter triumphant into Rome, Sylla would have hindered him, alleging for his reason: That he was not as yet admitted and sworn a Senator: whereat Pompeius turning to those that were present: It seemeth (quoth he) that Sylla is ignorant how there be more men that worship the sun rising than setting: which words when Sylla heard, he cried out with a loud voice: Let him triumph a God's name, for I see well he will have it: and yet for all that, Servilius a man of the senators degree, withstood his triumph, & took great indignation against him; yea, & many of his own soldiers set themselves against him and dashed it quite, if they might not have certain gifts and rewards, which they pretended were due unto them: but Pompey said with a clear & audible voice: That he would sooner leave triumph and all, than to be so base minded as to flatter and make court unto his soldiers: at which words Servilius said unto him: By this now I see well (o Pompeius) that thou art truly named Magnus, i Great, & worthy indeed to triumph. There was a custom at Rome, that the knights or gentlemen, after they had served in the wars the complete time set down and limited by the laws, should present their horses in the market place before the two reformers of manners, called censors, and there openly recount and relate unto them in what wars or battles they had fought, and the captains under whom they had borne arms, to the end that according to their demerits they might receive condign praise or blame. It so fell out that Pompeius being consul, himself led his own horse of service by the bridle, and presented him before Gellius and Lentulus, censors for the time being; and when they according to the order and manner in that behalf, demanded of him whether he had served in the wars so many years as the law required: Even all (quoth he) fully, and that under myself, the sovereign commander at all times. Being in Spain, he light upon certain papers and writings of Sertorius, wherein were many letters missive sent from the principal Senators of Rome, and namely such as solicited and called Sertorius to Rome, for to raise some innovations, and make a change in the State: these letters he flung all into the fire, giving them occasion and opportunity by this means, who intended mischief and were ill bend, to change their minds, repent and amend. Phraates king of the Parthians sent unto him certain ambassadors to request him that he would not pass over the river Euphrates, but to make it the middle frontier & bound between them both: Nay rather (quoth Pompeius) let justice be the indifferent limit between the Parthians and the Romans. L. Lucullus, after he was returned from his wars and conquests, gave himself over excessively to all pleasures, and to live most sumptuously, reproving Pompeius for this: That he desired always from time to time more and more, great charges and employments even above his age, and unfitting those years of his: unto whom Pompeius made this answer: That it was a thing more unbeseeming old years, for a man to abandon himself to delights and pleasures, than to attend the weighty affairs of the common weal. Upon a time when he was sick, the Physicians prescribed that he should eat of a blackbird; great laying there was in many places for that bird, but none could be found, for that it was not their season nor the time of the year; but one there was, who said that if he would send to Lucullus, he might have of them, for he kept them in mue all the year long: And what needs that (quoth he) can not Pompey recover and live, if Lucullus were not a waster and a delicate given to belly-cheer? and so leaving the Physicians prescript diet, he composed and framed himself to eat that which was ordinary and might be found in every place. In regard of a great famine and scarcity of corn and victuals at Rome, he was ordained in outward show of words, the grand purveiour or general superintendant and overseer for victuals, but in effect and authority, lord indeed both of sea and land: by which occasion he made voyages into Africa, Sardinia and Sicily, where, after he had provided a mighty deal of corn, he intended presently to have returned with all speed to Rome; but there arose a terrible tempest, insomuch as the pilots and mariners themselves made no haste to go to sea and set sail; but he in his own person embarked first, and when he was on shipboard, he commanded to weigh anchor, saying with a loud voice: Sail we needs must, there is no remedy, but to live there is not such necessity. When the quarrel between him and Caesar was broken out and fully discovered, there was one Marcellinus, (a man that beforetime had been advanced by him, & yet afterwards turned to the adverse part and faction of Caesar) who in a frequent assembly of the Senate, charged and challenged him to his face for many things, and spoke spiteful words against him: Pompeius could not hold, but answered him thus: Bashest not thou Marcellinus, in this open place to miscall and rail upon me, who have made thee eloquent, whereas before thou couldst not speak at all? who have fed thee full, even until thou be ready to cast up thy stomach, where before thou wert hungry and ready to pine for famine? Unto Cato, who chid and reproved him sharply for that he would never believe his words, when he foretold him many times, that the purssance and increase of Caesar's State, unto whom he lent his hand, would one day greatly prejudice and hurt the weale-publicke, he answered: Your counsel indeed was wiser, but mine more loving and friendly. In speaking of himself freely, he said: That all offices of State he both entered sooner upon than he looked himself; and also forwent them before it was expected that he would. After the battle of Pharsalia when he fled into Egypt, and was to pass out of his galley into a little bark or fisher boat, which the king had sent unto him for to bring him to land, he turning unto his wife and son, said no more but this verse out of Euripides: 
Who once in court of Tyrant serve, become  
His siaves anon, though free they thither come.  Being passed over in this bark, after he had received one blow with a sword, he gave only a sigh and groan, and without saying one word, he covered his own face with his garment, and yielded himself to be killed.  
CICERO the great orator was mocked of some for that surname of his which alludeth unto a Cich-pease; in so much as his friends gave him counsel to change his name: but he chose said, that he would make the name of the Cicero's more noble and renowned, than the Cato's, the Catuli, or the Scauruses. He offered unto the gods a goodly fair vessel of silver, in which he caused to be engraven his two forenames, Marcus and Tullius in letters; but for the third, to wit, Cicero his surname, he commanded to be embossed or chased the form of a Cich-pease. He said that those orators who used to strain their voices, and cry aloud in the pulpit, were privy to their own weakness and insufficience otherwise, and had recourse to this one help, like as creples and lame-folke to their horses for to mount upon. Verres had a son defamed for the abuse of his body in the sloure of his youth; and yet the said Verres stuck not to slander Cicero and rail upon him, even to these broad and foul terms, as to call him a filthy wanton and a buggeror; whereto Cicero answered thus: Thou dost not know, that it were more seemly to rebuke thy children for this within doors in some secret part of thy house close shut. Marcellus one day in debating and contesting with him said: Thou hast brought more to their death by thy testimonies and depositions, than thou hast saved with all thy good pleading: I confess as much (quoth Cicero again) for I have more truth and fidelity in me by far, than eloquence. The same Metellus demanded of him who was his father, reproaching him (as it were) thereby that he was a new upstart, and a gentleman of the first head: Unto whom readily thy mother hath made this question more hard on thy part to be answered: now was Metellus his mother thought to be an unchaste woman and nought of her body; and Metellus himself was counted a vain brainsick and slippery fellow, given over to his wanton lusts and desires. This Metellus had caused to be set upon the sepulchre of one Diodorus, who had been his master sometime to teach him Rhetoric, the portraiture of a crow in stone: whereupon Cicero took occasion to come upon him in this wise: A just recompense in deed and fit for him, because he hath taught this man to sly and not to speak. 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Vatinius was a lewd man, and his adversary: now a rumour ran abroad that he was dead; but afterwards when he found it to be a false brute: A mischief take him for me (quoth Cicero) that made this lie first. There was one supposed to be an African borne, who said unto him: That he heard him not when he spoke: I marvel at that (quoth Cicero) considering thine 
f Noting that by condition he was a slave.  ears be bored as they are and have holes in them. C. Popilius would have been taken and reputed for a great lawyer, although he had no law in the world in him, and was beside a man of very gross capacity: this man was served with a writ to appear in the court for to bear witness of a truth, touching a certain fact in question; but he answered: That he knew nothing at all: True (quoth Cicero:) for peradventure you mean of the law, and think that you are asked the question of it. Hortensius' the orator, who pleaded the cause of Verres, had received of him for a fee or a gentle reward, a jewel with the portraiture of Sphinx in 
* Or gold.  silver: it fell out so, that Cicero chanced to give out a certain dark and ambiguous speech: As for me (quoth Hortensius) I can not tell what to make of your words, for I am not one that useth to solve riddles and enigmatical speeches: Why man (quoth Cicero) and yet you have Sphinx in your house. He met upon a time with Voconius and his three daughters, the foulest that ever looked out of a pair of eyes: at which object he spoke softly to his friends about him: 
This man (I ween) his children hath begot  
In spite of Phoebus, and when he would it not.  Faustus the son of Sylla was in the end so far indebted, that he exposed his goods to be sold in open sale, and caused bills to be set up on posts in every quarrefour to notisie the same: Yea mary (quoth Cicero) I like these bills and 
g It is a 〈◊〉 to see the 〈◊〉 & overthrow of such 〈◊〉 & 〈◊〉 houses.  proscriptions better than those that his father published before him. When Caesar and Pompeius were entered into open war one against another: I know full well (quoth Cicero) whom to fly, but I wot not unto whom to fly. He found great fault with Pompeius in that he left the city of Rome, and that he chose rather in this case to imitate the policy of Themistocles than of Pericles, saying: That the present state of the world resembled rather the time of Pericles, than of Themistocles. He drew at first to Pompeius' side, and being with him, repented thereof. When Pompey asked him where he had left Piso his son-in-law; he answered readily: Even with your good father-in-law; meaning Caesar. There was one who departed out of Caesar's camp unto Pompey, and said: That he had made such haste, that he left his horse behind him: Thou canst skill (I perceive) better to save thy horse's life than thine own. Unto another, who brought word that the friends of Caesar looked sour and unpleasant: Thou sayest (quoth he) as much as if they thought not well of his proceedings. After the battle of Pharsalia was lost, and that Pompeius was already fled, there was one Nonius who came unto him, and willed him not to despair, but be of good cheer, for that they had yet seven eagles left, [which were the standards of the legions:] Seven eagles (quoth he;) that were somewhat indeed, if we had to war against jays & jackdaws. After that Caesar, upon his victory, being lord of all, had caused the statues of Pompey which were cast done, to be set up again with honour; Cicero said of Caesar: In setting up these statues of Pompey, he hath pitched his own more surely. He so highly esteemed the gift of eloquence and grace of well speaking, yea, and he took so great pains with ardent affection, for to perform the thing, that having to plead a cause only before the Centumvirs or hundred judges, and the day set down being near at hand for the hearing and trial thereof; when one of his servants Eros, brought him word that the cause was put off to the next day, 
h A man of honour can not be too careful for to quit him well in his calling and vocation.  he was so well contented and pleased therewith, that incontinently he gave him his freedom for that news.  
CAIUS CAESAR, at what time as he being yet a young man, fled and avoided the fury of Sylla, fell into the hands of certain pirates or rovers, who at the first demanded of him no great sum of money for his ransom, whereat he mocked and laughed at them, as not knowing what manner of person they had gotten; and so of himself promised to pay them twice as much as they asked; and being by them guarded and attended upon very diligently, all the while that he sent for to gather the said sum of money which he was to deliver them, he willed them to keep silence and make no noise, that he might sleep and take his repose: during which time that he was in their custody, he exercised himself in writing aswell verse as prose, and read the same to them when they were composed; and if he saw that they would not praise and commend those poems and orations sufficiently to his contentment, he would call them senseless fots and barbarous, yea, and after a laughing manner, threaten to hang them: and to say a truth, within a while after, he did as much for them: for when his ransom was come, and he delivered once out of their hands, he levied together a power of men and ships from out of the coasts of Asia, set upon the said rovers, spoiled them and crucified them. Being returned to Rome, and having enterprised a suit for the sovereign Sacerdotal dignity against Catulus, who was then a principal man at Rome; whenas his mother accompanied him as far as to the utmost gates of his house, when he went into Mars field where the election was held, he took his leave of her and said: Mother you shall have this day your son to be chief Pontifice and high priest, or else banished from the city of Rome. He put away his wife Pompeia, upon an ill name that went of her, as if she had been nought with Clodius: whereupon when Clodius afterwards was called into question judicially for the fact, and Caesar likewise convented into the court, peremptorily for to bear witness of the truth; being examined upon his oath, he swore that he never knew any ill at all by his wife: and when he was urged and replied upon again, wherefore he had put her away? he answered: That the wife of Caesar ought not only to be innocent and clear of crime, but also of all suspicion of crime. In reading the noble acts of Alexander the great, the tears trickled down his cheeks; and when his friends desired to know the reason why he wept: At my age (quoth he) Alexander had vanquished & subdued Darius, and I have yet done nothing. As he passed along through a little poor town situate within the Alps; his familiar friends about him, merrily asked one another whether there were any factions and contentions in that burrow, about superiority, and namely, who should be the chief? whereupon he stayed suddenly; and after he had studied and mused a while within himself: I had rather (quoth he) be the first here, than the second in Rome. As for haughty & adventurous enterprises, he was wont to say: They should be executed & not consulted upon: and verily when he passed over the river Rubicon, which divideth the province of Gaul from Italy, for to lead his power against Pompeius: Let the Die (quoth he) be thrown for all: as if he would say: 
* Or thus, I have upon the 〈◊〉, come what 〈◊〉 of it.  This cast for it, there is but one chance to lose all. When Pompey was fled from Rome to the sea side, and Metellus the superintendant of the public treasury, would have hindered him for taking forth any money from thence, keeping the treasure house fast shut, he threatened to kill him; whereat Metellus seeming to be amazed at his audacious words: Tush, tush, (quoth he) good young man, I would thou shouldest know that it is harder for me to speak the word, than to do the deed. And for that his soldiers stayed long ere they were transported over unto him from Brundusuim, to Dyrrhachium, he embarked himself alone into a small vessel, without the knowledge of any man who he was, purposing to pass the seas alone without his company; but it happened so, that he was like to have been cast away in a gust, and drowned with the waves of the sea: whereupon he made himself known unto the pilot, and spoke unto him aloud: Assure thyself and rest confident in fortune, for wot well thou hast Caesar a ship board: howbeit for that time he was impeached that he could not cross the seas, as well in regard of the tempest which grew more violent, as also of his soldiers who ran unto him from all sides, and complained unto him for grief of heart, saying: That he offered them great wrong to attend upon other forces, as if he disinherited them. Not long after this he fought a great battle, wherein Pompeius' hand the upper had for a time, but for that he followed not the train of his good fortune, he retired into his camp; which when Caesar saw, he said: The victory was once this day our enemies, but their head and captain knew not so much. upon the plains of 〈◊〉, the very day of the battle, Pompey having arranged his army in array, commanded his soldiers to stand their ground, and not to advance forward, but to expect their enemies, and receive the charge; wherein Caesar afterwards said: He did amiss and grossly failed, for that thereby he let slack as it were the vigour & vehemency of his soldiers which is ministered unto them by the violence of the first onset, & abated that heat also of courage which the said charge would have brought with it. When he had defaited at his very first encounter, Pharnaces king of Pontus; he wrote thus unto his friends: I came, I saw, I vanquished. After that Scipio and those under his conduct were discomfited and put to flight in Africa; when he heard that Cato had killed himself, he said: I envy thy death o Cato, for that thou hast envied me the honour of saving thy life. Some there were who had Antony and Dolabella in jealousy and suspicion, and when they came unto him and said: That he was to look unto himself, and stand upon his good guard; he made them this answer: That he had no distrust nor fear of them, who led an idle life, be well coloured and in so good liking as they: But I fear (quoth he) these pale and lean fellows pointing unto Brutus and Cassius. One day as he sat at the table when speech was moved and the question asked, what kind of death was best? Even that (quoth he) which is sudden and least looked for.  
CAESAR, him I mean who first was surnamed Augustus, being as yet in his youth, required and claimed of Antony as much money as amounted to two thousand and five hundred 
* i. 20. 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉.  Myriad, which he had transported out of Julius Caesar's house after he was murdered, and gotten into his own hands; for that he intended to pay the Romans that which the said Caesar had bequeathed unto them by his last will and testament: for he had left by legacy unto every citizen of Rome 75. 
* i. 〈◊〉  drams of silver; but Antony detained the said sum of money to himself, and answered young Caesar, that if he were wife he should desist from demanding any such moneys of him: which when the other heard, he proclaimed open port sale of all the goods that came to him by his patrimony, & in deed sold the same; and with the money raised thereof, he satisfied the foresaid legacies unto the Romans: in which doing he won all the hearts of the citizens of Rome to himself, & brought their evil will and hatred upon Antony. Afterwards Rymetalces king of Thracia left the part of Antonius, and turned to his side; but he overshot himself so much at the table, being in his cups, and namely, in that he could talk of nothing else, but of this great good service, and casting in his teeth this worthy alliance and confederacy of his, so as he became odious therefore; insomuch as one time at supper Caesar taking the cup, drank to one of the other kings who sat at the board, saying with a loud voice: Treason I love well, but traitors I hate. The Alexandrians after their city was won, looked for no better than to suffer all the extremities and calamities that might follow upon the forcing of a city by assault: but this Caesar mounting up into the public place to make a speech unto the citizens, having near by unto him a familiar friend of his; to wit Arius, an Alexandrian borne; pronounced openly a general pardon, saying that he forgave the city: first, in regard of the greatness and beauty thereof; secondly in respect of king Alexander the great their first founder: and thirdly for Arius his sake, who was his loving friend. Understanding that one of his procurators named Eros, who did negotiate for him in Egypt, had bought a quail of the game, which in fight would beat all other quails, and was never conquered himself, but continued still invincible; which quail notwithstanding, the said slave had caused to be roasted and so eaten it: he sent for him and examined him thereupon whether it was true or no? and when he confessed Yea, he commanded him presently to be crucified and nailed to the mast of his ship. He placed Arius in Sicily for his agent and procurator, in stead of one Theodorus: and when one presented unto him a little book or bill wherein were written these words, Theodorus of Tharsis 
* Or read thus, it is either bald or a three, according to some Greek copies.  the bald is a thief, how think you is he not? when he had read this bill, he did nothing else but subscribe underneath: I think no less. He received yearly upon his birth day from Maecenas; (one of his familiar friends who conversed daily with him) a cup for a present. Athenodorus the Philosopher being of great years, craved licence with his good favour to retire unto his own house from the court, by reason of his old age; and leave he gave him, but at his farewell, Athenodorus said unto him: Sir, when you perceive yourself to be moved with choler, neither say do nor aught before you have repeated to yourself all the 24. letters in the Alphabet: Caesar hearing this advertisement, took him by the hand: I have need still (quoth he) of your company and presence, and so retained him for one year longer, saying withal this verse, 
The hire of silence, now I see  
Is out of peril and jeopardy.  Having heard that King Alexander the Great at the age of two and thirty years, having performed most part of his conquests, was in doubt with himself and perplexed what to do and how to be employed afterwards: I wonder (quoth he) that Alexander thought it not a more difficult matter to govern and preserve a great empire after it is once gotten, than to win and conquer it at first. When he had enacted the law Julia as touching adultery, wherein is set down determinately the manner of process against those that be attaint of that crime, and how such are to be punished who be convict thereof: it happened that through impatience and heat of choler, he fell upon a young gentleman, who was accused to have committed adultery with his daughter Julia, in so much as he buffeted him well and thoroughly with his own fists: the young man thereupon cried unto him: Yourself have made a law, Caesar, which ordaineth the order and form of proceeding against adulteries: whereat he was so dismayed & abashed, yea and so repent himself of this miscarriage, that he would not that day eat any supper. When he sent his nephew or daughter's son Caius into Armenia, he prayed unto the gods to accompany him with that good will of all men which Pompey had, with the valiantness of Alexander the Great, and with his own good fortune. He said, that he left unto the Romans for to succeed him in the empire, one who never in his life had consulted twice of one thing, meaning Tiberius. Minding to appease certain young Roman gentlemen of honour and authority, who made a great noise and stir in his presence; when he saw that for all his first admonitions he could do no good, he said unto them: Young gentlemen give 〈◊〉 unto me an old man, whom when I was young as you are, ancient men would give 〈◊〉 unto. The people of Athens had offended and done him some displeasure, unto whom he 〈◊〉 in this wise: You are not ignorant (I suppose) that I am displeased with you, for otherwise I would not have wintered in this little isse Aegina: and more than thus, he neither did nor said afterwards unto them. When one of Eurycles his accusers had at large with all liberty and 〈◊〉 centiousnesse of speech uttered against him (without any respect) what he would, he let him run on still, until he came to these words: And if these matters (Caesar) seem not unto you notorious and heinous, command him to rehearse unto me the seventh book of Thucydides: Caesar offended now at his audacious impudency, commanded him to be had away and led to prison; but being advertised that he was the only man left of the race and line of captain Brasidas he sent for him, and after he had given him some sew good admonitious, he let him go. 〈◊〉 had built him a most stately and magnisicent house, even from the foundation to the roof thereof, which when Caesar saw he said: It rejoiceth my heart exceedingly to see thee build thus, as if Rome should continue world without end.    

LACONICKE APOTHEGMS, OR THE NOTABLE SAYINGS OF LACEDÆMONIANS.  

The Summarie.  
PLutarch had in the collection precedent among the Apothegms of renowned Greeks, mingled certain notable sayings of King Agesilaus and other Lacedæmonians: but now he exhibiteth unto us a treatise by itself of the said Lacedæmonians, who deserve no doubt to be registered apart by themselves, as being a people who (of all other nations destitute of the true knowledge of God) lest abused their tongue. 〈◊〉 which regard also he maketh a more ample description of their Apphthegmes, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 by so many pleasant speeches and lively reencounters, that it was no marvel, if so 〈◊〉 a 〈◊〉 Sparta was) flourished so long, being governed and peopled by men of such dexterity, and so well 〈◊〉 the parts both of body and mind, and yet who knew better to do than to say. Moreover, this Catalogue here is distinguished into four principal portions: whereof the first representeth the 〈◊〉 speeches of Kings, General captains, Lords and men of name in Lacedaemon: the second 〈◊〉 the Apothegms of such Lacedæmonians, whose names are unknowen: the third 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the customs & ordinances which serve for the maintenance of their estate: and the fourth 〈◊〉 certain sayings of some of their women, wherein may be seen so much the more the valour & megnanimitie of that nation. As touching the profit that a man may draw out of these 〈◊〉 it is very great in every respect: neither is there any person of what age or condition soever, but he may learn herein very much, and namely how to speak little, to say well, and to 〈◊〉 himself virtuously, as the reading thereof will make proof. We have noted 〈◊〉 and observed somewhat in the margin, not particularising upon every part; but only to give a taste and appetite unto the Reader for to meditate better thereof, and to apply unto his own use, both it and all the rest which he may there comprehend and understand.   

LACONICKE Apothegms, or the notable sayings of Lacedæmonians.  
AGESICLES a king of the Lacedæmonians, by nature given to hear and desirous to learn; when one of his familiar friends said unto him: I wonder sir since you take so great pleasure otherwise to hear men speak well and eloquently, that you do not entertain the famous sophister or rhetorician Philophanes for to teach you? made him this answer: It is because I desire 
a  to be their scholar, whose son also I am, that is, among whom I am borne. And to another who demanded of him, how a prince could reign in safety, not having about him his guards for the surety of his person; Marry (quoth he) if he rule his subjects as a good father governeth his children.  
AGESILAUS the Great, being at a certain feast, was by lot chosen the master of the said feast; and to him it appertained to set down a certain law, both in what manner and how much every one ought to drink; now when the butler or skinker asked him how much he should pour out for every one, he answered: If thou be well provided and have good store of wine, fill out as much as every man list to call for; but 
b  if thou have no great plenty of it, let every guest have alike. There was a malefactor, who being in prison endured constantly before him all maper of torments; which when he saw: What a cursed wretch is this and wicked in the highest degree, who doth employ this patience and resolute fortitude in the maintenance of so shameful 
 and mischievous parts, as he hath committed! One highly praised in his presence a certain master of Rhetoric, for that he could by his eloquent tongue amplify small matters, making them seem great, whereupon he said: I take him not to be a good shoemaker, who putteth on a big shoe upon a little foot. When one in reasoning & debating a matter upon a time challenged him, and said: Sir, you gave your consent once unto it; and eftsoons iterating the same words, charged him with his grant and promise: True indeed (quoth he) if the cause were just, I approved it in good earnest & gave my promise; but if not, I did but barely say the word & no more: but as the other replied again and said: Yea, but kings ought to accomplish & perform whatsoever they seem once to grant, & it be but with the nod of the head: Nay (said he again) they are no more bound thereto, than those that come unto them are tied for to speak and demand all things just and reasonable, yea, and to observe the opportunity and that which fitteth and sorteth well with kings. When he heard any men either to praise or dispraise others, he said: That it behoved to know the nature, disposition and behaviour no less of those who so spoke, than of the parties of whom they did speak. Being whiles he was very young, at a certain public and festival solemnity, wherein young boys danced (as the manner was) all naked, the warden or overseer of the said show and dance, appointed him a place for to behold that sight, which was not very honourable; wherewith notwithstanding he stood well contented, albeit he was known to be heir apparent to the crown, and already declared king; and withal said: It is very well; for I will show, that it is not the place which crediteth the person, but the person that giveth credit and honour to the place. A certain Physician had ordained for him in one sickness that he had, a course of physic to cure his malady, which was nothing easy and simple, but very exquisite, curious and withal painful: By Caslor and Pollux (quoth he) if my destiny be not to live, I shall not recover though I take all the drogues and medicines in the world. Standing one day at the altar of Minerva surnamed Chalceoecos, where he sacrificed an ox, there chanced a louse to bite him; and he was nothing dismayed and abashed to take the said louse, but before them all who were present, killed her, and swore by the gods, saying: That it would do him good at the heart, to serve them all so, who should treacherously lay wait to assail him, yea, though it were at the very altar. Another time, when he saw a little boy drawing a mouse which he had caught, out of a window, and that the said mouse turned upon the boy and bit him by the hand, insomuch as she made him leave his hold, and so escaped; he showed the sight unto those that were present about him, and said: Lo, 
d  if so little a beast and silly creature as this, hath the heart to be revenged upon those that do it injury, what think you is meet and reason that men should do? Being desirous to make war upon the king of Persia, for the deliverance and freedom of those Greeks who did inhabit Asia; he went to consult with the oracle of Jupiter within the sorest Dodona, as touching this design of his: and when the oracle had made answer according to his mind, namely: That if it pleased him, he should enterprise that expedition; he communicated the same to the controllers of State called Ephori; who willed him also to go forward, and ask the counsel likewise of Apollo in the city of Delphos; and being there, he entered into the chapel from whence the oracles were delivered, and said thus: O Apollo, art thou also of the same mind that thy father is? and when he answered, Yea; whereupon he was chosen for the general to conduct this war, and set forth in his voyage accordingly. Tissaphernes, lieutenant under the king of Persia in Asia, being astonished at his arrival, made a composition and accord with him at the very first; in which treaty, he capitulated and promised to leave unto his behoof, all the towns and cities of the Greeks which are in Asia, free and at liberty to be governed according to their own laws: mean while he dispatched messages in post to the king his master, who sent unto him a strong and puissant army; upon the confidence of which sources he gave defiance, and denounced war, unless he departed with all speed out of Asia: Agesilaus being well enough pleased with this treacherous breach of the agreement, made semblant as though he would go first into Caria; and when Tissaphernes gathered his forces in those parts to make head against him, all on a sudden he invaded Phrygia, where he won many cities, and raised rich booties from thence, saying unto his friends: That to break faith and promise unjustly made unto a friend, was impiety; but to abuse and deceive an enemy, was not only just, but also pleasant and profitable. Finding himself weak in cavalry, he returned to the city of Ephesus, where he intimated thus much unto the rich men, who were willing to be exempt from going in person unto the wars, that they should every one set forth one horse and a man: by which means within few days, he levied a great number both of horse and also of men able for service, in stead of those that were rich and cowards; wherein he said: That he did imitate Agamemnon, who dispensed with a rich man who was but a dastard and durst not go to the war, for one fair and goodly mare. When he sold those prisoners for slaves, whom he had taken in the wars, the officers for this sale, by his appointment, made money of their clothes and other furniture apart, but of their bodies, all naked by themselves: now many chapmen there were, who willingly bought their apparel, but few or none hadst any mind to the persons themselves, for that their bodies were soft and white, as having been delicately nourished and choisly kept within house and under covert, and so seemed for no use at all, and good for nothing: Agesilaus standing by: Behold my masters (quoth he) this is that for which you fight, showing their spoils; but these be they against whom you fight, pointing to the men. Having given Tissaphernes an overthrow in battle within the country of Lydia, and slain a great number of his men, he overran and harried all the king's provinces: and when he sent unto him presents of gold and silver, praying him to come unto some agreement of peace, Agesilaus made this answer: As touching the treaty of peace, it was in the city of Lacedaemons' power to do what they would; but otherwise, for his own part he took greater pleasure to enrich his soldiers than to be made rich himself: as for the Greeks, they reputed it an honour not to receive gifts from their enemies, but to be masters of their spoils. Megabaetes the young son of Spithridates, who was of visage most fair and beautiful, came toward him as it were to embrace and kiss him, for that he thought (as he was right amiable) to be exceedingly beloved of him; but Agesilaus turned his face away, insomuch as the youth desisted and would no more offer himself unto him; whereupon Agesilaus demanded the reason thereof, and seemed to call for him; unto whom his friends made answer: That himself was the only cause, being afraid to kiss so fasire a boy; but if he would not seem to fear, the youth would return and repair unto him in place right willingly: upon this he stood musing to himself a good while, and said never a word; but then at length he broke forth into this speech: Let him even alone, neither is there any need now that you should say any thing or persuade him; for mine own part I count it a greater matter to be the conqueror, and have the better hand of such, than to win by force the strongest hold or the most puissant and populous city of mine enemies; for I take it better for a man to preserve and save his own liberty to himself, than to take it from others. Moreover, he was in all other things a most precise observer in every point, of whatsoever the laws commanded, but in the affairs and business of his friends, he said: That straightly to keep the rigour of justice, was a very cloak and colourable pretence, under which they covered themselves who were not willing to do for their friends: to which purpose there is a little letter of his found written unto Idrieus a prince of Caria, for the enlarging and deliverance of a friend of his, in these words: If Nicias have not transgressed, deliver him; if he have, deliver him for the love of me; but howsoever, yet deliver him: and verily thus affected stood Agesilaus in the greatest part of his friends occasions; howbeit, there fell out some cases, when he respected more the public utility, & used his opportunity therefore, according as he showed good proof. upon a time, at the dislodging of his camp in great haste & hurry, insomuch as he was forced to leave a boy whom he loved full well behind him, for that he lay sick: for when the party called instantly upon him by name, & besought him not to forsake him now at his departure, Agesilaus turning back, said: Oh how hard is it to be pitiful & wise both at once. Furthermore, as touching his diet & the cherishing of his body, he would not be served with more nor better than those of his train and company. He never did eat until he was satisfied, nor took his drink until he was drunk, and as for his sleep, it never had the command and mastery over him, but he took it only as his occasions and affairs would permit: for cold and heat he was so fitted and disposed, that in all seasons of the year he used to wear but one and the same sort of garments: his pavilion was always pitched in the mids of his soldiers, neither had he a bed to lie in, better than any other of the meanest: for he was wont to say: That he who had the charge and conduct of others, ought to surmount those private persons, who were under his leading not in daintiness and delicacy, but in sufferance of pain and travel, and in fortitude of heart and courage. When one asked the question in his presence: What it was wherein the laws of Lycurgus had made the city of Sparta better? he answered: That this benefit it found by them; to make no reckoning at all of pleasures. And to another who marveled to see so great simplicity and plainness, as well in feeding as appearell both of him, and also of other Lacedæmonians, he said: The fruit (my good friend) which we reap by this strait manner of life, is liberty and freedom. There was one who exhorted him to ease and remit a little this strait and austere manner of living: For that (quoth he) it would not be used, but in regard of the incertitude of fortune; and because there may fall out such an occasion, and time as might force a man so to do: Yea but I (said Agesilaus) do willingly accustom myself hereto, that in no mutation and change of fortune, I should not seek for change of my life. And in very truth, when he grew to be aged, he did not for all his years give over and leave his hardness of life: and therefore when one asked him: Why (considering the extreme cold winter and his old age beside) he went without an upper coat or gabardine? he made this answer: Because young men might learn to do as much, having for an example before their eyes, the eldest in their country, and such also as were their governors. We read of him, that when he passed with his army over the Thasians country, they sent unto him for his refection meal of all sorts, geese and other fowls, comfitures, and pastry works, fine cakes, marchpanes, and sugar-meats, with all manner of exquisite viands, and drinks most delicate and costly: but of all this provision, he received none but the meal aforesaid; commanding those that brought the same, to carry them all away with them, as things whereof he stood in no need, and which he knew not what to do with: In the end after they had been very urgent, and importuned him so much as possibly they could to take that courtesy at their hands, he willed them to deal all of it among the Ilots, which were in deed the slaves that followed the camp: whereupon when they demanded the cause thereof, he said unto them: That it was not meet for those who professed valour and prowess to receive such dainties; Neither can that (quoth he) which serveth in stead of a bait to allure & draw men to a servile nature, agree well with those who are of a bold and free courage. Over and beside, these Thasians having received many favours and benefits at his hands, in regard whereof they took themselves much bound and beholden unto him, dedicated temples to his honour, and decreed divine worship unto him, no less than unto a very god, and hereupon sent an embassage to declare unto him this their resolution: when he had read their letters and understood what honour they minded to do unto him, he asked this one question of the ambassadors; whether their State and country was able to deify men? and when they answered, Yea: Then (quoth he) begin to make yourselves gods first, and when you have done so, I will believe that you also can make me a god. When the Greek Colonies in Asia, had at their parliaments ordained in all their chief and principal cities to erect his statues; he wrote back unto them in this manner: I will not that you make for me any statue or image whatsoever, neither painted nor cast in mould, nor wrought in clay, ne yet cut and engraven any way. Seeing whiles he was in Asia, the house of a friend or host of his, covered over with an embowed roof of planks, beams and sparres foursquare; he asked him whether the trees in those parts grew so square? and when he answered, No, but they grew round: How then (quoth he) if they had grown naturally four cornered, would you have made them round? He was asked the question upon a time, how far forth the marches and confines of Lacedaemon did extend: then he shaking a javelin which he held in his hand: Even as far (quoth he) as this is able to go. One demanded of him, why the city of Sparta was not walled about? See you not (quoth he) the walls of the Lacedæmonians; and therewith showed him the citizens armed. Another asked him the like question, and he made him this answer: That cities ought not to be fortified with stones, with wood and timber, but with the prowess and valiance of the inhabitants. He used ordinarily to admonish his friends, not to seek for to be rich in money, but in valour and virtue. And whensoever he would have a work to be finished, or service to be performed speedily by his soldiers; his manner was, to begin himself first to lay hand unto it in the face of all. He stood upon this and would glory in it; that he traveled as much as any man in his company: but he vaunted of this; that he could rule and command himself more than in being a king. Unto one who wondering to see a Lacedaemonian maimed and lame, go to war, said unto the party: Thou shouldest yet at leastwise have called for an horse to serve upon: Knowest not thou (quoth he) that in war we have no need of those that will fly away, but of such as will make good and keep their ground? It was demanded of him, how he won so great honour and reputation; In despising death (quoth he.) And being likewise asked why the Spattanes used the sound of flutes when they fought? To the end (said he) that when in battle they march according to the measures, it may be known who be valiant and who be cowards. One there was who reputed the King of Persia happy, for that he attained very young to so high and puissant a State: Why so (quoth he) for Priamus at his age was not unhappy nor infortunate. Having conquered the greater part of Asia, he purposed with himself to make war upon the king himself, as well for to break his long repose, as also to hinder him otherwise and stop his course, who minded with money to bribe and corrupt the governors of the Greeke-cities and the orators that lead the people: but amid this design and deliberation of his he was called home by the Ephori, by reason of a dangerous war raised by the Greeke-States, against the city of Sparta, and that by means of great sums of money which the king of Persia had sent thither; by occasion whereof, forced he was to depart out of Asia, saying: That a good prince ought to suffer himself to be commanded by the laws; and he left behind him much sorrow and a longing desire after him among the Greek-inhabitants in Asia after his departure: and for that on the Persian pieces of coin, there was stamped or imprinted the image of an archer; he said when he broke up his camp, that the king of Persia had chased him out of Asia with thirty thousand archers: for so many golden Dariques had been carried by one Timocrates unto Thebes and Athens, which were divided among the orators and governors of those two cities, by means whereof they were solicited and stirred to begin war upon the Spartans: so he wrote a letter missive unto the Ephori, the tenor whereof was this: Agesilaus unto the Ephori, greeting. We have subdued the greatest part of Asia, and driven the Barbarians from thence; also in jonîa we have made many armours; but since you command me to repair home by a day appointed: Know ye that I will follow hard after this letter, or peradventure prevent it; for the authority of command which I have, I hold not for myself, but for my native country and confederates: and then in truth doth a magistrate rule according to right & justice, when he obeyeth the laws of his country & the Ephori, or such like as be in place of government within the city. Having crossed the straits of Hellespont, he entered into the country of Thrace, where he requested of no prince nor State of the Barbarians, passage; but sent unto every one of them, demanding whether he should pass as through the land of friends or enemies? And verily all others received him friendly, and accompanied him honourably as he journeyed through their countries: only those whom they call Troadians, (unto them as the report goeth, Xerxes himself gave presents, to have leave for to pass,) demanded of him for licence of quiet passage, a hundred talents of silver and as many women: but Agesilaus after a scoffing manner asked those who brought this message: And why do not they themselves come with you for to receive the money and women: so he led his army forward; but in the way he encountered them well appointed, gave them battle, overthrew them, and put many of them to the sword, which done, he marched farther. And of the Macedonian king he demanded the same question as before; who made him this answer: That he would consult thereupon: Let him consult (quoth he) what he will, mean while we will march on: the king wondering at his hardiness, stood in great fear of him, and sent him word to pass in peaceable and friendly manner. The Thessalians at the same time were confederate with his enemies: whereupon he forraied and spoiled their countries as he went, and sent to the city of Larissa two friends of his, Xenocles and Scytha, to sound them & see if they could practise effectually for to draw them, to the league and amity of the Lacedæmonians, but those of Larissa arrested those agents, and kept them in prison; whereupon all the rest taking great indignation, were of this mind, that Agesilaus could do no less, but presently encamp himself and beleaguer the city Larissa round about: but he said that for to conquer all Thessaly, he would not lose one of those twain: so upon composition and agreement, he recovered and got them again. Being given to understand that there was a battle fought near to Corinth, in which very few Lacedæmonians were slain, but of Athenians, Argives, Corinthians and their allies, a great number: he was not once seen to have taken any 
e A good man rejoiceth no in the victory obtained in civil wars.  joy or contentment at the news of the victory; but sighed deeply from the bottom of his heart, saying: Alas for unhappy Greece, who hath herself destroyed so many men of her own, as had been sufficient in one battle to have defeated all the Barbarians at once. But when the Pharsalians came to set upon the tail of his army in his march, and to do them mischief and damage; with a force of five hundred horse, he charged and overthrew them; for which lucky hand, he caused a Trophy to be erected under the mountains called Narthacii; and this victory of all others pleased him most, for that with so small a troop and cornet of his own horsemen which himself put out and addressed against them, he had given those the overthrow, who at all times vaunted themselves to be the best men at arms in the world. Thither came Diphridas, one of the Ephori unto him, being sent expressly from Sparta, with a commandment unto him, that incontinently he should with force and arms invade the country of Boeotia; and he although he meant and purposed of himself some time after to enter with a more puissant power; yet would he not disobey those great lords of the State, but sent for two regiments of ten thousands a piece, drawn out of those who served about Corinth, and with them made a road into Boeotia, and gave battle before Coronaea, unto the Thebans, Athenians, Argives, and Corinthians, where he won the field: which, as witnesseth Xenophon, was the greatest and most bloody battle that had been fought in his time: but true it is, that he himself was in many places of his body sore wounded, and then being returned home, notwithstanding so many victories and happy fortunes, he never altered any jot in his own person, either for diet or otherwise for the manner of his life. Seeing some of his citizens to vaunt and boast of themselves, as if they were more than other men, in regard that they nourished and kept horses of the game to run in the race for the prize; he persuaded his sister named Cynisca, to mount into her chariot, and to go unto that solemnity of the Olympic games, there to run a course with her horses for the best prize; by which, his purpose was to let the greeks know, that all this running of theirs was no matter of valour, but a thing of cost and expense, to show their wealth only. He had about him Xenophon the philosopher, whom he loved and highly esteemed; him he requested to send for his sons to be brought up in Lacedaemon, and there to learn the most excellent and singular discipline in the world, namely, the knowledge how to obey and to rule well. Being otherwise demanded, wherefore he esteemed the Lacedæmonians more happy than other nations: It is (quoth he) because they profess and exercise above all men in the world, the skill of obeying and governing. After the death of Lysander, finding within the city of Sparta great factions and much siding, which the said Lysander incontinently after he was returned out of Asia had raised and stirred up against him, he purposed and went about to detect his lewdness, and make it appear unto the inhabitants of Sparta, what a dangerous meddler he had been whiles he lived: and to this purpose having read an oration found after his decease among his papers, which Creon verily the Halicarnassian had composed; but Lysander meant to pronounce before the people in a general assembly of the city, tending to the alteration of the State, and bringing in of many novelties, he was fully minded to have divulged it abroad: but when one of the ancient Senators had read the said oration, and doubted the sequel thereof, considering it was so well penned, and grounded upon such effectual and persuasive reasons, he gave Agesilaus counsel not to dig up Lysander again, and rake him as it were out of his grave, but to let the oration lie buried with him: whose advice he followed, and so rested quiet and made no more ado: and as for those who underhand crossed him and were his adversaries, he did not course them openly, but practised and made means to send some of them forth as captains into certain foreign expeditions, and unto others to commit certain public offices: in which charges they carried themselves so, as they were discovered for covetous & wicked persons, and afterwards when they were called into question judicially, he showed himself contrary to men's expectation to help them out of trouble, and succour them so, as that he got their love and good wills, insomuch as in the end there was not one of them his adversary. One there was who requested him to write in his favour to his hosts and friends which he had in Asia, letters of recommendation, that they would defend and maintain him in his rightful cause: My friends (quoth he) use to do that which is equity and just, although I should write never a word unto them. Another showed him the walls of a city how wonderful strong they were and magnificently built, ask of him whether he thought them not stately and fair: Fair (quoth he) yes no doubt, for women to lodge and dwell in, but not for men. A Megarian there was who magnified, and highly extolled before him the city Megara: Young man (quoth he) and my good friend, your brave words require some great puissance. Such things as other men had in great admiration, he would not seem so much as to take knowledge of. Upon a time one Callipides an excellent player in Tragedies, who was in great name and reputation among the Greeks, insomuch as all sorts of men made no small account of him, when he chanced to meet him upon the way, saluted him first, and afterwards prosumptuously thrust himself forward to walk among others, with him, in hope that the king would begin to show some lightsome countenance, and grace him; but in the end, seeing that it would not be, he was so bold as to advance himself, and say unto him: Sir king, know you not me? and have you not heard who I am? Agesilaus looking wistly upon his face: Art not thou (quoth he) Callipides Deicelictas? (for so the Lacedæmonians use to call a jester or player.) He was invited one day to come and hear a man who could counterfeit most lively and naturally the voice of the nightingale; but he refused to go, saying: I have heard the nightingales themselves to sing many a time. Menecrates the Physician had a lucky hand in diverse desperate cures; whereupon some there were who surnamed him Jupiter, and he himself would over arrogantly take that name upon him, insomuch as he presumed in one letter of his, which he sent unto him, to set this superscription: Menecrates Jupiter, unto king Agesilaus wisheth long life: but Agesilaus wrote back unto him in this wise: Agesilaus to Menecrates wisheth 
f Signifying that he was 〈◊〉 & his head out of temper.  good health. When Pharnabasus and Canon the high-admirals of the armada under the Persian king, were so farrefoorth lords of the sea, that they peeled and spoiled all the coasts of Laconia; and beside, the walls of Athens were rebuilded with the money that Pharnabasus furnished the Athenians withal; the lords of the counsel of Lacedaemon were of advice, that the best policy was, to conclude peace with the king of Persia; and to this effect sent Antalcidas one of their citizens to Tiribasus, with commission treacherously to betray and deliver into the barbarous king's hands, the Greeks inhabiting Asia; for whose liberty Agesilaus before had made wars: by which occasion Agesilaus was thought to have his hand in this shameful and infamous practice: for 〈◊〉, who was his mortal enemy, wrought by all means possible to effect peace, because he saw that war continually augmented the credit of Agesilaus, and made him most mighty and honourable; yet nevertheless he answered unto one that reproached him with the Lacedæmonians, saying: That they were Medified, or turned Medians: Nay rather (quoth he) the Medians are Laconified and become Laconians. The question was propounded unto him upon a time, whether of these two virtues in his judgement was the better, Fortitude or Justice? and he answered: That where Justice reigned, Fortitude bore no sway, and was nothing worth; for if we were all righteous and honest men, there would be no need at all of Fortitude. The people of Greece dwelling in Asia, had a custom to call the king of Persia, The great king: And wherefore (quoth he) is he greater than I, unless he be more temperate and righteous? semblably he said: That the inhabitants of Asia were good slaves, but naughty freemen. Being asked how a man might win himself the greatest name and reputation among men, he answered thus: If he say well, and yet do better. This was a speech of his: That a good captain ought to show unto his enemies, valour and hardiness; but unto those that be under his charge, love and benevolence. Another demanded of him, what, children should learn in their youth? That (quoth he) which they are to do and practise when they be men grown. He was judge in a cause, where the plaintiff had pleaded well, but the defendant very badly; who eftsoons and at every sentence did nothing but repeat these words: O Agesilaus, a king ought to protect and help the laws: unto whom Agesilaus answered in this wise: If one had 
g He that hath done the injarie is to make amends.  undermined thy house, or rob thee of thy raiment, wouldst thou think and look that a carpenter or mason were bound to repair thy house, and the weaver or tailor for to supply thy want of clothes? The king of Persia had writ unto him a letter missive after a general peace concluded; which letter was brought by a gentleman of Persia, who came with Callias the Lacedaemonian, and the contents thereof was to this effect: That the king of Persia desired to enter into some more especial amity and fraternity with him; but he would not accept thereof, saying unto the messenger: Thou shalt deliver this answer from me unto the king thy master; that he needed not to write any such particular letters unto me, concerning private friendship; for if he friend the Lacedæmonians in general, and show himself to love the Greeks, and desire their good, I also reciprocally will be his friend to the utmost of my power; but if I may find that he practiseth treachery, and attempteth aught prejudicial to the state of Greece, well may he write epistle upon epistle, and I receive from him one letter after another, but let him trust to this: I will never be his friend. He loved very tenderly his own children when they were little ones, insomuch as he would play with them up and down the house, yea, and put a long cane between his legs, and ride upon it like an hobby horse with them for company; and if it chanced that any of his friends spied him so doing, he would pray them to say nothing unto any man thereof, until they had babes and children of their own. But during the continual wars that he had with the Thebans, he fortuned in one battle to be grievously wounded; which when Antalcidas, saw, he said unto him: Certes you have received of the Thebans the due salary and reward that you deserved, for teaching them as you have done, even against their wills how to fight, which they neither could nor ever would have learned to do: for in truth it is reported, that the Thebans then became more martial and warlike than ever beforetime, as being enured and exercised in arms by the continual roads and invasions that the Lacedaemomans made; which was the reason, that ancient Lycurgus in those laws of his which be called Rhetrae, expressly forbade his people to make war often upon one and the same nation, for fear lest in so doing their enemies should learn to be good soldiers. When he heard, that the allies and confederates of Lacedaemon were offended and took this continual warfare ill, complaining that they were never in manner out of arms, but carried their harness continually upon their backs; and beside, being many more in number, they followed yet the Lacedæmonians, who were but an handful to all them: he being minded to convince them in this, and to show how many they were, commanded all his said confederates to assemble together, and to sit them down pellmell one with another; the Lacedæmonians likewise to take their place over-against them apart by themselves; which done, he caused an herald to cry aloud in the hearing of all: That all the potters should rise first; and when those were risen, that the brasse-founders and smiths should stand up; then the carpenters; after them the masons; and so all other artisans & handi-crafts men, one after another; by which means all the confederates wel-nere were risen up, and none in manner left sitting; but all this while not a Lacedaemonian stirred off his seat, for that forbidden they were all, to learn or exercise any mechanical craft: then Agesilaus took up a laughter, and said: Lo, my masters and friends, how many more soldiers are we able to send into the wars, than you can make? In that bloody battle fought at Leuctres, many Lacedæmonians there were that ran out of the field & fled, who by the laws and ordinances of the country were all their life time noted with infamy; howbeit, the Ephori seeing that the city by this means would be dispeopled of citizens and lie desert, in that very time when as it had more need than ever before of soldiers, were desirous to devise a policy how to deliver them of this ignominy, and yet notwithstanding prefer the laws in their entire and full force: therefore to bring this about, they elected Agesilaus for their lawgiver, to enact a new laws; who being come before the open audience of the city, spoke unto them in this manner: Ye men of Lacedaemon I am not willing in any wise to be the author and inventor of new laws: and as for those which you have already, I mind not to put any thing thereto, to take fro, or otherwise to alter and change them, and therefore me thinks it is mere and reasonable, that from to morrow forward, those which you have, should stand in their full vigour, strength and virtue accustomed. Moreover, as few as there remained in the city; (when Epaminondas was about to assail it with a great fleet and a violent tempest (as it were) of Thebans and their confederates, puffed up with pride for the late victory achieved in the plain of Leuctres) with those few (I say) he put him and his forces back, and caused them to return without effect: but in the battle of Mantinaea, he admonished and advised the Lacedæmonians to take no regard at all of other Thebans, but to bend their whole forces against Epaminondas only, saying: That wise and prudent men alone, and none but they, were valiant and the sole cause of victory; and therefore if they could vanquish him, they might easily subdue all the rest, as being blockish fools and men in deed of no valour; and so in truth it proved: for when as the victory now inclined wholly unto Epaminondas, and the Lacedæmonians were at the very point to be disbanded, discomfited and put to flight: as the said Epaminondas turned for to call his own together to follow the rout, a Lacedaemonian chanced to give him a mortal wound, wherewith he fell to the ground, and the Lacedæmonians who were with Agesilaus called themselves, made head again, and put the victory into doubtful balance: for now the Thebans abated much their courage, and the Lacedæmonians took the better hearts. Moreover, when the city of Sparta was near driven and at a low ebb for money to wage war, as being constrained to entertain mercenary soldiers for pay, who were mere strangers; Agesilaus went into Egypt, being sent for by the King of Egypt to serve as his pensioner; but for that he was meanly and simply appareled, the inhabitants of the country despised him, for they looked to have seen the King of Sparta richly arrayed and set out gallantly, and all gorgeously to be seen in his person like unto the Persian King; so foolish a conceit they had of kings: but Agesilaus showed them within a while, that the magnificence and majesty of Kings was to be acquired by wit, wisdom, and valour: for perceiving that those who were to fight with him and to make head against the enemy, were frighted with the imminent peril, by reason of the great number of enemies, who were two hundred thousand fight men, and the small company of their own side; he devised with himself before the battle began, by some stratagem to encourage his own men, and to embolden their hearts; which policy of his he would not communicate unto any person; and this it was: He caused upon the inside of his left hand to be written this word, Victory, backward; which done he took at the priests or soothsaiers hand who was at sacrifice, the liver of the beast which was killed, and put it into the said left hand thus written within, and so held it a good while, making semblance as if he mused deeply of some doubt, and seeming to stand in suspense & to be in great perplexity, until the characters of the foresaid letters had a sufficient time to give a print, and leave their mark in the superficies of the liver; then showed he it unto those who were to fight on his side, and gave them to understand that by those characters the gods promised victory: who supposing verily that there was in it a certain sign & presage of good fortune, ventured boldly upon the hazard of a battle. And when the enemies had invested and beleaguered his camp round about; such a mighty number there were of them, and beside had begun to cast a trench on every side thereof, King 
* or 〈◊〉  Nectanebas (for whose aid he was thither come) solicited and entreated him to make a sally and charge upon them before the said trench was fully finished, and both ends brought together, he answered: That he would never impeach the design and purpose of the enemies, who went (no doubt) to give him means to be equal unto them and to fight so many to so many: so he stayed until there wanted but a very little of both ends meeting; and then in that space between, he ranged his battle; by which device they encountered and fought with even fronts, and on equal hand for number: so he put the enemies to flight, and with those few soldiers which he had, he made a great carnage of them; but of the spoil and booty which he won, he raised a good round mass of money, and sent it all to Sparta. Being now ready to embark for to depart out of Egypt, & upon the point of return home, he died: and at his death expressly charged those who were about him, that they should make no image or statue whatsoever representing the similitude of his parsonage: For that (quoth he) if I have done any virtuous act in my life time, that will be a monument sufficient to eternize my memory; if not, all the images, statues, and pictures in the world will not serve the turn, since they be the works only of mechanical artificers which are of no worth and estimation.  
AGESIPOLIS the son of Cleombrotus, when one related in his presence that Philip K. of Macedon had in few days demolished and razed the city Olinthus: Par die (quoth he) Philip will not be able in many more days to build the like to it. Another said unto him by way of reproach, that himself (king as he was, and other citizens men grown of middle age) were delivered as hostages, and neither their children nor wives: Good reason (quoth he) and so it ought to be according to justice, that we ourselves and no others, should bear the blame and pain of our faults. And when he was minded to send for certain dog-whelps from home; one said unto him; that there might not be suffered any of them to go out of the country: No more was it permitted heretofore (quoth he) for men to be lead forth, but now it is allowed well enough.  
AGESIPOLIS the son of Pausanias (when as the Athenians said to him: That they were content to report themselves to the judgement of the Megarians as touching certain variances and differences between them, and complaints which they made one against another) spoke thus unto them: Why my masters of Athens, this were a great shame indeed, that they who are the chief and the very leaders of all other Greeks, should less skill what is just than the Megarians.  
AGNOSTUS is the son of Archidamus, at what time as the Ephori spoke thus unto him: Take with you the young & able men of this city, & go into the country of such an one, for he will conduct you his own self, as far as to the very castle of his city: And what reason is it (quoth he) my masters, you that be Ephori, to commit the lives of so many lusty gallants into his hands, who is a traitor to his native country? One demanded of him what science was principally exercised in the city of Sparta: Marry (quoth he) the knowledge how to obey and how to rule. He was wont to say, that the Lacedæmonians never asked, how many their enemies were? but where they were. Being forbidden to fight with his enemies at the battle of Mantinaea, because they were far more in number: He must of necessity (quoth he) fight with many that would have the command & rule of many. Unto another who asked what number there might be in all of the Lceadaemonians? As many (quoth he) as are enough to chase and drive away wicked persons. In passing a long the walls of Corinth, when he saw them so high, so well built, and so large in extent: What 
h High walls be a fortesse for women.  manner of women (quoth he) be they that inhabit within? To a great master of Rhetoric who praising his own skill & profession, chanced to conclude with these words; When all is done, there is nothing so puissant as the speech of man: Why then be like (quoth he) so long as you hold your peace you are of no worth. The Argives having been once already beaten & defaited, returned nevertheless into the field & showed themselves in a bravado more gallantly than before, and priest for a new battle: and when thereupon he saw his auxiliaries and confederates to be some what troubled and frighted: Be of good cheer (quoth he) my masters and friends, for if we, who have given them the foil be afraid, what think you are they themselves. A certain ambassador from the city Abdera, came to Sparta, who made a long speech as touching his message, and after he had done and held his tongue a little, he demanded at last a dispatch, and said unto him: Sir, what answer would you that I should carry back to our citizens: You shall say unto them (quoth Agis) that I have suffered you to speak all that you would, and as long as you list? and that I lent you mine ear all the while without giving you one word again. Some there were who commended the aliens for most just men and precise in observing the solemnity of the Olympic games: And is that so great a matter and such a wonder (quoth he) if in five years space they exercise justice one day? Some buzzed into his ears that those of the other royal house envied him: Then (quoth he) do they suffer a double pain; for first and foremost their own evils will vex and trouble themselves; then in the second place, the good things in me and my friends will torment them. Some one there was of advice, that he should give way and passage to his enemies when they were put to flight: Yea, but mark this (quoth he) if we set not upon them who run away for cowardice, how shall we fight against them that stay and make good their ground by valour? One there was who propounded a means for the maintenance of the greeks liberty; which (no doubt) was a generous and magnanimous course, howbeit very hard to execute; unto whom he answered thus: My good friend, your words require great store of money, and much strength. When another said that king Philip would watch them well enough that they should not set foot within other parts of Greece: My friend (quoth he) it shall content us to remain and continue in our own country. There was another ambassador from the city Perinthus, came to Lacedaemon, who having likewise made a long oration, in the end demanded of Agis what answer he should deliver back to the Perinthians: Mary what other but this (quoth he) that thou couldst hardly find the way to make an end of speaking, and I held my peace all the while. He went upon a time sole ambassador to king Philip, who said unto him: You are an ambassador alone indeed: True (quoth he) and good enough to one alone as you are. An ancient citizen of Sparta said unto him one day, being himself aged also, and far stepped in years: Since that the old laws and customs went every day to mine and were neglected, seeing also that others far worse were brought in and stood in their place, all in the end would be nought and run to confusion; unto whom he answered merrily thus: Then is it at it should be, and the world goes well enough if it be so as you say; for I remember when I was a little boy, I heard my father say, that every thing than was turned upside down, and that in his remembrance all wentkim kam; and he also would report of his father that he had seen as much in his days; no marvel therefore if things grow worse and worse; more wonder it were if they should one while be better, and another while continue still in the same plight. Being asked on a time how a man might continue free all his life time; he answered: By despising death.  
AGIS the younger, when Demades the orator said unto him: That the Lacedæmonians swords were so short that these jugglers and those that played legerdemain, could swallow them down all once, made him this answer: As short as they be the Lacedæmonians can reach their enemies with them well enough. A certain lewd fellow and a troublesome, never linned ask him, who was the best man in all Sparta: Mary (quoth Agis) even he who is unlikest thyself.  
AGIS, the last king of the Lacedæmonians, being forelaid and surprised by treachery, so that he was condemned by the Ephori to die; as he was led without form of law and justice to the place of execution for to be strangled with a rope, perceiving one of his servants and ministers to shed tears; said thus unto him; Weep not for my death; for in dying thus unjustly and against the order of law, I am in better case than those that put me to death; and having said these words, he willingly put his neck within the halter.  
ACROTATUS, when as his own father and mother requested his helping hand for to effect a thing contrary to reason and justice, stayed their suit for a time: but seeing that they importuned him still and were very instant with him; in the end said unto them: So long as I was under your hands, I had no knowledge nor sense at all of justice; but after that you had betaken me to the commonweal, to my country, and to the laws thereof, and by that means informed and instructed me in what you could in righteousness and honesty, I will endeavour and strain myself to follow the said instruction and not you; and for that I know full well that you would have me do that which is good, and considering that those things be best (both for a private person, and much more for him who is in authority and a chief magistrate) which are just; sure I will do what you would have me, and refuse that which you say unto me.  
ALCAMENES the son of Teleclus, when one would needs know of him, by what means a man might preserve a kingdom best, made this answer: Even by making no account at all of lucre and gain. Another demanded of him wherefore he would never accept nor receive the gifts of the Messenians? Forsooth (quoth he) because if I had taken them, I should never have had peace with the laws. And when a third person said: That he marveled much how he could live so strait and near to himself, considering he had wherewith and enough: It is (quoth he) a commendable thing, when a man having sufficient and plenty can nevertheless live within the compass of reason, and not according to the large reach of his appetite.  
ALEXANDRIDAS the son of Leon, seeing one to torment himself, and taking on desperately because he was banished out of his native country: My friend (quoth he) never fare so for the matter nor vex thy heart so much, for being constrained to remove so far from thy country, but rather for being 
i A man ought to grieve more for 〈◊〉 sin, than for being exiled.  so remote from justice. Unto another who in delivering good matter unto the Ephori, and to very great purpose, but more words a great deal than need was: My friend (quoth he) thou speakest indeed that which becometh, but otherwise than is becoming. One asked him why the Lacedæmonians committed the charge of all their lands unto the Ilotes their slaves, & did not husband and tend them their own selves: Because (quoth he) we conquered and purchased them, for that we would look to ourselves, and not tend them. unto another who held that it was nothing but desire of credit and reputation that undid men, and whosoever could be delivered from the care thereof were happy; he replied thus again: If it be true that you say, we must confess and grant that wicked men, who do wrong unto others are happy; for how can a churchrobber or thief who spoileth other men of their goods be desirous of honour and glory? When another demanded of him, how it came to pass that the Lacedæmonians were so hardy and resolute in all occurrences and dangers of war, he rendered this reason: Because (quoth he) we study and endeavour to have a reverend regard of our lives, and not to entertain the fear of our lives, as others do. It was demanded of him, wherefore the Seniors or Elders fat many days in deciding and judging criminal causes? and why albeit the accused party were by them acquit, yet he continued nevertheless in the state of a guilty and accused person? As for the Senators (quoth he) they be long in deciding capital matters, where men are brought in question for their life; because those judges who have committed an error in condemning a man to die, can never rectify and amend that sentence: and as to the party absolved and enlarged, he must remain always liable and subject to the law, because they might ever after inquire and judge better of his fact according to the law.  
ANAXANDER the son of Eutycrates, being asked the question why he and such other did not gather money and lay it up in the public treasury, made this answer: For fear lest we being keepers thereof, should be corrupted and perverted thereby.  
ANAXILAS, unto one who marveled why the Ephori rose not up and made obeisance to the kings, considering that by the kings they were ordained and put into that place? gave this reason: Even because they are created Ephori, that is to say, overseers and controllers of them.  
ANDROCLIDAS the Laconian, being maimed and lame of a leg, would nevertheless be cnrolled in the number of those who were to serve in the wars; and when some withstood him because he was impotent of that leg: Why my masters (quoth he) they be not the men of good footmanship, who can run away, but such as stand their ground that must fight with enemies.  
ANTALCIDAS making means to be admitted into the confraternity of the Samothracian religion, when the priest his confessor, in houseling and shriving him, demanded which was the greatest sin that ever he had committed in all his life? If (quoth he) I have committed any sin all my life time, the gods know the same well enough themselves. When a certain Athenian miscalled the Lacedæmonians, terming them ignorant and unlearned sots: In deed (quoth he) we only of all the Grecians, are the men who have not learned of you to do ill. And when another Athenian bragged, and said: We have chased you many a time from the river Cephisus: But we (quoth he) never yet drove you from the river Eurotas. Unto another, who was desirous to know how one might please men best, he shaped this answer: In case he speak always that which pleaseth, and do that which profiteth them. A certain great master and professor of Rhetoric, would needs one day rehearse and pronounce before him an oration composed in the praise of Hercules: And who ever (quoth he) dispraised him? And unto Agesilaus, being sore wounded in a battle by the Thebans: Nay (quoth he) you are well enough served and receive a due Minervall for your schoolage at the Thebans hands, whom you have taught even against their wills that which they knew not, nor were willing to learn, to wit, for to sight: for in truth, by means of the continual incursions and expeditions that Agesilaus made against them, they became valiant warriors. Himself was wont to say: That the walls of Sparta, were their young men; and their confines, the heads of their pikes. Unto another, who demanded why the Lacedæmonians fought with such short curtelaxes: To the end (quoth he) that we might cope and close more nearly to our enemies.  
ANTIOCUUS being one of the Ephori, heard say that king Philip had bestowed upon the Messenians certain lands for their territory: But hath Philip (quoth he) given them withal, forces to be able for to defend the same?  
ARIGEUS, when some there were that highly commended certain dames, not their own wives, but wedded to other men: By the gods (quoth he) of good, honest, and fair women, there ought no vain speeches to be made, for that indeed they are not known of any other but their husbands who live ordinarily with them. As he passed once thorough the city Selinus in Sicily, he chanced to read this epitaph engraven upon a sepulchre or tomb: 
These men before Selinus gates were slain in bloody fight,  
As whilom they sought for to quench the lawless tyrant's might.  And well deserved you (quoth he) to die, for seeking to extinguish tyranny when it burneth out of a light fire; for clean chose, you should have kept it from burning altogether.  
ARISTON hearing one praise and discourse of a sentence tha king Cleomenes was wont to use, at what time as the question was asked: What was the office of a good king? Mary even to do good unto his friends & hurt unto his enemies: But how much better (answered Ariston) my good friend, were it to benefit friends indeed, and of enemies to make good friends? but of this notable sentence, no doubt, Socrates was the author, and upon him it is rightly fathered. Also when one demanded of him how many in number the Lacedæmonians were: As many (quoth he) as be sufficient to chase away their enemies. A certain Athenian pronounced a funeral oration which he had penned in the praise of their own citizens, who had been defaited and were slain by the Lacedæmonians in a battle: If your countrymen (quoth he) were so valiant as you say, what think you then of ours, who vanquished them? When one praised Charilaus upon a time, for that he showed himself courteous indifferently to all men: And how can he deserve (quoth Ariston) to be commended, who is kind and friendly to wicked persons? Another reproved Hecataeus a professor in Rhetoric, who being invited to eat with them at their seasts which they call Syssitia, spoke never a word all dinner time; unto whom he made this answer: It seemeth that you are ignorant, that he who knoweth how to speak well, can skill likewise of the time when it is good to speak and when to keep silence.  
ARCHIDAMUS the son of Zeuxidamus, when one asked him who they were that governed the city Sparta? answered: The laws first, and then the magistrates who ruled according to those laws. When he heard one praising exceedingly a player on the harp, and for his skill in music having him in singular admiration: My friend (quoth he) what honourable reward shall they have at your hands, who be men of prowess and valour, when you commend so highly an harper? Another recommended unto him a musician and said: Oh, what an excellent chanter is there? This is (quoth he) even as much as a good cook or maker of pottage among us: meaning that there was no difference at all between giving pleasure by sound of voice or instruments, and the dressing of viands or seasoning sews. One promised to give him wine that was very sweet and pleasant: And to what purpose? (quoth he) considering that it serveth but for to draw on more wine, and to make folk drink the rather; and beside, to cause men to be less valiant and unfit for any good things. Lying at siege before the city of Corinth, he marked how there were hares started even close under the walls thereof; upon which sight he said thus to those that served with him: Our enemies are easy to be surprised and caught, when they are so lazy and idle, as to suffer hares to lie and harbour hard under their city walls, even within the trench and towne-ditch. He had been chosen an umpire between two parties who were at variance, for to make them friends; and he led them both into the temple of Diana surnamed Chalceaecoes, where he willed them both to promise and swear, laying their hands upon the altar of that goddess, that they would both twain observe from point to point whatsoever he should award; which they undertook to do, and bound it with an oath accordingly: I judge then (quoth he) that neither of you both shall depart out of this temple, before you have made an atonement, and pacified all quarrels between you. Dionysius the tyrant of Sicily, had sent unto his daughter's certain rich robes to wear; but he refused them, and said: I greatly fear, that when they have this raiment upon them, they will seem more foul and ill-favoured than now they do. Seeing his own son in a battle, fight desperately against the Athenians: Either (quoth he) augment thy strength, or abate thy courage.  
ARCHIDAMUS the son of Agesilaus, when king Philip after the battle which he had won against the Greeks, near unto Cheronea, wrote unto him a rough and sharp letter; returned unto him back again this answer in writing: If you take measure now of your own shadow, you shall find it no bigger than it was before the victory. Being demanded the question upon a time, how far the territory of the Lacedæmonians did extend? he answered: Even as far as they can reach with their javelins. Periander the physician was a sufficient man in his art, and esteemed with the best and most excellent, howbeit he wrote in verse, but with a bad grace; unto whom he said one day thus: I marvel much Periander whether you had rather be named an ill poet or a good physician? In the war which the Lacedæmonians made against King Philip, some gave him counsel to be well advised where he fought, and to battle as far as he could from his own country, unto whom he replied again: This is not the thing (quoth he) that we ought to regard, but rather to consider and think upon this, how we may quit ourselves so well in fight, that we be winners in the end. And to those who praised him for that he had won a field of the Arcadians, he made this answer: It had been better that we had overcome them rather in wisdom and prudence than in might and force. About the time that he entered by force force and arms into the country of Arcadia, being advertised that the Eleans sent aid and succour unto the Arcadians, he wrote unto them in this sort; Archidamus to the Eleans, greeting: A blessed thing it is to be quiet & at repose. When the confederate & allied nations in the Peloponnesiacke war, demanded how much money would serve for the defraying of the charges to the said war belonging? and requested him to tax each one how much they should contribute: War (quoth he) knoweth no sum, & is not waged at any certain rate. Seeing a shot which was leveled from an engine of battery newly brought out of Sicily: O Hercules (quoth he) now is man's prowess gone for ever. And for that the Greeks would not give credit and be persuaded by him, to perform those conditions of peace which had been made with Antigonus and Craterus, two Macedonians, for to live in their ancient liberty; alleging that the Lacedæmonians would be lords more rigorous and insupportable than the Macedonians: The sheep (quoth he) hath always one and the same voice; but man changeth it oftentimes in diverse sorts, until he have brought about and finished his designs.  
ASTICRATIDAS, when one said, after that King Agis had lost the field to Antigonus, about the city Megale: O poor Lacedæmonians, what will you do now? will you become slaves to the Macedonians? answered thus: And why so? Can 
* or 〈◊〉  Antigonus forbid and let us, but we will die in fight for Sparta?  
BIAS being surprised by an ambush, which was laid for him by Iphicrates captain of the Athenians, when his soldiers said: Now captain what is to be done? What else (quoth he) but to advise you to save yourselves, and to resolve myself for to die in fight.  
BRASIDAS found among dried figs a mouse that bit him by the hand, so as he was glad to let her go, whereupon he said unto those that were present: Lo, how there is not the least creature that may be, but it is able to make shift and save it life, in case it have but the heart to defend itself against those who assail it? In a certain skirmish he was wounded with a javelling thorough his buckler, and when he had drawn the head out of his body, with the very same weapon he slew his enemy who had hurt him; and to those who asked him, how he came so wounded? he answered thus: Because my buckler deceived me. When he put himself into his journey to the wars, he wrote thus unto the Ephori: All that is requisite for this war as touching the war, do I will to my power or die for it. After he had lost his life in the quarrel of delivering the Greeks out of servitude who inhabit in Thracia, the embassdodrs which were sent from those parts to give thanks unto the Lacedæmonians, went to visit his mother Argileonis; of whom she demanded first, whether her son Brasidas died manfully or no? And when the Thracian ambassadors highly praised him, insomuch as they said, that he had not left his fellow behind him: Oh (quoth she) you are much deceived my friends; Brasidas was in deed a valiant and hardy man, but there be in Sparta many more far better than he.  
DAMONIDAS happened to be placed last in the dance by him who was the master chorister; whereat he was no otherwise displeased, but said thus unto him: Well done, for thou hast found the means to make this place honourable, which heretofore was but base and infamous.  
DAMIS, when letters had been written unto him as touching Alexander the Great, namely how Alexander by their suffrages was declared a god; wrote back in this wise: We grant that Alexander should be called a god since he will needs have it so.  
DAMINDAS', when King Philip was entered with a main army unto Peloponnesus, whereupon one said unto him: The Lacedæmonians are in danger to suffer many calamities, unless they can make means to agree and compound with him: Thou womanish-man (quoth he) how can he bring us to suffer any miseries, considering that we make no reckoning at all of death?  
DERCILLIDAS was sent ambassador unto King Pyrrhus, what time as he had his army emeamped upon the very confines of Sparta: and Pyrrhus enjoined the Lacedæmonians to receive again their king Cleonimus whom they had banished, or else he would make them to understand, that they were no more valiant than other men; upon whom Dercyllidas thus replied: If you be a god we fear you not, because we have no way offended you, but if you be a man, know you that you are no whit better than we.  
DEMARATUS talked and communed one day with Orontes, who gave him blunt speeches and hard words; and when one who heard their talk, said afterwards: Orontes, very bold with you, and useth you but homely o Demaratus: Nay (quoth he) he hath nothing faulted to meward; for those who gloze and flatter in all their speech, be they who do most harm, and not such as speak upon ill will and malice. One seemed to demand of him, wherefore at Sparta those were noted with infamy, who in a discomfiture threw away their bucklers, and not they who cast from them their morrions, cuirasses or breastplates: Because (quoth he) these armours and headpieces, serve only for those who wear them; but their shields & bucklers, have their use also for the common strength of the whole battailon. When he heard a certain musician sing: Believe me (quoth he) the fellow plays the fool very well. He was upon a time in a great company & assembly, where he continued a long while and spoke never a word; by occasion whereof one said unto him: Is it for folly and want of matter to talk of, that you are so silent? How can it be folly (quoth he) for a fool can never hold his peace? One asked of him what was the cause why he was banished out of Sparta, being king thereof? Because (quoth he the laws there be mistresses and command all. A certain Persian by continual gifts had inveigled and gotten from him in the end a young boy whom he loved, and afterwards in manner of a scorn said unto him: I have so well hunted, that at last I have caught your love: Not so (quoth he) I swear by the but rather you have bought it. A certain gentleman of Persia there was, who had rebelled against the king of Persia; but Demaratus by reasons and remonstrances so wrought with him, that he persuaded him to yield and return again to his allegiance; the king incontinently minded to put this Persian to death; but Demaratus diverted him, and said: Sir, this were an utter shame for you, if when you could not punish him for rebellion being your enemy you should proceed to his execution now, when he is become again your servitor and friend. There was a certain jester and parasite who used to play his part at the king's table, and gave unto Demaratus eftsoons, biting quips, and taunts by way of reproach for his exile; but he answered him and said: Good fellow, I am not disposed to fight with thee now this time, being put as I am out of my biace and the range of my life, and having lost my standing.  

* or 〈◊〉  EMEREPES the Ephorus, cut two strings of the nine with an hatchet, in Phrynis his harp, saying withal: Then mar not music.  
EPAENETUS was wont to say: That liars were the cause of all the offences and crimes in world.  
EUBOIDAS hearing some to praise another man's wife, reproved them for it, & said: That strangers who were not of the house, ought not in any respect to speak of the behaviour and manners of any dame.  
EUDAMIDAS hearing some to praise another man's wife, reproved them for it, & said: That strangers who were not of the house, ought not in any respect to speak of the behaviour and manners of any dame.  
EUDAMIDAS the son of Archidamus and brother to Agis, having espied Xenocrates, a man well stricken in years, studying philosophy hard, with other young scholars in the Academy, demanded what old man that might be: one standing by, answered, that he was a wise man and a great clerk, one of those who sought after virtue: If he be still seeking of it (quoth he) when will he use and practise it? Having heard a Philosopher dispute and discourse upon this paradox: That there was no good captain in war, but the great clerk and learned Sage only: This is (quoth he) a strange proposition and wonderful, but the best is, he that maintaineth it, is in no wise to be credited, for his ears were never yet acquainted so much as with the sound of a trumpet. He came one day into the open school or auditory to hear Xenocrates discourse at large upon some question; but it fell out so, that he had new done when he entered into the place; then one of his company began to say: Surely, so soon as we were present, he became silent: He did well (quoth Eudamidas) if he had made an end of that which he had to say: but when the other replied: It were not amiss yet that we heard him, and that he would set to it again: if we (quoth Eudamidas) should go to visita a man in his house who had supped already before we came, were it well done of us to pray him to go to a new supper for the love of us? It was once demanded of him why he alone would seem to approve rest, quietness and peace, considering that all his fellow-citizens with one consent were of opinion to take arms and make war upon the Macedonians? It is (quoth he) because I neither need nor am desirous to convince them of their error and lying. Another for to animate him to this war, alleged the prowesses and worthy exploits achieved by them at other times against the Persians: methinks (quoth he) you know not what you say, namely, that because we have overcome a thousand sheep, we should therefore set upon fifty wolves. He was upon a time in place to hear a musician sing, who did his part very well; and one asked him, how he liked the man, and what he thought of him? May (quoth he) I take him to be a great amuser of men in a small matter. When another highly extolled the city of Athens in his presence: And who can justly and duly (quoth he) praise that city which no man ever loved, for being made better in it? When Alexander the great had caused open proclamation to be made in the great assembly at the Olympic games: That all banished persons might return unto their own countries, except the Thebans: Behold (quoth Eudamidas) here is a woeful proclamation for you that be Thebans; howbeit honourable withal, for it is a sign that Alexander feareth none but you only in all Greece. A certain citizen of Argos said one day in his hearing: That the Lacsedaemonians after they be gone once out of their own country and from the obeisance of their laws, prove worse for their traveling abroad in the world: But it is contrary with you that be Argives and other greeks (quoth he) for being come once into our cities Sparta you are not the worse, but prove the better by that means. It was demanded of him what the reason might be, wherefore they used to sacrifice unto the Muses before they did hazard a battle: To the end (quoth he) that our valiant acts might be well and worthily written.  
EURYCRATIDAS the son of Anaxandrides, when one asked him why the Ephori sat every day to decide and judge of contracts between men: For that (quoth he) we should learn to keep our faith and truth even among our enemies.  
ZEUXIDAMUS likewise answered unto one who demanded of him why the statutes and ordinances of prowess and martial fortitude, were not reduced into a book, and given in writing unto young men for to read? Because (quoth he) we would have them to be acquainted with deeds and not with writings. A certain Aetolian said: That war was better than peace, unto those who were desirous to show themselves valorous men: And not war only (quoth he) for by the gods, in that respect better is death than life.  
HERONDAS chanced to be at Athens, what time as one of the citizens was apprehended, arraigned, and condemned for his idleness, judicially and by form of law; which when he understood, and heard a brute and noise about him, he requested one to show him the party that was condemned for a gentleman's life.  
THEARIDAS whetted his sword upon a time, and when one asked him if it were sharp, he answered: Yea, sharper than a slanderous calumniation.  
THEMISTEAS being a prophet or soothsayer, foretold unto king Leonidas the discomsiture that should happen within the pass or straits of Thermopylae, with the loss both of himself and also of his whole army: whereupon being sent away by Leonidas unto Lacedaemon, under a colour and pretence to inform them of these future accidents; but in truth, to the end that he should not miscarry and die there with the rest; he would not so do, neither could he forbear but say unto Leonidas: I was sent hither for a warrior to fight, and not as an ordinary courier and messenger to carry news between.  
THEOPOMPUS when one demanded of him how a king might preserve his kingdom and royal estate in safety? said thus: By giving his friend's liberty to speak the truth, and with all his power by keeping his subjects from oppression. Unto a stranger who told him that in his own country & among his citizens he was commonly surnamed Philolacon, that is to say, a lover of the Laconians: It were better (quoth he) that you were called 
* A lover of your fellow citizens.  Philopolites than Philolacon. Another ambassador there came from Elis, who said: That he was sent from his fellow-citizens, because he only of all that city loved and followed the Laconike manner of life; of him Theopompus demanded: And whether is thine or the other citizen's life the better? he answered Mine: Why then (quoth he) how is it possible that a city should safe, in which there being so great a number of inhabitants, there is but one good man? There was one said before him, that the city of Sparta maintained the state thereof entire, for that the kings there knew how to govern well: Nay (quoth he) not so much therefore, as because the citizens there can skill how to obey well. The inhabitants of the city Pyle, decreed for him in their general counsel exceeding great honours; unto whom he wrote back again: That moderate honours time is wont to augment, but immoderate to diminish and wear away.  
THERYTION returning from the city Delphos, found king Philip encamped within the straight of Peloponnesus, where he had gained the narrow passage called Isthmos, upon which the city of Corinth is seated; whereupon he said: Peloponnesus hath but bad porters and warders of you, Corinthians.  
THECTAMENES, being by the Ephori condemned to death, went from the judgement place smiling away; and when one that was present asked him, if he despised the laws and judicial proceedings of Sparta? No iwis (quoth he) but I rejoice hereat, that they have condemned me in that fine which I am able to pay and discharge fully, without borrowing of any friend, or taking up money at interest.  
HIPPODAMUS, as Agis was with Archidamus in the camp, being sent with Agis by the king unto Sparta, for to provide for the affairs of weal public and look unto the State; refused to go, saying: I cannot die a more honourable death, than in fight valiantly for the defence of Sparta: now was he fourscore years old and upward and took arms, where he ranged himself on the right hand of the king, and there fight by his side right manfully, was slain.  
HIPPOCRATIDAS, when a certain prince or great lord of Caria had written unto him, that he had in his hands a Lacedaemonian, who having been privy unto a conspiracy and treason intended against his person, revealed not the same; demanding withal, his counsel what he should do with him; wrote back again in this wise: If you have heretofore done him any great pleasure and good turn, put him to death hardly and make him away; if not, expel him out of your country, considering he is a base fellow uncapable altogether of virtue. He chanced to encounter upon the way a young boy, after whom followed one who loved him; and the boy blushed for shame; whereupon he said unto him: Thou oughtest to go in their company my boy with whom thou being seen, needest not to change colour for the matter.  
CALLICRATIDAS being admiral of a fleet, when the friends of Lysander requested him to pleasure them in killing some of their enemies; and in consideration thereof he should receive of them fifty talents; notwithstanding he stood then in very great need of money for to buy victuals for the mariners, yet would not he grant their request; and when Cleander, one of his counsel, said unto him: I would (I trow, if I were in your place) take the offer: So would I also (quoth he) if I were in yours. Being come to Sardis unto Cyrus the younger, who at that time was an ally and confederate of the Lacedæmonians, to see if he could speed himself of him with money for to entertain mariners and maintain the armada; the first day he gave him to understand that he was thither come to speak with him; but answer was made: That the king was at the table drinking: Well (quoth he) I will give attendance until he have made an end of his beaver: after he had waited a long time, and saw that it was impossible for to have audience that day, he departed out of the court for that time, being thought very rude and uncivil in so doing: the morrow after, when likewise he was given to understand that he was drinking again, and that he would not come abroad that day; he made no more ado, but returned to Ephesus, from whence he came, saying withal: That he ought not so far forth to take pains for to be provided of money, as to do any thing unseeming Sparta: and beside, he fell a cursing those who were the first that endured such indignity, as to subject themselves unto the insolency of Barbarians, and who taught them to abuse their riches, and thereby to show themselves so proud and disdainful, as to insult over others; yea, and he swore a great oath in the presence of those who were in his company, that so soon as he was returned to Sparta, he would labour with all his might and main, to reconcile the Greek nations one unto another; to the end that they might be more dread and terrible to the Barbarians, when as they stood in no need of their foreign forces to wage war one upon another. It was demanded of him, what kind of men the jonians were? Good slaves they are (quoth he) but bad freemen. When Cyrus in the end had sent money for to pay his soldiers wages, and besides some gifts and presents particularly to himself; he received only the foresaid pay, but as for the gifts, he sent them back again, saying: That he had no need of any private or particular amity with Cyrus, so long as the common friendship which he had with all the Lacedæmonians pertained also unto him. A little before he gave the battle at sea, near unto Arginusie, his pilot said unto him: That it was best for him to sail away, for that the galleys of the Athenians were fasrre more in number than theirs: And what of all that (quoth he) is it not a shameful infamy, & hurtful beside to Sparta, for to fly? simply, best it is to tarry by it, and either to win, or die for it. Being at the point to encounter and join medley, and having sacrificed unto the gods, the soothsayer showed unto him that the entrails of the beast signified and promised assured victory unto the army, but death unto the captain; whereat he was nothing daunted nor affrighted, but said: The state of Sparta lieth not in one man, for when I am dead, my country will be never the less; but if I should recoil now, and yield unto the enemies, she will be much impaired, and lose her reputation. Thus having substituted Cleander in his place, if aught should happen otherwise than well, he gave the charge, and struck a naval battle, wherein fight valiantly he ended his life.  
CLEOMBROTUS the son of Pausanias, when a certain friend a stranger, debated and reasoned with his father about virtue, he said unto him: In this point at leastwise is my father before you, for that he hath already begotten a son, and you none.  
CLEOMENES the son of Anaxandrides, was wont to say: That Homer was the Poet of the Lacedæmonians, because he taught how to make war; but Hesiodus the Poet of the Ilots, for that he wrote of agriculture and husbandry. He had made truce for seven days with the Argives; and the third night after it began, perceiving that the Argives upon the assurance and confidence of the said truce were sound asleep, he charged upon them, flew some, and took others prisoners; and when he was reproached therefore, and namely, that he had broken his oath; he answered: That he never swore to observe truce in the night season, but in daytime only; and beside, what annoyance soever a man did unto his enemies (in what sort it made no matter) he was to think that both before God and man it was a point above justice, and in no wise subject and liable unto it: howbeit, for this perjury of his and breaking of covenant, he was disappointed and 〈◊〉 of his hope and design, which was to surprise the city of Argos, for that indeed the very women took those arms which in memorial of ancient victories were hung and set up fast in their temples, with which they repelled them from the walls: after this, he fell into a furious rage, and his wits were distraught; insomuch as he took a knife, and slit his body from the very ankles up to the principal and noble vital parts, and so laughing and scoffing, he left his life. His very soothsaire would have dissuaded and diverted him from leading his forces against Argos, saying: That his return from thence would be dishonourable and infamous: and when he presented his power before the city, he found the gates fast shut against them, and the women in arms upon the walls: How think you (quoth he) now, do you suppose this a dishonourable return, when as the women, after all the men be dead, are feign to keep the gates fast locked? When the Argives abused him with reproachful terms, calling him a perjured and godless person: Well (quoth he) it is in you to miscall me and rail upon me as you do, in word; but it is in me to plague and mischief you indeed. Unto the ambassadors of Sames, who came to move and solicit him for to war upon the tyrant Polycrates, and to that effect, used long speeches and persuasions, he answered thus: As touching that point which you speak of in the beginning of your oration, it is out of my head now, and I remember it not; in which regard also I do not well conceive the middle part of your speech; but as for that which you delivered in the latter end, I mislike it altogether. There was in his time a notable rover or pirate, who made roads into the land, and spoiled the coasts of Laconia, but at the last he was intercepted and taken; now being examined and demanded why he rob in this sort? I had not wherewith (quoth he) to maintain and keep my soldiers about me, and therefore I came to those who had it, and knowing that they would give me nothing freely and by fair means, I assayed to get somewhat of them by force and strong hand: Naughtiness I see well (quoth he) goeth the nearest way to work. There was a lewd villain, who did nothing but revile and miscall him: Thou seemest (quoth he) to go up and down railing upon every man, to the end that being amused how to answer those thy slanders and imputations, we might have no time not leisure to charge thee with thy wickedness and lay open thy vices. When one of his subjects said unto him: That a good king ought always and in every thing to be mild and gracious: Not so (quoth he) left he grow thereby despised and contemptible. Being sore handled with a long and redious malady, and not knowing what to do, he put himself at last into the hands of forcerers, enchanters, wizards and sacrificers, unto whom he was wont never to give any credit before; whereat when one of his familiar friends marveled much, he said unto him: Wherefore wonder you at the matter? for I am not the man that heretofore I was, but much changed by sickness; and as I am not the same, so I do not like & allow of those things which I did in times past. There was a great professor of Rhetoric, who took upon him in his presence to discourse at large of prowess and valour, whereat he began to laugh a good; and when the party said unto him: Why laugh you to hear a man spoke of valiance, especially being as you are a king? My good friend (quoth he) because if a swallow should talk as you have done, I would do as you do; marry if it had been an eagle, I should have been silent haply and held my peace. The Argives made their boast & vaunted that in a 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  second battle, they had recovered the loose which they sustained in a former: I wonder much at that (quoth he) if by the addition of 
* 〈◊〉  two syllables only, you are proved better men now that erst you were. When one reproached him in foul terms, saying: You are a great spender Cleomenes and a voluptuous person: Better it is yet (quoth he) so to be, than unjust as you are, who being wealthy enough, are yet covetous, and get your goods by undue and indirect means. There was one who recommended a musician unto him, and in truth praised the man in many respects; but among the rest for his excellent voice, saying: He was the best singer in all Greece: but Celomenes pointing with his finger to one hard by: Lo (quoth he) here is a passing good cook of mine, and namely at making of broth he hath no fellow. Meander the Tyrant of Samos, upon the coming and invasion of the Persians, fled into the city of Sparta, where he showed unto Celomenes all the gold and silver which he had brought with him, praying him to take what he would of it; none would he receive at his hands, but fearing left he would fasten some of that treasure upon other citizens, to the Ephori he went & said thus unto them: It were better for Sparta, if this Samian guest of mine were sent out of Peloponnesius, for fear he induce and mislead some one of the Spartments to be nought: the Ephori no sooner heard this advertisement of his, but the very same day by open proclamation banished him out of the country. One demanded of him upon a time, and said. Why having so often vanquished the Arigives warring upon you, have ye not rooted them out clean? Neither will we ever so do (quoth he) for we would have our young men always to be kept occupied and in exercise: and when another asked him why the Spartans never consecrated unto the gods the armours which they had despoiled their enemies of? Because (quoth he) they be the spoils of cowards; for those arms which have been taken from such as held them cowardly, it is not mere either to show unto young men, or to dedicate unto the gods.  
CLEOMENES the son of Clombrotus, when one gave him certain cocks of game which were very eager and hot in fight, saying: That they would in combat for the victory, die in the very place: Nay (quoth he) give me those rather that kill them; for surely such must needs be better than these.  
LABOTUS unto one who made a long discourse before him, he said: To what purpose makest thou such great preambles and prologues for so small a matter; words I tell thee must be cousins to the things.  
LEOTYCHIDAS the first of that name, when one hit him in the teeth that he was inconstant and mutable: If I change (quoth he) it is in regard of the times which do alter and be diverse; and not as you do, who alter ever and anon upon your own naughtiness. Unto another who asked him how a man might best keep the goods that presently he enjoyed; he answered: By not committing them all at once unto fortune. It was demanded of him once, what it was that young gentlemen of noble houses ought to learn: Even that (quoth he) which will do them good another day, when they be men grown. Lastly, when one would needs know of him the reason why the Spartans drank so little: Because (quoth he) others should not consult of us, but we of others.  
LEOTYCHIDAS the son of Ariston, when one brought him word that the sons of Demaratus gave out very hard speeches of him: By the gods (quoth he) I nothing marvel thereat; for there is not one of them all that can afford any man a good word. There chanced to be a serpent seen, which clasped round about the key or bolt of the gate next unto him; which sight the soothsayers pronounced to be prodigious and a great wonder: Why (quoth he) this seemeth not to me any monstrous or strange thing, that a serpent should wind about a key or bolt; but surely it were a marvelous matter indeed, if the key or bolt should be wound about the serpent. There was a sacrisicer or priest named Philippus, who inducted and professed men in the ceremonial religion of Orpheus; and so extreme poor he was that he begged for his living; howbeit he went about and said: That those who by his hand were admitted into those ceremonies, should be happy after their death: Fool that thou art (quoth he) why dost not thou thyself die quickly, to the end that thou mayest cease to lament and bewail thine own misery and poverty.  
LEON the son of Eucratidas, being asked in what city a man might dwell most safely? answered thus: Even in that, whereof the inhabitants are not richer or poorer one than another; and wherein justice doth prevail, & injustice is of no force. When he saw cerraine runners prepare to run a course for the prize in the race at the solemn Olympic games, and marked how they espied all means possible to catch and win some advantage of their concurrents: See (quoth he) how much more studious these runners are of swiftness than of righteousness. And when one happened to discourse out of time and place, of things very good and profitable: My good friend (quoth he) unto him, your matter is honest and seemly, but your manner of handling it, is bad and unseemly.  
LEONIDAS the soon of Anaxandridas, and brother to Clomenes; when one said unto him: There was no difference between you and us before you were a king: Yes I wis good Sir (quoth he) for if I had not been better than you, I had never been king. When his wife, named Gorgo, at what time as he took his leave of her and went forth to fight with the Persians in the pass of Thermopylae, asked of him whether he had aught else to command her? Nothing (quoth he) but this, that thou be wedded again unto honest men and bring them good children. When the Ephori said unto him, that he lead a small number forth with him to the foresaid straits of Thermopylae: True (quoth he) but yet enough for that service which we go for. And when they inquired of him again, and said: Why sir, intend you any other design and enterprise? In outward show (quoth he) and appearance, I give out in words that I go to impeach the passage of the Barbarians; but in very truth to lay down my life for the greeks. When he was come to the very entrance of the said pass, he said unto his soldiers: It is reported unto us by our scouts, that our Barbarous enemies be at hand; therefore we are to lose no more time, for now we are brought to this issue, that we must either defait them, or else die for it. When one said unto him, for the exceeding number of their arrrowes we are not able to see the sun: So much the better (quoth he) for us, that we may fight under the shade. To another who said: Lo they be even hard & close to us; And so are we (quoth he) hard by them. Another used those words unto him: You are come Leonidas with a very small troop, for to hazard yourself against so great a multitude; unto whom he answered: If youregard number, all Greece assembled together is notable to furnish us, for it would but answer one portion or cannot of their multitude: but if you stand upon valour & prowess of men, certes this number is sufficient. Another there was who said as much to him: But yet I bring (quoth he) money enough, considering we are here to leave our lives. Xerxes wrote unto him to this effect: You need not unless you list be so perverse and obstained as to fight against the gods, but by siding and combining with me, make yourself a monarch over all Greece; unto whom he wrote back in this wise: If you knew wherein consisted the sovereign good of man's life, you would not covet that which is another man's; for mine own part, I had rather lose my life for the safety of Greece, than be the commander of all those of mine own nation. Another time Xerxes wrote thus: Send me thy armour; unto whom he wrote back: Come yourself and fetch it. At the very point when he was to charge upon his enemies, the marshal's of the army came unto him, and protessed that they must needs hold off and stay until the other allies & confederates were come together: Why (quoth he) think you not that as many as be minded to fight are come already? or know you not that they only who dread and reverence their kings, be they that fight against enemies? this said, he commanded his soldiers to take their dinners, for sup we shall (said he) in the other world. Being demanded why the best and bravest men prefer an honourable death before a shameful life? Because (quoth he) they esteem the one proper to nature only; but to die well they think it peculiar to themselves. A great desire he had to have those young men of his troop and regiment, who were not yet married, and knowing well that if he dealt with them directly and openly, they would not abide it; he gave unto them one after another two brevets or letters to carry unto the Ephori, and so sent them away: he meant also to save three of those who were married; but they having an inkling thereof, would receive no brevets or missives at all: for one said, I have followed you hither to fight, and not to be a carrier of news; the second also: By staying here I shall quit myself the better man; and the third: I will not be behind the rest, but the foremost in fight.  
LOCHAGUS the father of Polyaenides and Syron, when news was brought unto him that one of his children was dead: I knew long since (quoth he) that he must needs die.  
LYCURGUS' the lawgiver, minding to reduce his citizens from their old manner of life, unto a more sober and temperate course, and to make them more virtuous and honest (for before time they had been dissolute and over delicate in their manners and behaviour) nourished two whelps which came from the same dog and bitch, and the one he kept always within house, & used it to lick in every dish & to be greedy after meat; the other he would lead forth abroad into the fields and acquaint it with hunting: afterwards he brought them both into an open and frequent assembly of the people, and set before them in the mids, certain bones, sauce & scraps; he put out also at the same time an hare before them; now both the one and the other took incontinently to that whereto they had been acquainted, and ran apace, the one to the mess of sops, and the other after the hare and caught it: hereupon Lycurgus took occasion to infer this speech: You see here my masters and citizens (quoth he) how these two dogs having one sire and one dam to them both, are become far different the one from the other, by reason of their diverse educations and bringing up; whereby it is evident how much more powerful nouriture and exercise is to the breeding of virtuous manners, than kind and nature: howbeit some there be who say, that these two dogs or whelps which he brought out, were not of one and the same dog and bitch; but the one came from those curs that used to keep the house, and the other from those hounds that were kept to hunting; and afterwards that he acquainted the whelp that was of the worse kind only to the chase, and that which came of the better race, to slappe, lick, and do nothing else but raven; whereupon either of them made their choice and ran to that quickly whereto they were accustomed; and thereby he made it appear evidently, how education, training, and bringing up is available both for good and bad conditions, for thus he spoke unto them: By this example you may know my friends that nobility of blood, how highly soever it is esteemed with the common sort, is to no purpose, no though we be descended from the race of Hercules, if we do not practise those deeds whereby he became the most renowned and glorious knight in the world, learning and exercising all our life time those things which are honest and virtuous. Having made a division of the whole territory, and distributed to every citizen an equal portion; it is reported that a good while after, the being returned from a long voyage which he had, into the said territory about harvest time, when the corn was newly reaped and cut down, seeing the shocks & sheaves, cocks and stiches ranged even and orderly, and the same like one to another; he rejoiced in his heart, and smiling said to those about him: That the whole territory of Laconia looked like unto the inheritance and patrimony of many brethren who had lately parted and divided their portions together equally. When he had brought in the cutting off and abolition of debts, he went in hand with the division of all utensils also and mooveable goods within house into even shares, to the end that there might be no imparity nor inequality at all among his citizens; but perceiving that if he went directly and plainly to work, they would hardly bear and brook that any thing should be abridged and taken from them: he discredited first and foremost all sorts of gold and silver coin, giving commandment that there should be no money used but made of iron: and taxed a certain rate and limitation to what sum each man's state should amount; according to the estimation of the said money by way of exchange; which done, all wrongs and unjust dealings were chased clean out of Lacedaemon: for now by this means there could no man rob nor steal, there was no bribing nor corruption by gifts, no man might defraud in contracts and bargains, nor embezzell any more, considering that neither they might conceal and hide that which was unjustly gotten, nor any man joined in possessing aught, nor could possibly use and occupy the same without peril, ne yet carry to and fro in safetic and security: and withal by the same means, he banished out of Lacedaemon all superfluties, whereby there were no more any merchants, nor pleading sophisters, no wizards & fortune tellers, no cogging mountbanks & jugglers, no ingenious devisers of new fabrics & buildings that haunted Sparta for why, he would not permit any money there which was currant in other places, but only this iron coin was in request, and passed from one to another: as for the price thereof it weighed an Aeginetick pound; but in worth and valour, it went but for four Chochins. Moreover, having a purpose to root out delicate and superfluous pleasures, and to cut off clean all covetous desire of riches, he instituted and brought up those meetings which they call Syssitia: i. eating at public meals and making merry together: and when some demanded of him what he meant to devise the same, and also why he ordained that his citizens should be divided by little tables when they sat together in arms? To the end (quoth he) that they might be in more readiness to receive commandment from their superiors; as also if peradventure there should be some practice among them of change and alteration, the fault might be in some few; and moreover, that there should be equality in their eating & drinking, & neither in their dishes of meat nor cups of drink, nor in their beds nor apparel, no nor so much as in the utensils & implements of the house, or in any thing whatsoever, the rich should have any vantage over the poor: by this policy having brought to pass that riches was not setby and desired, considering that such order was taken, that neither men had much occasion to use it, nor any joy & pleasure to show it, he would thus say unto his familiars: My good friends, what a gay & goodly matter is it, to make it known by effect indeed, that Pluto, that is to say, the god of riches, is in truth blind, according as he is named to be. Furthermore, careful he was, and had a special regard that his people should not first dine at home in their own houses, and after that, go to their public halls and meetings aforesaid, being full of other viands and drinks; for others would reproach and speak badly of a man who did not eat among them with a good appetite, as being a glutton, or one who for daintiness and delicacy disdained this common and vulgar manner of diet; but if any such happened to be seem and known, he was sure to be condemned in a good round fine. Hereupon it was, that a long time after, king Agis (after his return from an expedition or voyage in war, wherein he had subdued the Athenians) willing one day to sup privately by himself with his wife at home, sent into the kitchen for his part or allowance of meat; but the marshable of the army would send him none; and the morrow after, when the matter came to the knowledge of the Ephori, he had a fine set on his head for it: but by reason of these new ordinances, diverse of the richer sort took snuff, and in great indignation rose up against him, abused him with hard terms, threw stones and would have brained him; but he seeing himself thus furiously pursed, made shift by good footmanship, and escaped out of the common market place, & put himself within the sanctuary of Minerva's temple, called Chalceaecoes, before the other could overtake him, only Alcander was so near unto him, that when he cast his eye behind to see who followed after, wrought him a rap with his basin, and strake one of his eyes out of his head: but Alcander afterwards, by the common sentence of the whole city, was put into his hands for to do exemplary justice upon him, according as he thought good howbeit, he wrought him no mischief nor displeasure at all; and that which more is, he never so much as complained of any wrong or abuse that he had offered and done unto him; but having him to be a domestical guest and to live with him, he did this good of him: That he blazed in every place where he came, his commendable parts, and namely, the orderly diet and manner of life, that he had learned by conversing with him; and in one word, showed himself highly to affect that discipline in which Lycurgus had trained him: afterwards, for a memorial of this accident which befell unto him, he caused within the temple of Minerva Chalceaecoes, a chapel to be built unto Minerva, surnamed Optiletis; for that the dorians inhabiting those parts, do call in their language, Eyes, Opteli. It was demanded of him upon a time, why he had not established any written positive laws: Because (quoth he) they that are well brought up and instituted in that discipline as it appertaineth, know well how to judge that which the time requireth. Some asked him why he had ordained that the roofs of houses should be made with timber rough hewn with the axe, and the doors of sawen plank or board only, without work of any other tools or instruments at all? unto whom he answered: Because our citizens should be moderate in all things that they bring into their houses, and have no furniture therein that might set other men's teeth on water, or which other men do so much affect. From this custom by report it came, that king Leotychides the first of that name, being at supper in a friend's house of his, when he saw the roof over his head richly seeled with embowed arch-worke, demanded of his host whether the trees in that country grew square or no? When he was asked why he forbade to make war often against the same enemies: For fear (quoth he) that being forced eftsoons to stand upon their own guard and put themselves in defence, they should in the end become well experienced in the wars: in which regard Agesilaus afterwards was greatly blamed for being the cause by his continual expeditions and invasions into Boeotia, that the Thebans were equal in arms unto the Lacedæmonians. Another asked also of him, why he enjoined maidens marriageable to exercise their bodies in running, wrestling, pitching the bar, flinging coits, and lancing of darts? For this purpose (quoth he) that the first rooting of their children which they are to breed, taking fast and sure hold in able bodies well set and strongly knit, might spring and thrive the better within them, and they also themselves being more firm and vigorous, bear children afterward the better, be prepared and exercised (as it were) to endure the pains and travels of childbirth easily and stoutly, over and beside, if need required, be able to fight in defence of themselves, their children and country. Some there were who found fault with the custom that he brought in, that the maidens of the city at certain festival days should dance naked in solemn shows and pomps that were set, demanding the cause thereof? to whom he rendered this reason: That they performing the same exercises which men do, might be no less enabled than they, either in strength and health of body, or in virtue and generosity of mind, and by that means check and despise the opinion that the vulgar sort had of them. And from hence it came, that Gorgo the wife of Leonidas, as we find written, when a certain dame and lady of a foreign country said unto her: There be no other women but you Laconian wives, that have men at command; answered in this wise: For why? we only are the women that bear men. Moreover, he debarted and kept those men who remained unmarried, from the sight of those shows where the young virgins aforesaid danced naked; and that which more is, set upon them the note of infamy, in depriving them expressly of that honour and service which younger solke are bound to yield unto their elders: in which doing, he had a great foresight and providence to move his citizens to marriage and for to beget children; by occasion whereof, there was never any man yet who misliked and complained of that which was said unto Dercillidas, by way of reproach, though otherwise he was a right good and valiant captain; for when he came upon a time into a place, one of the younger sort there was, who would not deign to rise up unto him, nor give him any reverence; and this reason he gave: Because (quoth he) as yet you have not begotten a child to rise up and do his duty likewise to me. Another asked of him, wherefore he had ordained that daughters should be married without a dowry or portion given with them? Because (quoth he) for default of marriage-money none of them might stay long ere they were wedded, nor be harkened after for their goods; but that every man regarding only the manners and conditjoins of a young damosel, might make choice of her whom he meaneth to espouse, for her virtue only; which is the reason also that he banished out of Sparta all manner of painting, trimming, and artificial embellishments to procure a superficial beauty and complexion. Having also prefixed and set down a certain time, within the which aswell maidens as young men might marry; one would needs know of him why he limited forth such a definite term? unto whom he answered: Because their children might be strong and lusty, as being begotten and conceived of such persons as be already come to their full growth. Some wondered why he would not allow that the new married bridegroom should lie with his espouse; but expressly gave order that the most part of the day he should converse with his companions, yea, and all the nights long, but whensoever he went to keep company with his new wedded wife, it should be secretly and with great heed and care that he be not surprised or found with her? This (quoth he) is done to this end that they may be always more strong and in better plight of body: also that by not enjoying their delights and pleasures to the full; their love might be ever fresh, and their infants between them more hardy and stout: furthermore, he removed out of the city all precious and sweet perfumes, saying: That they were no better than the very marring and corruption of the good natural oil; the art also of dying and tincture, which he said was nothing else but the flattery of the senses: to be brief, he made the city Sparta inaccessible (as I may say) for all jewellers and fine workmen, who profess to set out and adorn the body: giving out, that such by their lewd artificial devices, do deprave and mar the good arts and mysteries in deed. In those days the honesty and pudicitie of dames was such, and so far off were they from that tractable facility and easy access unto their love; which was afterwards, that adultery among them was held for an impossible and uncredible thing. And to this purpose may well be remembered the narration of one Geradatas, an ancient Spartan, of whom a stranger asked the question: What punishment adulterers were to suffer in the city of Sparta? for that, he saw, Lycurgus had set down no express law in that behalf: Why (quoth he) there is no adultery among us: but when the other replied again: Yea, but what and if there were? even the same answer made Geradatas, and none other: For how (quoth he) can there be an adulterer in Sparta, wherein all riches, all superfluous delights and dainties, all outward trickings and embelishing of the body are despised and dishonoured? and where shame of doing ill, honesty, reverence and obeisance to superiors carry away all the credit and authority? One put himself forward, and was in hand with him to set up and establish the popular State of government in Sparta; unto whom he answered: Begin it thyself first within thine own house. And unto another who demanded of him, why he ordained the sacrifices in Lacedaemon so simple and of small cost? To the end (quoth he) that we should never cease and give over to worship and honour the gods. Also when he permitted his citizens to practise those exercises of the body only, wherein they never stretched forth their hands; he was required by one to yield a reason thereof: Because (quoth he) none of us should in taking pains be accustomed to be weary or to saint, and give over at any time. Likewise being asked the reason why he gave order oftentimes to change the camp, and not in one place to lie long encamped? To the end (quoth he) that we might do the greater damage to our enemies, and hurt more of them. Another was desirous to know of him, why he forbade to give the assault unto any walls? unto whom he answered: For fear that the best men might not be killed, by a woman, a child, or some such like person. Certain Thebans craved his advice and opinion touching the sacrifice, divine service, and doleful moan which was solemnly made in the honour of Leucothea; unto whom he answered thus: If you take her for a goddess, weep not for her as if she were a woman; if you suppose her to be a woman, sacrifice not unto her as to a goddess. Unto his citizens who demanded of him, how they might put back and repulse the invasions of their enemies? Marry (quoth he) if you continue poor, and none of you do covet to have more than another. Again, when they would needs know why he would not have their city to be walled about: Because (saith he) that city is never without a wall, which is environed and compassed about with valiant men, and not with brick or stone. The Spartans also were very curious in trimming the hair of their heads, alleging for their warrant a certain speech of Lycurgus as touching that point, who was wont to say: That sidehaire made them who were fair more beautiful, and those that were foul, more hideous and terrible. Likewise he gave commandment, that in their wars, when they had discomfited their enemies and put them to flight, to follow the chase so hardly, until they were fully assured of the victory, and then to retire withal speed, saying: That it was no act of a generous spirit, nor beseeming the brave mind of the Greekish nation, to massacre and execute those who had quit the place and were gone; beside, this also would be safe and commodious for themselves, forasmuch as the enemies who knew once their custom, namely, to put those to the sword who obstinately resist and make head, and to spare those and let them escape who fly before them; find by that means that flight is better than to stand to fight. A certain man asked him, for what cause he would not suffer the soldiers to rifle and spoil the bodies of their enemies as they fell dead: For fear (quoth he) lest while they busy themselves, and stoop forward to gather the spoils, they should neglect their fight in the mean time, but rather intend only with their poverty and want to keep their range.  
The Tyrant of Sicily Dionysius had sent unto LYSANDER two suits of women's robes, that he might choose whether of them he liked better, to carry unto his daughter; but he said unto him: That she herself knew best which to choose, and what was fittest for herself, and so he took both away with him. This Lysander was a very crafty and subtle fox, who ordered and managed most part of his affairs by cunning casts and deceitful devices, esteeming justice only by utility, and honesty by profit; confessing in word that truth was better than falsehood; but measuring in deed the worth and price as well of the one as the other by commodity. To them who reproved and blamed him for conducting the most part of his enterprises by fraud and guile, and not by plain direct force, a thing unwoorthy the magnanimity of Hercules, he would laugh and answer: That where he could not achieve a thing by the lion's skin, he must needs sow thereto a piece of the fox's case. And when others charged and accused him mightily, for that he had violated and broken his oath, which he had made in the city Miletum, he used to say: That children were to be deceived with cock-all-bones, but men with oaths: Having defaited the Athenians in a battle by means of an ambush, in a certain place called the Goats-rivers, and afterward pressed them so sore with famine, that he forced them to yield the city unto his mercy, he wrote unto the Ephori thus: Athens is won. The Lacedæmonians in his time were at some difference with the Argives about their confines; and it seemed that the Argives alleged better reasons, and brought forth more direct evidences for themselves than the other; whereupon he came among them and drew his sword, saying: They that are the mightier with this, plead best for their confines. Seeing the Boeotians as he passed thorough their country, hanging in equal balance, and as yet not resolved and certain to which side for to range themselves, he sent one unto them for to know whether they would choose, that he marched thorough their lands with spears and pikes upright, or bending downward and trailing. In a certain assembly of the estates of Greece, there was a Megarian who spoke bravely and audaciously unto him: Thy words my friend (quoth he) have need of a city; meaning thereby, that he was of too weak and small a city, as to give such glorious words. The Corinthians rebelled upon a time, whereupon he advanced with his forces against their walls, which the Lacedæmonians seemed to assail very coldly: but at the very instant there was espied an hare, running cross over the town ditch: whereupon he took occasion to say: Are ye not ashamed in deed o ye Spartans, to fear such enemies, who are so idle and stir so little abroad, that hares can sleep quietly, even under their very walls. When he was at Samothrace to consult with the oracle there; the priest was in hand with him to confess what was the most wicked and enormous act that ever he did in all his life time: whereupon he asked the priest again: Whether is it yourself or the gods that would know thus much, and imposeth this confession upon me? The gods (quoth the priest) would have it so: Why then (quoth he) retire you aside out of my sight, and if they demand the same of me, I will answer them. A certain Persian asked him what kind of government he liked best and praised most: Even that (quoth he) which ordaineth for cowards and hardy men that reward and hire which is meet for them. Another said unto him: That in every place where he came he was ready to commend and defend him: I have (quoth he again) in my grounds two oxen, and neither of them speaks a word; howbeit, I know for all that, which is good of deed, and which is idle and lazy at his work. There was one who let fly at him diverse odious and reproachful words: Speak on good fellow (quoth he) out with it hardly and spare not, vomit up all and leave nothing behind, if haply thou canst rid and purge thy heart of all the wicked venom wherewith thou seemest to swell. Some time after, when he was dead, there arose variance between the allies of Sparta as touching certain matters; and for to know the truth and settle all causes among them, Agesilaus went to Lysander's house, for to search certain papers that might give light and evidence to the thing in controversy; and among other writings he chanced to light upon an oration or pamphlet penned by him as touching policy & the State; wherein he seemed to persuade the Spartans' to take the royalty and regal dignity from the houses of the Eurytionida and Agiadae, and to bring it to a free election of the citizens, that they might choose for their kings out of all the city those who were approved and known for the worthiest men, and not to be obliged for to take and admit of necessity one of Hercules line; so as the crown and regal state might be conferred as a reward and honour upon him who in virtue resembled Hercules most, considering that it was by the means thereof, that unto him were assigned the honours due unto the gods: now was Agesilaus fully bend to have published this oration before all the citizens, to the end that they might take knowledge how Lysander was another kind of man than he had been taken for, and withal to traduce those that were his friends and bring them into obloquy, suspicion, and trouble: but by report Lacratidas the principal man, and precedent of the Ephori, fearing lest if this oration were once divulged & openly read, it might take effect, and persuade that indeed which it pretended; stayed Agesilaus and kept him from doing so, saying: That he should not now rake Lysander out of his grave, but rather enterre and bury the oration together with him, so wittily and artificially composed it was, and so effectual to persuade. Certain gentlemen there were of the city, who during his lise were suitors to his daughters in marriage; but after his death when his estate was known to be but poor, they desisted and cast them off, whereupon the Ephori condemned them in great sins, for that they made court unto them, so long as they esteemed him wealthy; but afterwards when they found by his poor estate that he was a righteous and just man, they made no more reckoning of his daughters but disdained them.  
NAMERTES being sent as ambassador into a foreign country, there chanced to be one of those parts who said unto him: That he held and reputed him for an happy man, because he had so many friends; unto whom he replied and asked: Whether he knew the true proof whereby a man might be assured that he had many friends? the other answered: No, but I pray you tell me: Why then (quoth he) it is 
* Or prospe 〈◊〉.  adversity.  
NICANDER, when one brought him, word that the Argives spoke ill of him: It makes no matter (quoth he) are they not sufficiently chastised and punished for railing upon good men? One asked of him wherefore the Lacedæmonians wore their hair long of their heads, & suffered likewise their beards to grow side; unto whom he answered: Because a man's own proper ornament is of all other the fairest, and costeth least. A certain Athenian being in communication with him, cast out this word: All you Lacedæmonians (Nicander) love your ease well, and are idle: You say true indeed (quoth he) but we busy not ourselves as you do in every trifling matter.  
PANTHOIDAS, being sent in embassage into Asia, was showed by the people of those parts a certain strong city well fortified with high and goodly walls: Now by the gods (quoth he) my friends, this seems to be a trim cloister to mue up women in. In the school of Academy the philosophers discoursed and disputed as touching many good themes, and after they had made an end, they said unto him: Now good sir o Panthoidas, how like you these discourses? What should I think of them else (quoth he) but that they are goodly and honest in show, but surely profitable they are not, nor edify at all, so long as yourselves do not live accordingly.  
PAUSANIAS' the son of Cleombrotus, when the inhabitants of the isle Delos were at debate, and pleaded for the propriety of the said isle against the Athenians, alleging for themselves that by an old law (time out of mind) observed among them, there might none of their women bear children within the said island, nor any of their dead be buried there: How then (quoth he) can this isle be yours, if none of you were ever borne or buried there? When certain exiled persons from Athens solicited him to lead his army against the Athenians, and for to provoke him rather thereto, said: That they were the only men who hissed and whistled at the naming of him, when he was declared victor in the solemnity of the Olympic games: But what think you (quoth he) will they do when we have wrought them some shrewd turn, since they stick not to hiss at us being their benefactors? Another asked of him, wherefore the Lacedæmonians had enfranchised the poet Tyrteus their denizen? Because (quoth he) we never would be thought to have a stranger or alien our leader and governor. There was a very weak and feeble man of body who nevertheless seemed very earnest and instant to make war upon the enemies, and to give them battle both on sea and land: Will you (quoth he) strip yourself out of your clothes, that we may see what a goodly man of person you are, to move and persuade us for to fight? Some there were who seeing the spoils that were taken from the dead bodies of the Barbarians after they were slain in the field, marveiled much at their sumptuous and costly clothes: It had been better (quoth he) that themselves had been of more valour, and their habilements of less value. After the victory which the Greeks won of the Persians before the city Plateae, he commanded those about him to serve him up to the table that supper which the Persians had provided for themselves, which being wonderful excessive and superfluous: Now Perdie (quoth he) the Persians are great gourmaunders and greedy gluttons, having so great store of viands come hither among us, for to eat up our brown bread and course biscuit.  
PAUSANIAS' the son of Plistonax, unto one who asked him, why it was not lawful in their country to alter any of their ancient statutes, made this answer: Because laws ought to be mistresses of men, and not men masters of the laws. Being exiled from Sparta, and making his abode within the city Tegea, he highly praised the Lacedæmonians; one of the standers by said unto him: And why then stayed not you at Sparta, if there be so good men there? why I say fled you from thence? Because (quoth he) physicians do not use to keep where folk be sound and whole, but where they are sick and diseased. One came to him and said: How shall we be able to defait & conquer the Thracians? Mary (quoth he) if we choose the valiantest man for our captain. A certain Physician advised & looked upon him very wistly, & after he had well considered his person, said: Thou ailest nothing, neither is there any evil in thee: I think so (quoth he) because I use none of thy counsel & physic. His friends reproved him for speaking ill of a physician, of whom he had no proof nor experience, and at whose hands he had received no harm: True indeed (quoth he) I have made no trial of him; for if I had, surely I should not have been a livesman at this day. When a Physician said unto him: You are now become old sir: Thou sayst truth (quoth he) because I have not entertained thee for to minister physic unto me. He was wont also to say: That he was the best Physician, who would not let his patients rot above ground, but dispatch them at once, and send them quickly to their graves.  
PASDARETUS, when one said unto him: There is a great number of our enemies: Then (quoth he) shall we win greater honour, for kill we may the more of them. Seeing one who by nature was a very dastard and coward, howbeit, commended otherwise by his fellow-citizens for his modesty and mildness: I would not have men (quoth he) praised for being like women, nor women for resembling men, unless peradventure a woman be driven upon some occasion of extremity to play the man. Having the repulse upon a time, when he should have been chosen into the counsel of the three hundred, which was the most honourable degree of State in all the city, he departed from the assembly all jocund, merry and smiling; and when the Ephori called him back again, and demanded of him why he laughed? Because (quoth he) I joy in the behalf of the city, that it hath in it three hundred better and more sufficient citizens than myself.  
PLISTARCHUS the son of Leonidas, when one inquired of him the cause why they carried not the denomination of their families from the names of their first kings, but of the later? Because (quoth he) those in the old time 
* Some read thus: Were compelled of necessity to be captains or kings  chose rather to be leaders than kings; but their successors not. There was a certain advocate at the bar, who in pleading for his client, was full of his jests and frumps, never ceasing to scoff and move laughter: My friend (quoth he unto him) do you not consider and regard, that in seeming to make others for to laugh, you will cause yourself to be ridiculous and a laughing stock? even as those who by wrestling oft become good wrestlers? Report there was made unto him one day of a certain foule-tongued fellow, who used to slander and backbite all men, and yet spoke all good of him: I wonder much (quoth he) if no man told him that I was dead; for surely he cannot for his life afford any man living one good word.  
PLISTONAX the son of Pausanius, when a certain Athenian orator called the Lacedæmonians, unlettered and ignorant person: Thou sayest true (quoth he) for we alone of all other Greeks, are the men who have learned no naughtiness of you.  
POLYDORUS the son of Alcamenes, said unto one who ordinarily did nothing else but menace his enemies: Dost not thou perceive how thou spendest the most part of thy revenge in these threats? He led upon a time the army from Lacedaemon against the city of Messene; and one demanded of him, whether his heart would serve to fight against brethren? No (quoth he) but I can find in mine heart to march into that inheritance which is not yet set out and parted by lots. The Argives, after the discomfiture of their three hundred men who fought against so many of the Lacedæmonians, were defaited a second time, all in a ranged battle; by reason whereof, the allies and confederates of the Lacedæmonians were earnest with Polydorus not to let slip so good an opportunity, but to follow the train of victory, and to go directly to the oppugnation of their city walls, and to win it by force; which he might effect right easily, considering that all the men were killed up in the field, and none but women left alive within, to descend the city; unto whom he answered: I am well appaied, and take this for my great honour and glory, that I have vanquished mine enemies in battle, fight on even-hand so many to so many; but being to determine the quarrel by dint of sword for our confines only, and having exploited that, to proceed forward, and covet to affault and win their city, I hold it not to be just and equal; for come I am to recover those lands of ours which they occupied, and not to seize upon their home-stalles. Being demanded why the Lacedæmonians exposed themselves so manfully to the hazard of war? It is (quoth he) because they have learned to reverence, and not to fear their rulers and captains.  
POLYCRATIDAS being sent with others, in embassage to the lieutenats of the king of Persia, when they demanded of him & the rest, whether they were come of their own proper motion, or sent by commission from the State? If we speed of that (quoth he) which we demand, then are we come in the behalf of the common weal; but if we miss, we come of our own heads.  
PUOEBIDAS immediately before the battle of Leuctres, when some gave out, and said: This day will try and show who is a good man: Such a day (quoth he) is much worth in deed, if it be able to show a good man.  
Sous, as it is reported (being upon a time straightly besieged by the Clitorians, in a place which was very rough and without water) made offer to render into their hands all those lands which he had conquered from them, in case that he and all his company might drink at a certain fountain which was near at hand: the Clitorians accorded thereto, and this covenant was concluded and confirmed by oath between them: so he assembled all his men together, and declared unto them: That if there were any amongst them would abseine from drink, he would resign up into his hands all his sovereign power and royalty; but there was not one of all his troop who could contain and forbear, so exceeding thirsty they were all; but every man drunk heartily, himself only excepted, who went last down to the spring, where he did nothing else but cool and besprinkle his body without, in the presence of his very enemies, not taking one drop inwardly: by which evasion, he would not afterwards yield up the foresaid lands, but alleged that they had not all drunk.  
TELECRUS when one came unto him & said: That his own father gave him always hard words; made him this answer: Surely, if there were not cause to use such speeches, he would never speak so. His brother also was discontented, and complained in this wise; The citizens do not bear me such favour and kindness as they show in your behalf; notwithstanding we are the sons of one father and mother; but they misuse me most injuriously: The reason is (quoth he) because you know not how to put up a wrong as I do. Being demanded why the custom was in their country, that young men should rise up from their places where they were set, and do reverence unto their elders: It is (quoth he) to this end, that in doing this honour unto those, who nothing belonged unto them, they might learn so much the more to honour their parents. unto another that asked him of what wealth he was, and how much goods he had? he answered: I have no more than will suffice.  
CHARILLUS being asked the question why Lycurgus had given them so few laws? Because (quoth he) they have no need at all of many laws who speak but little. Another demanded of him the cause, why as Sparta they suffered to go forth into public place, virgins with their faces open, but wives veiled and covered: For that (quoth he) maidens might find them out husbands to be wedded unto, and wives keep those whom they have married already. One of the slaves (called Ilotes) behaved himself upon a time over boldly and malapertly with him; unto whom he said: Were I not angry, I would kill thee at my foot. One asked him what kind of government he esteemed best? Even that (quoth he) wherein most men, in managing of public affairs without quarrels and sedition, strive a vie who shall be most virtuous. And unto another who would needs know the reason, why at Sparta the images and statues of the gods were made in armour? he shaped this answer: To the end that the reproaches which are fastened upon men for cowardice, might not take hold of them; also that young men should never without their arms make their prayers unto the gods.  
The Samiens had sent certain ambassadors unto Sparta, who after audience given, were very 
〈◊〉 of Spartans and Lacontans, whose names are not expressed.  long and somewhat tedious in their orations; but when they had found the way to make an end, THE LORDS OF SPARTA made them this answer; The beginning of your speech we have forgotten, and we conceived not the rest because the beginning was out of our remembrance. The Thebans upon a time had contested bravely, and contradicted them stoutly in certain points in question, unto whom they answered thus: Either less hearts, or more puissance. There was one asked a Lacedaemonian upon a time why he let his beard grow so long? Because (quoth he) whensover I see my hoary and grey hairs, I might be put in mind to do nothing unbeseeming them. When another highly praised certain men for most valiant: a Lacedaemonian heard him and said: Oh, such were sometime at Great Troy. Another of them hearing it spoken, that in certain cities men were forced to drink after supper: And do they not (quoth he) compel them also to eat? The poet Pindarus in one of his canticles nameth the city of Athens the prop of all Greece: Then will Greece quickly come tumbling down (quoth a Laconian) if it bear but upon so slight a pillar. Another beheld a painted table, wherein was the portraiture of the Lacedæmonians, how they were killed by the Athenians, and when one that stood by said; Now surely these Athenians be valiant men: Yea mary (quoth he) in a picture. There was one seemed to take pleasure in hearing certain opprobrious and slanderous words untruly given out against a Laconian, & to believe the same; but the party thus misused said: Cease to lend your ear against me. Another when he was punished, went crying; If I have done amiss it was against my will: Why then (answered a Laconian) let it be against thy will also that thou art punished. Another seeing men going forth of the country, set at their ease within coaches: (God forbid (quoth he) that I should sit there where I can not rise up to do my duty unto him that is elder than myself. Certain Chians there were, who being come to see the city of Sparta, chanced to be well whittled and stark drunk, who after supper went to see also the consistory of the Ephori, where they cast up their gorges, yea and that which more is, both vomited and discharged their guts, even upon the very chairs where the Ephori was wont to sit: the morrow after, the Lacedæmonians made great search and diligent enquiry at the first, who they were that thus had played the slovens and beasts, and namely whether they were any of their own city or no: but when they understood that they were these strangers and travelers from Chios, they made open proclamation with sound of trumpet; That they gave the Chians leave thus filthily to abuse themselves. Another Laconian seeing hard almonds sold at the double price: What (quoth he) are stones so geason here? Another having plucked all the feathers off from a nightingale, and seeing what a little body it had: Surely (quoth he) thou art all voice and nothing else. There was likewise a Lacedaemonian, who seeing the cynic philosopher Diogenes in the mids of winter when it was extreme cold, embracing and clipping a brazen statue very devoutly, asked him if he chilled not for cold? and when the other answered, No; Why then (quoth he) what great matter do you? A certain Laconian reproached upon a time one borne in Metapontium, saying; They were all cowards and falsehearted like women: If it be so (quoth the Metapontine) how is it that we hold so much of other men's lands as we do? Why then (replied the Laconian) I see that you are not cowards only, but unjust also. A traveller being come to Sparta for to see the city, stood upright a long while upon one eight only, and said unto a Laconian I do not think thou canst stand so long of one leg as I do: Not I indeed (quoth the other) but there is not a goose but can do as much. There was one vaunted greatly what a Rhetorician he was, and namely that he was able to persuade what he would; Now by Castor and Pollux I swear (quoth a Laconian) there never was, nor ever will be any art indeed without verity. A certain Argive boasted much, that there were in their city many graves & tombs of the Lacedæmonians: And chose (quoth a Laconian) there is not among us one sepulchre of the Argives; giving him thus much to understand, that the Lacedæmonians had many times entered with a puissant army into the country of Argos, but the Argives never into the territory of Sparta. A Laconian being taken prisoner in war (when he should be sold in port sale, as the crier began with a loud voice to pronounce: Who will buy a Laconian, who) put his hand to the criers mouth and said: Cry for God's sake who will buy a prisoner? One of those mercenary soldiers whom king Lysimachus waged, being demanded of him this question; Art thou one of these Lacedaemonian Ilots? Why, think you (quoth the other) that a Lacedaemonian will deign to come and serve for four obols by the day? After that the Thebans had defaited the Lacedæmonians at the battle of Leuctres, they invaded the country of Laconia, so far as to the very river Eurotas; and one of them in boasting & glorious manner, began to say; And where be now these brave Laconians? what is become of them? a Laconian who was a captive among them, strait ways made this answer: They are no where now indeed, for if they were, you would never have come thus far as you do. At what time as the Athenians delivered up their own city into the hands of the Lacedæmonians, for to be at their discretion, they requested that at leastwise they would leave them the isle Samos: unto whom the Laconians made this answer: When you are not masters of your own, do you demand that which is other men's: hereupon arose the common proverb throughout all Greece: 
Who cannot that which was his own save,  
The Isle of Samos would yet feign have.  The Lacedæmonians forced upon a time a certain city, and won it by assault; which the Ephori being advertised of, said thus: Now is the exercise of our young men clean gone, now shall they have no more concurrents to keep them occupied. When one of their kings made promise unto them for to raze another city and destroy it utterly (if they so would) which oftentimes before had put those of Lacedaemon to much trouble; the said Ephori would not permit him, saying thus unto him: Do not emolish and take away quite the whetstone that giveth an edge to the hearts of our youth. The same Ephori would never allow that there should be any professed masters, to teach their young men for to wrestle and exercise other feats of activity: To this end (say they) that there might be jealousy and emulation among them, not in artificial slight, but in force and virtue. And therefore when one demanded of Lysander, how Charon had in wrestling overcome him and laid him along on the plain ground: Even by slight and cunning (quoth he) and not by pure strength. Philip king of Macedonia, before he made entry into their country, wrote unto them to this effect: Whether they had rather that he entered as a friend, or as an enemy: unto whom they returned this answer; Neither one nor the other. When they had sent an ambassador to Demetrius the son of Antigonus, having intelligence that the said ambassador in parley with him, eftsoons gave him the name of King, they condemned him to pay a fine when he was returned home; notwithstanding that he brought as a present and gratuity from the said Demetrius, in time of extreme famine, a certain measure of corn called Medimnus, for every poll throughout the whole city. It happened that a lewd and wicked man delivered in a certain consultation very good counsel: this advice of his they approved right well, howbeit receive it they would not coming out of his mouth, but caused it to be pronounced by another who was known to be a man of good life. Two brethren there were at variance, and in suit of law together; the Ephori set a good fine upon their father's head, for that he neglected his sons, and suffered them to maintain quarrel and debate one against another. A certain musician who was a stranger and a traveller, they likewise condemned to pay a sum of money, for that he strake the strings of his harp with his fingers. Two boys fought together, and one gave the other a mortal wound with a sickle or reaping hook; & when the boy that was hurt lay at the point of death, & was ready to yield up the ghost, other companions of his promised to be revenged for his death, and to kill the other, who thus deadly had wounded him: Do not so I beseech you (quoth he) as you love the gods, for that were injustice; and even I myself had done as much for him, if I had been aught, and could have reached him first. There was another young lad, unto whom certain mates and fellows of his (in that season wherein young lads were permitted freely to filch whatsoever they could handsomely come by, but reputed it was a shameful and infamous thing for them to be surprised and taken in the manner) brought a young cub or little fox to keep alive, which they had stolen: those who had lost the said cub came to make search; now had this lad hidden it close under his clothes, & the unhappy beast being angered, gnawed & bit him in the flank as far as to his very bowels, which he endured resolutely, and never quetched at it, for fear he should be discovered: but after all others were gone and the search past, when his companions saw what a shrewd turn the cursed cub had done him; they child him for it, saying: That it had been far better to have brought forth the cub and showed him, rather than to hide him thus with danger of death: Nay Iwis (quoth he) for I had rather die with all the dolorous torments in the world, than for to save my life shamefully to be detected so, for want of a good heart. Some there were who encountered certain Laconians upon the way in the country, unto whom they said: Happy are you that can come now this way, for the thieves are but newly gone from hence: Nay forsooth (by god Mars we swear) we are never the happier therefore; but they rather, because they are not fallen into our hands. One demanded of a Laconian upon a time, what he knew and was skilful in? Mary in this, to be free. A young lad of Sparta being taken prisoner by King Antigonus, and sold among other captives, obeyed him who had bought him in all things that he thought meet for to be done by a freeman; but when he commanded to bring him an urinal or chamber-pot to piss in; he would not endure that indignity, but said: Fetch it yourself for me, I am no servant for you in such ministries: now when his master urged him thereto and pressed hard upon him, he ran up to the ridge or roof of the house, and said: You shall see what an one you have bought; and with that cast himself down with his head forward, and broke his own neck. Another there was to be sold; and when the party who was about him, said thus: Wilt thou be good and profitable if I do buy thee? Yea that I will (quoth he) though you never buy me. Another there was likewise upon market, and when the crier proclaimed aloud: Here is a slave, who buys him, who? A shame take thee (quoth he) couldst not thou say, a captive or prisoner, but a slave. A Laconian had for the badge or ensign of his buckler a sly painted, and the same no bigger than one is naturally; whereupon some mocked him and said: That he had mad choice of this ensign, because he would not be known by it: Nay rather (quoth he) I did it, because I would be the better marked: for I mean to approach mine enemies so near, that they may see how great or little my cognisance is. Another there was, who when there was tendered unto him at the end of a banquet, the harp to play upon according to the custom of Grecce, refused it and said: The Laconians have not yet learned to play the fools. One asked a Spartan once, if the way that led to Sparta, were safe or no? but he answered thus: Even according as a man doth go down thither: for 
* Otherwise thus: We go forth to 〈◊〉 hons, but hares we hunt in their harborroughs.  they who go thither as lions, be hardly entreated and rue their coming; but hares we hunt from under the shade of their boroughs. In wrestling it chanced that a Laconian was caught hold on by the neck, and notwithstanding that he strove what he could to make the other leave his hold; yet he forced him and made him stoop grovelling downward to the ground: the Laconian seeing himself feeble in the reins of the back, and at the point to be laid along, bit the others arm who held him so hard, whereupon he began to cry: What thou Laconian, dost thou bite like women? No (quoth he) but I bite as lions use to do. A certain Laconian who was maimed and lame of his leg, went to warfare, whereupon some mocked him; but he said unto them: It is not for those to go into the wars who are good of foot-manship and can run away apace; but such as are able to make good their ground and keep well their rank. Another Laconian being shot thorough the body with an arrow, when he was at the point to yield up his vital breath, said thus: It never grieves me to lose my life, but to die by the hand of an effeminate archer, before I came to handstrokes, that is it that troubleth me. Another being come to an hostelry or inn to be lodged in, gave his host that kept the inn, a piece of flesh to dress for his supper; but he called for cheese beside and oil: And what needs that (quoth the Laconian) if I had cheese, do you think that I would desire to have any viands more? Another hearing the merchant named Lampis borne in Aegina, highly praised and esteemed happy, for that he was exceeding rich, and had many great ships going at sea: I never (quoth he) make reckoning of that felicity, which hangeth by ropes and cords. Another likewise answered unto one who said unto him: Thou liest Laconian: And why not (quoth he) we are free, as for others that happen to speak untruths, they are well punish for it and cry out, alas. There was a Laconian who laboured hard to make a dead body stand upright upon his feet; but when he saw that he could not bring his purpose to effect, do what he could: Now by Jupiter (quoth he) there wanteth somewhat that should be within. Tynnichus the Laconian, when his son Thrasybulus was slain in the war, took his death very well and like a man, whereupon was this Epigram made: 
Thy body was upon the shield o Thrasybulus brought  
All breathless to the armed troop, from place where thou hadst fought:  
Seven deadly wounds at Argives hands thou didst receive in fight,  
And on the fore part of thy corpse, thou showd'st them all in sight.  
Thy father old Sir Tynnichus it took with blood bewrayed,  
And putting it in funeral fire, with good cheer thus he said:  
Let cowards weep and wail thy death; but I thy father kind,  
Will shed no tears, nor semblance make of sad and grieved mind:  
But thee enterre (my son) as doth beseem thy father's child,  
And as a true Laconian, who loves to die in field.  The master of the baines where Alcibiades the Athenians was wont to bathe and wash himself, powered great store of water upon his body more than ordinarily upon others; a Laconian being then by said: It seemeth that he is not clean and neat, but that he is exceeding foul and filthy, that he bestoweth so much water upon him. When King Philip of Macedonia entered with a main army into Laconia, at what time as it was thought all the Lacedæmonians were killed up and dead, he said unto one of the Spartans: O poor Laconians, what will you do now? what else (quoth the Laconian) but die valiantly like men; for we alone of all other Greeks have been taught to live free and not to serve in bondage under any others. After that King Agis was vanquished; Antipater the king demanded of the Lacedæmonians for hostages, fifty children of theirs: Eteocles one of the Ephori for the time being, returned this answer: That he would not deliver into his hands any of their children, for fear they would learn ill manners and lewd conditions; for that they should not be brought up and nourtered in the discipline of their own country, and wanting it they would not prove so much as good citizens; but if he would be so content, he should receive for pledges women or old men, twice as many. And when he menaced hereupon and said: That he would work him all the despite that possibly he could; they answered all with one accord: If thou impose upon us those conditions which are more grievous than death, we shall die with so much the better will. One old man desirous to see the combats at the Olympic games, could not get a room to sit in, but passed along by many places, and no man would make him room, but fell to laugh and made good game at him, until he came at length to that quarter of the whole theatre, whereas the Lacedæmonians were set; and there all the children, yea and many of the men rose up unto him, and offered him their place: all the whole assembly of the greeks observed well this behaviour of theirs, and with great applause and clapping of hands, approved and praised the same: then the good old father 
Shaking his head with hairs all grey,  
His beard also as hoar as they.  and weeping withal: Ah, God help (quoth he) what a world is this? that Greeks should all of them know well enough what is good and honest; but the Lacedæmonians only practise it? Some write, that the same happened in Athens also, at the festival solemnity called Panathenaea; where those of Attica played mockholiday, and made themselves merry with a poor old man, who they seemed to call unto them (as it were) to give him a place among them; but after he was come to them, no room he could have with them, but was well mocked and frumped for his labour: howbeit, when he had passed along by all the rest, at length he came to a place where certain ambassadors of Lacedaemon were set, and they made him room, and set him among them: the people there assembled, taking great pleasure to see this act, clapped their hands aloud, with great acclamation, in token that they approved it: than one of the Spartans', who there was: By the two twin-gods, Castor and Pollux (quoth he) I swear, these Athenians know what is good and honest, but they do not according to their knowledge. A beggar upon a time craved alms of a Laconian, who answered him thus. But if I should give thee any thing, thou wouldst make an occupation of it, and beg still so much the more; for verily, whosoever he was that first bestowed alms upon thee, was the cause of this villainous life which thou leadest now, and hath made thee so vagrant and idle as thou art. Another Laconian seeing a collector going about, and gathering men's devotions for the gods, said thus: I will now make no more reckoning of the gods, so long as they be poorer than myself. A certain Spartan having taken an adulterer in bed with his wife, a foul and ill-favoured woman: Wretched man that thou art (quoth he) what necessity hath driven thee to this? Another having heard an orator making long periods, and drawing out his sentence in length: Now by Castor and Pollux, what a valiant man his here? how he rolleth and roundly turneth his tongue about, and all to no purpose. A traveller passing thorough Lacedaemon, marked among other things, what great honour and reverence young folk did to their elders: I perceive (quoth he) there is no place to Sparta, for an old man to live in. A Spartan was upon a time asked the question, what manner of Poet Tyrtaeus was? A good Poet believe me (quoth he) to 
* 〈◊〉 Some interpret clean contrary, & read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 to allure duty, gently handle, or adorn the 〈◊〉.  whet and sharpen the courages of young men to war. Another having very bad and diseased eyes, would needs go to warfare; and when others said unto him: Wilt thou go indeed in that case as thou art in? what deed thinkest thou to do there? Why (quoth he) if I do no other good else, I will be sure to dull the brightness of mine enemy's sword. Buris and Spertis, two Lacedæmonians, voluntarily departed out of their country, and went to Xerxes' king of Persia, offering themselves to suffer that pain and punishment, which the Lacedæmonians had deserved by the sentence of the oracle of the gods, for killing those heralds which the king had sent unto them; who being come before him, were desirous that he should put them to death in what manner he would himself, for to acquit the Lacedæmonians: the king wondering at this resolution of theirs, not only pardoned the fault, but earnestly requested them to stay with him, promising them liberal entertainment: And how can we (say they) live here, abandoning our native soil, our laws, and those kind of men, for whose sake to die we have so willingly undertaken this long voyage? and when a great captain under the king, named Jndarnes, entreated them still very instantly, assuring them upon his word, that they should be kindly used, and in equal degree of credit and honour, with those who were, in highest favour with the king, and most advanced by him, they said unto him: It seemeth unto us sir, that you full little know what is liberty and freedom; for he that wist what a jewel it were, if he be in his right wits, would not change the same for the whole realm of Persia. A certain Laconian as he wayfared, came unto a place where there dwelled an old friend and host of his, who the first day, of purpose avoided him and was out of the way, because he was not minded to lodge him; but the morrow after, when he had either hired or borrowed fair bedding, cover and carpets, received him very stately; but this Laconian mounting up to his beds, trampled and stamped the fair and rich coverlets under his feet, saying withal: I beshrew these fine beds and trim furniture, for they were the cause that yesternight I had not so much as a mat to lie upon, when I should sleep and take my rest. Another of them, being arrived at the city of Athens and seeing there the Athenians going up and down the city, some crying saltfish to sell, others flesh and such like viands; some like publicans, sitting at the receipt of custom, other professing the trade of keeping brothelhouses, and exercising many such vile and base occupations, esteeming nothing at all foul and dishonest: after he was returned home into his own country, when his neighbours and fellow-citizens asked him, what news at Athens, and how all things stood there? Passing well (quoth he) and it is the best place that ever I came in (which he spoke by way of mockery and derision) every thing there, is good and honest; giving them to understand, that all means of gain and lucre, were held lawful & honest at Athens, and nothing there, was counted villainous and dishonest. Another Laconian being asked a question, answered; No: and when the party who moved the question said: Thou liest; the Laconian replied again, and said: See what a fool thou art, to ask me that which thou knowest well enough thyself! Certain Laconians were sent upon a time, ambassadors to Lygdamis the tyrant, who put them off from day to day, and hasted with them so, as he gave them no audience; at the last, it was told them, that he was at all times weak and ill at ease, and not in case to be conferred with: the ambassadors there upon said unto him who brought this word unto them: Tell him from us, that we are not come to wrestle, but to parley only with him. A certain priest, inducted a Laconian into the orders and ceremonies of some holy religion; but before that he would fully receive and admit him, he demanded of him what was the most grievous sin that ever he committed, and which lay heaviest upon his conscience? The gods know that best (quoth the Laconian: but when the priest pressed hard upon him, and was very importunate, protesting that there was no remedy, but he must needs utter and confess it: Unto whom (quoth the Laconian) must I tell it, unto you or to the God whom you serve? unto God (quoth the other:) Why then turn you behind me (quoth he) or retire aside out of hearing. Another Laconian chanced in the night to go over a churchyard by a tomb or monument, and imagined that he saw a spirit standing before him; whereupon he advanced forward directly upon it with his javelin; and as he ran full upon it, and as he thought, strake thorough it, he said withal: Whither fliest thou from me, ghost that thou art, now twice dead? Another having vowed to fling himself headlong from the high Promontory Leucas, down into the sea, mounted up the top thereof, but when he saw, what an huge downfall it was, he gently came down again on his feet: now when one twitted and reproached him therefore: I wist not (quoth he) that this vow of mine had need of another greater than it. Another Laconian there was, who in a battle and hot medley, being fully minded to kill his enemy who was under him, and to that purpose had lifted up his sword back, to give him a deadly wound; so soon as ever he heard the trumpet sound the retreat, presently stated his hand, and would no more follow his stroke: now when one asked him, why he slew not his enemy whom he had in his hands? Because (quoth he) it is better to obey a captain, than to kill an enemy. There was a Laconian took the foil in wrestling at the Olympic games; and when one cried aloud: Thy concurrent is better than thou, Laconian: Better (quoth he?) not so, but in deed he can skill better than I of supplanting and tripping.    

THE CUSTOMS AND ORDINANCES AMONG THE LACED AEMONIANS.  
THE manner and custom was at Lacedaemon, that when they entered into their public halls where they took their meats and meals together; the eldest man of the whole company should show the doors unto every one as they came, and say unto them: At these doors there goeth not forth so much as one word. The most exquisite dish among them was a mess of broth, which they called Black-pottage; insomuch as when that was served up to the table, the elder folk would not care for any flesh meats, but leave all them same for the younger sort. And (as it is reported) Denys the Tyrant of Sicily, for this purpose bought a cook from Lacedamon, and commanded him to make him such pottage and spare for no cost; but after he had a little tasted thereof, he found it so bad that he cast up all that he had taken of it; but his cook said unto him: Sir, if you would find the goodness of this broth, you must be exercised first after the Lacedaemonian manner, all watered, and be well washed in the river Eurotas. Now after the Laconians have eat & drunk soberly at these ordinaries, they return home to their houses without torch or any light before them: for it is not lawful for any man at Lacedaemon, to go either from thence or to any place else with a light carried before him in the night; because they should be accustomed to keep their way, and go confidently without fear, all night long in the dark without any light at all. To write and read they learned for necessity only; as for all other foreign sciences and literature they banished them quite out of their coasts, like as they did all strangers and aliens: and in very truth their whole study was to learn how to obey their superiors, to endure patiently all travels, to vanquish in fight, or to die for it in the place. All the year long they went in one single gaberdine without coat at all under it; and ordinarily they were foul and sullied, as those who used not the stouphes & baines, ne yet anointed themselves for the most part. Their boys and young men commonly slept together in one dorter, by bands and troops, upon pallets and course beds, which they themselves gathered, breaking and tearing with their own hands without any edged tool, the heads of canes and reeds which grew along the banks of the river Eurotas: and in winter time they strewed and mingled among, a certain kind of Thistle down, which they call Lycophanes; for they are of opinion, that such stuff hath in it (I wot not what) which doth heat them. It was lawful and permitted among them to love young boys for their good minds and virtuous natures; but to abuse their persons wanton and fleshly, was reputed a most infamous thing, as if such were lovers of the body and not of the mind; in such sort, as whosoever was accused and attaint thereof, became noted with infamy, and shame followed him wheresoever he went all his life time. The custom was that elder folk when and wheresoever they met with younger, should demand whither and whereabout they went? yea and check and chide them, if they were to seek of a good answer or if they went about to devise colourable excuses: and whosoever he was that did not reprove him that did a fault in his presence, incurred the same reprehension and blame as he did who transgressed; yea and if he chafed and showed himself discontented, when he was reproved, he sustained reproach, disgrace and discredit thereby. If peradventure one were surprised and taken tardy in some fault; he must be brought to a certain altar within the city, and there forced to go round about it singing a song, made of purpose for his own reproof, and containing nought else, but the blame and accusation of himself. Moreover, young folk were not only to honour their own fathers, and to be obedient unto them; but also to show reverence unto all other elder persons; namely, in yielding them the better hand, in turning out of their way when they met them, and giving them the wall, in rising up from their seats before them when they came in place, and in standing still when they passed by: and therefore every man had a certain hand of government, and dispose, not only (as in other cities) over their own children, their proper servants and goods; but also they had a regard of their neighbour's children, servants and goods, as well as if they had been their own: they made use also of them as of things common, to the end, that to each one every thing might be (as it were) his own in propriety. Whereupon, if it fortuned that a child having been chastised by another man, went to complain thereof to his own father; it was a shame for the said father, if he gave him not his payment again: for by the ordinary course of discipline in that country, they were assured, that their neighbours would impose nothing upon their children, but that which was good and honest. Young lads were used to filch and steal whatsoever they could come by, for their food and victuals; yea and they learned from their very infancy, to forelay and lie prettily in ambush for to surprise those who were asleep, & stood not well upon their guards: but say that one were taken in the manner when he stealeth; this was his punishment, namely, to be whipped and to fast from meat; expressly therefore and of very purpose they were allowed very little to eat, to the end that they might be driven upon very extreme necessity to make shifts and expose themselves venturously into any danger, yea and to devise always some cunning cast or other to steal more cleanly: but generally the reason and effect of this their strait diet was, that they should long before accustom their bodies never to be full, but able to endure hunger; for that in deed they were of opinion, that they should be the meeter for souldiarie, if they could take pains and travel without food; yea and that it was a good means to be more continent, sober, and thrifty, if they were taught & enured to continue a long time small cost & expense: to be brief, persuaded they were: That to abstain eating of flesh or fish dressed in the kitchen, or to feed savourly of bread or any other viands that came next to hand, made men's bodies more healthy, & caused them to burnish and grow up; for that the natural spirits not pressed nor overcharged with a great quantity of meat, and so by that means not kept and depressed downward, but dispersed and spread in largeness and breadth, gave liberty for the bodies to shoot up, wax tall, and personable; yea and made them more fair and beautiful; for that the habitudes and complexions which be slender, lank and empty, are more obsequent unto that natural virtue and faculty which giveth form and fashion to the limbs; whereas those who be corpulent, gross, full, and given to much feeding, by reason of weight and heaviness resist the same. They set their minds also to compose and make proper ditties and ballads, yea, and no less studious are they to sing the same; having always in these their compositions, a certain prick or sting (as it were) to stir up and provoke their courage and stomach, to inspire also into the hearts of the hearers a considerate resolution, and an ardent zeal and affection to do some brave deed: the ditties were plain, simple, and without all affectation; containing in manner nothing else, but the praises of those who had lived virtuously, and died valiantly in the wars for the defence of Sparta, as being of all others most happy; as also the blame and reproach of such as for cowardice and faintheart were afraid to die, whom they accounted to live a wretched and miserable life. Moreover they stood much upon promises of future prowess or vaunteries of present valour, according to the diversity of their ages who chanted the said songs; for always in their solemn and public feasts, three quires or dances there were: one of old folk, and the foreburthen of their canticle was this: 
The time was when we gallant wear,  
Youthful and hardy, void of fear.  Next to it came in place a dance of men in their best age and full strength, who answered them in this wise: 
But we are come to prose, and now at best;  
Try who that 〈◊〉, to fight we are now priest.  And a third followed after of children who chanted thus: 
And we one day shall be both tall and strong,  
Surpassing far, if that we live so long.  Now their very notes and tunes to the measures and numbers whereto they danced and marched in battle against their enemies after the sound of the flute, were appropriate and sitted to incite their hearts to valour, confident security, and contempt of death: for Lycurgus did study and endeavour to join the exercise & practise of military discipline with the pleasure of music, to the end, that warlike and vehement motions being mingled and delayed with sweet melody, might be tempered with a delectable accord and harmony: and therefore in battles before the charge and first shock of the conflict, their king was wont to sacrifice unto the Muses, for this intent; that the soldiers in fight might have the grace to perform some glorious and memorable exploits. But if any man passed one point beyond this ancient music, they would not endure him, insomuch as the Ephori set a fine upon the head of Terpander (though otherwise he loved antiquity well enough, and was the best harper in his time, yea & took greatest delight to praise the heroic acts of the renowned worthies in times past) and more than that; they hung up his harp upon a stake or post, only because he had set to it one string more than ordinary, whereby he might vary his voice the better with more sundry notes; for they allowed no songs nor sonnets but such as were plain and simple; and when Timotheus at the feast Carneia played upon the harp for to win the prize; one of the Ephori taking a skein or knife in his hand, asked him, on whether side, either above or beneath, he would rather have him to cut a two the strings which were more than seven. Moreover Lycurgus took from them all vain & superstitious fear as touching sepulchres, permitting them to bury their dead within the city, and to rear their mounments and tombs round about the temples of their gods: he cut off likewise all pollutions of mortuaries, and would not give them leave to enterre any thing with the corpse, but only to enwrap the same within a winding sheet of red cloth, together with olive leaves strewed among, and the same indifferently to all bodies, no more to one than another: semblably he put down all epitaphs and superscriptions upon graves, unless it were for such as lost their lives in battle; forbidding all mourning and doleful lamentations. Furthermore it was unlawful for them to make voyages into strange countries, for fear they should learn foreign fashions and uncivil manners, savouring of no good bringing up; and for the same reason, Lycurgus' banished aliens out of the city, lest if they should thither resort, by reason of their confluence, they might teach and show the citizens their vices. And as for citizens borne, any of them would not suffer their children to be brought up according to the discipline and institution of the city, they might not enjoy the rights and privileges of free burgessie. Some say also that Lycurgus ordained; If a very alien would yield to the observation of his discipline, and be ranged under the policy of the State, he might enjoy one of those portions which from the beginning was set out and appointed; but he was not allowed to sell the same. The manner and custom was in Lacedaemon, to make use of their neighbour's servants, even as well as of their own, whensoever they had any business or occasion to employ them; as also to make bold with their horses and hounds, unless the owners themselves and masters had present need of them. In the country also and territory of Laconia, if they stood in need of any thing that was in their neighbour's house, they would go boldly and ask no leave, to their cupboards, presses, coffers, and such places where the thing was, make no more ado but open them, take out and carry away whatsoever they thought good; so they made fast and shut again the room out of which they had taken aught. To warfare they went in red liveries, both for that they thought this colour more decent for a man, as also because it resembled blood, it struck the greater fear into those who were not used thereto; beside, there was good use and profit thereof in this respect, that if any of them happened to be wounded, the enemy could not so perceive it, because that colour looked so like unto blood. Whensoever they had vanquished their enemies by some stratagem that their captains used, their manner was to sacrifice an ox unto Mars; but if they got a victory by fine force & open manhood, they sacrificed a cock; by which means, they occasioned their leaders to be not only valiant, but also politic warriors. Among other prayers that they made unto the gods this was ever one. That they might have the power and grace to bear wrongs: but the sunme of all their supplications was this: That the gods would vouchsafe them honour for well doing, & no more. They 〈◊〉 the goddess Venus in her complete armour, and made all the images of their gods, as well female as male, with lances and javelins in their hands, as if they all had military and martial virtue in them. Also they used this saying as a common proverb: 
Call upon fortune in each enterprise,  
With hand stretched forth, wot otherwise.  As if they would say, that we ought when we invocate the gods, to enterprise somewhat our selves, and lay our hands to work, or else not to call upon them. They used to let their children see the Ilotes when they were drunk, to keep them by their example from drinking much wine. They neverknocked and rapped at their neighbour's doors, but stood without, and called aloud to to those within. The curry-combs that they occupied were not of iron, but of canes and reeds. They never heard any comedies or tragedies acted, because neither in earnest nor in game they would not hear those that any wise contradicted the laws. When Archilochus the poet was come to Sparta, they drove him out the very same hour that he came, for that they knew he had made these verses, wherein he delivered: That it was better to fling away weapons than to die in the field: 
A fool he is, who trusting in his shield,  
Doth venture life and limb in bloody field:  
As for mine own, I have it flung me fro  
And left behind in bushes thick that grow.  Others translate it thus. 
Some Saïan now, in that my doughty shield  
Doth take great joy, which flying out of field,  
Though full against my mind, I flung me fro  
And left behind in bushes thick that grow.  
Although it were right good, yet would not I  
Presume to fight with it, and so to die,  
Farewell my shield, though thou be lost and gone,  
Another day as good I shall buy one.  All their sacred and holy ceremonies were common, as well for their daughters as their sons, The Ephori condemned one Siraphidas, to pay a sum of money, for that he suffered himself to take wrong and abuse at many men's hands. They caused one to be put to death for playing the hypocrite, and wearing sackcloth like a public penitent, for that the said sackcloth was purfled with a border of purple. They rebuked and checked a young man as he came from the ordinary place of exercise, for that he frequented it still, knowing as he did the way to Pytaea, where was held the assembly of the States of Greece. They chased out of the city a Rhetorician named Cephisophon, because he made his boast; That he could speak if it were a whole day of any theme proposed unto him; for they said: That speech ought to be proportionable to the subject matter. Their children would endure to be lashed & whipped all the day long, yea, and many times even to death, upon the altar of Diana, surnamed Orthia, taking joy and pleasure therein, striving a vie for the victory who could hold out longest; and look who was able to abide most beating, he was best esteemed, and carried away the greatest praise: this strife & emulation among them was called the Whippado; and once every year they observed such an exercise. But one of the best, most commendable and blessed things that Lycurgus provided for his citizens; was the plenty & abundance that they had of rest & leisure; for they were not allowed at all to meddle with any mechanical art; and to traffic and negotiate painfully for to gather and heap up goods, was in no wise permitted; for he had so wrought that riches among them was neither honoured nor desired. The Ilotes were they that ploughed and tilled their ground for them, yielding them as much as in old time was down and ordained; and execrable they esteemed it to exact more of any of them, to the end that those Ilotes for the sweetnesseof gain which they found thereby, might serve them more willingly, and themselves covet to have no more than the old rate. Forbidden likewise were the Lacedæmonians to he mariners, or to fight at sea; yet afterwards for all that, they fought naval battles, and became lords of the sea; howbeit they soon gave that over, when they once saw that the manners and behaviour of their citizens were thereby corrupted and depraved; but they changed afterwards again, and were mutable, as well in this as in all other things: for the first that gathered and hoarded up money for the Lacedæmonians, were condemned to death, by reason that there was an ancient oracle which delivered this answer unto Alcamenes and Theopompus, two of their kings, 
Avarice one day (who ever lives to see)  
Of Sparta city will the ruin be.  And yet Lysander after he had won the city of Athens, brought into Sparta a great mass of gold and silver, which the citizens received willingly, and did great honour unto the man himself for his good service. True it is, that so long as the city of Sparta observed the laws of Lycurgus, and kept the oaths which it was sworn by, she was a paragon, yea and the sovereign of all Greece, in good government and glory for the space of 300. years: but when they came once to transgress the said laws and break their oaths; avarice and covetousness crept in among them by little and little, and they with all their puislance & authority decreased, yea and their allies and confederates hereupon began to be ill affected unto them: and yet being as they were in this declining estate, after that king Philip of Macedonia had won the battle at Chaeronea, when all other cities and states of Greece, by a general consent, and with one accord had chosen him the general captain of all the Greeks, as well for land as sea, yea, and after him his son Alexander the Great, upon the destruction of the city Thebes, only the Lacedæmonians, notwithstanding their city lay all open, without any wall about it, and themselves were brought to a very small number by occasion of their continual wars, which had wasted and consumed them, whereby they were become very feeble, and by consequence more easy to be defeated than ever before, yet for that they had retained still some little relics of the government established by Lycurgus, they would never yield to serve under those two mighty monarchs, no nor other kings of Macedonia their successors, neither would they be present at the general diets and common assemblies of other states, nor contribute any money with the rest, until they having utterly cast aside and rejected the laws of Lycurgus, they were held under and yoked with the tyranny of their own citizens; namely when they retained no part of the ancient discipline, whereby they grew like unto other nations, and utterly lost their old reputation, glory, and liberty of frank speech, so as in the end they were brought into servitude, and even at this day be subject unto the Roman empire, aswell as other cities and states of Greece.   

THE APOTHEGMS, THAT IS TO SAY, THE NOBLE SAYINGS AND ANSWERS OF LACEDAEMONIAN DAMES.  
ARGILEONIS the mother of Brasidas; (after that her son was slain, when certain ambassadors from the city Amphipolis came to Sparta, and visited her;) demanded of them, whether her son died like a valiant man, and as became a Spartan? now when they praised him exceedinly, saying that he was the bravest man in arms in all Lacedaemon; she said again unto them: My son was indeed a knight of valour and honour (my good friends;) but Lacedaemon hath many others yet more valiant than he was.  
GORGO, the daughter of king Cleomenes, when Aristagoras the Milesian was come to Sparta, for to solicit Cleomenes to make war upon the king of Persia, in the defence of the jonians freedom; and in consideration hereof promised him a good round sum of money; and the more that he contradicted and denied the motion, the more he still augmented the sum of money which he promised: Father (quoth she) this stranger here will corrupt you if you, send him not the sooner out of your house. Also when her father willed her one day to deliver certain corn unto a man, by way of a reward and recompense, saying withal: For this is he who hath taught me how to make wine good: How now, good father (quoth she) shall there be more wine drunk still, considering that they who drink thereof become more delicate and less valorous? When she saw how Aristagoras: had one of his men to put on his shoes: Father (quoth she) here is a stranger that hath no hands. When she saw a foreigner coming toward her who was wont to go softly and delicatlie, she thrust him from her and said: Avaunt idle lusk as thou art, and get thee gone, for thou art not so good of deed as a woman.  
GYRTIAS', when Acrotatus her nephew or daughter's son, (from out of a brawl and fray that was between him and other yoonkers his companions) was brought home with many a wound, insomuch as no man looked for life; seeing his familiar friends and those of his acquaintance, wail and take on piteously: What (quoth she) let be this weeping and lamentation, for now hath he showed of what blood he is descended; neither ought we to cry out and bewail for the hurts of valiant men, but rather to go about their cure and salve them, if haply we may save their lives. When a messenger coming out of Candia, where he served in the wars, brought news that the said Acrotatus was slain in fight: Why (quoth she) what else should he do, being once gone forth to war, but either die himself or else kill his enemies? yet had I rather hear, and it doth me much more good that he died worthy myself, worthy his native country and his progenitors, than that he should live as long as possibly a man could, like a coward and man of no worth.  
DEMETRIA hearing that her son proved a dastard, and indeed not worthy to be her son, so soon as ever he was returned from the wars, she killed him with her own hands; whereupon was made this epigram of her: 
By mother's hand was slain one Demetrie,  
For that he broke the laws of chivalry,  
No marvel, she a noble Spartan dame  
Disclaimed her son, unwoorthy of that name.   
Another woman of Lacedaemon being given to understand, that her son had abandoned his rank, made him likewise away, as unwoorthy of that country wherein he was borne, saying: That he was no son of hers: And thereupon this epigram also was composed of her: 
Amischiefe take thee wicked imp, be gone in devil's name  
Through baleful darkness: Hatredis too good, and earthly shame:  
For cowards such of craven kind like hinds, are not to drink,  
Nor wash in fair Eurotas stream their bodies, as I think.  
Avaunt thou cur-dog whelp to hell, thou devil's limb unmoned,  
Unwoorthy Sparta soil thou art ' for thee I never groaned.  Another, hearing that her son was saved and had escaped out of the hands of his enemies, wrote thus unto him: There runneth a naughty rumour of thee; either stop the course thereof, or else live not. There was another likewise, whose children had fled out of the battle, and when they came home unto her, she welcomed them in this manner: Whither go you running lewd lozel's and cowardly slaves as you are; think you to enter hither again from whence you first came? and therewith plucked up her clothes, and showed them her bare belly. Also another espying her son new returned from the wars, and coming toward her: What news (quoth she) how goeth the world with our country and commonwealth? and when he answered: We have lost the field and all our men be slain; she took up an earthen pot, let it fly at his head & killed him outright, saying: And have they sent thee to bring us the news? There was one brother recounted unto his mother what a noble death his brother died, unto whom his mother answered: And wert not thou ashamed that thou didst not accompany him in so fair a journey? Another there was who had sent her sons (and five they were in number) to the wars, and she stood waiting at the towns end, about the suburbs and hamlets near unto them, for to hearken what was the issue of the battle: and of the first man whom she encountered from the camp, she asked, what news, and who had the day; he told her that her sons were slain all five: Thou lewd varlet (quoth she) and base slave as thou art, I did not demand that question of thee; but in what state the affair of the commonwealth stood: The victory (quoth he) is ours: Then am I well apaid (saith she) and contented with the loss of my children. Another there was, unto whom as she buried her son slain in the wars, there came a silly old woman and moaned her, saying: Ah good woman what fortune is this? Why good (quoth she?) by Castor and Pollux I swear; for I bore him into this world for nothing else, but that he should spend his life for Sparta; and lo this is now happened. A lady there was of jonia, who bore herself very proud of a work in tapistry which she herself had made, most costly and curiously; but a Laconian dame showed unto her, four children, all very well given and honestly brought up: Such as these (quoth she) ought to be the works of a lady of honour, and herein should a noble woman in deed, make her boast and vaunt herself. Another there was, who heard news, that a son of hers behaved himself not well in a strange country where he was, unto whom she wrote a letter in this wise: There is blown a bad brute of thee in these parts, either prove it self or else die, I advise thee. Certain fugitives or exiled persons from Chios, came to Sparta, who accused Paedaretus, and laid many crimes to his charge: his mother Teleuria hearing thereof, sent for them to come unto her; at whose mouths when she heard the several points of their imputations, and judging in herself that he was in fault, and had done great wrongs, she sent a letter unto him in this form: Either do better or tarry there still, and never think to save thyself here. In like manner another wrote unto her son accused of an heinous crime, in these terms: My son quit thyself of this imputation, or else quit thy life. Another accompanying a son of hers upon the way when he went to battle, said unto him: Son remember every foot that thou steppest to virtue and prowess, and fight like a man. Another whose son returned out of the field wounded in the foot, and complaining unto her of the great pain which he endured: Son (quoth she) if thou wouldst remember virtue and valour, thou shouldest never think of thy pain. A certain Lacedaemonian chanced so grievously to be wounded in a skirmish, that he had much ado to stand upon his legs, so that he was sane to go with crutches (as it were) upon four feet; now when he was abashed to see some laugh at him for it, his mother said: Greater cause thou hast (my son) to rejoice for this testimony of thy valour and prowess, than to be dismayed at their fond and senseless laughter. Another woman when she gave unto her son a shield, admonished him to use it well, and do his devoir like a man, and these words she used unto him: My son either bring this shield home again, or let it bring thee dead upon it. Another likewise giving a target to her son when he took his leave of her to go to war, said unto him: Thy father kept this target well from time to time; see thou (for thy part) keep it as well, or else die with it. Another when her son found fault with his short sword, said unto him: Then set foot nearer to thine enemy. A woman hearing that her son died valiantly in battle: No marvel (quoth she) for he was my son. chose, another when she heard that her son took him to his heels, and escaped by good footmanship: He was never (quoth she) a son of mine. But another hearing that her son was slain fight in the very place where his captain had set him: Remove him than (quoth she) from thence, and let his brother step into his place. A Lacedaemonian woman being in a solemn and public procession, with a chaplet of flowers upon his head, understood that her son had won a field, but was so grievously wounded, that ready he was to yield up his breath; without putting off her chaplet of flowers from her head, but glorying (as it were) in these news: Oh my friends (quoth she) how much more glorious and honourable is it for a soldier to die with victory in battle, than for a champion to survive after he hath won the prize in the Olympic games. A brother reported unto his sister, how valiant her son died in battle, unto whom she answered again: Look how much I joy & take pleasure to hear this of him; so much I am displeased and discontented at you, brother, for that you would not bear him company in so virtuous a voyage, but tarry behind him. When one sent unto a Lacedaemonian woman to solicit and sound her, whether she would consent unto him, she made this answer: When I was a maiden, I learned to obey my father, and so I did evermore; and when I was a wife, I did the the like unto my husband; if then that which he demandeth of me be honest and just, let him acquaint my husband with it first. A poor maiden being asked the question what dowry she would bring her husband? The pudicitie (quoth she) and honesty of my country. Another Lacedaemonian woman being demanded, whether she had yet been with her husband? Not I (quoth she) but he hath been with me. Also another young woman chanced secretly to be deflowered and to lose her maiden head; now when by some mishap she fell unto untimely labour, and to slip an abortive fruit; she endured the pains of travel thereto belonging so patiently, without one cry or groan, that neither her father, nor any one about her, perceived any thing at all that she was delivered; for shame and honesty fight together, overcame all the vehemency of her pains. A Lacedaemonian woman being sold in the market for a slave, was asked what she could do? I can skill (quoth she) to be true and faithful. Another likewise being a captive and demanded the like question, answered, that she could keep the house well. Another likewise when she was asked by one whether she would prove good if he bought her, made answer thus: Yea that I will, although you never buy me. Last of all, a Lacedaemonian woman when she was to be sold in port-sale, and the crier demanded of her what she had skill in? answered: To be free. Now when he that bought her commanded her to do some things unbeseeming a free person: You will repent (quoth she) that you envied yourself so noble a possession; and so she killed herself.   

THE VIRTUOUS DEEDS OE WOMEN.  

The Summarie.  
Virtue always deserveth praise wheresoever it is found, but especially when is proceedeth from feeble instruments, and those of small show; for by that means the excellency thereof is so much better seen: our Author therefore in that regard, hath made here a collection of histories, relating the worthy demeanours of many women who have showed manly courage in sundry dangers; the consideration whereof, is able greatly to move and affect the reader. In the Preface of this discourse, after he had refuted the opinion of Thucydides, who would confine women (as it were) into a perpetual ermitage, he proveth by diverse reasons, that virtue being always the selfsame, notwithstanding that it hath objects and subjects different, it were mere injury and too much iniquity, either to forget or to despise those women who for their valour have deserved, that their name and example should continue; to the end that the same might be imitated as occasion requireth in many sorts, not only by other women, but also by the most part of men. Which done, he describeth the notable exploits of some in general: and then he cometh to speak of certain in particular, noting and observing in them diverse graces and commendable parts, but especially an extreme hatred of tyranny and servitude, an 〈◊〉 love and affection toward their country, a singular affection to their husbands, rare honesty, pudicitie, chastity joined with a generous nature, which hath caused them, both to enterprise and also to execute heroic acts, and well deserving that praise, which hath been preservedentire for such women, after so many years until this day, by the means of this present historical fragment; the which containeth goodly instructions for men and women of name and mark, to induce them to govern themselves in such sort, that in the mids of the greatest confusions, they might take a good courage, and lay their hands to that which their vocation requireth; and to hold this for certain, that enterprises lawful and necessary, will sooner or later have good issue, to the shame and ruin of the wicked, but to the repose and quietness of all persons, who desire, seek, and procure that which is good.   

THE VIRTUOUS DEEDS of women.  
I Am not of Thucydides mind (dame Clea) touching the virtue of women; for he is of this opinion: That she is the best & most virtuous, of whom there is least speech abroad, aswell to her praise as her dispraise; thinking that the name of a woman of honour, aught to be shut up and kept fast within, like as her body, that it never may go forth. Gorgias yet (me thinks) was more reasonable, who would have the renown and fame, but not the face & visage of a woman, to be known unto men: and it seemeth unto me, that it was an excellent law and custom among the Romans, which imported thus much: That women aswell as men, after their death might be honoured publicly at their funerals, with such praises as they had deserved: and therefore immediately after the decease of the most virtuous lady Leontis, I discoursed with you at large upon this matter; which discourse (in my conceit) was not without some consolation founded upon reason & Philosophy: and now also (according to your request at that time) I send you in writing, the rest of our speech and communication, tending to this point: That the virtue of man and woman is all one and the very same; which appeareth by the proof and testimony of many and sundry examples, drawn out of ancient histories, collected by me, not upon any intention to please the ear; but if the nature of an example be such, as always, to the periwasive power that it hath to prove, there is joined also a lively virtue to delight. This treatise of mine rejecteth not the grace of that pleasure, which doth second and favourise the efficacy of a proof; neither is it ashamed to join Graces with Muses; which (as Eurypides saith) is the best conjunction in the world, inducing the mind most easily to give ear and credit unto good reasons, by means of the delectation which it there findeth. For if to prove, that it is all one art, to paint and draw the life of women and men, I should produce and bring forth such pictures of women as Apelles, Zeuxis or Nicomachus have left behind them; hath any man reason to find fault and to charge me, that I aim and intend to delight the eye and content the mind, rather than to verify my assertion? I suppose that no man will so do: semblably, if otherwise to show, that the art of Poetry, or skill to represent in verse, all things whatsoever, is the same in women and men, and nothing different one from the other, I should confer the Odes and verses of Sapph with those of Anacreon; or the oracles penned by the Sibylles with those which are set down by Bacchis; is there any man that could justly blame such a demonstration, for that it draweth the hearer to believe with some pleasure and content? no man (I trow) would ever so faith; and yet there were no better way to know either the resemblance, or the difference in the virtue of man and woman, than in comparing lives with lives, and deeds with deeds; as if we should lay together the works of some noble science, and consider them one by another; even so likewise, to see whether the magnificence of queen Semiramis, hath all one form and figure with that of king Sesostris; and the wisdom of queen Tanaquil, with that of king Servius; or the magnanimity of lady Porcia, with that of Brutus; or of dame Timoclea, with that of Pelopidas; namely, in that quality which is most principal, and wherein lieth the chiefest point and force of these virtues: for virtue admitteth certain other differences, as proper and particular colours, according to diverse natures, and is in some sort conformable to the manners and conditions of those subjects wherein they be, and to the temperatures of their bodies, or to the very nutriments and diverse diets and fashions of their life. For Achilles was after one sort valiant, and Ajax after another; the wisdom of Ulysses was not like unto Nestor's; neither were Cato and Agesilaus just alike; Irene loved not her husband in that manner as Alcestis loved hers; nor Cornelia & Olympias were alike magnanimous; and yet for all that, we say not, that there be many and diverskinds' of fortitude, sundry sorts of prudence and wisdom, nor different justices, in regard of the dissimilitude and variety which ariseth particularly in each one person, so as the said peculiar differences, do not exclude any one virtue from the proper definition thereof. As for such examples as are most divulged and published abroad (of which I presume you have already sufficient knowledge, and firmly remember their history, by that which you have read in ancient books) I will pass them over at this present; unless haply there be some acts worthy of remembrance which they were ignorant of, who before our time have written the common histories and vulgar Chronicles. But for that the women in times past, aswell in common as particular, have performed many memorable deeds, it will not be amiss in the first place to set down briefly what some of them have done in society and company together.  

THE TROJANE DAMES.  
OF those trojans who escaped after the winning and destruction of troy the Great, the most part went to seek their fortune, and by force of tempest (the rather for that they had no skill in navigation, and were not acquainted with the seas) were cast upon the coast of Italy, where putting into such bay, ports & creeks as they could meet with, in that very place (whence the river Tiber dischargeth itself into the sea) with much ado and great difficulty they landed, and the men went wandering up and down the country, for to see if they could light upon those that might direct them in their voyage, and give them some light and intelligence of those coasts. Mean while the women communed and devised thus among themselves: That since they had been the most fortunate and happy nation in the world, it were better for them to settle in any one certain place whatsoever, than still to wander uncertainely upon the seas, and to make that, their country and seat of habitation, since they were not able to recover that native soil which they had lost: to which motion after they had all with one accord agreed, they set fire on their ships, and the first ringleader in this action was a Lady (by report) named Roma; which done, they went farther up into the continent to meet with the men afore said, who now by this time were coming apace to the sea for to succour their ships on fire, & fearing their furious anger, they fell to embrace and kiss them very kindly, some their husbands, others their kinsfolk, and by this means appeased their wrath. Hereupon arose that custom, which continueth at this day among the Romans, that no men should salute their kinsfolk, and those that be joined in blood to them, by kissing their lips: for the Trojan men seeing (as it should seem) in what necessity they stood, were well enough content; and withal, finding the inhabitants of the seacoasts courteous, and ready to receive and entertain them friendly, approved that which the women had done, and so remained and dwelled in the same part of Italy among the Latins.   

THE DAMES OF PHOCIS.  
THE worthy act of the dames of Phocis, whereof we now mean to make mention, no Historiographer of name hath yet recorded and set down in writing: howbeit there was never a more memorable deed of virtue wrought by women, and the same testified by the great sacrifices, which the Phocians do celebrate even at this day, near unto the city Hyampolis, and that according to the ancient decrees of the country. Now is the total history of this whole action from point to point particularly recorded in the life of Daiphantus; as for that which the said women did, thus stood the case. There was an irreconcilable and mortal war between the Thessalians and those of Phocis, for that the Phocians upon a certain fore-set day. killed all the magistrates and rulers of the Thessalians, who exercised tyranny in the cities of Phocis: and they again of Thessalia had beaten and bruised to death two hundred and fifty hostages of the Phocaeans, whom they had in custody; and after that, with all their puissance entered and invaded their country by the way of the Locrians; having before hand concluded this resolution in their general counsel, not to pardon nor spare any one that was of age sufficient to bear arms, and as for their wives and children, to lead them away captives as slaves: whereupon Daiphantus the son of Bathyllus, one of the three sovereign governors of Phocis, moved and persuaded the Phocaeans (as many as were of years to fight) for to go forth and encounter the Thessalians; but their wives and children, to assemble all together unto a certain place in Phocis, & environ the whole pourprise and precinct thereof with a huge quantity of wood, and there to set certain guards to watch and ward; whom he gave in charge, that so soon as ever they heard how their countrymen were defaited, they should set the wood on fire, and burn all the bodies within the compass thereof: which design when all others had approved, there was one man among them, stood up and said: It were just and meet, that they had the consent also of the women as touching this matter; and if they would not approve and allow of this counsel, to leave it unexecuted, and not to force them thereto: this consultation being come to the ears of the said women, they held a counsel together apart by themselves as touching this intended action, where other resolved to follow the advice of Daiphantus, and that with so great alacrity and contentment, that they crowned Daiphantus with a chaplet of flowers, as having given the best counsel that could be devised for Phocis. It is reported also, that their very children sat in counsel hereabout by themselves, and concluded the same: but it fortuned so, that the Phocaeans having given the Thessalians battle near unto a village, called Cleonae, in the marches or territory of Hyampolis, defaited them. This resolution of the Phocaeans, was afterwards by the greeks named Aponaea, that is, A desperate design: and in memorial of the said victory, all the people of Phocis to this day do celebrate in Hyampolis, the greatest and most solemn feast that they have, to the honour of Diana, and call it Elaphebolia.   

THE WOMEN OF CHIOS.  
THE men of Chios inhabited sometime the colony Leuconia, upon such an occasion as this. A gentleman, one of the best houses in Chios, chanced to contract a marriage; and when the bride was to be brought home to his house in a coach, King Hippoclus being a familiar friend unto the bridegroom, & one who was present with others at the espousales and wedding; after he had taken his wine well, being set upon a merry pin, and disposed to make sport, leapt up into the coach where the new wedded wife was; not with any intent to offer violence or villainy, but only to dally, toy & make pastime in a merriment, as the manner was at such a feast: howbeit the friends of the bridegroom took it not so, but fell upon him and killed him outright in the place: upon which murder there appeared unto those of Chios many evident tokens and signs of God's anger; yea and when they understood by the oracle of Apollo, that for to appease their wrath, they should put all those to death who had murdered Hippoclus; they made answer: That they all were guilty of the fact: and when the god Apollo commanded them, that if they were all tainted with the said murder, they should all depart out of the city Chios, they sent away (as many, as either were parties and principals, or accessaries and privy to the said bloodshed; yea, and whosoever approved and praised the fact, and those were neither few in number, nor men of mean quality and power) as far as to Leuconta; which city the Chians first conquered from the Coroneans, and possessed by the help of the Erythraeans: but afterwards when there was war between the said Chians and the Erythraeans (who in those days were the mightiest people in all jonia) insomuch as the Erythraeans came against Leuconia, with a power intending to assault it: the Chians being not able to resist, grew to make a composition; in which capitulated it was & agreed, that they should quit the city, & depart every person with one coat & cassock only, without taking any thing else with them. The women understanding of this agreement, gave them foul words, & bitterly reproached them, for being so base minded as to lay off their armour, & thus to go naked thorough the mids of their enemies: but when their husbands alleged that they had sworn & taken a corporal oath so to do, they gave them counsel in any wise, not to leave their arms and weapons behind them, but to say; that a javelin was a coat, and a shield the cassock of a valiant and hardy man. The Chians persuaded hereunto spoke boldly to the Erythraeans to that effect, and showed them their arms, insomuch as the Erythraeans were afraid to see their resolute boldness, and there was not one of them so hardy as to come near for to impeach them, but were very well content that they abandoned the place, and were gone in that sort. Thus you may see how these men having learned of their wives to be courageous and confident, saved their honours and their lives. Long after this, the wives of the Chians achieved an other act nothing inferior to this in virtue and prowess. At what time as Philip the son of Demetrius, holding their city besieged, caused this barbarous edict, and proud proclamation to be published: That all the slaves of the city should rebel against their masters, and come to him: for that he would make them all free, and give them liberty to espouse and marry their mistresses, even the wives of their former masters. The dames conceived hereof so great choler and indignation in their hearts (together with the slaves themselves, who were provoked likewise to anger as well as they, and ready to assist their mistresses) that they took heart to mount upon the walls of the city, and to carry thither stones, darts and all manner of shot, beseeching their husbands to fight lustily and with good courage, & eftsoons admonishing and encouraging them to quit themselves like men, and do their devoir; which they did so effectually both in word and deed, that in the end they repulsed the enemy, and constrained Philip to raise his siege from before the city without effecting his purpose, and there was not so much as one slave that revolted from his master unto him.   

THE WOMEN OF ARGOS.  
THe exploit of the Argive dames against Cleomenes king of Lacedaemon, in defence of the city Argos, which they enterprised under the conduct and by the persuasion of Telesilla the poëtresse, is not less glorious and renowned, than any action that ever was achieved by a crew of women. This dame Telesilla (as the fame goeth) was descended of a noble and famous house, howbeit in body she was very weak and sickly; by occasion whereof, she sent out to the oracle for to know how she might recover her health: answer was made, that she should serve, honour and worship the Muses: she yielding obedience to this revelation of the god, and giving herself to learn poesy, and likewise vocal music, and skill in song, in short time was delivered from her malady, and became most renowned and highly esteemed among women for her poetical vein, and musical knowledge in this kind: in process of time it fortuned that Cleomenes the king of the Spartans', having in a battle slain a great number indeed of Argives, but not as some fabulous writers have precisely set down (seven thousand, seven hundred, seventy and seven) advanced directly to the city of Argos, hoping to find and surprise the same void of inhabitants: but the women, as many as were of age sufficient (as it were by some heavenly and divine instinct) put on a resolute mind, and an extraordinary courage, to do their best for to beat back their enemies that they should not enter the city; and in very truth under the leading of Telesilla, they put on arms, took weapon in hand, and mounting up the walls stood round about the battlements thereof, and environed them on every side, defending the city right manfully, to the great wonder & admiration of the enemies: thus they gave Cleomenes the repulse, with the loss and carvage of a great number of his men. Yea and they chased Democrates another king of Lacedaemon out of their city, as Socrates saith, who had made entrance before, and seized that quarter which is called Pamphyliacum: when the city was thus saved by the prowess of these women, ordained it was, that as many of them as chanced in this service to be slain, should be honourably interred, upon the great causey or highway called Argeia; and unto them who remained alive, granted it was for a perpetual monument and memorial of their prowess, to dedicate and consecrate one statue unto Mars. This combat and fight (as some have written) was the seventh day, or (as other say) the first of that month which at Argos in old time they called Tetartos, but now Hermeus, on which day the Argives do celebrate even in this age, a solemn sacrifice and feast which they call Hybristica (as one would say) reproachful and infamous; wherein the custom is, that women went clad in soldiers coats and mantles, but men were arrayed and attired in women's petticoats, frocks, and veils. Now to replenish and repeople the city again, for default of men who died in the wars, they did not (as Herodotus writeth) use this policy, to marry their slaves to their widows, but they granted free burgeosie of their city, unto the better sort of men who were their neighbours and borderers, and granted unto them for to affiance and espouse the said widows: but it should seem that these wives disdained & despised (in some sort) these husbands of theirs, as not comparable to their former; for they made a law, that these wives should have counterfeit beards set to their chins whensoever they slept and lay with their husbands.   

THE PERSIAN WOMEN.  
CYrus (having caused the Persians to rebel against king Astyages & the Medes) happened to be discomfited & vanquished together, with the Persians: now when the Persians fled amain toward the city, and their enemies followed hard at their heels, ready to enter pelmell with them; the women issued out of the gates, met them even before the city, and plucking up their clothes before, from beneath, to their waste, cried unto them: Whither away, and whither do you fly, the most beastly cowards that ever were? for run as fast as you will there is no reentrance here for you into that place, out of which you came first into the world: the Persians being ashamed as well to see such a sight, as to hear those words, blamed and rebuked themselves; whereupon they turned again, and made head at their enemies, sought freshly, and put them to flight: from which time forward, there was a law established: That whensoever the king returneth from some far voyage, and entereth into the city, every woman should receive of him a piece of gold, and that by the ordinance of king Cyrus, who first enacted it. But it is reported, that king Ochus one of his successors (who being bad enough otherwise) was the most covetous prince that ever reigned over them, turned always out of the way, passed besides the city, and never would come into it after such a journey; whereby the women always were disappointed of that gratuity and gift which they ought to have had: but king Alexander chose entered the city twice, and gave to every woman with child, double so much, that is to say, two such pieces of gold.   

THE WOMEN OF GAUL.  
BEfore that the Gauls passed over the mountains called Alps, and held that part of Italy which now they do inhabit; there arose a great discord and dangerous sedition among them, which grew in the end to a civil war: but when both armies stood embattled and arranged, ready to fight, their wives put themselves in the very mids between the armed troops, took the matter of difference and controversy into their hands, brought them to accord and unity, and judged the quarrel with such indifferent equity, and so to the contentment of both parts, that there ensued a wonderful amity, and reciprocal good will, not only from city to city, but also between house and house; insomuch that ever after, they continued this custom in all their consultations, aswell of war as peace, to take the counsel and advice of their wives; yea to compose and pacify all debates and brawls with their neighbours and allies, by the mediation of them: and therefore in that composition and accord which they made with Hannibal, at what time as he passed through their city, among other articles this went for one: That in case the Gauls complained of any wrongs done unto them by the Carthaginians, the Carthaginian captains and governors which were in Spain should be the judges between them; but chose, if the Carthaginians pretended that the Gauls had wronged them, the Gaul dames should decide the quarrel.   

THE WOMEN OF MELOS.  
THe Melians purposing to seek for another land to inhabit, more large and fertile than their own, chose for the captain and leader of that troop or colony which was sent forth, a young gentleman of singular beauty, named Nymphoeus; but first they had consulted with the oracle, where they received this answer: That they should take the seas, and sail; and look in what place soever they happened to lose their porters and carriers, there they should rest and inhabit: now it happened as the coasted along Caria, and were set aland, their ships were lost in a tempest and perished; and then the inhabitats of the city Cryassa in Caria, (were it that they had pity of their necessity, or feared their hardiness and valour) requested them to make their abode with them, and granted them a part of their territory to hold and occupy: but afterwards the Carians seeing, that in a small time the Melians mightily increased and waxed great, they complotted and laid ambushes for to murder them all, at a certain solemn feast and supper which they prepared for them: but it fell out so, that a young damosel of Caria named Cophene (who secretly was in love and enamoured upon Nymphaeus abovesaid, and could not endure that her love Nymphaeus should so treacherously be murdered) discovered the said plot and intended design of her countrymen: now when the Cryassians came to call them to the feast abovesaid, Nymphaeus made them this answer: That the custom of the Greeks was not to go unto any great suppers or feasts, unless they had their wives with them; which when the Carians heard, they said: Bring your wives with you and spare not, they shall be welcome: thus when he had advertised his countrymen the Melians, what had passed between him and the Carians, he gave order that they should themselves come unarmed in their plain apparel, but every one of their wives should bring with them a skeing or dagger under their clothes, and so each of them sit close unto her husband: now in the mids of supper, when the signal was given to the Carians for to go in hand with the execution of their design, they Greeks knew thereby incontinently, that the time was now come to execute this feat; and then the women all at once opened their bosoms, and their husbands caught the skeines aforesaid, ran upon the barbarous Carians, and massacred all in the place, insomuch as not one of them escaped with life: and thus being masters of the country, they razed the city, and built another, which they called New Cryassa: Cophene then was married to Nymphaeus, and won much honour and favour, which she right well had deserved for the great good service that she did: but in my conceit, the principal matter in this whole action, and that which is most to be commended, was the silence and secrecy of these dames, that being so many as they were, there was not one whose hart fainted in the execution of this enterprise, nor perforce and for fear against her will, failed in her duty.   

THE TUSCAN WOMEN.  
THere were in times past certain Tyrrhenians or Tuskanes, who seized upon the isles of of Lemnos and Imbros; yea and ravished certain Athenian wives out of Brauron, and begat children of them; but afterwards, the Athenians chased that generation out of the said isles, as being mongrels and half Barbarians, who fortuning to arrive at the cape or head of Taenarus, did very good service under the Spartans' in their wars against the Ilots; and for this cause obtained their freedom and burgeosie in Sparta, yea, and were allowed to take wives and marry among them; only they were not capable of any office of State or magistracy, nor admitted into the counsel of the city: howbeit, suspected they were in the end, that they conspired and went about a change and alteration in the government: whereupon the Spartans' apprchended their bodies, and cast them in prison, where they kept them very strait, as close prisoners, to see if they could convince them by some proofs and undoubted evidence. Meanwhile, the wives of these prisoners came to the goals, and by their earnest prayers and importunate suit, wrought so with their keepers, that they suffered them to have access unto their husbands, only to visit, salute, and speak unto them: they were no sooner entered in, but they advised and persuaded their husbands, with all speed to put off their own clothes, and do on their apparel, and so to get away with their faces veiled and covered; which presently was put in execution, and themselves remained fast shut up in the said prison, prepared and resolute to abide all the miseries and tortures that might be done unto them: thus the gaolers let out their husbands, taking them to be their wives. No sooner were they at liberty, but immediately they went and seized the mountain Taygeta, and solicited withal the Ilots to take arms and rebel; which the men of Sparta much fearing, sent unto them an herald with atrumpet, by whose intercourse they agreed upon these articles of composition. Inprimis, to deliver them their wives. Item, to restore unto them their money and all their goods. Item, to furnish them with ships to pass upon the seas for to seek their adventure: and when they had found a commodious land, in one place or other, & were provided of a city to inhabit; that they should be named and reputed kinsfolk to the Lacedæmonians, and a colony derived and descended from them. The same did the Pelasgians, who took for their captains in this voyage, polis, Adelphus, and Crataidas, all three Lacedæmonians; for when one part of them stayed in the isle Melos, the greater troop under the conduct of polis arrived in Candie, attending and expecting if those signs which had been foretold them by the oracles would happen; for answer was given them by oracle: That whensoever they had lost their anchor and goddess, than they were at an end of their voyage and should build them a city: being come therefore unto the demie island Chersonesus, and their ship lying at anchor in the harbour; there happened in the night a sudden fear and fright among them without any apparent cause, such as they call Panic Frights, wherewith being wonderfully troubled and scared, they went a shipboard, without all order, and in a tumultuous multuous manner, leaving behind them for haste, the image of Diana upon the land, which had remained a long time among them, and had passed by descent from father to son, and by their forefathers had been first brought unto them from Brauron unto the isle Lemnos, and which they carried with them from thence into all places wheresoever they came: after this sudden fright and tumult was passed, as they sailed in the open sea, they miss the said image, and withal polis also was advertised, that a flouke of an anchor was wanting and lost; for that when they came to weigh anchor by great force (as commonly it happeneth in such places where it taketh hold of the ground among rocks) it broke and was left behind in the bottom of the sea; whereupon he said that the oracles were now fulfilled which foretold them of these signs, and therewith gave signal to the whole fleet for to retire back, and so he entered upon that region to his own use: and after he had in many skirmishes vanquished those who were up in arms against him, he lodged at length in the city Lyctus, and won many more to it. Thus you see how at this day they call themselves the kinsfolk of the Athenians by the mother's side; but indeed by the father they are a colony drawn from Lacedaemon.   

THE LYCIAN WOMEN.  
THat which is reported to have been done in Lycia, as a mere fable and tale devised of pleasure, yet nevertheless testified by a constant same that runneth very currant. For Amisodarus (as they say) whom the Lycians name Isarus, came from about the marches of Zelea, a colony of the Lycians, with a great fleet of rovers and men of war, whose captain or admiral, was one Chimaerus) a famous archpirate, a warlike man but exceeding cruel, savage and inhuman) who had for the badges and ensigns of his own ship, in the prow a lion, and at the poop a dragon: much hurt he did upon all the coasts of Lycia; insomuch as it was not possible either to sail upon the sea, or to inhabit the maritime cities and towns, near unto the sea side for him. This man of war or arch-rover, Bellerophontes had slain who followed him hard in chase with his swift pinnace (Pegasus) as he fled, until he had overtaken him, and withal had chased the Amazons out of Lycia; yet for all this, he not only received no worthy recompense for his good service, at the hands of jobates king of Lycia, but also which was worse, sustained much wrong by him: by occasion whereof Bellerophontes taking it as a great indignity, went to sea again, where he prayed against him unto Neptune, that he would cause his land to be barren and unfruitful; which done, he returned back again: but behold a strange and fearful spectacle, for the sea swelled & overflowed all the country, following him every where as he went, and covering after him the face of the earth: and for that the men of those parts, who did what possibly they could to entreat him for to stay this inundation of the sea, could not obtain so much at his hands, the women took up their petticoats before & went to meet him, & showed their nakedness; whereupon for very shame he returned back, & the sea likewise (by report) retired with him into the former place. But some there be (who more civilly auciding the fabulosity of this tale) say: That it was not by prayers & imprecations that he drew after him the sea, but because that part of Lycia which was most sertill, being low and flat, lay under the level of the sea: there was a bank raised along the sea side which kept it in; and Bellerophon cut a breach thorough it, and so it came to pass that the sea with great violence entered that way, and drowned the flat part of the country; whereupon the men did what they could by way of prayers and intrearie with him, in hope to appease his mood, but could not prevail: howbeit, the women environing him round about by great troops & companies, pressed him so on all sides, that he could not for very shame deny them, & so in favour of them, said down his anger. Others affirm that Chimaera was an high mountain, directly opposite to the sun at noontide, which caused great reflections and reverberations of the sun beams, and by consequence, ardent heats in manner of a fire, in the said mountain, which coming to be spread and dispersed over the champion ground, caused all the fruits of the earth, to dry, fade, and wither away: whereof Bellerophontes (a man of great reach and deep conceit) knowing the cause in nature, caused in many places, the superfice of the said rock or mountain to be cloven and cut in two, which before was most smooth & even, and by that reason consequently, did send back the beams of the sun, & caused the excessive heat in the country adjoining: now for that he was not well considered and regarded by the inhabitants, according to his demerit, in despite he meant to be revenged of the Lycians; but the women wrought him so, that they allayed his fury. But surely that cause which Nymphus allegeth in his fourth book as touching Heraclea, is not fabulous nor devised to delight the Reader: for he saith: That this Bellerophontes having killed a wild bore that destroyed all the fruits of the earth, & all other beasts within the Xanthiens country, had no recompense therefore; whereupon, when he had powered out grievous imprecations against those unthankful Xanthiens, unto Neptune, he brought salt-water all over the land, which marred all and made all become bitter, until such time as he (being won by the prayers and supplications of the women) besought Neptune to let fall his wrath. Lo whereupon the custom arose and continueth still in the Xanthiens country: That men in all their affairs negotiate not in the name of their fathers, but of their mothers, and called after their names.   

THE womans OF SALMATICA.  
ANnnibal of the house of Barca, before that he went into Italic to make war with the romans, laid siege unto a great city in Spain, named Salmatica: the besieged were at the first afraid, and promised to do whatsoever Annibal would command them; yea and to pay him three hundred talents of silver; for security of which capitulation to be performed, they put into his hands three hundred hostages: but so soon as Anmbal had raised his siege, they repented of this agreement which they had concluded with him, and would do nothing according to the conditions of the accord; whereupon he returned again for to besiege them afresh: and to encourage his soldiers the better to give the assault, he said: That he would give unto them the saccage and pillage of the town; whereupon the citizens within, were wonderfully afraid, and yielded themselves to his devotion, upon this condition; That the Barbarians would permit as many as were of free condition, to go forth, every man in his single garment, leaving behind them their arms, goods, money, slaves and the city. Now the dames and wives of the town, fearing lest the enemies would search and rifle their husbands as they went forth of the gates, and not once touch and meddle with them, took unto them short curtelasses or skeines, hid them under their clothes, and so went forth together with their husbands. When they were all out of the town, Annibal (having set a guard of Mafaesylians to attend them) stayed them at the end of the suburbs: mean while the rest of his army, without all order put themselves within the city, and fell to the spoil and sackage of it: which when the Masaesylians perceived, they grew out of all patience, & could not contain themselves, nor look well unto their prisoners; but were wondrous angry, and in the end meant for to have as good a part and share as the rest, of the spoil: hereupon the women took up a cry, and gave unto their husbands the swords which they had brought with them, yea & some of them fell upon the guard or garrison, insomuch as one of them was so bold, as to take from Banon (the Truchman or interpreter) the spear which he had, and thrust at him with it, but he had on a good corpse of a cuirace which saved him: but their husbands having wounded some of them, and put the rest to flight, escaped by this means away, together in a troop with their wives; which when Annibal understood, he set out immediately after them, and surprised those who were left behind; whiles the rest got away and saved themselves for the present, by recovering the mountains adjoining; but after they sent unto Annibal and craved pardon, who graciously granted it; yea and permitted them to return in safety and reinhabit their own city.   

THE MILESIAN WOMEN.  
THE Milesian maidens upon a time, were surprised with a very strong passionate fit of a fearful melancholic humour, without any apparent cause that could be rendered thereof, unless it were (as men most conjectured:) that the air was infected and empoisoned, which might cause that alienation of the mind, and work a distimperature in their brains, to the overthrow of their right wits; for all on a sudden, every one had a great desire to die, and namely, in a furious rage would needs hang themselves; and in truth many of them secretly knit their necks in halter's, and so were strangled: no, reasons and remonstrances, no tears of father and mother, no persuasions and comfortable speeches of their friends would serve the turn; but look what keepers soever they had, and how carefully soever they looked unto them, they could find means of evasion to avoid and go beyond all their devices and inventions; in such sort, that it was thought to be some plague and punishment sent from the gods above; and such as no humane provision could remedy, until such time as by the advice of a sage and wise citizen, there went forth a certain edict, and the same enacted by the counsel of the city: That if any one more, happened to hang herself, she should be carried stark naked as ever she was borne throw the market place in the view of the whole world: this proclamation being thus ratified by the common-counsel of the city, did not only repress for a while, but also stayed for altother, this furious rage of the maidens and their inordinate desire to make themselves away. Thus we may see, that the fear of dishonour, shame & infamy, is a great sign & infallible token of good nature and virtue, considering that they feared neither death nor pain, which are the most horrible accidents that men can endure; howbeit they could not abide the imagination of villainy, shame and dishonour, though it happened not unto them, until they were dead and gone.   

THE WOMEN OF CIO.  
THe manner and custom was for the young virgins of Cio, to go altogether unto their public temples and churches, and so to pass the time all the long day there, one with another: where their lovers who wooed them for marriage, might behold them disport and dance: and in the evening they went home to each of their houses, in order, where they waited upon their fathers and mothers, yea and the brethren, one of another, even to the very washing of their feet. Now it happened sometimes that many young men were enamoured of one and the same maid; but their love was so modest, good, and honest, that so soon as a maiden was affianced and betrothed unto one, all the rest would give over suit, & so cease to make any more love unto her: In sum, the good order and carriage of these women of Cio might be known in this: that in the space of seven hundred years, it was never known nor appeared upon record, that any wife committed adultery, nor maiden unmarried lost her virgnitie.   

THE WOMEN OF PHOCIS.  
THe tyrants of Phocis, surprised upon a time and seized the city of Delphos; by occasion whereof, the Thebans made that war upon them, which was called the Holy war; at which time it so befell, that the religious women consecrated unto Bacchus, named Thyades, being distraught and out of their right wits, ran wandering like vargrants up and down in the night, and knew not whither, until ere they were aware, they ran unto the city Amphissa, where being weary (but yet not come again to their senses) they lay along in the mids of the market place, and couched themselves scattering here and there to take their sleep: the wives of Amphissa being advertised hereof, and fearing lest their bodies should be abused by the soldiers of the tyrants (whereof there lay a garrison within the city, for that Amphissa was of the league, and confederate with the Phocaeans) ran all thither to the place, standing round about them with silence, and not saying one word, and so long as they slept, troubled them not; but soon as they wakened of themselves and were gotten up, they took the charge of them, gave them meat, and each of them looked to one; yea, and afterwards having gotten leave of their husbands, they conveyed and accompanied them in safety, so far as to the mountains and marches of their own territory.   

VALERIA and CLOELIA.  
THe outrage committed upon the person of a Roman lady, named Lucretia, and her virtue together, were the cause that Tarqvinius Superbus (the seventh king of the Romans after Romulus) was deprived of his royal estate, and driven out of Rome: This dame being married unto a great parsonage, descended of the blood royal, was abused and forced by one of the sons of the said king Tarquin, who was entertained and friendly lodged in her house: by occasion of which villainous fact, she called all her kinsfolk and friends together about her; unto whom after she had delcared and given them to understand the shameful dishonour that he had done upon her body, she stabbed herself in the place before them: and Tarquin the father (for this cause being deposed from his princely dignity, and chased out of his kingdom) levied many wars against the Romans, thinking thereby to recover his state; and among the rest in the end wrought so effectually with Porsena king of the Tuskanes, that he persuaded him to lay siege to the city of Rome, and to beleaguer it with a puissant power: Now over and beside this hostility, the Romans within, were afflicted also and sore pressed with famine; but hearing that the said Porsena was not only a valiant captain in arms, but withal a good and righteous prince, they were willing to make him the indifferent umpire and judge between them and Tarquin: but Tarquin standing stiff in his own opinion, and highly conceited of himself, giving out also, that Porsena if he continued not a fast and constant ally, he would not afterwards be a just & equal judge: whereupon Porsena forsaking him, and leaving his alliance, capitulated and promised to depart in good terms of amity & peace with the Romans, upon condition to recover of them all those lands which they had occupied in Tuskane, & to have away with him those prisoners whom they had taken in those wars: now for the better assurance of this composition so concluded, there were delivered into his hands as hostages, ten boys, and as many young maidens; among whom Valeria the daughter of Poplicola the consul was one: which done, presently he broke up his camp and dislodged, yea and gave over preparation of farther war; notwithstanding that all the articles of the said capitulation were not yet accomplished. These young virgins before said, being in his camp, went down as it were to bathe and wash themselves, unto the river side, which ran a good way from the camp; and by the motion and instigation of one among the rest named Cloelia; after they had wrapped and wreathed their clothes fast about their heads; they took the river which ran with a very strong stream and swift current, and by swimming cross over it, helping one another what they could amid the deep channel, and surging whirlpoles thereof, until with much travel, they hardly recovered the bank on the other side. Some report, that this damosel Cloclia, made means to get an horse, mounted his back, and gently by little and little passed overthwart the river, showing the way unto the rest of her fellows, encouraging, yea, and supporting them as they swam on each side and round about her: but what the reason is of this their conjecture, I will show anon: when the Romans saw that they were gotten over in safety, they wondered at their boldness and rare virtue; howbeit they were nothing well pleased with their return, neither could they endure to be challenged and reproached: that in fidelity and troth, they all should be inferior to one man, and therefore gave commandment that these virgins should return from whence they came, and sent with them a guard to conduct them; but when they were passed over the river Tiber again, they escaped very hardly of being surprised by an ambush that Tarquin had laid for them by the way: as for Valeria the consul Poplicolaes' daughter, she fled at first with three servants into the camp of Porsena: and the rest, Arnus the son of king Porsena, who ran presently to the rescue, recovered out of the hands of the enemies: now when they were all presented and brought before the king; he demanded which of them it was, who had encouraged her companions to swim over the river, and given them counsel so to do: all the rest fearing lest the king would do Cloelia some harm, would not speak a word; but she herself confessed all: Porsena highly esteeming her valour and virtue, caused one of the fairest horses to be fetched out of his stable, richly trapped and set out with costly furniture, which he bestowed upon her, yea, and that which more is (for her sake and to grace her) courteously and kindly dismissed all her fellows, and sent them home. This is the guess (I say) by which some think that Cloelia passed over the river on horseback: but others say no; who deliver the story thus. That the king marveling at this valour and extraordinary hardiness, above the proportion of that sex, thought her worthy of a present, which is wont to be given unto a valiant man at arms and a brave warrior: but how ever it was, for a memorial of this act, there is to be seen her statue at this day, to wit, a maiden sitting on horseback, and it standeth in the street called Via sacra, which some say, representeth Cloelia, others Valeria.   

MICCA and MEGISTO.  
ARistotimus having usurped tyranny and violent dominion over the Elians, bore himself much upon the favour and countenance of king Antigonus, established the same; but so cruelly and excessively he abused this power and authority under him, that in nothing he was tolerable; for over and beside that, he was a man by nature given to violence (by reason that he stood in some servile fear, and was glad to please the guard that he had about him of mixed Barbarians, whom he had gotten together from diverse parts, for the defence of his state and person) he suffered them also to commit many insolent parts and cruel outrages upon his subjects; and among the rest, that unhappy indignity which befell to Philodemnus, who had a fair damosel to his daughter, named Micca, unto whom one of the captains of the said tyrant, named Lucius, seemed to make court, not for any true love and hearty affection that he bore unto her, but upon a wanton lust to abuse and dishonour her body: so he sent for this maiden to come and speak with him: her parents seeing, that whether they would or no, constrained they should be to let her go, gave her leave; but the damosel herself of a generous spirit and magnanimous heart, clasped them about and hung upon them, fell down at their feet, and humbly besought them, all that ever she could, rather to kill her out of hand, than to suffer her thus shamefully to be betrayed, and villainously to be despoiled of her maidenhead: but for that she stayed longer than was to the good liking of the foresaid Lucius, (who burned all this while in lust, and had withal taken his wine liberally) he rose from the table in great choler, and went himself toward her: when he came to the house, he found Micca with her head upon her father's knees, and her he commanded to follow him; which she refused to do; whereupon he rend her clothes from her body, and whipped her stark naked; and she, without giving one word again, endured for her part with patience and silence all the smart and pain: but her father and mother, seeing, that with all their piteous prayers and tender tears, they could not prevail nor boot any thing with this wretch, turned to call and implore the help both of God and man, crying with a loud voice: Out upon such injurious indignity and intolerable villainy: whereupon, this barbarous villain (grown now to be furious and enraged, partly with choler, and in part with drunkenness) killed this silly poor girl, even as she couched her face in the very lap and bosom of her father: howbeit, for all this and such like wicked pranks played, the tyrant was nothing at all moved to pity and compassion, but many citizens he murdered, and more he banished and caused to leave their country; in such sort, that (as the speech went) no fewer than eight hundred fled to the Aetolians, craving at their hands to make means unto the tyrant, that they might have away their wives and little children also. Not long after, the tyrant of his own accord caused proclamation to be made by sound of trumpet; that as many women as were willing to go unto their husbands, should make them ready and depart, yea, and carry with them as much of their goods as they would: now when he understood, that they all with great joy of this proclamation thus published, and that they were assembled together with much contentment of mind, to the number of six hundred, he commanded that they should depart, and put themselves in their journey all together on a certain day by him prefixed, making semblant against that time, to provide a good convoy for their better security: when the time appointed was come, they flocked thick to the gates of the city, having brought with them their trusses and farthels of such goods as they meant to have away with them, carrying some of their little babes in their arms, taking order for others for to be brought in wagons; and so they stayed there, & attended one another's coming: but suddenly, many of the soldiers and those of the tyrant's guard, came running toward them, and crying aloud afar off: Stay, stay: now when they approached near, all the women they commanded to go back again, but the wanes and wagons they turned together with the horses full upon them, and drove them amain thorough the mids of the troop and throng of the women, not suffering them either to follow, or to stay or succour their poor little infants, whom they saw to die before their faces: for some of them perished with falling out of the chariots to the ground, others were destroyed and trampled under the horse feet; and all this while, these pensioners of the guard, with loud outcries and with whipping, drove the women before them, like as they had been so many sheep, and thronged them so hard, that one tumbled upon another; and thus they chased them, until such time as they had cast them all into prison: but all their bag and baggage was seized upon, and brought unto Aristotimus. Now when the men of Elis were were herewith mightily offended; the religious women consecrated to the service of Bacchus, whom they call the Sixteen (carrying in their hands boughs of olive trees, like suppliants, and chaplets of vine branches about their heads, which they took from the god whom they served) went to meet with Aristotimus about the marketplace of the city: his squires and pensioners about him for the guard of his body, made a lane for them, and seemed (upon some reverence) to give them way that they might come near: and the women at first kept silence, doing nought else but in most humble and devout manner tender unto him their branches, like suppliants: but after that the tyrant understood that it was for the Eliens wives that they came thus to make supplication, and namely, that he would take some commiseration of them; being wroth & displeased with his guard, he cried out upon them for suffering the said women to approach so near unto his person; and thereupon commanded them to drive some and to beat others, until they were all chased out of the marketplace; and more than all this, he condemned these religious votaries in a fine of two talents a piece. During these occurrences, there was within the city, one of the burgesses named Hellanicus, a man very far stepped in age, who was the author of a conspiracy and insurrection against the tyrant; one that of all others he least distrusted, and whom he never thought likely to practise against him, both for that he was very aged, and also because but a little before he had buried two of his children: and it fortuned at the very same time, that from Aetolia the exiles before named, passed into the territory of Elis, and seized upon a fort called Amymom, situate in a very commodious place for to maintain war; where they received and entertained many other inhabitants of the city, who immediately resorted thither, and ran apace: upon these tidings, the tyrant Aristotimus much fearing the sequel hereof, went unto their wives in prison; and thinking to compass his designs better by fear, than favour and love, he commanded them to send unto their husbands, & to write unto them, for to abandon their hold and depart out of the country, menacing the poor women, that if they did not so, he would cause their children first to be mangled with whips, and so killed before their face, and then put themselves also to death: all of them were silent a good while, & notwithstanding he importuned them a long time, and urged them to speak at once whether they would do it or no? they looked one upon another without saying a word, giving him thereby to understand, that they stood in no fear, and were not astonished for all his threats: at the last, one of them, named Megisto, wife to Timoleon, and a woman whom the rest regarded and held as their captainesse, aswell in respect of her husband's honour, as her own virtue, deigned not to rise up from her seat herself, nor suffered any of the rest to stand up; but sitting still in her place, thus said: If thou wert a wise man, thou wouldst not deal thus as thou dost, between women and their husbands, but rather send unto them, as to those who have the power and authority over their wives, and to deliver unto them better speeches than such, whereby thou hast deceived us; now if (being past hope to persuade them) thou thinkest to circumvent and delude them by the means of us, never look that thou shalt abuse us any more, nor think that they will be so ill advised or so base minded, as that for to spare their wives and little children, they will abandon and lose the liberty of their country: for surely the loss of us will not be to them so much, considering that they now enjoy us not, as the gain and benefit, in delivering their country and fellow-citizens from such outrageous cruelty. Whiles Megisto entertained Aristotimus with these speeches, he could no longer endure, but commanded her little son to be brought before him, for to murder him before her eyes; and when the pensioners about the tyrant searched for him among other little boys that were playing & wrestling together, his mother called unto him by name, saying: Come hither to me my boy, that thou mayest be delivered from the cruelty of this tyrant, before thou hast any sense or understanding to know what tyranny is: for a greater grief it would be unto me another day to see thee for to serve like a slave unworthily, than to die here presently: hereat Aristotimus through impatience of furious anger, drew his sword upon the woman herself, meaning to run her thorough; but one of his familiar friends, named Cylon (who made semblant to be true & faithful unto him but hated him secretly in his hart, & indeed was of the complices in that conspiracy of Hellanicus) stepped before him, and by his effectual prayers turned his hand, making remonstrance unto him, that it was no generous and manly deed, but a womanish act: neither savoured it of a prince or such a parsonage as knew how to manage great affairs of State, to deal in that sort, which he forced and pressed so instantly that hardly and with much ado though it were; Aristotinus was of a better mind, bethought himself and went his way. Now there befell unto him a strange accident, which presaged what mischief was toward him; for about high noon it was, when being in his bedchamber, & reposing himself with his wife, whiles his dinner was now ready to be served up, those of his household might perceive an eagle soaring round over his house; and she let fall a big stone directly upon the very place of the roof of the said chamber where he lay, as if upon deliberate purpose she had aimed and leveled as it were so to do, himself hearing the noise and rap that the stone gave upon the house top over his head, and withal, the outcry beneath of those who beheld the foul, was mightily affrighted, and demanded what the matter might be? when he understood what it was; he sent presently for the wizard or soothsayer, whom he was wont to use in such cases, and all troubled and perplexed in spirit, asked him what this sign might presage? the soothsaier comforted him, & willed him to be of good cheer, saying unto himself: That it was Jupiter who wakened him, & showed how willing he was to assist and succour him; but unto other citizens whom he might trust, he expounded it otherwise, and assured them that it was the vengeance of God, which speedily would light upon the tyrant's head: whereupon Hellanicus and his adherents were resolved to defer the execution of their designs no longer, but to set upon the enterprise the next morrow: in the night that came between, Hellanicus as he slept, dreamt, and in that vision he thought, that one of his sons late deceased stood before him & said: Father, what mean you to lie a sleep, considering that once to morrow you must be captain general and sovereign governor of this city: Hellanicus wonderfully encouraged by this vision, started up, and went to solicit the rest of his complices and companions in the said conspiracy. By this time was Aristotimus advertised that Craterus was coming to aid him with a puissant army, and lay encamped near to Olympia; in the assurance and confidence whereof, he presently took Cylon with him, and went forth without any guard about his person: Hellanicus seeing the opportunity now offered, and taking the vantage thereof, gave not the signal and watchword which was agreed upon, with those who first were to set to the execution of their intended enterprise; but stretching forth both his hands with a loud voice cried out: Now, now, my masters and valiant men, what stay you for? can you desire a fairer theatre to show your valour in, than to fight for the defence of your liberty, in the very heart of your native country? At which words, Cylon drew his sword first, and smote one of them that followed and accompanied Aristotimus; but Thrasibulus and Lampis came affront, and ran upon the tyrant himself, who preventing the venue of their stroke, fled for refuge and sanctuary into the temple of Jupiter, where they slew him outright, and drew his dead corpse into the market place; and then assembled all the citizens thither, for to recover their freedom: but many of the people could not prevent the women; for they ran out with the first in great alacrity, weeping and crying out for very joy, and environing their husbands round about, crowned them, and set chaplets of flowers upon their heads: then the multitude of the common people set upon the tyrant's house, and assaulted it; his wife having shut herself within her chamber, there hung herself, and whereas she had two daughters, virgins as yet, but in the prime and flower of their years, ready for marriage; those they took, and by force haled them out of the house, with full intent to kill them; in the end after they had abused their bodies first, and then perpetrated all the villainy & shame they could devise unto them; which no doubt they would have put in execution, but that Megisto with other honest matrons of the city, opposed themselves and came between, who cried aloud unto them; that in so doing they should commit an indignity unbeseeming them, if considering, that now being in the very train and high way of recovering their liberty, for to live from henceforth in a popular government, they should perpetrate as violent outrages, as the most bloody and cruel tyrants are used to commit: the people in good respect and reverence to the honour and authority of this virtuous and honest dame, who spoke her mind so frankly unto them with tears gushing out of her eyes, were reclaimed and advised to offer no abuse nor villainy unto their persons; but to put unto their choice what death they would die? and when they had brought them both back again into the house, and intimated unto them, that there was no other remedy but die they must, and that presently; the elder of the twain named Myro, untied her girdle from about her waste, and with a running noose did it about her own neck in manner of an halter; then kissing and embracing her younger sister, she prayed her to mark what she did, and according to her example to do thereafter: To the end (quoth she) that we may not die basely, unwoorthy the place from whence we are come and descended: but the younger desired again, that she might die first, caught hold of the girdle and snatched it from her; then the elder: Well sister (quoth she) I never yet refused to do any thing that you desired at my hands; & even now content I am to do so much for you as to endure and suffer that, which will be more grievous unto me than death itself, namely, to see my most dear and best beloved sister to die before me; which said, she herself taught her how to fit the said girdle to her neck, and to knit it for the purpose, and when she perceived once that the life was out of her body, she took her down and covered her breathless corpse; then addressing her speech unto dame Megisto herself, she besought her, that she would not suffer her body after she was dead, to lie shamefully above the ground, and not interred: the sight hereof and the words withal were so pathetical, that there was not one present so hard hearted, or so spitefully and malicously bend against the tyrant, but deplored their woeful estate, and pitied the generosity and magnanimity of these two young ladies. Now albeit there be infinite precedents of noble deeds, that in old time, women have done in companies together; yet me thinks these few examples which I have already delivered, may suffice: from henceforth therefore I will rehearse the particular virtuous acts of several women by themselves, as they come scattering into my remembrance: for I suppose that such narrations and histories as these, do not require of necessity the precise order and consequence of the times.   

PIERIA.  
OF those jonians who were come to dwell in the city of Miletum, some chanced to be at variance and debate with the children of Neleus; by occasion whereof in the end, they thought the city too hot for them, and constrained they were to remove and retire themselves into the city Myus, where they made their abode & habitation; and yet even there also, much molested they were and troubled by the Milesians, who warred upon them, for their revolt and apostasy: howbeit this war was not so bloody and mortal, but that they used to send one unto another, yea and to communicate and negotiate reciprocally in diverse things: for even upon certain solemn and festival days, the wives and women of Myus would repair boldly unto Miletum: now among these Myuntines, there was a noble man and of great name, one Pythes, who had to wife a lady called Japygia, by whom he was father of a fair daughter, cleped Pieria: when as therefore the great feast unto Diana and a solemn sacrifice called Neleus, was celebrated by the Milesians: Pythes, sent thither unto this solemnity, his wife and daughter aforesaid, for they had requested leave of him to be partakers of the feast. It fortuned whiles they were there, that one of the sons of Neleus (a man of most credit and greatest authority in the city) named Phrygius, cast a fancy to Pieria; and in courting her after the manner of lovers, desired to know of her what it might be, wherein he might gratify her most, and best content her, unto whom she answered: If Sir you will so bring about, that I myself with many more may oftentimes resort hither, you shall do me the greatest pleasure that you can devise: Phrygius (conceiving presently what her meaning was, namely that there might be continual peace and amity between those two cities) wrought so, that he composed the war on both sides: in regard hereof Pieria was highly esteemed and honoured in both cities; in such wise, that unto this day the Milesian dames do wish ordinarily and pray unto the gods, that they may be as well beloved, as Pieria was of Phrygius.   

POLYCRITE.  
THere was in times past, war between the Naxians and the Milesians, about Neaera the wife of Hypsicreon, and the same arose upon this occasion. This Neaera was enamoured upon Promedon, a Naxian, insomuch as she would embark, take the sea, and sail with him: for why? an ordinary guest he was of Hypsicreons', and used to lodge in his house whensoever he came to Miletum: yea and secretly she had him to lie with her, she loved him so well: but in process of time when she feared that her husband perceived it, he fair took her clean away with him to Naxos, where he ordained, that she should be a suppliant of Vesta. Hypsicreon sent for her again; but when the Naxians in favour of Promedon refused to render her, alleging for a colourable pretence of their excuse the privilege and franchises of suppliants: hereupon the war began between them; in which quarrel the Erythraeans favoured the Milesians very assectionatly and sided with them, insomuch as it grew to a long and linger war, and many miseries and calamities that follow wars, it drew withal, as well to the one part as the other; until at last the quarrel was finally ended by the virtue of one woman, like as it began first by the vice and wickedness of another. For Diognetus the captain general of the Erythraeans, (unto whom was committed the charge of keeping a fort, seated upon a very commodious place to annoy & endamage the Naxians) made roads and incursions into their territory, where with many other huge booties that he drove and carried away, he took and led as his prisoners many maidens and wives of good houses and parentage; among whom there was one named Polycrite, whom himself fancied and fell in love with; her he kept and entertained not like a captive or prisoner, but as if she had been his espoused wife: now it fortuned that the day was come when the Milesians lying in camp, were to solemnize a great feast; by reason where of they fell to drinking freely and making good cheer, inviting one another as the manner was: thou Polycrite asked captain Diognetus, whether he would be offended if she should send certain tarts, pies, and cakes, provided for that feast unto her brethren? who answered: that he not only permitted, but also willed her so to do: she taking the opportunity of good occasion, put within one of these tarts, a little thin plate of lead which was written upon, charging him expressly who had the carriage thereof, to say unto her brethren, that in any case none but they, should taste of the said cakes or tarts: this message was done accordingly, and when they came to eat the tarts, they found within one, a writing of their sisters; whereby she advertised and advised them not to fail, but that very night to come and assail their enemies, for that they should find them in great disorder, without sentinel and corps-de-guard, without any watch and ward at all, for that they were all drunk by occasion of the good cheer that they had made at that feast: having this intelligence, they presently acquainted the captains general of the Naxians army therewith, praying them to enterprise this service by their direction and with them: thus were the Erythraeans deseized of their strong hold, and a great number of them within, put to the sword: but Polycrite craved Diognetus of her fellow-citizens, and by that means saved his life; now when she approached near unto the gates of Naxos, seeing all the inhabitants coming forth to meet her with exceeding great joy and mirth, putting garlands of flowers upon her head, and chanting songs of her praises, her heart was not able to endure so great joy; for she died at the very gate of the city, where afterwards she was interred and entombed; and her monument was called, the Sepulchre of Envy, as if there had been some envious fortune, which had grudged unto Polycrite, the fruition of so great glory and honour. Thus the Historiographers of Naxos have delivered this narration: howbeit (Aristotle saith) that Polycrite was never taken prisoner; but Diognetus having had a sight of her by some other means, became enamoured upon her so far, that he was ready to give unto her, and to do for the love of her, whatsoever she would: also that she promised to go with him, in case he would agree and grant one thing, and (as the said philosopher telleth the tale) thereupon she required of him an obligation of his oath; and after he had faithfully sworn unto her, she demanded that he should deliver unto her the castle Delio; for that was the name of the fort or piece whereof he had the charge, otherwise she said that she would never come in bed with him; whereupon he (aswell for the great desire that he had to enjoy her love, as in regard of his foresaid oath, by which he was bound and obliged) quit the place and rendered it into the hands of Polycrite, who presently delivered it up unto her countrymen and fellow-citizens; by which means they being now able once again to make their parts good with the Milesians, made an accord and concluded peace, under what conditions they desired themselves.   

LAMPSACE.  
IN the city Phocaea, there were sometimes two brethren twins, of the house and family of the Codridae; the one named Phobus, the other Blepsus; of which twain, Phobus was the first that (according as Charon the Chronicler of Lampsacum doth record) cast himself from the high rocks and cliffs of Leucas into the sea. This Phobus being of great puissance and royal authority in his country, happened to have some private affair and negotiation of his own in theisle of Paros, and thither he went; where he contracted amity, alliance and hospitality with Mandron king of the Bebrycians, surnamed Pityoessenes': and by virtue of this new league he aided them, and in their behalf made war with them, against other barbarous people their neighbours, who did them wrong and wrought them much damage: afterwards (when he was upon his departure and return home) Mandron among many other courtesies and tokens of kindness which he bestowed upon him, now ready to embark and take the sea, offered him the one moiety of his country and city, if he would come & dwell in the city Pityoessa, with some part of the Phocaeans, for to people the place: whereupon Phobus after he was come home again to Phocaea, proposed this matter unto the Phocaeans his citizens; & having persuaded them to accept of the offer; he sent his own brother, as leader and captain to conduct this colony of new inhabitants; who upon their first arrival and coming thither, found themselves as well entreated, & as courteously entertained as they could wish or look for at Mandron his hands: but in tract of time, after that they had gotten many advantages at the Barbarians hands, their neighbours & borderers, wan diverse booties from them, and gained much pillage & spoil; they began to be envied first, and afterwards to be dread and feared of the Bebrycians; who being desirous for to be rid and delivered of such guests, durst not address themselves unto Mandron, whom they knew to be an honest and just man, for to persuade him to practise any disloyalty or treachery, against men of the Greek nation; but espying a time when he was absent and out of the country; they complotted and prepared to surprise the Phocaeans by a wile, and so to dispatch them all to once out of the way: but Lampsace (the daughter of Mandron, a maiden yet unmarried, having some fore-inkling and intelligence of this forelaied ambush) laboured & dealt, first with her familiar friends to divert them from so wicked an enterprise, showing and proving unto them, that it was a damnable act before God, and abominable among men, to proceed so treacherously against their allies and confederates, who had been ready at all times to aid and assist them in their need against their enemies, and beside, were now incorporate with them, and their fellow-citizens: but when she saw that there would no good be done, and that she could not dissuade them from it: she acquainted the Greeks underhand with this treason, which was a warping against them, & advised them to look unto themselves, & stand upon their own guard: so the Phocaeans made a solemn sacrifice & a public feast, invited the Pityoessenes' to come out of the city into the suburbs to take part thereof; & themselves they divided into two troops, whereof the one seized the walls of the city, whiles the inhabitants were at the feast, mean time the other were busy in massacring the guests that were bidden to it; and by this means they became masters of the whole city, and sent for Mandron, whom they desired to participate with them in their counsels and affairs: as for Lampsace his daughter, who fortuned to die of sickness, they interred magnificently, and in memorial of that good which she did unto them, called the city after her name Lampsacum: howbeit Mandron because he would not be suspected to have been a traitor unto his own people, would not consent to dwell among them, but required to have of them, the wives and children of them who were dead; whom they sent unto him with all speed and diligence, without doing any harm or displeasure at all unto them; as for Lamsaca unto whom before they had ordained heroic honours; they decreed for ever to sacrifice unto her as unto a goddess, and even to this day they do continue and observe the same divine worship unto her.   

ARETAPHILA.  
ARetaphila of Cyrene, was none of them that lived in ancient time, but lately in the days of king Mithridates; but she showed virtue, & performed an act comparable to the magnanimous counsels and designs of the most autike demi-goddesses that ever were: daughter she was to Aeglator, and wife to Phaedimus, both noble men and great personages; fair & beautiful of visage, of deep conceit and high reach, and namely in matters of estate, & affairs of government well experienced: the public calamities of her country did illustrate her name, and caused her to be well known and voiced in the world: for Nicocrates having usurped the tyranny of Cyrene, put to death many of the chief and principal men of the city, and among the rest, one Melanippus the high priest of Apollo, whom he slew with his own hands, for to enjoy his priesthood: he did to death also Phaedimus the husband of Aretaphila, and not content therewith, married her perforce and against her will: this tyrant over & above an infinite number of other cruelties which he daily committed, set certain warders at every gate of the city; who when there was carried forth any dead corpse to burial out of the city, abused the same, with digging into the soles of their feet, with the points of their daggers and poniards, or else with searing them with red hot irons; for fear that any of the inhabitants should be conveyed alive out of the city, under colour of being borne to the grave as dead: private and particular crosses, had Aretaphila no doubt, which were grievous unto her, and hardly to be endured, although the tyrant was otherwise kind enough unto her, and led her a fair life, letting her have her own will, for the love he bore unto her; insomuch as the tyrant suffered her to enjoy a great part of his puissance and regal power; for love had enthralled and subdued him unto her; and not one there was but she alone who knew how to use and handle him; for to all the others he was untractable, inflexible, and savage beyond all measure: but it grieved her most of all, to see her native country so miserably abused, and so unwoorthily entreated by this tyrant; for there was not one day went over his head, but he caused to be executed one citizen or other, neither was there to be seen any hope of revenge or deliverance out of these calamities on any side; for that the exiled persons and such as fled, being weak and feeble every way, and altogether heartless and fearful, were scattered some in this place others in that: Aretaphila therefore (building upon herself alone, the only hope of recovering and raising the State of the commonweal, and proposing the magnanimous and renowned acts of Thebes, the wife of the tyrant Pheres, as examples to imitate; but wanting and destitute altogether of faithful friends and trusty kinsfolk for to help and second her in any enterprise, such as the present times and affairs did afford unto the other) assayed to make away the tyrant by some poison; but as she was about the provision hereof, and assayed to make proof of the forces of many strong poisons, she could not carry her design so secretly but it came forth, and was discovered: now when the thing was averred & evidently proved; by strong presumptions: Calbia the mother of Nicocrates (a bloody woman, and of nature implacable) thought to have her put to many exquisite torments, and then to bring her soon after to her death: but the affection that Nicocrates bore unto her wrought some delay in revenge, and dulled the edge of his anger, and withal, Aretaphila, (who constantly and resolutely offered herself to answer all imputations that were laid unto her charge;) gave some colourable excuse unto the passionate affection of the tyrant: but in the end seeing that she was convinced by certain proofs and evidences, which she knew not how to answer, neither could she deny that she had some drugs in her closet, & did temper certain medicines; but confessed that indeed she had prepared certain drugs, yet such as were neither deadly nor dangerous: But my good lord (quoth she unto her husband the tyrant) I am much perplexed and troubled with many things of great consequence, and namely how to preserve the good opinion which you have of me, the kind affection also which of your gracious favour you bear unto me, by means whereof, I have this honour, as to enjoy a good part of your power and authority jointly with you; this maketh me to be envied of wicked women, at whose hands I (fearing sorceries, charms, enchantments, and other cunning devilish casts, by which they would go about to withdraw and distract you from the love that you bear me) resolved at the length with myself for to seek means how to meet, encounter, and prevent their devices; foolish peradventure they may be (as indeed the very inventions of a woman) but in no wise worthy of death; unless haply, sir (in your judgement) it be just and reasonable to put your wife to death, for that she mindeth to give you some love drinks, and amatorious cups; or deviseth some charms, as desirous to be more loved of you than haply it is your pleasure for to love her. Nicocrates having heard these excuses alleged by Aretaphila, thought good, and resolved to put her to torture; whereat Calbia her mother was present, who never relented nor seemed to be touched with her dolorous torments, but remained inexorable: now when she was laid upon the rack, and asked sundry questions, she yielded not unto the pains that she sustained, but continued invincible, and confessed no fault in the height of all extemities; until at length Calbia herself, even against her will was forced to give over tormenting her any longer: and Nicocrates let her go, being not fully persuaded, that the excuses alleged by her were true & to be credited, repenting that he had put her to such pain as he did; and it was not long after (so deeply was the passion of love imprinted in his heart) but he returned to her, and affaied to win her grace and good will again, by all honours, favours, courtesies and kindness that possibly he could show unto her; but she, who had the power and strength to resist all torments and yield unto no pains, would not be overcome with all his flatteries; but joining now unto her former desire of doing some virtuous deed, the animosity for to be revenged and to effect her purpose, assayed other means. One daughter she had marriageable, and beautiful she was beside; her she suborned and set as an alluring bait to entrap and catch the tyrant's brother, a young gentleman, easy to be caught with the pleasures & delight of youth: and many are of opinion, that she used certain charms and amatorious potions, aswell as the object of her daughter's beauty, whereby she enchanted and bewitched the wits and senses of this young man, whom they called Lander: when he was once enamoured with the love of this young damofell, he prevailed so much by prayers and entreaty with his brother, that he permitted him to wed her: no sooner was he married, but his fresh spouse (having instructions beforehand from her mother) began to be in hand with him, and to persuade him for to enterprise the recovery of freedom unto the city, showing by good remonstrance, that himself enjoyed not liberty, so long as he lived under tyranny, neither had he power of himself, either to wed a wife, or to keep her when he had her, if it pleased not the tyrant: on the other side, his friends and other of his familiar acquaintance, for to gratific Aretaphila and to do her pleasure, repaired unto him continually, forging some new matter of quarrels and suspicions against his brother the tyrant: when he perceived that Aretaphila was also of the same mind, and had her hand therein, he resolved to execute the enterprise; and thereupon he set one Daphnis, a servant of his own, in hand with the business, by whose means he killed Nicocrates: but after he was thus murdered, Leander would no more be advised by Aretaphila, nor follow her counsel in the rest; but showed incontinently by his deportments and carriage in all action, that a brother indeed he had murdered, but not-killed a tyrant: for in his own government, he bore himself like a fool, and ruled insolently and furiously: howbeit, unto Aretaphila he showed always some honour and reverence, conferring upon her some part of his authority in management of State affairs; for that she made no semblant at all of discontentment, nor directly and in open manner seemed to war against him, but privily practised, and cunningly disposed all: for first and foremost, she raised war upon him out of Lybia, by the means of a prince there, named Anabus, between whom and her there passed secret intelligence: him she solicited and persuaded to invade his country, and with a puissant army to approach the city Cyrene: then she buzzed into Leander's head, certain surmises and suspicions of disloyalty in his peers, his friends and captains; giving him to understand, that their stood not to this war, but that they loved peace and quietness rather: Which (quoth she) to say a truth, as things now stand, were better for you & for the establishment of your royal state & dominion, in case you would rule in deed, hold under, and keep in awe, your subjects and citizens: and for mine own part, I hold it good policy for you to make means for a treaty of peace, which I will labour to effect, and for that purpose bring you and Anabus together, to an interview and parley (if you think so good) before that you grow to farther terms of hostility and open war, which may breed a mischief, that afterwards will admit no cure nor remedy. This motion she handled and followed with such dexterity, that Leander condescended thereto; and she herself in person went to confer with the Lybian prince, whom she requested, that so soon as ever they were met together to treat of this pretended accord, he should arrest the tyrant as his prisoner; and to do this feat, she promised him great gifts and presents, besides a good reward in money: the Lybian soon accorded hereto: now Leander made some doubt at first, to go into this parley, and stayed a while, but afterwards (for the good respect that he had unto Aretaphila, who promised in his behalf, that he should come to conference) he set forward, naked, without arms and without his guards: when he approached the place appointed for this interview, and had a sight once of Anabus, his heart misgave him again; and being much troubled and perplexed, he would not go on, but said, he would stay for his guard: howbeit, Aretaphila who was there present, partly encouraged him, and in part rebuked and checked him, saying: That he would be taken and reputed for a base minded coward, and a disloyal person, who made no account of his word, if he should now flinch and start back: at the last, when they were at point to meet; she laid hold upon him, plucked him forward by the hand, and with great boldness and resolution haled him, until she had delivered him into the hands of the barbarous prince: then immediately was he apprehended, and his body attached by the Lybians, who kept him bound as a prisoner, and set a strait guard about him, until such time as the friends of Aretaphila with other citizens of Cirene, were come to the camp, and brought the money and gifts unto her which she had promised unto Anabus. For so soon as it was known in the city that Leander was taken prisoner & in sure hold, a number also of the multitude ran forth, to the place appointed of conference; and so soon as they had set an eye on Aretaphila, they went within a little of forgetting all their anger and malice which they bore unto the tyrant, thinking that the revenge and exemplary punishment of him was but accessary and bymatter; as being now wholly amused upon another thing, and supposing the principal fruition of their liberty consisted in saluting and greeting her most kindly, and with so great joy, that the tears ran down their cheeks, insomuch as they were ready to kneel, yea, and cast themselves down prostrate at her feet, no less than before the sacred image and statue of a goddess: thus they flocked unto her, by troops out of the city one after another, all day long, insomuch as it was well in the evening before they could advise with themselves to seize upon the person of Leander, and hardly before dark night did they bring him with them into the city. Now after they were well satisfied with giving all manner of praises, and doing what honour they could devise unto Aretaphila, in the end they turned to consultation what was best to be done with the tyrants? so they proceeded to burn Calbia quick; and as for Leander, they put him in a leather poke and sowed it up close, and then cast it into the sea. Then ordained and decreed it was, that Aretaphila should have the charge and administration of the weal public, with some other of the principal personages of the city joined in commission with her: but she (as one who had played many and sundry parts already upon the stage so well, that she had gotten the garland and crown of victory) when she saw that her country and city was now fully free and at liberty, immediately betook herself to her own private house, as it were cloistered up with women only, and would no more intermeddle in the affairs of State abroad; but the rest of her life she passed in peace and repose with her kinsfolk and friends, without setting herself to any business, save only to her wheel, her web, and such women's works.   

CAMMA.  
THere were in times past, two most puissant Lords and tetrarchs of Galatia, who also were in blood of kin one to the other, Sinatus and Synorix. Sinatus had espoused a young virgin named Camma, and made her his wife; a lady highly esteemed of as many as knew her, as well for the beauty of her person, as the flower of her age; but admired much more in regard of her virtue and honesty; for she had not only a tender respect of her own good name and honour, carried an affectionate love and true heart unto her; but also, was wise, magnanimous, and passing well beloved of all her subjects and tenants, in regard of her gentle nature, and her debonair and bounteous disposition; and that which made her better reputed and more renowned, was this; that she was both a religious priestresse of Diana (a goddess whom the Galatians most devoutly honour and worship) and also in every solemn procession and public sacrifice, she would always be seen abroad most sumptuously set out, and stately adorned. It fortuned so, that Synorix was enamoured of this brave dame, but being not able to bring about his purpose and to enjoy her, neither by fair means nor foul, persuade he, or menance what he could, so long as her husband lived: the devil put in his head, to commit a most heinous and detestable fact; for he said wait for Sinatus, and treacherously murdered him: he stayed not long after, but he fell to wooing of Camma, and courting hereby way of marriage; she made her abode within the temple at that time, and took the infamous act committed by Synorix, not piteously, and as one cast down and dejected therewith, but with a slout heart and a stomach moved to anger, and yet considerately, waiting the time and opportunity of revenge: on the other side, Synorix followed his suit very earnestly, soliciting and entreating 〈◊〉 nately; neither seemed he to allege vain and frivolous reasons, but such as carried some colourable pretence of honesty; namely, that he had always showed himself a man of more valour & worth than Sinatus; and whereas he took away his life, induced he was thereto for the 〈◊〉 love that he bore to Camma, and not moved thereto by any malice otherwise. This young dame at the first seemed to deny him, but yet her denials were not very churlish, and such, as he might take for his final answer; for daily by little and little, she made semblant that she relented and inclined unto him, for that diverse kinsfolk and friends also of hers, joined with him to second his suit, who (for to gratify and do pleasure unto Synorix, a man of the greatest credit and authority in his country) persuaded, yea & forced her to yield unto this match. To be short, in the end she gave her consent, & Synorix was sent for to come unto her, where she kept her resiance, that in the presence of the said goddess, the contract of marriage might pass, & the espousals be solemnised: when he was come, she received and welcomed him with an amiable and gracious countenance, lead him unto the very altar of Diana, where rehgiously & with great ceremony she powered forth before the goddess, a little of a potion which she had prepared, out of a bowl; the one part thereof she drunk herself, & the other she gave unto Synorix for to drink: now this potion was mead mingled with rank poison: when she saw that he had taken his draft, she fetching a loud and evident groan, doing reverence also unto the goddess: I protest and call thee to witness (quoth she) most powerful and honourable goddess, that I have not survived Sinatus, for any other cause in the world, but only to see this day, neither have I had any joie of my life all this while that I have lived since, but only in regard of hope that one day I might be revenged of his death, which seeing that now I have effected, I go most gladly and joifully unto that sweet husband of mine; and as for thee (most accursed & wicked wretch in the world) give order to thy kinsfolk and friends, in stead of a nuptial bed, to provide a grave for thy burial: the Galatian (hearing these words, and beginning withal to feel the operation of the poison, and how it wrought & troubled him within his bowels, and all parts of his body;) mounted presently his chariot, hoping that by the jogging and agitation thereof, he might vomit and cast up the poison; but immediately he alighted again, and put himself into an easy litter; but did he what he could, dead he was that very evening: as for Camma, she continued all the night languishing, and when she heard for certainty that he was deceased, she also with joy and mirth departed out of this world.   

STRATONICE.  
THe selfsame province of Galatia afforded two other dames worthy of eternal memory, to wit, Stratonice the wife of king Deiotarus, and Chiomara the wife of Ortiagon: as for Stratonice, she (knowing that the king her husband was desirous to have children lawfully begotten, for to leave to be his successors & inheritors of the crown, and yet could have none by her) prayed and entreated him to try another woman, and beget a child of her body, yea and permitted that it should be put unto her, and she would take it upon her as her own: Deiotarus wondered much at this resolution of hers, and was content to do all things according to her mind: whereupon she chose (among other captives taken prisoner in the wars) a proper fair maiden named Electra, whom she brought into Deiotarus bed chamber, & shut them in both together: and all the children which this concubine bare unto him, his wife reared and brought up with as kind an affection and as princelike, as if she had borne them herself.   

CHIOMARA.  
AT what time as the Romans, under the conduct of Cn. Scipio, defaited the Galatians that inhabit in Asia; it befell that Chiomara the wife of Ortiagon, was taken prisoner with other Galatian women: the captain whose captive she was, made use of his fortune, did like a soldier, and abused her body, who as he was a man given unto his fleshly pleasure, so he looked also as much or rather more unto his profit and filthy lucre; but so it fell out, that overtaken he was and entrapped by his own avarice: for (being promised by the woman a good round quantity of gold, for to deliver her out of thraldom and set her at liberty;) he brought her to the place which she had appointed for to render her and set her free; which was at a certain bank by the river side, where the Galatians should pass over, tender him the said money, and receive Chiomara: but she winked with her eye, & thereby gave a signal to one of her own company for to kill the said Roman captain, at what time as he should take his leave of her with a kiss and friendly farewell; which the party did with his sword, & at one stroke fetched off his head: the head she herself took up, and wrapped it in the lap of her gown before, and so got her away apace homeward: when she was come to her husband's house, down she cast his head at his feet, whereat he being astonished: Ah my sweet wife (quoth he) it is a good thing to keep faithful promise: True (quoth she) but it is better, that but one man alive should have my company. Polybius writeth of the same woman, that himself talked with her afterwards in the city of Sardis, and that he found her then to be a woman of an high mind and of wonderful deep wit. But since I am fallen to the mention of the Galatians, I will rehearse yet one story more of them.   

A WOMAN OF PERGAMUS.  
KIng Mithridates sent upon a time for threescore of the principal lords of Galatia, to repair unto him upon trust and safeconduct as friends, into the city Pergamus: whom being come at his request, he entertained with proud & imperious speeches, whereat they all took great scorn and indignation, insomuch as one of them named Toredorix (a strong & tall man of his hands, & besides wonderful courageous, Tetrarch of the Tossepians country) undertook this one day enterprise, to set upon Mithridates, at what time as he sat in judgement, & gave audience from the tribunal seat in the public place of exercise, and both him and seat together to tumble down headlong into the pit underneath: but it fortuned that the king that day came not abroad as his manner was, up into that place of open exercise, but commanded all those Galatian lords, to come and speak with him at his house: Toredorix exhorted them to be bold and confident, and when they were altogether in his presence, to run upon him from every side, to tear him in pieces and make an end of him: this plot was not projected so closely, but it came to Mithridates' ears, who caused them all to be apprehended, and sent to chop off all their heads one after another: but immediately after, he called to remembrance that there was one young gentleman among the rest, for the flower of his years, for beauty also, and feature of body, the goodliest person that he had set eye on in his days; whom he took pity of, and repented that he had condemned him to die with his fellows, showing evidently in his countenance, that he was mightily grieved and disquieted in his mind, as thinking verily that he was executed already with the first; howbeit, at a very venture he sent in all haste a countermand, that if he were yet alive, he should be spared and let go: this young man's name was Bepolitanus; and verily his fortune was most strange and wonderful: for had away he was to the place of execution in that habit wherein he was attached, and the same was a very fair and rich suit of apparel, which because the butcherly executioner desired to reserve clean and unsprent with blood, he was somewhat long about the stripping of him out of it; & whiles he was so doing he might perceive the king's men come running apace toward him, and with a loud voice naming Bepolitanus. See how covetousness, which hath been the death of many a thousand, was the means beyond all expectation, to save the life of this young gentleman: as for Toredorix, after he was cruelly mangled with many a chop and hack, his body was cast forth unburied to the dogs; neither durst any of his friends come near for to enterre it: one woman only of Pergamus, whom this Galatian in his life time had known, in regard of her fresh youth and beauty, was so hardy as to hazard the taking of his dead corpse away, and to bury it; which when the warders and watchmen perceived they attached her, and brought her to the king: and it is reported that Mithridates at the very first sight of her, had compassion, for that she seemed to be a young thing, & a simple harmless wench every way; but when he understood withal that love was the very cause thereof, his heart melted so much the rather; whereupon he gave her leave to take up the body, and commit it to the earth, allowing her for that purpose funeral clothes, and furnishing her at his own charges, wish all other things meet for comely and decent burial.   

TIMOCLIA.  
〈◊〉 the Theban, carried the like mind and purpose for the defence of his country and the commonwealth, as sometimes Epaminondas, Pelopidas, and the bravest men in the world had done; but his fortune was to fall in that common ruin of Greece, when as the Greeks lost that unfortunate battle before Chaeronea; and yet for his own part he was a victor, and followed them in chase, whom he had disarraied and put to flight; for he it was who when one of them that fled cried out unto him: How far wilt thou pursue and follow us; answered: Even as far as into Macedonia: but when he was dead, a sister of his who survived him, gave good testimony, that in regard as well of his ancestors virtue, as his own natural disposition, he had been a worthy parsonage, and worthy to be reckoned and renowned amongst the most valiant knights in his days; for some fruit received, and reaped virtue, which helped her to bear and endure patiently as much of the common miseries of her country as touched her; for after that Alexander the Great had won the city of Thebes by assault, & the soldiers ran to and fro into all parts of the town, pilling and ransacking whatsoever they could come by: it chanced that one seized upon the house of Timoclia, a man who knew not what belonged to honour, honesty, or common courtesy and civility, but was altogether violent, furious and out of reason; a captain he was of a coronet of Thracian light horsemen; and carried the name of king Alexander his lord and master, but nothing like he was unto him in conditions: for having filled himself with wine after supper, and good cheer, without any respect unto the race and lineage of this noble dame, without regard of her estate and calling; he was in hand with her to be his bedsellow all that night, neither was this all; for he would needs search and know of her, where she had laid up and hourded any gold or silver, one while threatening to kill her, unless she would bring him to it, another while bearing her in hand that he would make her his wife, if she would yield unto him: she taking vantage of this occasion which himself offered and presented unto her: It might have pleased the gods (quoth she) that I had died before this night, rather than remain alive; for though I had lost all beside, yet my body had been undefiled & saved from all violence and villainy; but since it is my fortune, that here after I must repute you for my lord, my master, and my husband, and seeing it is gods will to give you this puissance and sovereignty over me, I will not deprive and disappoint you of that which is yours, and as for myself, I see well, that my condition from henceforth must be such as you will; I was wont indeed to have about me, costly jewels and ornaments for my body; I had silver in plate, yea and some gold in good coin and other ready money; but when I saw that the city was lost, I willed my women and maidservants about me to get altogether, and so I cast it away, or rather indeed to say a truth, I bestowed it, and reserved it in safety within a dry pit, wherein no water is, an odd blind corner I may say to you, that few or none do know; for that there is a great stone lieth over the mouth of it, and a many of trees grow round about to shade and cover the same; as for you, this treasure will make you a man, yea, and a rich man for ever, when you have it once in your possession; and for my part, it may serve for a good testimony and sufficient proof, to show how noble and wealthy our house was beforetime. When the Macedonian heard these words, his teeth so watered after this treasure, that he could not stay until the morrow, and attend the day light; but would needs out of hand be conducted by Timoclia, and her maidens to the place; but he commanded her in any wise to shut fast and lock the fore-yard gate after them, that no man might see and know; and so he went down in his shirt into the foresaid pit: but cursed and hideous Clotho, was his mistress and guide, who would punish and be revenged of his notorious wickedness by the hands of Timoclia, who standing above; for when she perceived by his voice that he was now at the very bottom, she herself threw down a number of stones upon him, & her women also tumbled down many others, & those very big ones and heavy, after him, until they had brained him, overwhelmed him, and in manner filled the pit up: which when the Macedonians heard of, they made means to draw up his dead body, and for that there was a proclamation published before by sound of trumpet throughout the city, that they should not massacre one Theban more, they apprehended Timoclia, & brought her before king Alexander, whom they had already acquainted from point to point in particular, with that audacious act which she had committed: the king judging (by her settled & confident countenance, by her stayed gate also and portly pace) that she could not choose but be of some great and noble house; demanded of her, first, what she was? and she with rare boldness and resolution without showing any sign that she was daunted and astonished; I had (quoth she) a brother named Theagines, who being captain general of the Thebans, against you, in the battle of Chaeronea, lost his life fight manfully, in the defence of the liberty of Greece, to the end that we might not fall into that woeful misery, into which we are at this present fallen; but seeing it is so, that we have suffered those outrages & indignities which be unworthy the place from whence we are descended, for myself I refuse not to die, and peradventure it were not expedient for me to live any longer, and try such another night as the last was, unless yourself impeach and debar such demeanours: at these words, the noblest and most honourable persons who were present, could not forbear but weep; as for Alexander, he thought that the haughty mind and courage of this dame, was greater than to move pity and compassion; and therefore highly praising her virtue and commending her speech which he marked, and pondered well enough, gave strait charge and commandment unto his captains, to have a good eye, and careful regard, yea, and to take order presently, that there should no more such abuses be offered in any house of honour and nobility: and as touching Timoclia, he ordained immediately, that she should be set at full liberty, both herself, and also all those who were known and found any way to be of her blood and kindred.   

ERYXO.  
BAttus who was surnamed Daemon, that is to say, Happy, had a son whose name was Arcesilaus, in nothing at all resembling the manners and conditions of his father; for even during his father's life (for raising of battlements and pinnacles round about the walls of his own house,) he was condemned by his father himself in a fine of one whole talon; and after his death, being of a crooked, rough and troublesome spirit, (according as his very name, Calepos, implied), and for that he was governed altogether by the counsel of a minion and favourite of his own, named Laarchus, a man of no worth nor respect, he proved a tyrant in stead of a king. And this Laarchus aspiring likewise to be tyrant, either chased and banished out of the city, or else caused to be put to death, the best and principal citizens of all Cyrene; but when he had so done, he derived from himself all the blame and imputation upon Arcesilaus; and in the end gave him to drink a cup of poison, to wit, a sea-hare, whereupon he fell into a linger and languishing disease, whereby he pined away, and died at the last; by which means himself usurped the signory and rule of the city, under a colour of keeping it as Tutor and Lord Protector, for the behoof and use of Battus the son of Arcesilaus; for a very child he was, and lame withal; so that in regard aswell of his nonage and minority, as the defect and imperfection of his body, he was despised of the people; but many there were, who drew and ranged themselves unto his mother, and were willing to obey and honour her, for that she was a wise lady, and of a mild and courteous nature: beside, most of the mightiest men in those parts were knit to her either in blood and kindred, or else by bond of friendship: by means whereof, Laarchus made court to her, yea, and sued unto her for her good will by way of marriage, offering unto her (if she would be affianced and wedded unto him) to adopt Battus for his own son, and make him partaker of his signiory and dominion: but Eryxo (for that was the name of this noble lady) being advised and counseled thereto beforehand by her brethren, willed Laarchus to impart the matter unto them, for that upon conference with them (if they thought well of this marriage) she would be content and condescend thereto: Laarchus failed not so to do, but went and broke the thing unto her brethren accordingly; and they (as it was complotted before) drew the matter out in length, and drove him off from day to day; but Eryxo sent unto him secretly one of her waiting maidens, to give him notice from her, that her brethren in deed for the present did contradict her mind and crossed her will; but were the knot once knit and consummate in bed together, they would contest and haste no longer, but be willing enough to like and approve thereof as a convenient match: and therefore she advised him (if he thought so good) to repair by night unto her: for if the thing were once well begun, the rest no doubt would speed accordingly; this message pleased Laarchus, and fitted his humour passing well: being therefore transported wholly besides himself with these lovely and sugared words of this dame, he promised to attend her at what hour soever she would appoint. Now was this device complotted and laid by the counsel of her eldest brother Polyarchus; and after that she had set down the just time when they should meet and company together, against that very instant, she took order that the said brother should secretly be conveyed into her chamber, who brought with him two lusty tall young men well appointed with good swords, and who desired nothing more than to revenge their father's blood, whom lately Laarchus had caused to be put to death: when all things were now in readiness, she sent for Laarchus, willing him to come alone without any of his guard about him: no sooner was he entered into the chamber, but these two young men charged upon him with their swords, wounded him in many parts of his body, that he died in the place: his dead corpse they cast over the walls of the house; which done, they brought the young prince Battus abroad into the public place, declared and proclaimed him king after the manner and custom of the city. Thus Polyarchus rendered unto the Cyrenians their ancient government which they had from the beginning. Now there happened to be at the same time in Cyrene many soldiers of Amasis the king of Egypt, in whom Laarchus reposed his confidence, and found them fast & trusty unto him; by whose means he became dread and terrible to the Cyrenians: these sent in post with all speed unto king Amasis, messengers of purpose, to charge & accuse Eryxo & Polyarchus for this murder; whereat the king was wroth, and in great indignation intended out of hand to make sharp war upon the Cyrenians; but as he prepared to set forward this expedition, it fortuned that his mother departed this life: whiles therefore he was busy about her funerals, news came to Cyrene, how this king was highly displeased and resolved to levy war against them: whereupon Polyarchus thought good to address himself in person to the said king, and to render a reason unto him of this late fact committed upon the body of Laarchus: neither would his sister Eryxo tarry behind, but follow him, and expose her own person to the same peril that he entered into: yea, and the mother of them both, named Critola (very aged though she was) was right willing to go, and accompanied her son and daughter in this journey: now was she a great lady, and most highly esteemed in this regard especially, that she was the sister in the whole blood to Battus the first of that name, surnamed the Happy. When they were arrived in Egypt, all other lords and noble men of the court approved well of that which they had done in this case; and Amasis himself infinitely commended the pudicitie and magnanimity of dame Eryxo; and after he had honoured them with rich presents, and royally entertained them, he sent them all back (Polyarchus I mean, and the two ladies) with his good grace and favour, to Cyrene.   

XENOCRITE.  
XEnocrite a lady of the city Cumes, deserveth no less to be praised and admired, for that which she practised against Aristodemus the tyrant, whom some think to have been surnamed Malacoes, that is to say, Soft and effeminate, in regard of his loose and dissolute carriage: but they are deceived and ignorant in the true original and occasion of his name; for the Barbarians gave him this addition Malacoes, which in their language signifieth a Younker: because being a very youth, with other companions of equal age, as yet wearing their hair long, whom in old time they termed Coronistae, (of their black locks as it should seem) he above the rest, in the wars against the Barbarians, bore himself so bravely: (for he was not only hardy & courageous in spirit, stout also and tall of his hands, but withal full of wit, discretion and forecast, and so far excelled all others in singularity) that he became right famous and renowned; whereupon he grew into such credit and admiration among his countrymen and fellow-citizens, that incontinently promoted he was and advanced by them to the greatest offices of State and highest dignities in commonweal; insomuch as when the Tuskans made war upon the Romans in the right and quarrel of Tarqvinius Superbus, and namely, to restore him again to his crown and kingdom, from which he was deposed; the Cumans made him captain general of those forces which they sent to aid the Romans: in which expedition and warfare that continued long, he carried himself so remissly among his citizens, (which were in the camp under his charge, and gave them so much the head to do what they would, winning their hearts by courtesies and flattery, rather than commanding them as their general) that he put into their heads, and persuaded them (upon their return home) to run upon the Senate, and to join with him in expelling and banishing the mightiest persons and best men of the city. By which practice he set up himself as an absolute tyrant: and as he seemed wicked and violent otherwise in all kind of oppression and extortion; so most of all he was outrageous and went beyond himself in villainy toward wives and maidens, to young boys also of good houses and free borne: for among other enormities, this is recorded of him: That he forced young lads to wear their hair long, like lasses, to have also upon their heads, borders, cawles, and attires with spangles of gold; chose, he compelled young maidens to be rounded, polled, and knotted, and to wear short jackets, coats & mandilians without sleeves, after the fashion of springalds: howbeit, being exceedingly enamoured upon Xenocrita the daughter of one of those principal citizens who by him were exiled, her he kept, not having espoused her lawfully, nor won her good will by fair persuasions, supposing that the maiden might think herself well appaied, and her fortune very happy, to be entertained (in any sort whatsoever) by him, being by that means so highly reputed of and esteemed fortunate among all the citizens: but as for her, all these favours did not ravish and transport her sound judgement and understanding; for besides that she was mightily discontented to converse and keep company with him, not espoused, nor affianced and given in marriage by her friends, she had no less desire to recover the liberty of her country, than those who were openly hated of the tyrant. Now it fortuned about the same time, that Aristodemus caused a trench to be cast, & a bank to be raised round about his territory, a piece of work neither necessary, nor profitable, which he did only upon a policy, because he would thereby vex, out-toile consume & waste his poor subjects; for he tasked every man, to cast up & carry forth by the day a certain number of measures full of earth. Xenocrita when she saw him at any time coming toward her, would turn aside, and cover her face with the lappet of her gown: but when Aristodemus was passed by & gone, young men her play-feres, by way of mirth and pastime, would ask her why she muffled and masked herself, as ashamed to see him only, and was not abashed to see and be seen of other men as well; unto whom she would answer demurely, & that in right good earnest say: Iwis I do it of purpose because there is not one man among all the Cumans but Aristodemus: this word touched them all very near; but such as were of any noble spirit and courage, it galled and pricked for very shame, yea, and gave them an edge to set in hand and enterprise some manly act for to recover their freedom: which when Xenocrita heard, she said by report, that she would rather herself carry earth in a basket upon her own shoulders as other did, for her father if he were there present, than participate in all delights and pleasures, yea, and enjoy great power and authority with Aristodemus. These and such like speeches cast out by her, confirmed those who were conspired and ready to rise against the tyrant, of whom the chieftain and principal leader, was one Themotecles: unto these conspirators Xenocrita gave free access and ready entry unto Aristodemus; who finding him alone, unarmed and unguarded, fell many at once upon him, and so quickly dispatched him out of the way. Lo how the city of Cumes was delivered from tyranny by two virtues of one woman; by the one she first gave the citizens an affection, mind and heart, to begin and enterprise; and by the other she ministered unto them, means to execute and perform the same: for which good service of Xenocrita, those of the city offered unto her many honours, prerogatives, and presents; but she refused them all, only she requested this favour at their hands, that she might enterre the corpse of Aristodemus, which they granted, and more than so, they chose her for to be a religious priestresse unto Ceres, supposing that this dignity would be no less acceptable and pleasing unto the goddess, than beseeming and fitting the person of this lady.   

THE WIFE OF PYTHES.  
IT is reported moreover, that the wife of rich Pythes, in the days of Xerxes when he warred upon Greece, was a virtuous and wise dame; for this Pythes having (as it should seem) found certain mines of gold, and setting his mind thereon, not in measure, but excessively, and unsatiably, for the great sweetness and infinite gains that arose thereby; both himself in person bestowed his whole time therein, and also he employed all his subjects and citizens indifferently without respect of any person, to dig and delve, to carry, to purge, and cleanse the said gold oar; not suffering them to follow any other trade, or exercise any occupation else in the world: upon which unmeasurable and incessant toil, many died, and all were weary, and grumbled thereat, insomuch as at last, their wives came with olive branches, like humble suppliants to the gate of this lady his wife, for to move pity, and beseech her for redress and succour in this case: she having heard their supplication, sent them away home to their houses with very good & gracious words, willing them not to distrust and be discomforted: mean while she sent secretly for gold sinners, goldsmiths, and other workmen in gold, such as she reposed most confidence in, & shut them up close within a certain place, willing them to make loaves, pies, tarts, cakes, pastrie-works, and junkets of all sorts, sweet meats, fruits, all manner of meats and viands, such as she knew her husband Pythes loved best, all of clean gold; afterwards, when all were made, and he returned home to his house (for as then he was abroad in a foreign country:) so soon as he called for supper, his wife set before him a table furnished with all kinds of counterfeit viands made of gold, without any thing at all, either good to be eaten or drunken, but all gold, and nothing but gold: great pleasure at the first took Pythes for to see so rich a sight, and so glorious a banquet, wherein art had so lively expressed nature; but after he had fed his eyes sufficiently with beholding these goodly golden works, he called unto her in good earnest for somewhat to eat; but she still whatsoever his mind stood to, brought it him in gold; so that in the end he waxed angry, and cried out, that he was ready to famish: Why sir (quoth she) are not yourself the cause of all this? for you have given us foison and store of this metal, but caused extreme want and scarcity of meat and all things else, for all other trades, occupations, arts, and mysteries are decayed, and their use clean gone; neither is there any man that followeth husbandry and tilleth the ground; but laying aside, and casting behind us all thing that should be sown and planted upon the earth for the food and sustentation of man, we do nothing else but dig and search for such things as will not serve to feed and nourish us, spending and wearing out both ourselves and our citizens. These words moved Pythes very much; howbeit, for all this, he gave not over quite the mines and metal works, but enjoining the fifth part of his subjects to travel therein by turns, one after another; he gave the rest leave to husband their lands, and ply their other crafts and mysteries. But when Xerxes came down with that puissant army for to make war upon the Greeks, this Pythes showed his magnificence in the entertainment of him, with sumptuous furniture, costly gifts and presents, which he gave unto the king and all his train: for which he craved this only grace and favour at his hands again: that of many children which he had, he would dispense with him for one of them, that he might not go to the wars, to the end that the said son might remain with him at home in his house, for to tend and look unto him carefully in his old age: whereat Xerxes was so wroth, that he commanded that one son (whom he requested) to be killed presently, and his dead body to be cloven through in the mids, and divided into two parts; and so dislodged and caused his army to march between them both; the rest of his sonneshe led with him to the wars, who died all in the field; whereupon Pythes being discomforted, and his heart clean cast down, did that which those ordinarily do, who want courage and wit; for he feared death, and hated life; willing he was not to live, and yet he had not the power to make an end of his life; what did he then? There was within the city a great bank or mount of earth, under which there ran a river, which they called Pythopolites; within this mount he caused his tomb to be made, & turned aside the course of the said river, in such sort, that as it passed, the stream might glide upon this monument of his; which being prepared and done accordingly, he went down quick and alive into the same sepulchre, having resigned over unto his wife's hands the city, and the whole signory thereof; enjoining her thus much; that she should not approach herself unto this tomb or monument but only every day once send unto him, his supper in a little punt or boat down the riveret, and to continue this so long until she saw, that the said punt went beyond the monument, having in it all his victuals whole and untouched; for than she should not need to send him any more, but take this for an assured sign, that he was dead. Thus lived Pythes the rest of his days; but his wife governed and managed the State prudently, and wrought a great change and alteration in the toilsome life of her people.     

A consolatory ORATION SENT UNTO APOLONIUS UPON THE DEATH OF HIS SON.  

The Summarie.  
HOwsoever Plutarch in this treatise hath displayed his eloquence and all the skill and helps that he had by the means of Philosophy, yet we see that the same is not sufficient to set the mind and spirit of man in true repose; and that such consolations are (as they say) but palliative cures & no better: wherein also is discovered the want and default of light in the reason and wisdom of man: yet notwithstanding, take this withal, that such discourses do recommend and show unto us so much the better, the excellency of celestial wisdom, which furnisheth us with true and assuredremedies, and in stead of leaving the heart afflicted amid human thoughts and considerations, raiseth and lifteth it up unto the justice, wisdom and bounty of the true God and heavenly father; it causeth it to see the estate of eternal life; it assureth it of the soul's immortality, of the resurrection of the body, (points of learning wherein the Pagans were altogether ignorant) and of the permanent and everlasting joys above, in the kingdom of heaven. Now albeit as this truth of God (revealed unto us in his sacred word) hath instructed and resolved us sufficiently, it will not be amiss and impertinent, to learn of our author and such others, those things which themselves did not well and thoroughly understand, neither in life nor yet in death; for that the foundation failed them, and they miss the groundwork indeed, and in cleaving and leaning to (I wot not what) fortune and fatal destiny, they caused man to rest and stay himself upon a vain shadow of virtue, and willed him (in one word) to seek for consolation, where there was nothing but desolation, for happiness in misery, and for life in death. As touching the argument and contents of this treatise; adorned it is with notable reasons, similitudes, examples and testimonies, the substance whereof is this: That Apollonius (unto whom it is addressed) ought not to be over-pensive and heavy for the death of his son, deceased in the flower of his age. To move and persuade him thereto, Plutarch after he had excused himself in that he wrote no sooner unto him, and showed, that space of time coming between, doth better prepare men's hearts, which sorrow and be in anguish, to receive comfort; he condemneth aswell blockish and senseless folk, as also those that be weaklings and overtender in adversity. Which done, he entereth into a general review of the remedies which be appropriate to cure the miseries and afflictions of man; namely, that he ought to hold a mean, and to continue always like himself; to cast his eye and have regard upon the diverse accidents of our life, and in enjoying the blessings thereof; to think upon future crosses and calamities; to be armed with reason for to bear all changes; to remember and carefully to think upon the estate of this mortal and transitory life; to consider the evils and miseries of the same; to endure patiently that which can not be avoided and prevented with all the cares and lamentations that be; and to compare our own adversities with other men's. Then he proceedeth unto the particular consolations of those who are heavy and sorrowful for the death of their children, kinsfolk or friends; to wit: That there is no harm nor evil at all in death, but rather that it is a good thing, that the hour of it being uncertain, it is a comfort unto those whom it summoneth, who no doubt would be cast down and overthrown with the apprehension of miseries to come, in case they had any foresight thereof. After this, he proveth at large by three inductions and arguments of Socrates, that there is not any evil in death; which he confirmeth by diverse examples: and then returning into his consolations, he maintaineth and holdeth: That whosoever die young, are most happy; that the consideration of God's providence ought to retain and stay us; that we are not to mourn and lament for the dead, neither in regard of them nor of ourselves; that since overlong heaviness and sorrow maketh a man miserable, it were very good for him to be rid and dispatched of that pain quickly. Having finished this point, he resolveth and assoileth certain difficulties which are presented in these matters: and then taking in hand his purpose again, he ruleth and reformeth the affections of the living, toward them that are departed; he reclaimeth them from persisting and continuing obstinately in bewailing their absence, willing them rather to bewail the case of those who are living; and by many reasons doth prove and conclude, that they who die betimes have one marvelous advantage over those that remain alive in the world. Then he teacheth a man to maintain and carry himself as he ought, in all affairs; refuteth those who can abide no pain and trouble; and knitting up all the premises in few words, he adjoineth certain necessary and profitable counsels in such accidents; and before that he concludeth the whole treatise, he describeth the felicity of those whom death cutteth off in the prime of their years, having a special regard herein, to Apollonius the 〈◊〉 unto whom he writeth, and assuring him by the recital of the good parts and virtues which were in his son lately departed, that he was without all question, in that place of repose and rest which the Poets do imagine. Upon which occasion he treateth of the immortality of the soul, according to the doctrine of Plato and his followers, which is the very end and closing up of all that had been delivered before.   

A consolatory ORAtion sent unto Apollonius upon the death of his son.  
IT is not newly come upon me now at this present and not before, to pity your case and lament in your behalf (o Apollonius) having heard long since (as I did) the heavy news concerning the untimely death of your son, a young gentleman singularly well beloved of us all, as who in that youth and tender years of his, showed rare examples of wise carriage, stayed and modest behaviour, together with precise observance of those devout duties and just offices, which either pertained to the religious service of the gods, or were respective to his parents and friends; for even from that time have I condoled with you, and had a fellow-feeling of your sorrow: but for me to have come then, and visited you immediately upon his decease & departure out of this world, to present you with an exhortation to bear patiently and as becometh a man, that unfortunate accident, had been an unseemly part of mine and unconvenient, considering how in that very instant your mind and body both (overcharged with the insupportable burden of so strange and unexpected a calamity) were brought low and much enfeebled; and myself besides, must needs have moaned you, felt part of your grief, and sorrowed with you for company: for even the best and most skilful Physicians, when they meet with violent rheums and catarrhs, which suddenly surprise any part of the body, do not proceed at the first to a rough cure by purgative medicines, but permit this rage and hot impression of inflamed humours to grow of itself to maturity by application only of supple oils, mild lineaments, and gentle fomentations. But now, that since your said misfortune, some time (which useth to ripen all things) is passed between, and given good opportunity, considering also, that the present disposition and state of your person seemeth to require the help and comfort of your friends, I thought it meet and requisite to impart unto you certain reasons and discourses consolatory, if happily by that means I may ease your anguish, mitigate your pensiveness, and stay your needless mourning and bootless lamentation: for why? 
If mind be sick, what physic then?  
But reasons fit for each disease?  
A wise man knows the season when  
To use those means, the heart to ease.  And according as the wise Poet Euripides saith: 
Each grief of mind, each malady  
Doth crave a several remedy:  
If restless sorrow the heart torment,  
Kind words of friends work much content.  
Where folly sways in every action,  
Great need there is of sharp correction.  For verily among so many passions and infirmities incident to the soul of man, dolour and heaviness be most irksome and go nearest into it. By occasion of anguish many a one (they say) hath run mad and fallen into maladies incurable; yea, and for thought and hearts-grief, some have been driven to make away themselves. Now to sorrow and be touched to the quick for the loss of a son, is a passion that ariseth from a natural cause, and it is not in our power to avoid; which being so, I cannot (for my part) hold with them, who so highly praise and extol, I wot not what brutish, hard, and blockish indolence and stupidity, which if it were possible for a man to entertain, is not any way commodious and available. Certes, the same would bereave us of that mutual benevolence and sweet comfort which we find in the reciprocal interchange of loving others and being loved again; which (of all earthly blessings) we had most need to preserve and maintain. Yet do I not allow that a man should suffer himself to be transported and carried away beyond all compass & measure, making no end of sorrow; for even that also is likewise unnatural, and proceedeth from a corrupt and erroneous opinion that we have: and therefore, as we ought to abandon this excess as simply nought, hurtful, and not beseeming virtuous and honest minded men; so in no wise must we disallow that mean and moderation in our passions, following in this point sage Crantor the Academic Philosopher: I could wish (quoth he) that we might be never sick; howbeit, if we chance to fall into some disease, God send us yet some sense and feeling, in case any part of our body be either cut, plucked away, or dismembered in the cure. And I assure you, that senseless impassibility is never incident unto a man, without some great mischief and inconvenience ensuing; for lightly it falleth out, that when the body is in this case without feeling, the soul soon after will become as insensible: reason would therefore, that wise men in these and such like crosses, carry themselves, neither void of affections altogether, nor yet out of measure passionate; for as the one bewrayeth a fell and hard heart, resembling a cruel beast; so the other discovereth a soft and effeminate nature, beseeming a tender woman: but best advised is he, who knoweth to keep a mean, and being guided by the rule of reason, hath the gift to bear wisely and indifferently, aswell the flattering favours, as the scowling srownes of fortune, which are so ordinarily occurrent in this life; having this forecast with himself: That like as in a free State, and popular government of a common wealth, where the election of sovereign magistrates passeth by lots; the one whose hap is to be chosen, must be a ruler and commander; but the other who misseth, ought patiently to take his fortune, and bear the repulse; even so in the disposition and course of all our worldly affairs, we are to be content with our portion allotted unto us, and without grudging and complaint, gently to yield ourselves obedient: for surely they that can not so do, would never be able with wisdom and moderation to wield any great prosperity: for of many wise speeches and well said saws, this sentence may go for one: 
How ever fortune smile and look full fair,  
Be thou not proud nor bear a lofty mind;  
Ne yet cast down and plunged in deep ae spare,  
If that she frown or show herself unkind;  
But always one and same let men thee find.  
Constant and firm retain thy nature still,  
As gold in fire, which alter never will.  For this is the property of a wise man and well brought up, both for any apparent show of prosperity to be no changeling, but to bear himself always in one sort; & also in adversity, with a generous and noble mind, to maintain that which is decent & beseeming his own person: for the office of true wisdom & considerate discretion is, either to prevent & avoid a mischief coming, or to correct and reduce it to the least & narrowest compass when it is once come, or else to be prepared and ready to bear the same manfully, and with all magnanimity. For prudence, as touching that which we call good, is seen and employed four manner of ways; to wit, in getting, in keeping, in augmenting, or in well and right using the same: these be the rules as well of prudence, as of other virtues, which we are to make use and benefit of in both fortunes, as well the one as the other: for according to the old proverb: 
No man there is on earth alive,  
In every thing who ay doth thrive.  
And verily  
By course of nature, unneath it wrought may be,  
That aught should check fatal necessity.  And as it falleth out in trees and other plants, that some years they bear their burden, and yield great store of fruit, whereas in others they bring forth none at all; also living creatures one whiles be fruitful and breed many young, otherwhiles again, they be as barren for it; and in the sea it is now tempest, and then calm: semblably in this life there happen many circumstances and accidents, which wind and turn us into the chances of contrary fortunes; in regard of which variety, a man may by good right and reason, say thus: 
O Agamemnon, thy father Atreus he,  
Always to prosper hath not begotten thee:  
For in this life thou must have one day joy,  
Another, grief and wealth, mixed with annoy.  
And why? thou art by mort all nature frail,  
Thy will against this course cannot prevail:  
For so it is the pleasure of the gods,  
To make this change, and work in man such odds.  As also that which to the same effect the poet Menander wrote in this wise: 
Sir Trophimus, if you the only wight  
Of women borne, were brought into this light  
With privilege, to have the world at will,  
To taste no woe, but prosper always still?  
Or if some god had made you such behest,  
To live in joy, in solace and in rest?  
You had just cause to far thus as you do,  
And chafe, for that he from his word doth go,  
And hath done what he can not justify:  
But if so be, as truth will testify:  
Under one law this public vital air,  
You draw with us, your breath for to repair;  
I say to you (gravely in tragic style)  
You ought to be more patient the while;  
To take all this in better worth (I say)  
Let reason rule, and stand for final pay.  
And to knit up in few words, Trophimus  
Of this discourse the sum; I reason thus:  
A man you are, (that is as much to say)  
A creature, more prompt and subject ay  
To sudden change, and from the pitch of bliss,  
To lie in pit, where bale and sorrow is,  
Than others all: and not unwoorthily:  
For why, most weak by his own nature, he  
Will needs himself in highest matters wrap,  
Above his reach, secure of after-clap:  
And then anon, he falling from on high,  
Bears down with him all good things that were nigh:  
But as for you, the goods which here to fore  
O Trophimus you lost, exceeded not, no more  
Than those mishaps which you this day susteane  
Excessive be, but keep with in a mean:  
Hence forth therefore, you ought to bear the rest  
Indifferently, and you shall find it best.  Howbeit, although the condition and estate of men's affairs stand in these terms, yet some there be, who for want of sound judgement and good discretion, are grown to that blockish stupidity, or vain overweening of themselves, that after they be once a little raised up, and advanced, either in regard of excessive wealth, and store of gold and silver under their hands, or by reason of some great offer, or for other presidence and pre-eminence of high place which they hold in the commonweal; or else by occasion of honours and glorious titles which they have acquired, do menace, wrong and insult over their inferiors, never considering the uncertainty and inconstance of mutable fortune, nor how quickly that which was aloft may be flung down; and chose, how soon that which lieth below on the ground, may be extolled and lifted up on high by the sudden mutations and changes of fortune: to seek for any certainty therefore in that which is by nature uncertain and variable, is the part of those that judge not aright of things: 
For as the wheel doth turn, one part we see  
Of folly high and low in course to be.  But to attain unto this tranquility of spirit, void of all grief and anguish, the most sovereign powerful, and effectual medicine, is reason, and by the means thereof, a prepared estate and resolution against all the changes and alterations of this life: neither is it sufficient for a man only to acknowledge himself to be by nature borne mortal; but also that he is allotted unto a mortal and transitory life, and tied as it were unto such affairs as soon do change from their present estate unto the contrary: for this also is most certain, that as men's bodies be mortal and frail, so their fortunes also, their passions and affections be flitting and momentany; yea, and in one word, all that belongeth unto them is transitory; which it is not possible for him to avoid and escape, who is himself by nature mortal: but as Pindarus said: 
With massy weights of strong necessity,  
Of hell so dark to bottom forced are we.  Very well therefore said Demetrius Phalereus, whereas Euripides the Poet wrote thus: 
No worldly wealth is firm and sure,  
But for a day it doth endure.  Also: 
How small things may our state quite overthrow!  
It falleth out (as every man doth know)  
That even one day is able down to cast  
Some things from height, and others raise as fast.  All the rest (quoth he) was excellently by him written, but far better it had been, if he had named, not one day, but the minute, moment, and very point of an hour: 
For earthly fruits and mortal men's estate  
Turn round about in one and self same rate,  
Some live, wax strong and prosper day by day,  
Whiles others are cast down and fade away.  And Pindarus in another place 
What is it for to be but one?  
Nay what is it to be just none?  
And verily a man is made  
To be the dream even of a shade.  hath declared the vanity of man's life, by using an Hyperbole or excessive manner of an overreaching speech, both passing-wittily, and also to the purpose most significantly. For what is there more weak & feeble than a shadow? but to come in with the fantastical dream of a shadow; surely it is not possible that any other man should express the thing that he meant, more lively & in fitter terms. And verily, Crantor in good correspondence hereunto, when he comforteth Hippocles for the untimely death of his children, useth these words among the rest: These are the rules (quoth he) that all the school throughout of ancient Philosophy doth deliver and teach; wherein, if there be any point beside, that we can not admit and approve, yet this at leastwise is most undoubted true, that man's life is exceeding laborious and painful: for say that in the own nature it be not such; so it is, that by our own selves it is brought to that corruption: beside, this uncerteine fortune haunteth and attendeth upon us afar off, and even from our very cradle and swaddling bands, yea, and ever since our first entrance into this life accompanieth us, for no good in the world.  
To say nothing, how in all things whatsoever that breed and bud, there is evermore some portion more or less of naughtiness inbred and mingled therewith; for the very natural seed (which at the first, when it is at best, is mortal) doth participate this primitive cause, whereupon proceed the untoward inclination and disposition of the mind, maladies, cares and sorrows; and from thence there creep and grow upon us, all those fatal calamities that befall to mortal men. But what is the reason that we are digressed hitherto? forsooth, to this end, that we may know that it is no news for any man to taste of miseries and calamities, but rather that we are all subject to the same: for (as Theophrastus saith) fortune never aimeth or leveleth at any certain mark, but shooteth at random; taking much pleasure, and being very powerful to turn a man out of that which he hath painfully gotten before, and to overthrow a supposed and reputed felicity, with all regard of any fore-set and prefixed time to work this 〈◊〉. These reasons, and many other such like, every one of us may easily consider and ponder within himself; yea & besides, lay thereto the sage speeches (which he is ay to hear and learn) of ancient and wise men: among whom, the chief and principal is that heavenly and divine Poet Homer, who saith thus: 
More weak than man, there is no creature  
That from the earth receiveth nouriture:  
So long as limbs with strength he can advance,  
And whiles the gods do lend him puissance,  
He thinks no harm will ever him befall,  
He casts no doubt, but hopes to outgo all:  
But let them once from heaven some sorrows send,  
Maugre the smart, he hears unto the end.  Also: 
Such minds have men, who here on earth do live,  
As Jupiter from heaven doth daily give.  And in another place: 
Why ask you of my blood and parentage?  
Sir Tydeus son, a knight magnanimous.  
To leaves of trees much like is man's lineage:  
Leaves some blown down by mind outrageous  
Lie shed on ground, and others, numerous,  
Bud fresh in wood, when pleasant spring doth call:  
men's houses so, some rise and others fall.  Now that this similitude or comparison of tree-leaves fitly expressed and represented the transitory vanity of man's life, it appeareth evidently by those verses which he wrote in another place: 
You would not say that I were wise, if I did armour take  
To fight with you, in wretched men's behalf and for their sake,  
Who much resemble leaves at first, fair in their fresh verdure,  
So long as they of earthly fruits do feed for nouriture;  
And afterward be like to them, withered and dead again,  
When humour radical is spent, and no strength doth remain.   
Simonides the Lyrical Poet, when as Pausanias' king of Lacedaemon (bearing himself high, and vaunting of his brave exploits) bade him (upon a time, by way of mockery) to give unto him some sage precept & good advertisement; (knowing full well the pride & overweening spirit of the said prince) counseled him only to call to mind, and remember: That he was but a man. Philip likewise, king of Macedon, hearing news in one and the same day, of three several happy successes: the first: That he had won the prize, at the great running of chariots drawn with horses, in the solemnity of the Olympic games: the second: How his lieutenant general, Parmenio, had defaited the Dardanians in battle: and the third: That his wife Olympias was delivered safe of a jolly son: lifted up his hands toward heaven, and said: O fortune, I beseech thee to send unto me in counterchange, some moderate adversity: as knowing full well, that she bare spite and envy always to great felicities. Semblably, Theramenes one of the thirty tyrants of Athens, at what time as the house wherein he supped with many others fell down, and he alone escaped safe out of that dangerous ruin, when all others reputed him an happy man, cried out with a loud voice: O fortune, for what occasion of misfortune reservest thou me? and verily within few days after, it happened that his own companions in government cast him in prison, and after much torture, put him to death. Moreover, it seemeth unto me, that the poet Homer deserveth singular praise in this matter of consolation, when he bringeth in Ahilles speaking of king Priamus (being come unto him for to ransom and redeem the corpse of his son Hector) in this wise; 
Come on theresore and here sit down, by me upon this throne,  
Let be all plaints, for bear we thus to weep, to sigh and groan,  
And though our grief of heart be much, let us the same repress,  
For why? no tears will ought prevail, nor help us in distress.  
To live in pains and sorrows great men areprede stinate  
By gods above, and they alone dwell ay in blessed state,  
Exempt from cares and discontents, for in the entrie-sill  
Of Jove his house in heaven aloft, two tons are standing still,  
Whereout he doth among men deal, such gifts as they contain,  
In one good blessings are bestowed, in th'other curse and pain:  
Now be to whom great Jupiter vouchsafes of both to give,  
Sometime in joy, and otherwhiles in heaviness shall live:  
But if a man be only from that cursed vessel sped,  
With shame, with want, and penury he is full ill be stead,  
He shall be sure upon the earth to wander and to flray,  
In much disgrace with God and man until his dying day.  The poet who came after him both in order of time, and also in credit and reputation, Hesiodus, although he taketh upon himself the honour to have been a disciple of the Muses, having as well as the other included the miseries and calamities of mankind within one tun; writeth that Pandora in opening it, set them abroad in great quantity, and spread them over all lands and seas, saying in this manner: 
No sooner then this woman took, the great lid from the tun,  
With both her hands, but all abroad she scattered anon,  
A world of plagues and miseries; thus mischiefs manifold  
She wrought thereby to mortal men on earth both young and old:  
Hope only did reniaine behind, and slew not all abroad,  
But underneath the upmost brim and edge it still abode,  
For why, before it could get forth, the lid she clapped to fast:  
When other evils infinite were slowen from first to last:  
Full was the earth of sundry plagues, full was the sea likewise,  
Diseases then and maladies from day to day did rise  
Among mankind, and those by night do walk and crecpe by stealth,  
All suddenly without cause known, and do impeach man's health,  
Uncald they come, in silence deep they make not any noise,  
For Jupiter in wisdom great, bereft them all of voice.  To these sayings and sentences the comical poet according well, as touching those who torment themselves by occasion of such misfortunes when they happen, writeth thus, 
If tears could cure and heal all our disease,  
Or weeping slay at once our pain and grief,  
We would our gold exchange for tears, to ease  
Our maladies, and so procure relief:  
But (Master,) now tears with them bear no sway,  
Nor ought prevail, for weep we, or weep not,  
They hold their course, and still keep on their way,  
So that we see by plaints nothing is got;  
What gain we then? nought, sir, yet give me ear,  
Grief brings forth tears, as trees their fruit do bear.  And Dyctis when he comforted Danaë, who sorrowed overmuch for the death of her son, spoke unto her in this manner; 
Think you that Pluto doth your tears regard,  
And will for sighs and groans your son back send?  
No, no, cease you to sob and weep so hard,  
Your neighbour's case mark rather and intend:  
Hearts ease will come, if that you call to mind,  
How many men have died in dungeon deep?  
Or waxen old, bereft of children kind,  
Or princely state and port who could not keep,  
But fell to basedegree; consider this,  
And make right use, it will you help iwis.  He giveth her counsel to consider the examples of those who have been more or less unfortunate than herself, as if the comparing of their condition might serve her turn very well, the better to endure her own calamity. And hereto may a man very pertinently draw and apply the saying of Socrates, who was of opinion; that if we laid forth all our adversities and misfortunes in one common heap, with this condition, that each one should carry out of it an equal portion; most men would wish and be glad to take up their own and go away with all. The poet Antimachus also used the like induction, after that his wife whom he loved so entirely. was departed; for whereas her name was Lyde, he for his own consolation in that sorrow of his, composed an Elegy or lamentable ditty, which he called Lyde: wherein he collected all the calamities and misfortunes which hapued in old time to great princes and kings, making his own dolour and grief the less, by comparing it with other miseries more grievous: whereby it is apparent, that he who comforteth another, whose heart is afslicted with sorrow and anguish, (giving him to understand that his infortunity is common to more besides him, by laying before his face the semblable accidents which have befallen to others,) changeth in him the sense and opinion of his own greevance, and imprinteth in him a certain settled persuasion, that his misfortune is nothing so great as he deemed it to be before.  
Aeschylus likewise seemeth with very great reason to reprove those who imagine that death is nought, saying in this wise: 
How wrongfully have men death in disdain,  
Of many evils the remedy sovereign.  For in imitation of him, right well said he whosoever was the author of this sentence: 
Come death to cure my painful malady,  
The only leech that bringeth remeay;  
For hell is th' haven for world's calamity,  
And harbour sure in all extremity.  And verily, a great matter it is, to be able for to say boldly and with confidence: 
How can he be a slave justly,  
Who careth not at all to die?  As also: 
If death me help in my hard plight,  
No spirits nor ghosts shall me affright.  For what hurt is there in death? and what is it that should so trouble and molest us when we die. A strange case this is, & I can not see how it cometh to pass, that being so well known, so ordinarily, familiar & natural unto us as it is, yet it should seem so painful & dolorous unto us. For what wonder is it, if that be slit or cut, which naturally is given to cleave? if that melt, which is apt to be molten? if that burn, which is subject to take fire? or if that perish & rot, which by nature is corruptible? and when is it that death is not in ourselves? for (according as Heraclitus saith) quick and dead is all one; to awake and to sleep, is the same; in young and old, there is no difference; considering that these things turn one into another, and as one passeth, the other cometh in place: much after the manner of an imager or potter, who of one mass of clay, is able to give the form and shape of living creatures, and to turn the same into a rude lump, as it was before; he can fashion it again at his pleasure, and confound all together, as he list: thus it lieth in his power, to do and undo, to make and mar, as often as he will, one after another, uncessantly; semblably, nature of the selfsame matter, framed in times past our ancestors and grandsires, and consequently, afterwards brought forth our fathers; then she made us; and in process of time, will of us engender others; and so proceed still to father posterity; in such sort, that as the current (as it were) of our generation will never stay, so the stream also of our corruption will run on still, and be perpetual; whether it be the river Acheron or Cocytus, as the Poets call them; whereof, the one signifieth, privation of joy, & the other be tokeneth lamentation. And even so, that first and principal cause which made us to live and see the light of the sun, the same bringeth us to death and to the darkness of hell. And hereof we may see an evident demonstration and resemblance, by the very air that compasseth us round about; which in alternative course and by turns, representeth unto us the day, and afterwards the night; it induceth us to a similitude of life and death, of waking and sleeping: and therefore, by good right is life called, a fatal debt, which we must duly satisfy, and be acquit of: for our forefathers entered into it first; and we are to repay it willingly, without grumbling, sighing and groaning, whensoever the creditor calleth for it; unless we would be reputed unthankful and unjust. And verily, I believe that nature seeing the uncertainty and shortness of our life, would that the end thereof and the prefixed hour of death should be hidden from us, for that she knew it good & expedient for us so to be; for if it had been foreknowen of us, some (no doubt) would have languished and fallen away before, with grief and sorrow; dead they would have been before their death came. Consider now the troubles and sorrows of this life; how many cares and crosses it is subject unto: certes, if we went about to reckon and number them, we would condemn it as most unhappy, yea, we would verify and approve that strong opinion which some have held: That it were far better for a man to die than to live; and therefore said the Poet Simonides: 
Full feeble is all human puissance:  
Vain is our care and painful vigilance:  
Man's life is even a short passage,  
Pain upon pain is his arrivage:  
And then comes death that spareth none,  
So fierce, so cruel, without pardon:  
Over our heads it doth depend,  
And threats alike those that do spend  
Their years in virtue and goodness,  
As in all sin and wickedness.  Likewise Pindarus: 
For blessing one which men obtain,  
The gods ordain them curses twain.  
And those they can not wisely bear,  
Fools as they be, and will not hear.  Or thus: 
They can not reach to life immortal,  
Nor yet endure that which is mortal.  And Sophocles: 
Of mortal men when one is dead,  
Doth thine heart groan, and eye tears shed;  
Not knowing once what future gain  
May come to him, devoid of pain?  As for Euripides, thus he saith: 
In all thy knowledge, canst thou find  
The true condition of mankind?  
I think well, No: For whence should come  
Such knowledge deep, to all or some?  
Give ear, and thou shalt learn of me  
The skill thereof, in verity:  
All men ordained are once to die,  
The debt is due, and paid must be:  
But no man knows if morrow next,  
Unto his days shall be annexed:  
And whither fortune bend's her way,  
Who can foresee, and justly say?  If it be so then, that the condition of man's life is such indeed as these great clerks have delivered and described unto us; is it not more reason to repute them blessed and happy, who are freed from that servitude which they were subject to therein, than to deplore and lament their estate, as the most part of men do, through folly and ignorance? Wise Socrates said, that death resembled for all the world, either a most deep and sound sleep, or a voyage far remote into foreign parts, in which a man is long absent from his native country; or else thirdly, an utter abolition and final dissolution both of soul and body. Now take which of these three you will, according to him, there is no harm at all in death: for thus he discoursed through them well, and beginning at the first, in this wise he reasoneth: If death (quoth he) be a kind of sleep, and those that sleep feel no ill; we must needs confess likewise, that the dead have no sense at all of harm: neither is it necessary to go in hand to prove, that the deepest sleep is also the sweetest, and most pleasant; for the thing itself is plain and evident to all the world. To say nothing of Homer's testimony, who speaking of sleep writeth thus: 
Most sweetly doth a man sleep in his bed,  
When least he wakes, and 〈◊〉 most to be dead.  The same he iterateth in many places; and namely once in this wise: 
With pleasant sleep she there did meet,  
Death's brother german, you may weet.  And again: 
Death and sleep are sister and brother,  
Both twins resembling one another.  Where by the way, he lively declareth their similitude, and calling them twins; for that brothers and sisters twins, for the most part be very like: and in another place beside, he calleth death a brazen sleep; giving us thereby to understand, how senseless death is: neither seemeth he unelegantly and beside the purpose, whosoever he was, to have expressed as much in this verse when he said: 
That sleeps (who doth them well advise)  
Of death are petty mysteries.  And in very deed, sleep doth represent (as it were) a preamble, inducement, or first profession toward death: in like manner also the cynic philosopher Diogenes said very wisely to this point, for being surpressed and overtaken with a dead sleep, a little before he yielded up the ghost, when the physician wakened him, and demanded what extraordinary symptom or grievous accident was befallen unto him? None (quoth he) only one brother is come before another, to wit, sleep before death: and thus much of the first resemblance.  
Now if death be like unto a far journey or long pilgrimage, yet even so, there is no evil at all therein, but rather good, which is clean contrary: for to be in servitude no longer unto the flesh, nor enthralled to the passions thereof; which seizing upon the soul, do impeach the same, and fill it with all follies and mortal vanities, is no doubt a great blessedness and felicity: for as Plato saith: The body bringeth upon us an infinite number of troubles and hindrances about the necessary maintenance of itself; and in case there be any maladies beside, they divert and turn us clean away from the inquisition and contemplation of the truth; and in stead thereof, pester and stuff us full of wanton loves, of lusts, fears, foolish fancies, imaginations and vanities of all sorts; insomuch, as it is most true which is commonly said: That from the body there cometh no goodness nor wisdom at all. For what else bringeth upon us wars, seditions, battles and fights, but the body and the greedy appetites and lusts proceeding from it; for to say a truth, from whence arise all wars, but from the covetous desire of money, and having more goods? neither are we driven to purchase and gather still; but only for to entertain the body, and serve the turn thereof; and whiles we are amused & employed thereabout, we have no time to study Philosophy: finally (which is the worst and very extremity of all) in case we find some leisure to follow our book, and enter into the study and contemplation of things, this body of ours at all times & in every place is ready to interrupt and put us out; it troubleth, it impeacheth and so disquieteth us, that impossible it is to attain unto the perfect sight and knowledge of the truth; whereby it is apparent and manifest, that if ever we would clearly and purely know any thing, we ought to be sequestered and delivered from this body; and by the eyes only of the mind, contemplate & view things as they be; then shall we have that which we desire and wish; then shall we attain to that which we say we love, to wit, wisdom, even when we are dead, as reason teacheth us, and not so long as we remain alive: for if it cannot be, that together with the body we should know any thing purely; one of these two things must of necessity ensue, that either never at all, or else after death we should attain unto that knowledge; for then and not before, the soul shall be apart, and separate from the body; and during our life time, so much nearer shall we be unto this knowledge, by how much less we participate with the body, and have little or nothing to do therewith, no more than very necessity doth require; nor be filled with the corrupt nature thereof, but pure and neat from all such contagion, until such time as God himself free us quite from it; and then being fully cleared and delivered from all fleshly and bodily follies, we shall converse with them and such like pure intelligences, seeing evidently of ourselves all that which is pure and sincere, to wit, truth itself; for unlawful it is and not allowable that a pure thing should be infected or once touched by that which is impure; and therefore say that death seem to translate men into some other place, yet is it nothing ill in that respect, but good rather, as Plato hath very well proved by demonstration; in which regard, Socrates in my conceit spoke most heavenly & divinely unto the judges, when he said: My lords, to be afraid of death, is nothing else but to seem wise when a man is nothing less, & it is as much as to make semblance of knowing that which he is most ignorant of; for who wotteth certainly what is death? or whetherit be the greatest felicity that may happen to a man? yet men do fear and dread it, as if they knew for certainty, that it is the greatest evil in the world. To these sage sentences he acordeth well who said thus: 
Let no man stand in doubt and fear of death,  
Since from all travels it him delivereth.  and not from travels only, but also from the greatest miseries in the world; whereto it seemeth, that the very gods themselves give testimony: for we read that many men in recompense of their religion and devotion, have received death, as a singular gift and favour of the gods. But to avoid tedious prolixity, I will forbear to write of others, and content myself with making mention of those only who are most renowned and voiced by every man's mouth: and in the first place, rehearse I will the history of those two young gentlemen of 〈◊〉, namely, Cleobis and Biton; of whom there goeth this report: That their mother being priestresse to Juno, when the time was come that she should present herself in the temple, and the mules that were to draw her coach thither, not in readiness, but making stay behind; they seeing her driven to that exigent, and fearing lest the hour should pass, underwent themselves the yoke, and drew their mother in the coach to the said temple: she being much pleased, and taking exceeding joy to see so great piety and kindness in her children, prayed unto the goddess, that she would vouchsafe to give them the best gift that could befall to man: and they the same night following, being gone to bed for to sleep, never rose again: for that the goddess sent unto them, death, as the only recompense and reward of their godliness. Pindarus also writeth as touching Agamedes & Trophonius: That after they had built the temple of Apollo in Delphos, they demanded of that god, their hire and reward; who promised to pay them fully at the seven-nights end; mean while he bade them be merry and make good cheer; who did as he enjoined them: so upon the seventh night following, they took their sleep, but the next morning they were found dead in bed. Moreover, it is reported that when Pindarus himself gave order unto the commissioners that were sent from the State of Boeotia unto the oracle of Apollo, for to demand what was best for man? this answer was returned from the prophetess: That he who enjoined them that errand, was not ignorant thereof, in case the history of Agamedes and Trophonius (whereof he was author) were true; but if he were disposed to make further trial, he should himself see shortly an evident proof thereof: Pindarus when he heard this answer, began to think of death, and to prepare himself to die; and in truth, within a little while after changed his life. The like narration is related of one Euthynous an Italian, who was son to Elysius' of Terinae, for virtue, wealth and reputation, a principal man in that city, namely, that he died suddenly, without any apparent cause that could be given thereof: his father Elysius', incontinently thereupon, began to grow into some doubt (as any other man beside would have done) whether it might not be, that he died of poison, for that he was the only child he had, and heir apparent to all his riches: and not knowing otherwise how to sound the truth, he sent out to a certain oracle, which used to give answer by the conjuration and calling forth of spirits or ghosts of men departed; where (after he had performed sacrifices and other ceremonial devotions according as the law required) he laid him down to sleep in the place, where he dreamt, and saw this vision: There appeared unto him (as he thought) his own father, whom when he saw, he discoursed unto him what had fortuned his son, requesting and beseeching him to be assistant with him to find out the truth, and the cause indeed of his so sudden death: his father then should answer thus: And even therefore am I come hither; here therefore receive at this man's hands, that certificate which I have brought unto thee, for thereby shalt thou know all the cause of thy grief and sorrow: now the party whom his father showed and presented unto him, was a young man that followed after him, who for all the world in stature and years resembled his son Euthynous; who being demanded by him, what he was? made this answer: I am the ghost or angel of your son: and with that, offered unto him a little scroll or letter; which when Elysius' had unfolded, he found written within it, these three verses: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
These 〈◊〉 be unperfect, and it seemeth that 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉. 〈◊〉. in translating this first verse, read it thus: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Which may be done into English thus: 
Elysius' thou foolish man, ask living Sages read,  
Euthynous by fatal course of 〈◊〉 is dead;  
For longer life would neither him nor parents stand in stead.  And thus much may suffice you, both as touching the ancient histories written of this matter, and also of the second point of the foresaid question.  
But to come unto the third branch of Socrates his conjecture: admit it were true, that death is the utter abolition and destruction aswell of soul as body; yet even so, it cannot be reckoned simply ill: for by that reckoning there should follow a privation of all sense, and a general deliverance from pain, anxiety and angush: and like as there cometh no good thereby, even so, no harm at all can ensue upon it; forasmuch as good and evil have no being, but in that thing only which hath essence and subsislence, and the same reason there is of the one as of the other: so as in that which is not, but utterly becometh void, annulled, and taken quite out of the world, there can not be imagined either the one or the other. Now this is certain, that by this reason the dead return to the same estate and condition wherein they were before their nativity: like as therefore, when we were unborn, we had no sense at all of good or evil; no more shall we have after our departure out of this life: and as those things which preceded our time, nothing concerned us; so whatsoever happeneth after our death, shall touch us as little, 
No pain feel they that out of world be gone:  
To die, and not be borne, I hold all one.  For the same state and condition is after death, which was before birth. And do you think that there is any difference between, Never to have been, and To cease from being? surely they differ no more, than either an house, or a garment, in respect of us and our use thereof after the one is ruined or fallen down, and the other all rent and torn, from that benefit which we had by them before they were begun to be built or made; and if you say, there is no difference in them in these regards; as little there is be you sure, between our estate after death, and our condition before our nativity: a very pretty and elegant speech therefore it was of Arcesilaus the philosopher when he said: This death (quoth he) which every man termeth evil, hath one peculiar property by itself, of all other things that be accounted ill; in that when it is present, it never harmeth any man; only whiles it is absent and in expectance it hurteth folk. And in very truth, many men through their folly and weakness, and upon certain slanderous calumniations and false surmises conceived against death, suffer themselves to die because sorsooth they would not die. Very well therefore and aptly wrote the poet Epicharmus in these words: 
That which was knit and joined fast,  
Is loosed and dissolved at last:  
Each thing returns into the same,  
Earth into earth, from whence it came:  
The spirit up to heaven anon;  
Wherefore what harm herein? just none.  And as for that which Cresphontes in one place of Euripides, speaking of Hercules said: 
If under globe of earth, with those he dwell,  
Who being none, have left, laid once in grave:  
A man of him might say, and that right well,  
That puissance and strength he none can have.  By altering it a little in the end, you may thus infer: 
If under globe of earth with those he dwell,  
Who being none, have left, laid once in grave:  
A man of him might say, and that right well,  
That sense at all of pain, he can none have.  A generous and noble saying also was that of the Lacedæmonians: 
Now are we in our gallant prime,  
Before as others had their time,  
And after us shall others flower,  
But we shall never see that hour.  As also this: 
Now dead are they who never thought,  
That life or death were simply aught:  
But all their care was for to die  
And live, as they should, honestly.  Right excellent also are those verses of Euripides, as touching them who endure long maladies: 
I hate all those by meat and drink,  
Who to prolong their days do think:  
By Magic art and sorcery,  
The course of death who turn awry.  
Where as they should be glad and feign,  
When as they see it is but vain  
Of earth to live upon the face,  
For yoongers then to quit the place.  As for Merope in pronouncing these manlike and magnanimous words, she moveth the whole theatre to this consideration of her speeches, when she saith; 
I am not th'only mother left,  
Who of fair children am bereft;  
Nor yet a widow am I alone,  
Who my dear husband have for gone:  
For others infinite there be,  
Who have felt like calamitiee.  Unto this, a man may very aptly adjoin these verses also: 
What is become of that magnificence?  
Where is king Croesus with his opulence?  
Or Xerxes, he whose monstrous work it was,  
By bridge, the firth of Hellespont to pass?  
To Pluto now they are for ever gone,  
To houses of most deep oblivion.  Their goods, and their wealth, together with their bodies are perished; howbeit, believe me, some will say; many are moved perforce to weep and lament, when they see a young person die before due time; and yet I assure you, this hasty and untimely death admitteth so ready consolation, that even the meanest and most vulgar comical poets have seen into the thing, and devised good means, and effectual reasons of comfort: for consider what one of them saith in this case, to him that mourned and lamented for the unripe and unseasonable death of a friend of his, in these words: 
If thou hadst known for certain, that thy friend  
Who now is dead, should have been bless day,  
Throughout that course of life which was behind,  
In case the gods had stayed his dying day:  
His death had been untimely, I would say,  
But if long life, should bring him griefs incurable,  
To him haply was death, than now more favourable.  Seeing then uncertain it is whether the issue and end of this life will be expedient unto a man; and whether he shall be delivered and excused thereby from greater evils, or no; we ought not to take one's death so heavily, as if we had utterly lost all those things which we hoped for, and promised ourselves by his life to enjoy; and therefore me thinks that Amphiaraus in a certain tragedy of a poet, did not impertinently and without good purpose, comfort the mother of Archemorus, who took it to the heart, and grieved excessively, that her son a young infant died so long before the ordmarie time: for thus he saith unto her: 
No man there is of woman's body born,  
But in his dates much travel he doth bear:  
Children some die the parents long before,  
And are by them interred: then they rear  
And get young babes, for those that buried were:  
Lastly, themselves into the graves do fall,  
This is the course, this is the end of all.  
Yet men for them do weep and sorrow make,  
Whose bodies they on bier to earth do send,  
Although in truth a way direct they take,  
As ears of corn full ripe, which downward bend,  
As some begin, so others make an end.  
Why should men grieve and sigh at nature's lore?  
What must, shall be, think it not hard therefore.  In sum, every man ought both in meditation within himself, and in earnest discourse also with others, to hold this for certain; that the longest life is not best, but rather the most virtuous: for neither he that playeth most upon a lute or cittern, is commended for the cunnigest musician; no more than he who pleadeth longest, is held the most eloquent orator; nor he that sitteth continually at the helm, is praised for the best pilot; but they that do best, deserve the greatest commendation: for we are not to measure goodness by the length of time, but by virtue, by convenient proportion and measure of all words and deeds: for this is that amiable beauty which is esteemed happy in this world, and pleasing to the gods: which is the reason that the poets have left unto us in writing, that the most excellent worthies or demie gods, and such (as by their saying) were begotten by gods, changed this their mortal life, and departed before they were old: for even 
* 〈◊〉.  he 
Who was of mighty Jupiter, and Phoebus loved best,  
Permitted was not long to live, and in old age to rest.  For this we always see, that ordinarily the maturity of years, and the same well employed, is preferred before old age and long life: for thus we repute those trees and plants best, which in least time bear most fruit; as also those living creatures which in little space yield greatest profit and commodity to man's life: furthermore, little difference you shall find between short time and long, in comparison of eternity; for that a thousand, yea and ten thousand years according to Simonides are no more than a very prick, or rather the smallest indivisible portion of a prick, in respect of that which is infinite. We read in histories that there be certain living creatures about the land of Pontus, whose life is comprised within the compass of one day; for in the morning they are bred, by noon they are in their vigour and at best, and in the evening they be old, and end their lives: would not these creatures think you, if they had the soul of man, and that use of reason which we have, feel the very same passions that we do, if the like accidents befell unto them? certes, those that died before noon, would minister occasion of mourning and weeping; but such as continued all day long, should be reputed happy. Well, our life should be measured by virtue, and not by continuance of time; so that we are to esteem such exclamations as these, foolish and full of vanity: Oh, great pity, that he was taken way so young; it ought not to have been that he should die yet: and who is he that dare say; This or that aught? But many things else have been, are, and shall be done hereafter, which some man might say, ought not to have been done: howbeit, come we are not into this life for to prescribe laws, but rather to obey those laws which are decreed and set down already by the gods, who govern the world, and the ordinances of destiny and divine providence.  
But to proceed, those who so much deplore & lament the dead, do they it for love of themselves, or for their sake who are departed? if in regard of their own selves, for that they find how they are deprived of some pleasure or profit, or else disappointed of support in their old age, which they hoped to receive by those who are departed? surely this were but a small occasion, & no honest pretence of lamentation; for that it seemeth they bewail not the dead persons, but the loss of those commodities which they expected from them: but in case they grieve in the behalf of those that be gone out of this world, soon will they shake off their sorrow, if they be persuaded and believe, that after death they feel no ill; & obey they will that ancient & wise sentence, which teacheth us to extend as much as we can all good things, but to draw in and restrain those that be ill: now if sorrow is to be counted good, we ought to augment and increase the same as much as possibly we can; but if we acknowledge it (as it is indeed) to be nought, we are to shorten & diminish it, as much as we may, yea, & to abolish it quite, if it lie in our power: and that this may be easily effected, it appeareth by the precedent, of such a consolation as this: We read that a certain ancient Philosopher went upon a time to visit queen Arsinoe, who mourned & lamented much for a son of hers lately departed this life; & to her he used these or such like words: Madam, at what time as Jupiter dealt among the petty gods, goddesses, & other heavenly wights, certain honours and dignities, it chanced that dame Sorrow, was not present among the rest: but after that the distribution and dole was made, she also came in place and presented herself, craving of Jupiter, her part of honour as well as the other: Jupiter being thus driven to his shifts, for that he had divided and given away all before, not having any thing else to bestow, gave unto her the honour which is done unto those that be departed this life, to wit, tears, plaints, and lamentations: as other petty gods and goddesses therefore, love those who honour them and none else; even so (good lady) Sorrow (if you make not much of her, and give her divine honour) will not come near unto you; but in case you worship and honour her dutifully with those prerogatives which be allotted unto her, to wit, weeping, wailing, and lamentations, she will affect and love you, she will haunt you, yea, she will alway minister matter unto you, that she may be continually honoured by you. This device of the Philosopher, wonderfully wrought with the woman, and persuaded her in such sort, as she stayed her plaints, gave over her weeping, and cast off all her sorrow.  
In one word, a man may deal in this wise with one that is in sorrow, and demand of him: Whether art thou minded one day to cease this mourning, and make an end of piteous lamentation? or to persist still in afflicting and tormenting thyself as long as thou livest? for if thou continue all thy life time in this dolorous anguish, thou wilt procure and bring upon thyself perfect misery & infelicity in the highest degree, through thy effeminate sostnesse and feebleness of heart; but if thou meanest at the length to change this fit, and to lay all mourning aside, why dost not thou begin betimes, and resolve out of hand, to be delivered from this misery at once? for look what reasons and means thou art to use hereafter, for to be freed from these pains and perplexities; by the help of the same thou mayest presently be quit of this unhappy plight and state wherein thou art. And as it fareth in our bodies, the sooner that we rid away the crazy indispositions and maladies thereof, the better it is for us; even so it is in the diseases and passions of the soul: that therefore, which thou art minded and disposed to yield unto long time, give forthwith unto reason, unto literature and knowledge; discharge thyself (I say, and that with speed) of these calamities which now environ and compass thee round about. But haply you will say, I never thought that this would have befallen unto me, neither did I so much as doubt any such thing: yea, but you ought to cast doubts aforehand; you should long time before have considered and meditated of the vanity, weakness and instability of man's affairs; by which means you had not been surprised as you are, nor taken so unprovided, as by some sudden incursion of enemies. Very well and wisely therefore it seemeth, that noble Theseus in Euripides, was prepared and armed against all such accidents of fortune, when he thus said: 
According as a wise man once me taught,  
I did in mind all wiseries forecast;  
And namely, how I might be overcaught  
With bitter spite; and not to sit so fast  
In native soil, but forced to sly at last:  
Untimely death of wise, of child, of friend,  
How son might hap, full cross unto my mind.  
In sum, I did misfortunes manifold  
Est 'zounds propose and set before mine eyes,  
To th'end that I acquainted thus of old  
With such fore-casts, might son learn to de spise,  
And set nought by adverse calamities:  
For no mischance, or fortune overthwart,  
Could now be strange, and nip me to the hart.   
But those who are effeminate, baseminded, and not exercised beforehand in such premeditations, never pluck up their spirits, nor set their minds to deliberate and consult as touching any honest or profitable course; but suffer themselves to break out into extremities and miseries remediless, afflicting and punishing their harmless bodies, and as Alcaeus was wont to say, forcing them to be sick with them for company, which ailed nought before. And therefore Plato (in my conceit) gave a very wise admonition: That in such casualties and mischances as these, we should be quite; aswell, for that it is uncerteine whether it be good or ill for them whose death we seem to lament; as also, because there can no good ensue unto us by such pensiveness and sorrow: for this is certain: That as sage consultation in a man's self (as touching that which is happened already) doth remove sorrow; so grief impeacheth wise counsel, which would have a man to employ and accommodate all his affairs and occurrences the best way he can; like as in playing at the tables, to dispose so of his cast and chance whatsoever, as may most serve to win the game.  
If it be our hap therefore, to stumble and catch a fall, by the crooked aspect of adverse fortune, we must not do as little children, who laying their hands upon that part which is hurt, fall a puling or setting up a cry; but apply our minds presently to seek for remedy; to set that upright, which is fallen; to rectify that which is out of frame, by help of good medicines; and in one word, to put away all moans and lamentations.  
Certes, it is reported, that he (whosoever he was) that set down laws and statutes to the Lycians, ordained expressly: That whensoever they were disposed to mourn and lament, they should be arrayed in woman's apparel; as giving them thereby to understand, that to weep and wail, was but a feminine and servile passion, nothing at all befitting grave persons, well descended, or honestly brought up: for (to say a truth) to weep and wail thus, is mere womanish, and bewrayeth a base and abject mind: and like as women ordinarily be more prone and forward thereto than men; so Barbarians rather than Greeks; and the worse sort of people are given thereto more than the better: also, if you go thorough all barbarous nations, you shall not find those who are most haughtie-minded and magnanimous, or carry any generosity of spirit in them, such as be the Almans or Gauls addicted hereunto; but Egyptians, Syrians, Lydians, and such other; for some of these (by report) use to go down into hollow caves within the ground, and there hide themselves for many days together, and not so much as see the light of the sun, because (forsooth) the dead party whom they mourn for, is deprived thereof. In which regard, jon the Tragical Poet having (as it should seem) heard of such fooleries, bringeth in upon the stage, a woman speaking in this wise; 
Come forth am I, now at the last,  
Your nurse and children's governess,  
Out of deep caves, where some days past,  
I kept in baleful heaviness.   
Others there be also of these Barbarians, who cut away some parts, and dismember themselves, slit their own noses, crop their ears, misuse & disfigure the rest of their bodies, thinking to gratify the dead in doing thus, if they seem to exceed all measure, & that moderation which is according to nature. There are beside, who reply upon us and say: That they think we ought not to wail and lament for every kind of death, but only in regard of those that die before their time; for that they have not as yet tasted of those things which are esteemed blessings in this life, to wit, the joys of marriage, the benefit of literature and learning, the perfection of years, the management of common weal, honours and dignities; for these be the points that they stand upon, and grieve most who lose their friends or children by untimely death, for that they be disappointed and frustrate of their hopes before the time; ignorant altogether that this hasty and overspeedie death, in regard of human nature, differeth nothing at all from others: for like as in the return to our common native country, which is necessarily imposed upon all, and from which no man is exempted, some march before, others follow after, and all at length meet at one and the same place; even so in travelling this journey of fatal destiny, those that arrive late thither, gain no more advantage than they who are thither come betime: now if any untimely or hasty death were nought simply, that of little babes and infants that suck the breast, and cannot speak, or rather such as be newly borne were worst; and yet their death we bear very well and patiently, whereas we take their departure more heavily, and to the heart, who are grown to some good years, and all through the vanity of our foolish hopes; whereby we imagine and promise to ourselves assuredly, that those who have proceeded thus far, be past the worst, and are like to continue thus, in a good and certain estate. If then the prefixed term of man's life were the end of twenty years, certes, him that came to be sifteene years old we would not judge unripe for death, but think that he had attained to a competent age; and as for him who had accomplished the full time of twenty years, or approached near thereto we would account him absolute happy, as having performed a most blessed and perfect life: but if the course of our life reached out to two hundred years, he who chanced to die at one hundred years end, would be thought by us to have died too soon; and no doubt his untimely death we would bewail and lament. By these reasons therefore, and those which heretofore we have alleged, it is apparent, that even the death which we call untimely, soon admitteth consolation, and a man may bear it patiently; for this is certain, that Troilus would have wept less; yea even Priamus himself, shed fewer tears, in case he had died sooner; at what time as the kingdom of Troy flourished, or whiles himself was in that wealthy estate; for which he lamented so much; which a man may evidently gather by the words which he gave to his son Hector, when he admonished and exhorted him to retire from the combat which he had with Achilles in these verses: 
Return my son within these walls, that thou from death mayst save  
The Trojan men and women both, let not Achilles have  
Of thee that honour, as thy life so sweet to take away,  
By victory in single fight, and hast thy dying day:  
Have pity yet my son of me, thy woeful aged sire,  
Ere that my wits and senses fail, whom Jupiter inire  
Will else one day at th'end of this my old and wretched years,  
Consume with miserable death, outworn and spent with teeres.  
As having many objects seen, of sorrow and hearts grief;  
My sons cut short by edge of sword, who should be my relief;  
My daughters trailed by hair of head, and ravished in my sight;  
My palace razed, their chambers sacked, wherein I took delight:  
And sucking babes from mother's breasts plucked, and their brains dashed out  
Against the stones of pav'ment hard, lie sprawling all about:  
When enemy with sword in hand, in heat of bloody heart  
Shall havoc make: and then myself at last must play my part:  
Whom when some one by dint of sword, or lance of dart from far,  
Hath quite bereft of vital breath, the hungry dogs shall are  
About my corpse, and at my gates hale it and drag along,  
Gnawing the flesh of hoary head, and grisled chin among,  
Mangling besides the privy parts of me a man so old,  
Unkindly slain, a spectacle most piteous to behold.  
Thus spoke the aged father tho, and plucked from head above  
His hairs milk-white, but all these words, did Hector nothing move.   
Seeing then, so many examples of this matter presented unto your eyes, you are to think and consider with yourself, that death doth deliver and preserve many men from great & grievous calamities, into which without all doubt they should have fallen, if they had lived longer: But for to avoid prolixity, I will omit the rest, & myself, with those that are related already, as being sufficient to prove & show; that we ought not to break out beside nature, and beyond measure into vain sorrows and needless lamentations, which bewray nothing else but base and seeble minds. Crantor the philosopher was wont to say: That to suffer adversity causeless, was no small easement to all sinister accidents of fortune: but I would rather say: That innocency is the greatest and most sovereign medicine to take away the sense of all dolour in adversity: moreover, the love and affection that we bear unto one who is departed, consisteth not in afflicting and punishing ourselves; but in doing good unto him so beloved of us: now the profit and pleasure that we are able to perform for them who are gone out of this world, is the honour that we give unto them by celebrating their good memorial; for no good man deserveth to be mourned and bewailed; but rather to be celebrated with praise and commendation: He is not worthy of sorrow and lamentation, but of an honourable and glorious remembrance; he requireth not tears as testimonials of grief and dolour; but honest offerings, and civil oblations: if it be true, that he who is gone out of this world, doth partake a more divine and heavenly condition of life, as being delivered from the servitude of this body, and the infinite cares perplexities, and calamities which they must needs endure, who abide in this mortal life, until such time as they have run their race, and performed the prefixed course of this life, which nature hath not granted unto us for to be perpetual, but according to the laws of fatal destiny hath given to every one in several proportion. Such therefore as be wise and well minded, ought not in sorrow and grief for their friends departed, to pass beyond the bounds and limits of nature, and in vain plaints and barbarous lamentations forget a mean, and never know to make an end; expecting that which hath befallen to many before them, who have been so far gone in heaviness and melancholy, that before they had done lamenting, they have finished their days, and ere they could lay off the mourning habit for the funerals of others, they have been ready themselves to be carried forth to their unhappy sepulture: insomuch as the sorrows which they entertained for the death of another, and the calamities proceeding from their own folly, have been buried together with them; so as a man might very well and truly say of them as Homer did: 
Whiles they their plaints and sorrows made,  
Dark-night overspread them with her shade.  And therefore in such case we are eftsoons thus to speak unto ourselves, and reason in this manner: What? shall we make an end once? or rather never cease so long as we live? but still keep a weeping and wailing as we do? for I assure you, to think that sorrow should never end, were a point of extreme folly, considering that often times we see even those, who of all others take on and fare most impatiently in their fits of grief and heaviness, become (in process of time) so well appeased, that even at those tombs and monuments where they piteously cried out and knock their breasts, they met afterwards solemnly to make magnificent feasts, with music, minstrelsy, and all the means of mirth that might be devised. It is the property therefore of a mad man and one bereft of his wits, to resolve and set down with himself to dwell evermore in sorrow, and not to give it over: but if men think and reckon, that it will cease at length and pass away, by occasion of some thing that may occur, let them cast this withal, that space of time, will (after a sort) do it: for that which once is done, can not by God himself be undone: and therefore that which now is happened contrary to our hope and expectation, is a sufficient proof & demonstration of that which is wont to befall unto many others by the same means. How then? is not this a thing that we are able to comprehend by learning and discourse of reason in nature? to wit: 
The earth is full, and sea likewise,  
Of sundry evils and miseries.  As also: 
Such mischiefs ay, and strange calamities,  
Are daily one after another sent  
To mortal men by fatal destinies;  
The sky itself is not thereof exempt.  For not only in these days, but time out of mind, many men (and those of the wiser sort) have deplored the miseries of mankind, reputing life itself to be nothing else but punishment; and the very beginning of man's birth and nativity, to be no better than woe and misery. And Aristotle saith: That even Silenus, when he was caught and taken captive, pronounced as much unto king Midas. But forasmuch as this matter maketh so well to our purpose, it were best to set down the very words of the said Philosopher; for in his book entitled Eudemus or Of the soul, thus he saith: Therefore (quoth he) o right excellent and of all men most fortunate, as we esteem the dead to be blessed and happy, so we think that to make a lie or speak evil of them, is mere impiety, and an intolerable abuse offered unto them, as being now translated into a far better and more excellent condition than before: which opinion and custom in our country is so ancient and of such antiquity, that no man living knoweth either the time when it first began, or the first author thereof, who brought it in: but from all eternity this custom hath been among us observed for a law. Moreover, you know full well the old said saw, that from time to time hath run currant in every man's mouth: And what is that? quoth he: then the other presently inferred this answer, and said: That simply it was best, not to be borne at all, and to die better than to live: and hereto have accorded and given testimony, the very gods themselves, and namely, unto king Midas, who having in chase and hunting (upon a time) taken Silenus, demanded of him what was best for man? and what it was that a man should wish for and choose above all things in the world? at the first he would make no answer, but kept silence, and gave not so much as a word, until such time as Midas importuned and urged him by all means; so as at length (seeing himself compelled even against his will) he broke out into this speech, and said unto him: O generation of small continuance! o seed of laborious and painful destiny! o issue of fortune, wretched and miserable! why force you me to say that unto you, which it were better for you to be ignorant of? for that your life is less dolorous and irksome, when it hath no knowledge at all of her own calamities; but so it is, that men by no means can have that which simply is best, nor be partakers of that which is most excellent: for best it had been for all men and women both, never to have been borne at all; the next to it, and indeed the principal and chief of all those things that may be effected, (how ever in order it falleth out to be second) as to die immediately after one is borne. So that it appeareth plainly, that Silenus judged and pronounced the condition of the dead to be better than of the living. For the proof of which conclusion, ten thousand sentences and examples there be, and ten thousand more upon the head of them, which may be alleged: but needless it were, to discourse father of this point, and make more words thereof. Well then: we ought not to lament the death of young folk, in this regard, that they be deprived of those blessings and benefits which men do enjoy by long life: for uncerteine it is (as we have showed often times before) whether they be deprived of good things or delivered from bad; considering that in man's life there be far more sorrows than joys; and those (as few as they be) we get with much pains, great travel, and many cares; whereas calamities and evils come easily unto us; insomuch (as some men say) they be round and united close, and following aptly one upon another; whereas good things be separate and disjoined, insomuch as hardly they meet together at the very end of man's life: and therefore it seemeth that we forget ourselves; for as Euripides saith: 
Not only worldly goods are not  
Preper to 〈◊〉 when they are got,  but not any thoug else whatsoever; and therefore of all such things we are thus to say: 
The gods have all in right full property,  
And under them, at will we tenants be,  
To bold and use the same, some more somelesse,  
Until they please as quite to dispossess.   
We ought not therefore to be grieved and discontented, if they redemand of us that which they have lent and put into our hands, only for a little while; for even the bankers themselves (as we were wont oftentimes to say) are not displeased or offended when they be called unto or constrained to render and give up those stocks of money that have been committed unto them, if they be honest men, and well minded: for a man may by good right say unto those who are unwilling to redeliver the same: Hast thou forgotten that thou didst receive these moneys to repay again? And the very same may be applied unto all mortal men: for we have our life at God's hands, who upon a fatal necessity, have lent and left the same unto us; neither is there any time fore-set or presixed, within which we ought to yield the same; no more than the foresaid bankers are limited to some appointed day, on which they are bound to deliver up those stocks of money which be put into their hands; but unknowen and uncerteine it is when they shall be called unto, for to render the same to the owners. He therefore who is exceeding much displeased, & angry, when he perceiveth himself ready to die; or when his children have changed this life; is it not evident that he hath forgotten, both that himself is a man, and also that he be got children mortal? for surely it is no part of a man whose understanding is clear and entire, to be ignorant in this point, namely that man is a mortal creature, or that he is borne upon this condition, once to die: and therefore if dame Ntobe, according as fables recount unto us, had been always furnished with this opinion and settled resolution; That 
The sloure of age she should not aye  
Enjoy, nor children see alway  
About her fresh, in number many,  
To keep her ever company:  
Nor sweet sunshine continually  
Behold, until that she must die.  she would never have fared so, and fallen into such despair, as to desire to be out of the world, for the unsupportable burden of her calamity, and even to conjure the gods for to fetch her away, and plunge her into most horrible destructions. Two rules and precepts there are written in the temple of Apollo, at Delphos, which of all others be most necessary for man's life: the one is; Know thyself: and the other; Too much of nothing: for of these twain depend all other lessons, and these two accord and sound very well together; for it seemeth that the one doth declare the other, and contain the force and efficacy one of the other; for in this rule; know thy self, is comprised; Nothing too much: likewise in this, a man doth comprehend the knowledge of himself: and therefore jon the poet speaking of these sentences, saith thus; 
Know thyself; a word but short,  
Implies a work not quickly done,  
Of all the gods and heavenly sort  
None skills thereof but heavenly Jove alone.  And Pindar us writeth in this wise: 
This sentence brief: Nothing exccssively,  
Wise men have praised always exceedingly.   
Whosoever therefore setteth always before the eyes of his mind these two precepts, and holdeth them in such reverence as the oracles of Apollo deserve, he shall be able to apply them easily unto all the affairs and occurrents of human life, and to bear all things modestly as it becometh, both having a regard to his own nature, and also endeavouring neither to mount up too high with pride and vainglory, for any happy fortune that may befall, nor yet be dejected and cast down beyond measure, to mourning and lamentation upon infirmity of fortune, or rather of the mind, or by reason of that inbred fear of death imprinted deeply in our hearts for want of knowledge and good consideration of that which is ordinary, and customably happeneth in man's life, either through necessity, or according to the decree of fatal destiny. Notable is that precept of the Pythagoreans: 
What part thou hast of grief and woe, which unto man is sent,  
By hand of God, take well in worth, and show no discontent.  And the tragical poet Aeschylus said very well: 
Wise men and virtuous in all woe and distress,  
Against God will not murmur more or less.  As also Euripides: 
The man who yields unto necessity,  
Well skilled is in true divinity:  
And such we count, and not unwoorthily  
To bear themselves among men most wisely.  And in another place: 
Who knows the way, what ever doth befall  
With patience meekly to suffer all;  
In my conceit, he may be thought right well,  
In virtue and wisdom all men to excel.   
But chose, most men in the world complain and grumble at every thing; and whatsoever falleth out cross and contrary to their hope and expectation, they imagine the same to proceed always from the malignity of fortune and the gods; which is the reason that in all accidents they weep, wail, and lament; yea, and they blame their own froward and adverse fortune: unto whom we may very well and with great reason reply in this manner: 
No God it is, nor heavenly wight,  
That works thy woe, and all this spite.  but even thine own self, thy folly and error proceeding from ignorance: and upon this false persuasion and erroneous opinion it is, that these men complain of all sorts of death; for if any of their friends chance to die in a foreign country, they fetch a deep sigh in his behalf, and cry out saying: 
Alas poor wretch, woe' me for thee, that neither father thine,  
Nor mother dear shall present be, to close thy sightless eien.  Dieth he in his own native soil, and in the presence of father and mother? they mourn and lament, for that being taken out of their hands, he hath left unto them nothing else behind, but a deep impression of grief, in seeing him die before their eyes: Is it his hap to depart out of this world in silence, and without given any charge of aught concerning him or them? then they cry out amain, and break forth into these words; as he did in Homer: 
Alas the while, that no wise speech end lesson thou me gave,  
Which while my breath and life doth last, I should remembered have.  Again, if he delivered any words unto them at the hour of his death, they will evermore have the same in their mouths to kindle anew and refresh their sorrow: went he suddenly, and never bade his friend's farewell, when he departed? they lament and say: That he was ravished away and forcibly taken from them: if he languished, and was long in dying, than they fall a complaining, and give out, that he consumed and pined away, enduring much pain before he died: to be short, every occasion & circumstance whatsoever, is enough to stir up their grief, and minister matter to maintain sorrowful plaints. And who be they who have moved and brought in all these outcries and lamentations, but Poets, and even Homer himself, most of all other, who is the chief and prince of the rest, who in this manner writeth: 
Like as a father, in the fire of woeful funerals,  
Burning the bones of his young son, son after his espousals,  
Sheds many tears for grief of mind, and weary bitterly:  
The mother likewise (tender heart) bewails him piteously.  
Thus he by his untimely death, both parents miserable,  
Afflicts with sorrows manifold, and woes inexplicable:  But all this while it is not certain whether it be well and rightly done, to make this sorrow; for see what followeth afterwards: 
He was their only son, and borne to them in their old age,  
Sole heir of all, and to enjoy a goodly heritage.  And who knoweth, or is able to say, whether God in his heavenly providence and fatherly care of mankind, hath taken some out of the world by untimely death, foreseeing the calamities and miseries which otherwise would have happened unto them? and therefore we ought to think that nothing is befallen them which may be supposed odious or abominable: 
For nothing grievous thought may be,  
Which cometh by necessity.  Nothing (I say) that happeneth to man, either by primitive cause immediately, or by consequence; aswell in this regard, that often times most kinds of death preserve men from more grievous adversities, and excuse them for greater miseries; as also for that it is expedient for some, never to have been borne, and for others, to die in their very birth; for some, a little after they be entered into this life, and for others again, when they are in their flower, and grown to the very height and vigour of their age: all which sorts of death, in what manner soever they come, men are to take in good part, knowing that whatsoever proceedeth from fatal destiny, can not possibly be avoided; and beside, reason would, that being well taught and instructed, they should consider and premeditate with themselves, how those whom we think to have been deprived of their life before their full maturity, go before us but a little while; for even the longest life that is, can be esteemed but short, and no more than the very minute and point of time, in comparison of infinite eternity: also, that many of them who mourned and lamented most, within a while have gone after those whom they bewailed, and gained nothing by their long sorrow; only they have in vain afflicted and tormented themselves: whereas, seeing the time of our pilgrimage here in this life is so exceeding short, we should not consume ourselves with heaviness and sadness, nor in most unhappy sorrow and miserable pains, even to the punishing of our poor bodies with injurious misusage; but endeavour and strive to take a better and more human course of life, in conversing civilly with those persons who are not ready to be pensive with us, and fit to stir up our sorrow and grief after a flattering sort; but rather with such as are willing & meet to take away or diminish our heaviness, with some generous and grave kind of consolation: and we ought to have ever in mind these verses in Homer, which Hector by way of comfort delivered unto his wife Andromache, in this wise: 
Unhappy wight, do not my heart vex and solicit still,  
For no man shorten shall my days, before the heavenly will:  
And this (I say) Andromache, that fatal destiny,  
No person good or bad, once borne, avoid can possibly.  And of this fatal destiny the same Poet speaketh thus in another place: 
No sooner out of mother's womb, are bades brought forth to light,  
But destiny hath spun the thread for every mortal wight.  These and such like reasons, if we would conceive and imprint beforehand in our minds, we should be free from this foolish heaviness, and delivered from all melancholy; and namely, considering how short is the term of our life between birth and death, which we ought therefore to spare and make much of, that we may pass the same in tranquility, and not interrupt it with carking cares and doleful dumps, but laying aside the marks and habits of heaviness, have a regard both to cherish our own bodies, and also to procure and promote the welfare and good of those who live with us. Moreover, it will not be amiss to call to mind and remember those arguments and reasons, which by great likelihood we have sometime used to our kinsfolk and friends, when they were afflicted with like calamities, when as by way of consolation we exhorted and persuaded them to bear the common accidents of this life with a common course of patience, and human cases, humanly. Neither must we show ourselves so far short and faulty, as to have been sufficiently furnished for to appease the sorrow of others, and not be able by the remembrance of such comforts, to do ourselves good: we ought therefore presently to cure the anguish of our heart with the sovereign remedies and medicinable drogues (as it were) of reason; and so much the sooner, by how much better we may admit deadly in any thing else than in discharging the heart of grief and melancholy: for whereas the common proverb and byword in every man's mouth, pronounceth thus much: 
Who loves delays, and his time for to slack,  
Lives by the loss, and shall no sorrows lack.   
Much more damage (I suppose) he shall receive, who deferreth and putteth off from day to day to be discharged of the grievous and adverse passions of the mind. A man therefore is to turn his eyes toward those worthy personages who have showed themselves magnanimous and of great generosity in bearing the death of their children: as for example, Anaxagor as the Clazomenian, Pericles and Demosthenes of Athens, Dion the Syracusian, and king Antigonus, besides many others, both in these days and also in times past: of whom, Anaxagor as (as we read in history) having heard of his sons death by one who brought him news thereof, even at what time as he was disputing in natural philosophy, and discoursing among his scholars and disciples, paused a while, and stayed the course of his speech, and said no more but thus unto those who were about him: Well I wist that I begat my son to be a mortal man. And Pericles who for his passing eloquence and excellent wisdom, was surnamed Olympius, that is to say, divine and heavenly; when tidings came to him that his two sons Paralus and Xantippus had both changed this life, behaved himself in this manner as Protagoras reporteth of him in these words: When his two sons (quoth he) both young and beautiful, died within eight days, one after the other; he never showed any sad countenance or heavy cheer, but took their death most patiently: for in truth he was a man at all times furnished with tranquility of spirit, whereby he daily received great fruit and commodity; not only in respect of this happiness, that he never tasted of heart's grief; but also in that he was better reputed among the people; for every man seeing him thus stoutly to take this loss and other the like crosses, esteemed him valiant, magnanimous, and of better courage than himself; the one being privy to his own heart, how he was wont to be troubled and afflicted in such accidents: As for Pericles I say, immediately after the report of both his son's departure out of this world, he ware a chaplet of flowers nevertheless upon his head, after the manner of his country, put on a white rob, made a solemn oration to the people, propounded good and sage counsels to the Athenians, & incited them to war. Semblaby Xenophon one of the followers & familiars of Socrates; when he offered sacrifice one day unto the gods, being advertised by certain messengers returned from the battle, that his son Gryllus was slain in fight; presently put off the garland which was upon his head, and demanded of them the manner of his death; and when they related unto him that he bore himself valiantly in the field, and fight manfully lost his life, after he had the kill of many enemies; he took no longer pause for to repress the passion of his mind by the discourse of reason, but after a little while, set the coronet of flowers again upon his head, and performed the solemnity of sacrifice; saying unto those who had brought those tidings; I never prayed unto the gods that my son should be either immortal, or long lived, for who knoweth whether this might be expedient or no? but this rather was my prayer, that they would vouchsafe him the grace to be a good man, and to love and serve his country well, the which is now come to pass accordingly. Dion likewise the Syracusian, when he was set one day in consultation, and devising with his friends, hearing a great noise within his house, and a loud outcry, demanded what it was? and when he heard the mischance that happened; to wit, that a son of his was fallen from the top of the house, and dead with the fall; without any show or sign at all of astonishment or trouble of mind, he commanded that the breathless corpse should be delivered unto women, for to be interred according to the manner of the country; and as for himself, he held on and continued the speech that he had begun unto his friends. Demosthenes also the orator is reported to have followed his steps; after he had buried his only and entirely beloved daughter, concerning whom, Aeschines thinking in reproachful wise to challenger her father, said thus: This man within a sevennight after his daughter was depauted, before that he had mourned or performed the due obsequies according to the accustomed manner; being crowned with a chaplet of flowers, and putting on white robes, sacrificed an ox unto the gods, and thus unnaturally he made no reckoning of her that was dead, his only daughter, and she that first called him father, wicked wretch that he is: this Rhetorician thus intending to accuse and reproach Demosthenes, used this manner of speech, never thinking that in blaming him after this manner he praised him, namely, in that he rejected and cast behind him all mourning, and showed that he regarded the love unto his native country, more than the natural affection and compassion to those of his own blood. As for king Antigonus, when he heard of the death of his son Alcyoneus, who was slain in a battle, he beheld the messengers of these woeful tidings, with a constant and undaunted countenance; but after he had mufed a while with silence, and held down his head, he uttered these words: O Alcyoneus, thou hast lost thy life later than I looked for, venturing thyself so resolutely as thou hast done among thine enemies, without any care of thine own safety, or respect of my admonitions. These noble personages, there is no man but doth admire and highly regard for their constance & magnanimity; but when it cometh to the point and trial indeed, they cannot imitate them through the weakness and imbecility of mind, which proceedeth of ignorance, and want of good instructions: howbeit, there be many examples of those who have right nobly and virtuously carried themselves in the death and loss of their friends and near kinsmen which we may read in histories, as well Greek as Latin; but those that I have rehearsed already may suffice (I suppose) to move you for to lay away this most irksome mourning, and vain sorrow that you take, which booteth not, nor can serve to any good: for that young men of excellent virtue, who die in their youth, are in the grace and favour of the gods, for being taken away in their best time, I have already showed heretofore, and now also will I address myself in this place as briefly, as possibly I can to discourse, giving testimony of the truth to this notable wise sentence of Menander: 
To whom the gods vouchsafe their love and grace,  
He lives not long but soon hath run his race.   
But peradventure (my most loving and right dear friend) you may reply in this manner upon me: Namely, that young Apollonius your son, enjoyed the world at will, and had all things to his hearts desire; yea, and more befitting it was, that you should have departed out of this life, and been interred by him, who was now in the flower of his age, which had been more answerable to our nature, and according to the course of humanity. True it is I confess, but haply not agreeable to that heavenly providence and government of this universal world: and verily in regard of him who is now in a blessed estate, it was not natural for him to remain in this life longer than the term prefixed and limited unto him; but after he had honestly performed the course of his time, it was 〈◊〉 and requisite for him to take the way for to return unto his destiny that called for him to come unto her: but you will say, that he died an untimely death; true, and so much the happier he is, in that he hath felt no more miseries of this life: for as Euripides said very well: 
That which by name of life we call,  
Indeed is travel continual.  Certes, this son of yours (I must needs say) is soon gone, and in the very best of his years and flower of his age, a young man in all points entire and perfect, a fresh bachelor, affected, esteemed and well reputed of all those who kept him company, loving to his father, kind to his mother, affectionate to his kinsfolk and friends, studious of good literature, and (to say all in a word) a lover of all men; respecting with reverence (no less than fathers) those friends, who were elder than himself, making much of his equals and familiars, honouring those who were his teachers; to strangers aswell as to citizensmost civil and courteous; gracious and pleasant to all; generally beloved, aswell for his sweet attractive countenance, as his lovely affability. All this (I confess) is most true; but you ought to consider and take this withal: That he is translated before us in very good time out of this mortal and transitory life into everlasting eternity, carrying with him the general praise and blessed acclamation of all men for his piety and observance toward you, as also for your fatherly regard of him; and departed he is as from some banquet, before he is fallen into drunkenness and folly, which he could not have eschewed, but it would have ensued upon old age: and if the saying of ancient Poets and Philosophers be true, as it seemeth verily to be, namely: That good men and those that devoutly serve God, whensoever they die, have honour and preferment in the other world, and a place allotted them apart, where their souls abide and converse; surely you are greatly to hope very well, that your son is canonised and placed in the number of those blessed saints; concerning the state of which happy wights deceased, Pindarus the Lyric Poet, writeth in his canticles after this manner: 
When we have here the shady night,  
The shining sun to them gives light:  
The meadows by their city side  
With roses red are beautified,  
Shaded with trees which please the sense,  
With golden fruits and sweet incense:  
Some, horses ride for exercise,  
Disporting in most comely wise;  
Others delight in harmony,  
In music and in symphony.  
They live where plenty every hour  
Of all delights doth freshly flower;  
Where altars of the gods do fume  
In every coast, with sweet perfume,  
Of odours all most redolent,  
Burning in fire far resplendent,  
Which is maintained continually:  
Thus they converse right pleasantly.  And a little after he proceedeth to another lamentable ditty, wherein speaking of the soul, he useth these words: 
Happy is their condition,  
Whom death from all vexation  
〈◊〉 hath: all bodies die  
Perforce, there is no remedy:  
The soul, of perpetuity  
The image, from divinity  
Only derived, doth live alway,  
And is not known for to decay:  
Whiles limbs to wake and work are priest,  
She takes her sleep and quiet rest,  
And doth by many dreams present  
To those who sleep, 
* the due judgement,  her own judgement,  
Aswell of things which her displease,  
As of such as do her well please.  Or thus: 
Aswell for virtuous deeds well done,  
As for soul facts which be misdone.  And as for that divine Philosopher Plato, he hath disputed much, and alleged many reasons in his 
* Called 〈◊〉.  treatise of the soul, as touching the immortality thereof, like as in his books of policy, in the dialogue entitled Menon, in that also which beareth the name of Gorgias, and in diverse places of many others: But as concerning those discourses which he hath expressly made in his dialogue, I will give you an extract thereof apart by itself, according to your request; and for this present I will deliver those points which are to the purpose, and expedient to the matter in hand, to wit, what Socrates said to Callicles the Athenian, a familiar friend and scholar of Gorgias the Rhetorician. Thus therefore saith Socrates in Plato: Give ear then, and listen unto a most elegant speech, which you (I suppose) will think to be a mere fable or tale, but I esteem an undoubted truth, and as a true report I will relate it unto you: So it was, that (according to the narration of Homer) Jupiter, Neptune and Pluto, parted between themselves, the empire which fell unto them from their father: now this law there was concerning men, during the reign of Saturn (which also stood in force time out of mind, and remaineth even at this day among the gods) That look what man soever lead a just & holy life, after his death he should take his way directly to certain fortunate islands, there to remain in bliss & happiness, freed from all misery and infelicite; but chose, he that lived unjustly, without fear and reverence of the gods, should go to a certain prison of justice and punishment, named Tartarus, that is to say, Hell: now the judges who sat judicially, and gave their doom of such persons, aswell in Saturn's days, as in the beginning also of the reign of Jupiter, were those men alive, who gave sentence and judgement of other men living, even upon that very day wherein they were to depart this life: by reason whereof there passed many judgements, not good, until such time as Pluto & other procurators or superintendents of those fortunate Isles came and made report unto Jupiter, that there were thither sent such persons as were not worthy. unto whom Jupiter made this answer: I will take order from henceforth, and provide that it shall be so no more: for the cause of this disorder and abuse in judgement is this; that they who are to be tried, come clad and arrayed unto the bar, for to receive their doom, whiles they are yet living; yea, & many of them haply having filthy souls, are appareled (as it were) with fair and beautiful bodies, with nobility of birth and parentage, yea, and adorned with riches; and whiles they stand before the tribunal to be judged, many there be who come to depose and give testimony in their behalf, that they lived well: the judges therefore (being dazzeled and amazed with these witnesses and depositions, being themselves also likewise arrayed) do give sentence, having before, their minds, their eyes, ears, teeth, and whole body covered; no marvel therefore if these be impediments to impeach sound and sincere judgement, to wit, as well their own vesture, as the raiment of the judges. First and foremost therefore, good heed would be had, that men may know no more before hand the hour of their death; for now they foresee the term and end of life: whereupon let Prometheus have first in charge, that from henceforth men may have no foreknowledge of their dying day; and then all judgements here after shall pass indifferently of them that be all naked. For which purpose it were requisite that they be all first dead, as well the parties in question, as the judges themselves; so that they come to hear causes and sit in judgement with their souls only, upon the souls likewise of those who are departed; even so soon as they are separated from the bodies, being destitute now and forlorn of all kinsfolk and friends to assist them, as having left behind them upon earth, all the vesture and ornaments which they were wont to have; by which means, the judgement of them may pass more just and right: which I knowing well enough, before you were acquainted therewith, have ordained mine own sons to be judges; namely for Asia two, Minos and Rhadamanthus; and one for Europe, to wit, Aeacus: These therefore after they be dead, shall sit in judgement within a meadow, at a quarrefour or crossway, whereof the one leadeth to the fortunate isles, the other to hell: Rhadamanthus shall determine of them in Asia; Aeacus of those in Europe; and as for Minos I will grant unto him a pre-eminence in judgement above the rest; in case there happen some matter unknowen to one of the other two, and escape their censure, he may upon weighing and examining their opinions, give his definitive sentence, and so it shall be determined by a most sincere and just doom, whether way each one shall go. This is that O Callicles which I have heard, and believe to be most true; whereout I gather this conclusion in the end; that death is no other thing than the separation of the soul from the body. Thus you see (o Apollonius my most dear friend) what I have collected with great care and diligence, to compose for you sake a consolatory oration or discourse, which I take to be most necessary for you, as well to assuage and rid away your present grief, to appease likewise, and cause to cease this heaviness and mourning that you make, which of all things is most unpleasant and troublesome; as also to comprise within it that praise and honour which (me thought) I owed as due unto the memorial of your son Apollonius, of all others exceedingly beloved of the gods: which honour in my conceit is a thing most convenient and acceptable unto those, who by happy memory, and everlasting glory are consecrated to immortality. You shall do your part therefore, and very wisely, if you obey those reasons which are therein contained; you shall gratify your son likewise, and do him a great pleasure, in case you take up in time and return from this vain affliction (wherewith you punish and undo both body and mind) unto your accustomed, ordinary and natural course of life: for like as whiles he lived with us he was nothing well appaied, and took no contentment to see either father or mother sad and desolate; even so now, when he converseth and so laceth himself in all joy with the gods, doubtless he cannot like well of this state wherein you are. Therefore pluck up your heart, and take courage like a man of worth, of magnanimity, and one that loveth his children well: release yourself first, and then the mother of the young gentleman together with his kinsfolk and friends from this kind of misery, and take to a more quiet & peaceable manner of life, which will be both to your son departed, and to all of us (who have regard of your person, as it becometh us) more agreeable.    

A CONSOLOTARIE LETTER, OR DISCOURSE SENT UNTO HIS OWN WIFE, AS TOUCHING THE DEATH OF HER AND HIS DAUGHTER.  

The Summarie.  
PLutarch being from home, and far absent, received news concerning the death of a little daughter of his, a girl about two years old, named Timoxene, a child of a gentle nature, and of great hope: but fearing that his wife would apprehend such a less, too near unto her heart; he comforteth her in this letter, and by giving testimony unto her of virtue and constancy 〈◊〉 at the death of other children, of hers more forward in age than she was; he exhorteth her likewise to patience and moderation in this new. occurrence and trial of hers; condemning by sundry reasons the excessive sorrow, and unwoorthy fashion of many fond mothers, 〈◊〉 withal, the inconveniences, that such excessive heaviness draweth after it. Then continuing his consolation of her, he declareth with what eye we ought to regard infants and children aswell before, as during and after life; how happy they be, who can content themselves and rest in the will and pleasure of God, that the blessings past, aught to dulce and mitigate the calamities present, to stay us also that we proceed not to that degree and height of infortunity, as to make account only of the misadventures and discommodities happening in this our life. Which done, he answereth to certain objections which his wife might propose and set on foot; and therewith delivereth his own advice as touching the incorruption and immortality of man's soul (after he had made a medley of diverse opinions which the ancient Philosophers held as touching that point); and in the end concludeth: That it is better and more expedient to die betimes, than late: which position of his, he confirmeth by an ordinance precisely observed in his own country, which expressly for bad to mourn and lament for those who departed this life in their childhood.   

A consolatory LETTER or Discourse, sent unto his own wife, as touching the death of her and his daughter.  
PLUTARCH unto his wife: Greeting.  
THe messenger whom you sent of purpose, to bring me word as touching the death of our little daughter, went out of his way (as I suppose) and so miss of me, as he journeyed toward Athens; howbeit, when I was arrived at Tanagra, I heard that she had changed this life. Now, as concerning the funerals and enterring of her, I am verily persuaded, that you have already taken sufficient order, so as that the thing is not to do; and I pray God, that you have performed that duty in such sort, that neither for the present, not the time to come, it work you any grievance & displeasure: but if haply you have put off any such compliments (which you were willing enough of yourself to accomplish) until you knew my mind and pleasure, thinking that in so doing, you should with better will and more patiently bear this adverse accident; then I pray you, let the same be performed without all curiosity and superstition; and yet I must needs say, you are as little given that way as any woman that I know: this only I would admonish you, dear heart, that in this case, you show (both in regard of yourself and also of me) a constancy and tranquility of mind: for mine own part, I conceive and measure in mine own heart, this loss, according to the nature and greatness thereof, and so I esteem of it accordingly; but if I should find, that you took it impatiently, this would be much more grievous unto me, and wound my heart more, than the 〈◊〉 itself that causeth it; and yet am not I begotten and borne either of an oak or a rock; whereof you can bear me good witness, knowing that we both together have reared many of our children at home in house, even with our own hands; and how I loved this girl most tenderly, both for that you were very desirous (after four sons, one after another in a row) to bear a daughter, as also for that in regard of that fancy, I took occasion to give her your name: now, besides that natural fatherly affection, which men commonly have toward little babes, there was one particular property that gave an edge thereto, and caused me to love her above the rest; and that was a special grace that she had, to make joy and pleasure, and the same without any mixture at all of curstness or forwardness, and nothing given to whining and complaint; for she was of a wonderful kind and gentle nature, loving she was again to those that loved her, and marvelous desirous to gratify and pleasure others; in which regards, she both delighted me, and also yielded no small testimony of rare debonairitie that nature had endued her withal; for she would make pretty means to her nurse, and seem (as it were) to entreat her to give the breast or pap, not only to other infants, like herself, her play fears, but also to little babies and puppets, and such like gauds as little ones take joy in, and wherewith they use to play; as if upon a singular courtesy and humanity she could find in her heart to communicate and distribute from her own table, even the best things that she had, among them that did her any pleasure. But I see no reason (sweet wife) why these lovely qualities and such like, wherein we took contentment and joy in her life time, should disquiet and troubles us now, after her death, when we either think or make relation of them: and I fear again, lest by our dolour and grief, we abandon and put clean away all the remembrance thereof, like as Clymene desired to do, when she said: 
I hate the bow so light of Cornel tree:  
All exercise abroad, farewell for me.  as avoiding always and trembling at the remembrance and commemoration of her son, which did no other good but renew her grief and dolour; for naturally we seek to flee all that troubleth and offendeth us. We ought therefore so to demean ourselves, that as whiles she lived, we had nothing in the world more sweet to embrace, more pleasant to see, or delectable to hear than our daughter; so the cogitation of her, may still abide and live with us all our life time, having by many degrees our joy multiplied more than our heaviness augmented: if it be meet and fit that the reasons and arguments which we have often times delivered to others, should profit us when time and occasion requireth, and not lie still and idle for any good we have by them, nor challenge and accuse us, for that in stead of joys past, we bring upon ourselves many moregriefs by far. They that have come unto us, report thus much of you, and that with great admiration of your virtue, that you never put on mourning weed, nor so much as changed your rob, & that by no means you could be brought to disfigure yourself or any of your waiting maidens and women about you, nor offer any outrage or injury to them in this behalf; neither did you set out her funerals with any sumptuous panegyrical pomp, as if it had been some solemn feast, but performed every thing soberly and civilly, after a still manner, accompanied only with our kinsfolk and friends. But myself verily made no great wonder (that you who never took pride and pleasure to be seen, either in theatre or in public procession, but rather always esteemed all such magnificence so vain, and sumptuosity superfluous, even in those things that tended to delight) have observed the most safe way of plainness and simplicity, in these occasions of sorrow and sadness. For a virtuous and chaste matron ought not only to keep herself pure and inviolate in Bacchanal feasts; but also to think thus with herself, that the turbulent storms of sorrow, and passionate motions of anguish had no less need of continency to resist and withstand, not the natural love and affection of mothers to their children, as many think but the intemperance of the mind. For we allow and grant unto this natural kindness, a certain affection to bewail, to reverence, to wish for, to long after, and to bear in mind those that are departed; but the excessive and insatiable desire of lamentations, which forceth men and women to loud outcries, to knock, beat, and mangle their own bodies, is no less unseemly and shameful, than incontinence in pleasures: howbeit, it seemeth by good right to deserve excuse and pardon, for that in this undecency, there is grief and bitterness of sorrow adjoined, where as in the other, pleasure and delight: for what is more absurd and senseless, than to seem for to take away excess of laughter and mirth; but chose to give head unto streams of tears which proceed from one fountain, and to suffer folk to give themselves over to weeping and lementation as much as they will; as also that which some use to do, namely, to chide and rebuke their wives for some sweet perfumes, odoriferous pomanders, or purple garments, which they are desirous to have; and in the mean while permit them, to tear their hair in time of mourning, to shave their heads, to put on black, to sit unseemly upon the bare ground, or in ashes, and in most painful manner to cry out upon God and man; yea and that which of all others is worst, when their wives chastise excessively, or punish unjustly their servants, to come between and stay their hands; but when they rigorously and cruelly torment themselves, to let them alone and neglect them in those cross accidents, which chose had need of facility and humanity? But between us twain, sweet heart, there was never any need of such fray or combat, and I suppose there will never be. For to speak of that frugality which is seen in plain and simple apparel, or of sobriety in ordinary diet, and tending of the body; never was there any philosopher yet conversing with us in our house, whom you put not down and struck into an extraordinary amaze, nor so much as a citizen whom you caused not to admire (as a strange and wonderful sight, whether it were in public sacrifices, or in frequent theatres, and solemn processions) your rare simplicity: semblably, heretofore you showed great constancy upon the like conflict and accident at the death of your eldest son; and again when that gentle and beautiful Charon departed from us untimely, in the prime of his years; and I remember very well that certain strangers who journeied with me along from the sea side, (at what time as word was brought of my sons death) came home with others to my house, who seeing all things there settled, nothing out of order, but all silent and quiet (as they themselves afterward made report) began to think that the said news was false, and no such calamity had happened; so wisely had you composed all matters within house, when as iwis, there was good occasion given that might have excused some disorder and confusion; and yet this son you were nurse unto yourself, and gave it suck at your own pap; yea, and endured the painful incision of your breast, by reason of a cancerous hard tumour that came by a contusian. Oh, the generosity of a virtuous dame, and behold the kindness of a mother toward her children! whereas you shall see many other mothers to receive their young babes at the hands of their nurses, to dandle & play withal forsooth, in mirth & pastime; but afterwards the same women (if their infant's chance to die) give themselves over to all vain mourning, & bootless sorrow, which proceedeth not doubtless from good will indeed; (for surely hearty affectin is reasonable, honest and considerate) but rather from a foolish opinion mingled with a little natural kindness; and this is it that engendereth savage, furious, & implacable sorrows. And verily Aesop (as it should seem) was not ignorant hereof, for he reporteth this narration: That when Jupiter made a dole or distribution of honours among the gods and goddesses; Sorrow came afterwards and made suit likewise to be honoured, and so he bestowed upon her, tears, plaints, and lamentations; 〈◊〉 for them only who are willing thereto, and ready to give her entertainment. And I assure you, this they commonly do at the very beginning; for every one of his own accord bringeth in and admitteth sorrow unto him, who (after she is once entertained, and in process of time well settled, so that she is become domestical and familiar) will not be driven out of doors nor be gone, if a man would never so feign; and therefore resistance must be made against her, even at the very gate, neither ought we to abandon our hold, and quit the fort, renting our garments, tearing or shearing our hairs, or doing other such things, as ordinarily happen every day; causing a man to be confused, shameful, and discouraged, making his heart base, abject and shut up, that he cannot enlarge it, but remain poor and timorous; bringing him to this pass, that he dare not be merry, supposing it altogether unlawful to laugh, to come abroad and see the sun light, to converse with men or to eat or drink in company; into such a captivity is he brought through sorrow and melancholy: upon this inconvenience after it hath once gotten head, there followeth the neglect of the body, no care of anointing or bathing, and generally a retchlessenesse and contempt of all things belonging to this life; whereas chose and by good reason, when the mind is sick or amiss, it should be helped and sustained by the strength of an able and cheerful body: for a great part of the soul's grief is allayed, and the edge thereof as it were dulled, when the body is fresh and disposed to alacrity, like as the waves of the sea be laid even, during a calm and fair weather: but chose, if by reason that the body be evil entreated, and not regarded with good diet and choice keeping, it become dried, rough, and hard, in such sort, as from it there breath no sweet and comfortable exhalations unto the soul, but all smoky and bitter vapours of dolour, grief, and sadness annoy her; then is it no easy matter for men (be they never so willing and desirous) to recover themselves, but that their souls being thus seized upon by so grievous passions, will be afflicted and tormented stil. But that which is most dangerous and dreadful in this case, I never feared in your behalf, (to 〈◊〉) That foolish women should come & visit you, and then fall a weeping, lamenting, and crying with you; a thing (I may say to you) that is enough to whet sorrow, and awaken it if it were asleep, not suffering it either by itself, or by means of help and succour from another, to pass, fade, & vanish away; for I know very well what ado you had, & into what a conflict you entered about the sister of Theon, when you would have assisted her & resisted other women who came into her with great cries & loud lamentations, as if they brought fire with them, in all haste to maintain & increase that which was kindled already. True it is indeed, that when a friends or neighbours house is seen on fire, every man runneth as fast as he can to help for to quench the same; but when they see their souls burning in grief and sorrow, they chose bring more fuel & matter still to augment or keep the said fire: also if a man be diseased in his eyes, he is not permitted to handle or touch them with his hands, especially if they be bloodshotten, and possessed with any inflammation; whereas he who sits mourning and sorrowing at home in his house, offereth and presenteth himself to the first comer, and to every one that is willing to irritate, 〈◊〉, and provoke his passion, (as it were a flood or stream that is let out and set a running) insomuch as where before the grievance did but itch or smart a little, it now begins to shoot, to ache, to be fell and angry, so that it becometh a great and dangerous malady in the end: but I am verily persuaded (I say) that you know how to preserve yourself from these extremities. Now over and beside, endeavour to reduce and call again to mind the time when as we had not this daughter, namely, when she was as yet unborn; how we had no cause then to complain of fortune; then, see you join (as it were with one tenon) this present, with that which is past, setting the case as if we were returned again to the same state wherein we were before: for it will appear (my good wife) that we are discontented that ever she was borne, in case we make show that we were in better condition before her birth, than afterwards; not that I wish we should abolish out of our remembrance the two years space between her nativity and decease; but rather count and reckon it among other our pleasures and blessings, as during which time, we had the fruition of joy, mirth, and pastime, and not to esteem that good which was but little and endured a small while, our great infortunity; nor yet seem unthankful to fortune, for the favour which she hath done unto us, because she added not thereto that length of life which we hoped and expected. Certes to rest contented always with the gods; to think and speak of them reverently as it becometh; not to complain of fortune, but to take in good worth whatsoever it pleaseth her to send, bringeth evermore a fair and pleasant fruit: but he who in these cases, putteth out of his remembrance the good things that he hath, transporting and turning his thoughts and cogitations from obscure and troublesome occurrents, unto those which be clear and resplendent; if he do not by this means utterly extinguish his sorrow, yet at leastwise by mingling and tempering it with the contrary, he shall be able to diminish or else make it more feeble: for like as a sweet odor and fragrant ointment delighteth and refresheth always the sense of smelling, and beside is a remedy against stinding savours; even so the cogitagion of these benefits which men have otherwise received, serveth as a most necessary and present succour in time of adversity unto as many as refuse not to remember and call to mind their joys passed, and who never at all for any accident whatsoever complain of fortune; which we ought not to do in reason and honesty, unless we would seem to accuse and blame this life which we enjoy, for some cross or accident; as if we cast away a book if it have but one blur or blot in it, being otherwise written throughout most clean and fair; for you have heard it oftentimes said; that the beatitude of those who are departed, dependeth upon the right and sound discourses of our understanding, and the same tending to one constant disposition; as also; that the changes and alterations of fortune bear no great sway, to infer much declination or casuality in our life: but if we also as the common sort, must be ruled and governed by external things without us, if we reckon and count the chances and casualties of fortune, and admit for judges of or felicity our misery, the base and vulgar sort of people; yet take you no heed to those tears, plaints, and moans that men or women make who come to visit you at this present, who also (upon a foolish custom & as it were of course) have them ready at command for every one; but rather consider this with yourself; how happy you are reputed, even by those who come unto you, who would gladly and with all their hearts be like unto you, in regard of those children whom you have, the house and family which you keep, & the life that you lead; for it were an evil thing to see others desire to be in your estate and condition for all the sorrow which now afflicteth us, and yourself in the mean time complaining and taking in ill part the same, and not to be so happy and blessed, as to find and feel (even by this cross that now pincheth you, for the loss of one infaut) what joy you should take, and how thankful you ought to be for those who remain alive with you: for herein you should resemble very well, those Critics, who collect and gather together all the lame and defective verses of Homer, which are but few in number; and in the mean time, pass over an infinite sort of others, which were by him most excellently made. In this manner (I say) you did, if you would search narrowly, and examine every particular mishap in this life, and find fault therewith; but all good blessings in gross, let go by, and never once respect the same; which to do, were much like unto the practice of those covetous misers, worldings and peni-fathers', who 〈◊〉 and care, punish both body and mind, until they have gathered a great deal of good together, and then enjoy no benefit or use thereof; but if they chance to forego any of it, they keep a piteous wailing and woeful lamentation.  
Now if haply you have compassion and pity of the poor girl, in that she went out of this world a maiden unmarried, and before that she bore any children; you ought rather on the contrary side, to rejoice and take delight in yourself above others, for that you have not failed of these blessings, nor been disappointed either of the one or the other: for who would hold and maintain; that these things should be great to those who be deprived of them; and but small to them, who have and enjoy the same? As for the child, who doubtless is gone into a place where she feeleth no pain, surely she requireth not at our hands that we should afflict & grieve ourselves for her sake: for what harm is there befallen unto us by her, if she herself now feel no hurt? And as for the losses of great things indeed, surely they yield no sense at all of dolour, when they are come once to this point, that there is no more need of them, or care made for them. But verily, thy daughter Timoxena is bereft, not of great matters, but of small things; for in truth, she had no knowledge at all, but of such, neither delighted she in any, but in such: seeing then, that she had no perceivance nor thought of those things, how can she properly and truly be said to be deprived thereof?  
Moreover, as touching that which you heard of others, who are wont to persuade many of the vulgar sort, saying: That the soul once separate from the body, is dissolved, and feeleth no pain or dolour at all: I am assured, that you yield no credit and belief to such positions; aswell in regard of those reasons and instructions which you have received by tradition from our ancestors, as also of those sacred and symbolical mysteries of Bacchus, which we know well enough, who are of that religious confraternity, and professed therein. Being grounded therefore in this principle, and holding it firmly for an undoubted truth: That our soul is incorruptible and immortal; you are to think, that it fareth with it, as it doth with little birds that are caught by the fouler alive, and came into men's hands: for if it have been kept and nourished daintily a long time within the body, so that it be enured to be gentle and familiar unto this life, to wit, by the management of sundry affairs and long custom, it returneth thither again, and reentreth a second time (after many generations) into the body; it never taketh rest nor ceaseth, but is enwrapped within the affections of the flesh, and entangled with the adventures of the world, and calamities incident to our nature: for I would not have you to think that old age is to be blamed and reproached for rivels and wrinkles, nor in regard of hoary white hairs, ne yet for the imbecility and feebleness of the body; but the worst and most odious thing in it, is this: That it causeth the soul to take corruption by the remembrance of those things whereof it had experience whiles it stayed therein, and was too much addicted and affectionate unto it, whereby it bendeth and boweth, yea, and retaineth that form or figure which it took of the body, by being so long devoted thereto; whereas that which is taken away in youth, pretendeth a better estate and condition, as being framed to a gentler habit, more soft, tractable and less compact, putting on now a natural rectitude, much like as fire, which being quenched, if it be kindled again, burneth out, and recovereth vigour incontinently: which is the cause that it is far better 
Betimes to yield up vital breath,  
And soon to pass the gates of death,  before that the soul have taken too deep an imbibition or liking of terrene things here below, and ere it be made soft and tender with the love of the body, and (as it were) by certain medicines and forcible charms united and incorporate into it. The truth hereof may appeate yet better, by the fashions and ancient customs of this country; for our citizens (when their children die young) neither offer mortuaries, nor perform any sacrifices & ceremonies for them, as others are wont to do for the dead: the reason is, because they have no part of earth nor earthly lie affections; neither do they keep about their tombs and sepulchers, nor lay forth the dead corpse abroad to be seen of men, nor sit near unto their bodies: for our laws and statutes do not permit and suffer any mourning at all for those that so depart in their minority, as being a custom not holy and religious; for that we are to think they pass into a better place and happier condition. Which ordinances and customs, since it is more dangerous not to give credit unto, than believe, let us carry and demean ourselves according as they command, for outward order; as for within, all aught to be more pure, wise and uncorrupt.    

HOW IT cometh, THAT THE DIVINE JUSTICE DEFERRETH OTHERWHILES THE PUNISHMENT OF WICKED PERSONS,  

The Summarie.  
FOr as much as the order of all considerate justice importeth and requireth, that goodmen should be maintained and cherished, but chose, wicked persons repressed and punished for their lewd acts: the Epicureans (drunken & into xicate with false supposals, seeing in the conduct of this world's affairs, some that be honest and virtuous, distressed and oppressed by diverse devices and practices; whereas others again, who be nought and vicious, continue in repose, without any chastisement at all for their misdemeanours) would needs take from God the dispose and government of human affairs, holding and maintaining this point: That all things roll and run at a venture, and that there is no other cause of the good and evil accidents of this life, but either fortune or else the will of man. Now among other arguments which they have to confirm themselves in this unhappy and impious opinion, the patience and long suffering of the divine justice, is one of the principal; concluding thereby very fond, that (considering malefactors are thus supported and seen to escape all chastisement) there is no Deity or Godhead at all, which regardeth men, either to reward them for virtue, or to punish and do vengeance for their iniquity and transgression. Plutarch therefore, having to deal in his time with such dangerous spirits, confuteth them in this treatise, which of all others is most excellent, and deserveth to be read and 〈◊〉 over again in these wretched days, wherein Epicurism beareth up the head as high as at any time ever before. True it is (I confess) that theology and Divinity is able to furnish us with reasons and answers more firm and effectual (without comparison) than all the Philosophy of Pagans whatsoever: howbeit, for all that, there is here sufficient to be found (as touching this point) for to stop the mouths of those who have any remnant of shame, honesty or conscience behind in them. This present treatise may very well be divided into two principal parts: in the former, Epicurus being brought in to dispute against divine providence, and so departing without stay for answer, other Philosophers deliberate to be resolved of this point in his absence: and before that they resute his objection, two of them do amplify and exaggerate the same at large: which done, our outhour taketh the question in hand, and by seven sorcible arguments or firm answers, refelleth the blasphemy of the Epicureans, proving by sundry arguments, enriched with similitudes, sentences, examples and notable histories, that wicked persons never continue unpunished, but that the vengeance of God accompanieth quickly and continually their misdeeds. In the second part, they debate a certain question depending of the precedent objection, to wit, Wherefore children be chastised for the sins of their fathers and ancestors? and there was a certeive Philosopher, named Timon, who handled this matter, taxing after an oblique manner, the justice of God, which Plutarch maintaineth and defendeth; showing by diverse reasons, that whatsoever Timon had alleged, was mere false; and that God did no injury at all unto those children, in withdrawing his grace and favour from them and chastising them so, together with their parents, finding them likewise culpable for their part. But in this place, our author answereth not sufficiently and to the purpose; as being ignorant of original sin, and the universal corruption of Adam's children, which enwrappeth them all in the same condemnation, although some are farther gone in sinful life, according as they be grown to more years, and so augment their punishment; 〈◊〉 as we may well marvel at this, that a poor Pagan hath so far proceeded in this point of Theology; and Christians have so much greater occasion to look unto themselves, in the mids of this light which directeth them, considering how this man could see so clear in darkness, which appeareth sufficiently in the end of this discourse; where he intermedleeh certain fables as touching the state of our souls after they be parted from the bodies.   

HOW IT cometh, THAT the divine justice deferreth otherwhiles the punishment of wicked persons.  
AFter that Epicurus had made this speech (o Cynius) and before that any one of us had answered him, by that time that we were come to the end of the gallery or walking place, he went his way out of our sight, and so departed; and we wondering much at this strange fashion of the man, stood still a pretty while in silence, looking one upon another, and so we betook ourselves to our walking again, as before: then Patrocleas' begins first to move speech and conference, saying in this manner: How now my masters! if you think so good, let us discuss this question, and make answer in his absence, to those reasons which he hath alleged, aswell as if he were present in place: hereupon Timon took occasion to speak, and said: Certes it were not well done ofus, to let him escape so without revenge, who hath left his dart sticking in us; for captain Brasidas (as it appeareth in the Chronicles) being wounded with the shot of a javelin, drew it out of his body his own self, and therewith smote his enemy who had hurt him, so as he killed him outright: as for us, we need not so greatly to be revenged of those who have let fly among us, some rash, foolish and false speeches; for it will be sufficient, to shake the same off, and send them back again, before our opinion take hold thereof. And what was it, I pray you (quoth I) of all that which he delivered, that moved you most? for the man handled many things confusedly together, and nothing at all in good order, but kept a prating and babbling against the providence of God, facing and inveighing most bitterly and in reproachful terms, as if he had been in a fit of anger and rage. Then Patrocleas': That which he uttered as touching the long delay and slackness of divine justice in punishing the wicked, in my conceit was a great objection and troubled me much, and to say a truth, their reasons and words which he delivered have imprinted in me a new opinion, so as now I am become a novice, and to begin again to learn. True it is that long since I was discontented in my heart to hear Euripides speak in this wise; 
He putteth off from day to day,  
God's nature is, thus to delay.  For it were not meet and decent, that God should be slow in any action whatsoever, and least of all in punishing sinners; who are themselves nothing slothful, nor make delay in perpetrating wicked deeds, but are carried most speedily and with exceeding violence of their passions, pricked forward to do wrong and mischief. And verily when punishment ensueth hard after injury and violence committed; there is nothing as (Thucydides saith) that so soon stoppeth up the passage against those who are most prone and ready to run into all kind of wickedness; for there is no delay of payment that so much enfeebleth the hope, and breaketh the heart of a man wronged and offended, nor causeth him to be so insolent and audacious, who is disposed to mischief, as the deferring of justice and punishment: whereas chose the corrections, & chastisements, that follow immediately upon lewd acts, and meet with the malefactors betimes, are a means both to repress all future outrage in offenders, and also to comfort and pacify the heart of those who are wronged. For mine own part the saying of Bias troubleth me many times, as often as I think upon it, for thus he spoke unto a notorious wicked man: I doubt not but thou shalt one day smart for this gear, and pay for thy lewdness; but I fear I shall never live to see it. For what good unto the Messenians being slain before, did the punishment of Aristocrates, who having betrayed them in the battle of Cypress, was not detected and discovered for his treason in twenty years after, during which time, he was always king of Arcadia, and being at the last convicted for the said treachery, suffered punishment for his deserts? mean while, those whom he had caused to be massacred, were not in the world to see it. Or what comfort and consolation received the Orchomenians, who lost their children, kinsfolk, and friends, through the treason of Lyciscus, by the malady which long after seized upon him, eating & consuming all his body? who ever as he dipped and bathed his feet in the river water, kept a swearing and cursing, that he thus rotten and was eaten away, for the treachery which most wickedly he had committed? And at Athens the children's children of those poor wretches who were killed within the privileged place of sanctuary, could never see the vengeance of the gods which afterwards fell upon those bloody and sacrilegious caitiffs, whose dead bodies and bones being excommunicate, were banished, and cast out beyond the confines of their native country. And therefore me thinks Euripides is very absurd, when to divert men from wickedness he useth such words as these: 
Justice (fear not) will not thee overtake,  
To pierce thy heart, or deep wound ever make  
In liver thine; nor any mortal wight  
Besides, though lewd he be, and do no right.  
But slow she goes, and silent to impeach  
And chastise such, if ever them she reach.  For I assure you, it is not like, that wicked & ungracious persons use any other persuasions, but even the very same to incite, move and encourage themselves to enterprise any lewd and wicked acts, as making this account and reckoning, that injustice will quickly yield her fruit ripe in due time, and the same evermore certain: whereas punishment cometh late and long after the pleasure and fruition of the said wickedness. When Patrocleas' had discoursed in this wise, Olympiacus took the matter in hand and said unto him: Mark moreover (o Patrocleas') what inconvenience and absurdity followeth upon this slowness of divine justice, and prolonging the punishment of malefactors? for it causeth unbelief in men, and namely, that they are not persuaded that it is by the providence of God that such be punished; & the calamity that cometh upon wicked ones, not presently upon every sinful act that they have committed, but long time after, is reputed by them infelicity, and they call it their fortune, and not their punishment; whereupon it cometh to pass, that they have no benefit thereby, nor be any whit better, for howsoever they grieve and be discontented at the accidents which befall unto them, yet they never repent for the lewd acts they have before committed. And like as in punishment among us, a little pinch, stripe, or lash given unto one for a fault or error, presently upon the doing thereof, doth correct the party, and reduce him to his duty; whereas the wrings, scourge, knocks, and sounding thumps, which come a good while after; seem to be given upon some occasion beside, and for another cause rather than to teach; and therefore well may they put him to pain and grief, but instruction they yield none; even so naughtiness rebuked and repressed, by some present chastisement, every time that it trespasseth and transgresseth, howsoever it be painful at first, yet in the end it bethinketh itself, learneth to be humbled, and to fear God as a severe justicier, who hath an eye upon the deeds and passions of men, for to punish them incontinently, and without delay; whereas this justice and revenge which cometh so slowly, and with a soft pace (as Euripides saith) upon the wicked and ungodly persons, by reason of the long intermission, the inconstant and wandering incertitude, and the confused disorder resembleth chance and adventure more than the design of any providence: insomuch as I cannot conceive or see what profit can be in these grindstones (as they call them) of the gods, which are so long a grinding; especially, seeing that the judgement and punishment of sinners is thereby obscured, and the fear of sin made slight, and of no reckoning. upon the delivery of these words, I began to study and muse with myself: then Timon: Would you (quoth he) that I should clear this doubt once for all, and so make an end of this disputation? or permit him first to dispute and reason against these oppositions? And what need is there (answered I) to come in with a third wave for to overflow and drown at once our speech and discourse, if he be not able to refute the former objections, nor to escape and avoid the challenges already made. First and foremost therefore to begin at the head, and (as the manner is, to say) at the goddess Vesta, (for the reverend regard and religious fear that the Academic philosophers profess to have unto God, as an heavenly father) we utterly disclaim, and refuse to speak of the Deity, as if we knew for certainty what it is: for it were a greater presumption in us who are but mortal men, to enterprise any set speech or discourse as touching gods or demigods, than for one who is altogether ignorant in song, to dispute of music, or for them who never were in camp, nor saw so much as a battle fought, to put themselves forward to discourse of arms and warfare; taking upon us, (unskilful as we are, and void of art) a fantastical knowledge, grounded only upon some light opinion, and conjecture of our own, as if we were right cunning workmen and artisanes: for it is not his part, who is not studied in the art of Physic, to guess at the reason and consideration that the physician or chirurgeon had, why he made incision no sooner in his patient, but stayed long ere he proceeded thereto? or wherefore he bathed him not yesterday, but to day? semblably, it is neither easy nor safe for a mortal man to speak otherwise of the gods, than of those who knew well enough the due time and opportunity to minister a meet and convenient medicine, unto vice and sin; and exhibit punishment to every trespass, as an appropriate drouge, or confection to cure and heal each malady; notwithstanding that the same measure and quantity be not common to all delinquents, nor one only time and the same, is always meet therefore. Now that the physic or medicine of the soul, which is called Right and Justice, is one of the greatest sciences that are; Pindarus himself besides an infinite number of others, beareth witness; when he calleth the Lord and governor of the world, to wit, God, a most excellent and perfect artificer, as being the author and creator of justice, unto whom it appertaineth to define and determine, when, in what manner, and how far forth, it is meet and reasonable to chastise and punish each offender. Plato likewise saith: That Minos the son of Jupiter (was in this science) the disciple of his father; giving us hereby to understand, that it is not possible for one to carry himself well in the execution of justice, nor to judge a right of him that doth as he ought; unless he have before learned that science, and be thoroughly skilful therein. Furthermore, the positive laws which men have established, seem not always to be grounded upon reason, or to sound and accord in all respects with absolute equity and justice; but some of their ordinances be such, as in outward appearance may be thought ridiculous, and worthy of mockery; as for example. At Lacedaemon the high controllers called Ephori, so soon as they be installed in their magistracy, cause proclamation to be published by sound of trumpet, that no man should wear moustaches, or nourish the hair on their upper lips; also that willingly every man should obey the laws, to the end that they might not be hard or grievous unto them. The Romans also, when they affranchise any slave, and make him free; cast upon their bodies a little small rod or wand: likewise when they draw their last wills or testaments, institute some for their heirs, whom it pleaseth them, but to others they leave their goods to sell; a thing that carrieth no sense nor reason with it. But yet more absurd and unreasonable is that statute of Solon's making, wherein it was provided: That what citizen soever, in a civil sedition, ranged not himself to a side, nor took part with one or other faction, should be noted with infamy, and disabled for being capable of any honourable dignity. In one word, a man may allege an infinite number of absurdities beside, contained in the civil laws; who neither knoweth the reason of the lawgiver that wrote them, nor the cause why they were set down. If then it be so difficult to conceive and understand the reasons which have moved men thus to do, is it any marvel that we are ignorant of the cause, why God chastiseth one man sooner and another later? howbeit, this that I have said, is not for any pretence of starting back and running away, but rather for to crave leave and pardon, to the end that our speech having an eye thereto, (as unto an haven and place of refuge;) might be the more hardy, with boldness to range forth still in probabilities, to the matter in doubt and question: But I would have you to consider first, that (according to the saying of Plato) God having set himself before the eyes of the whole world, as a perfect pattern and example of all goodness, doth unto as many as can follow and imitate his divinity, infuse human virtue, which is in some sort conformable and like unto him; for the general nature of this universal world, being at the first a confused and disordered Chaos, obtained this principle and element, for to change to the better, and by some conformity and participation of the Idea of divine virtue, to become this beautiful frame of the world: And even the very same man saith moreover: That nature hath raised our eyesight on high, and lightened the same, that by the view and admiration of those celestial bodies which move in heaven, our soul might learn to embrace and be accustomed to love that which is beautiful and in good order, as also to be an enemy unto irregular and inordinate passions; yea, and to avoid doing of things rashly and at adventure, which in truth is the very source of all vice and sin; for there is nothing in the world wherein a man may have a greater fruition of God, than by the example and imitation of his good and decent qualities, to become honest and virtuous: wherefore if we perceive him to proceed slowly, and in tract of time to lay his heavy hand upon the wicked, and to punish them, it is not for any doubt or fear that he should do amiss, or repent afterward if he chastised them sooner, but by waning us from all beastly violence, & hastiness in our punishments, to teach us not immediately to fly upon those who have offended us, at what time as our blood is most up, and our choler set on a light fire, 
When furious ire in hart so leaps and boiles,  
That wit and reason bear no sway the while.  making haste as it were to satisfy some great hunger, or quench exceeding thirst, but (by imitating his clemency, and his manner of prolonging and making delay) to endeavour for to execute justice in all order, at good leisure, and with most careful regard; taking to counsel Time, which seldom or never is accompanied with repentance: for as Socrates was wont to say: Less harm and danger there is, if a man meet with troubled and muddy water, and intemperately take and drink thereof, than whiles his reason is confounded, corrupt, and full of choler and furious rage, to be set altogether upon revenge, and run hastily upon the punishment of another body, even one who is of his own kind and nature, before the same reason be settled again, cleansed and fully purified. For it is nothing so as Thucydides writeth: That vengeance the nearer it is unto the offence, the more it is in the own kind; but clean contrary, the farther off it is, and longer delayed, the better it apprehendeth and judgeth of that which is fit and decent. For according as Melanthius saith: 
When anger once dislodged hath the wit,  
Fowl work it makes, and outrage doth commit.  even so reason performeth all just and honest actions, when it hath chased and removed out of the way, ire and wrath: and therefore men are mollified, appeased, and become gentle by examples of men, when they hear it reported, how Plato, when he lifted up his staff against his page, stood so a good while, and forbore to strike; which he did (as he said) for to repress his choler. And Architas, when he found some great negligence and disorder at his ferme-house in the country, in his household servants, perceiving himself moved and disquieted therewith, insomuch as he was exceeding angry, and ready to fly upon them, proceeded to no act, but only turning away and going from them, said thus: It is happy for you, that I am thus angry with you. If then it be so, that such memorable speeches of ancient men, and worthy acts reported by them, are effectual to repress the bitterness and violence of choler; much more probable it is, that we (seeing how God himself, although he standeth not in fear of any person, nor repenteth of any thing that he doth, yet putteth off his chastisements, and layeth them up a long time) should be more wary and considerate in such things, and esteem, that clemency, long sufferance and patience is a divine part of virtue that God doth show and teach us, which by punishment doth chastise and correct a few, but by proceeding thereto slowly, doth instruct, admonish and profit many. In the second place, let us consider, that judicial and exemplary process of justice practised by men, intendeth and aimeth only at a counter change of pain and grief, resting in this point: That he who hath done evil, might suffer likewise; proceeding no farther at all: and therefore baying and barking (as it were) like dogs at men's faults and trespasses, they follow upon them, and pursue after all action by tract and footing: but God (as it should seem, by all likelihood) when he setteth in hand in justice to correct a sinful & diseased soul, regardeth principally the vicious passions thereof, if haply they may be bend & wrought so, as they will incline & turn to repentance; in which respect he stayeth long before that he inflict any punishment upon delinquents, who are not altogether past grace incorrigible; for considering withal, and knowing as he doth, what portion of virtue, souls have drawn from him in their creation, at what time as they were produced first and came into the world; as also how powerful and forcible is the generosity thereof, and nothing weak and feeble in itself; but that it is clean contrary to their proper nature, to bring forth vices, which are engendered either by ill education, or else by the contagious haunt of lewd company; and how afterward, when they be well cured and medicined (as it falleth out in some persons) they soon return unto their own natural habitude, and become good again: by reason hereof, God doth not make haste to punish all men alike, but look what he knoweth to be incurable, that he quickly riddeth away out of this life, and cutteth it off, as a very hurtful member to others, but yet most harmful to itself, if it should evermore converse with wickedness; but to such persons in whom (by all likelihood) vice is bred and engendered, rather through ignorance of goodness, than upon any purpose and will to choose naughtiness, he giveth time and respite for to change and amend: how beit, if they persist still, and continue in their lewd ways, he payeth them home likewise in the end, and never feareth that they shall escape his hands one time or other, but suffer condign punishment for their deserts. That this is true, consider what great alterations there happen in the life and behaviour of men, and how many have been reclaimed and turned from their lewdness; which is the reason that in Greek our behaviour and conversation is called partly 〈◊〉 that is to say, A conversion; and in part 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the one, because men's manners be subject to change and mutation; the other, for that they be engendered by use or custom; and the impression thereof being once taken, they remain firm and sure: which is the cause also (as I suppose) that our ancients in old time attributed unto king Cecrops a double nature and form, calling him Double; not for that (as some said) of a good, element and gracious prince, he became a rigorous, fell and cruel tyrant, like a dragon; but chose, because (having been at the first perverse, crooked and terrible) he proved afterward, a mild and gentle lord: and if we make any doubt hereof in him, yet we may be sure (at leastwise) that Gelon and Hiero in Sicily, yea, and Pisistratus the son of Hipocrates, all usurpers (who attained to their tyrannical dominion by violent and indirect means) used the same virtuously: and howsoever they came unto their sovereign rule by unlawful and unjust means, yet they grew in time to be good governors, loving and profitable to the common weal, and likewise beloved and dear unto their subjects; for some of them having brought in and established most excellent laws in the country, and caused their citizens and subjects to be industruous and painful in tilling the ground; made them to be civil, sober and discreet, whereas before, they were given to be ridiculous, as noted for their laughter and lavish tongues; to be true labourers also, and painful, who had been idle and playful. And as for Gelon, after he had most valiantly warred against the Carthaginians, and defaited them in a great battle; when they craved peace, would never grant it unto them, unless this might be comprised among the articles and capitulations: That they should no more sacrifice their children unto Saturn. In the city also of Megalopolis there was a tyrant named Lydiades, who in the mids of his usurped dominion repent of his tyranny, and made a conscience thereof, detesting that wrongful oppression wherein he held his subjects. in such sort ', as he restored his citizens to their ancient laws and liberties, yea, and afterwards died manfully in the field, fight against his enemies in the defence of his country. Now if any one had killed Miltiades at the first, whiles he exercised tyranny in Chersonesus; or if another had called judicially into question Cimon, inditing him for keeping his own sister, and so being condemned of incest, had caused him to be put to death; or disfranchised and banished Themistocles out of the city, for his loose wantonness and licentious insolency showed publicly in the Common place, as Alcibiades afterwards was served and proscribed, for the like excess and riot committed in his youth: 
Where had been then that famous victory  
At chieved on the plains of Marathon?  
Where had been that renowned chivalry  
Performed near the stream Eurymedon?  
Or at the mount, fair Artemision?  
Where Athens youth (as poet Pindare said)  
Freedom first the glorious groundwork laid?  For so it is, great natures and high minds can bring forth no mean matters; nor the vehement force of action which is in them remain idle, so lively and subtle it is, but they wave to and fro continually, as if they were tossed by tempest and wind upon the sea, until such time as they come to be settled in a constant firm, and permanent habitude of manners: like as therefore, he who is altogether unskilful of husbandry and tillage, maketh no reckoning at all of a ground which he seeth full of rough bushes and thickets, beset with savage trees, and overspread with rank weeds; wherein also there be many wild beasts, many rivers, and by consequence, great store of mud and mire: but chose, an expert husband, and one who hath good judgement, and can discern the difference of things, knoweth these and all such signs, to betoken a fertile and plentiful soil; even so great wits and haughty spirits, do produce and put forth at the first, many strange, absurd, and lewd pranks, which we not able to endure, think, that the roughness & offensive pricks thereof, ought immediately to be cropped off and cut away: but he who can judge better (considering what proceedeth from thence good and generous) attendeth and expecteth with patience, the age and season, which is cooperative with virtue and reason, against which time, the strong nature in such, is for to bring forth and yield her proper and peculiar fruit. And thus much may suffice of this matter.  
But to proceed forward: Think you not that some of the Greeks have done well and wisely, to make a transcript of a law in Egypt, which commandeth; that in case a woman who is attaint and convicted of a capital crime, for which in justice she ought to die, be with child, she should be kept in prison until she were delivered? Yes verily, they all answered? Well then (quoth I) Set case there be some one who hath no children conceived in his womb to bring forth, but breedeth some good counsel in his head, or conceiveth a great enterprise in his mind, which he is to bring to light, and effect in time, either by discovering an hidden mischief, or setting abroad an expedient and profitable counsel, or inventing some matter of necessary consequence: Think you not that he did better, who deferred the execution of such an one's punishment & stay until the utility that might grow by him were seen, than he who inconsiderately & in all haste proceedeth to take revenge, & prevent the opportunity of such a benefit? Certes, for mine own part, I am fully of that mind: and even we no less, answered Patrocleas'. Well then (quoth I) it must needs be so; for mark thus much: If Dionysius had been punished for his usurped rule, in the beginning of his tyranny; there should not one Grecian have remained inhabitant in 〈◊〉, for the Carthaiginans would have held the same and driven them all out: like as it must needs have befallen to the city Apollonia, to Anactorium, and the Chersonese ordemie island Leucadia, if 〈◊〉 had suffered punishment at first, and not a long time after, as he did. And I suppose verily that the punishment and revenge of Cassander was put off and prolonged of purpose, until by that means the city of Thebes was fully re-edified and peopled again. And many of those mercenary soldiers and strangers, who seized and held this temple wherein we are, during the time of the sacred war, passed under the conduct of Timoleon into Sicily, who after they had defaited in battle, the Carthaginians, and withal suppressed & abolished sundry tyrannies, they came to a wretched end, wicked wretches as they were. For God in great wisdom and providence, otherwhiles maketh use of some wicked persons, as of butchers and common excutioners, to torment and punish others, as wicked as they or worse, whom afterwards he destroyeth; and thus in mine opinion he dealeth with most part of tyrants. For like as the gall of the wild beast Hyaena, and the rendles or rennet of the Sea-calf, as also other parts of venomous beasts and serpents, have one medicinable property or other, good to heal sundry maladies of men; even so God seeing some people to have need of bit and bridle, and to be chastised for their enormities, sendeth unto them some inhuman tyrant, or a rigorous and inexorable lord to whip and scourge them, and never giveth over to afflict and vex them, until he have purged and cleared them of that malady wherewith they were infected. Thus was Phalaris the tyrant a medicine to the Agrigentines: thus Marius was sent as a remedy to cure the Romans: as for the Sicyonians, even god himself Apollo foretold them by oracle: That their city had need of certain officers to whip and scourge them, at what time as they would perforce take from the Cleoneans, a certain young boy named Teletias', who was crowned in the solemnity of the Pythian games, pretending that he was their citizen, and borne among them, whom they haled and pulled in such sort, as they dismembered him: But these Sicyonians met afterwards with Orthagoras that tyrannised over them; and when he was gone, they were plagued also with Myron and Clisthenes, and their favourites, who held them in so short, that they kept them from all outrages, and stayed their insolent follies: whereas the Cleoneans, who had not the like purgative medicine to cure them, were subverted and through their misdemeanour come to nothing. Mark well therefore that which Homer in one place saith: 
His son he was, and in all kind of valour did surmount  
His father far, who was (to say a truth) of base account.  And yet this son of Copreus never performed (in all his life) any memorable act, beseeming a man of worth and honour: whereas the offspring of Sisyphus, the race of Antolycus, and the posterity of Phlegyas flourished in glory, and all manner of virtue among great kings and princes. At Athens likewise, Pericles descended from an house excommunicate and accursed: And so at Rome Pompeius surnamed Magnus, that is, the Great, had for his father one Strabo, a man whom the people of Rome so hated, that when he was dead, they threw his corpse out of the bier wherein it was carried forth to burial, and trampled it under their feet. What absurdity then were it, if as the husbandman never cutteth up or stocketh the thorn or bush, before he hath gathered the tender sprouts and buds thereof: nor they of Libya burn the boughs of the plant Ledrom, until they have gotten the aromatical gum or liquor out of it called Laudanum; even so God never plucketh up by the root, the race of any noble and royal family (wicked and wretched though they be) before it hath yielded some good and profitable fruit: for it had been far better and more expedient for the men of Phocis, that ten thousand beefs and as many horses of Iphitus had died; that the Delphians likewise had lost much more gold and silver by far, than that either Ulysses or Aesculapius should not have been borne; or others in like case, whose parents being wicked and vicious, were themselves honest and very profitable to the commonwealth. Are we not then to think, that it were far better to punish in due time and manner convenient, than to proceed unto revenge hastily and out of hand? like as that was of calippus the Athenian, who making semblance or friendship unto Dion, stabbed him at once with his dagger, and was himself afterwards killed with the same, by his friends? as also that other of Mitius the Argive, who was murdered in a certain commotion and civil broil: for it happened so, that in a frequent assembly of the people, gathered together in the market place, for to behold a solemn show, a statue of brass fell upon the murderer of Mitius, and killed him outright. And you have heard (I am sure) o Patrocleas' (have you not?) what befell unto Bessus the Poeonian, and Ariston the Oeteian, two colonels of mercenary and foreign soldiers? No verily (quoth he) but I would gladly know: This Ariston (quoth I) having stolen and carried away out of this temple, certain jewels and costly furniture of queen Eriphyle, which of long time had there been kept safe, by the grant and permission of the tyrants who ruled this city, carried them as a present to his wife; but his son being on a time (upon some occasion) displeased and angry with his mother, set fire on the house, and burned it with all that was within it. As for Bessus, who had murdered his own father, he continued a good while not detected, until such time, as being one day at supper with certain of his friends that were strangers, with the head of his spear he pierced and cast down a swallows nest, and so killed the young birds within it: and when those that stood by, seemed (as good reason there was) to say unto him: How cometh this to pass, good sir? and what ail you, that you have committed so lewd and horrible an act? Why (quoth he again) do these birds cry aloud and bear false witness against me, testifying that I have murdered mine own father? he had no sooner let fall this word, but those who were present took hold thereof, and wondering much thereat, went directly to the king, and gave information of him; who made so diligent inquisition, that the thing upon examination was discovered, and Bessus (for his part) punished accordingly for a parricide. Thus much (I say) have we related, that it may be held as a confessed truth and supposition, that wicked men otherwhiles have some delay of their punishment: as for the rest, you are to think that you ought to hearken unto Hesiodus the Poet, who saith not as Plato did, that the punishment of sin doth follow sin hard at the heels, but is of the same time and age, as borne and bred in one place with it, and springing out of the very same root and stock: for these be his words in one place: 
Bad counsel who deviseth first,  
Unto himself shall find it worst.  And in another: 
Who doth for others mischief frame,  
To his own heart contrives the same.   
The venomous flies Cantharideses are said to contain in themselves a certain remedy, made and compounded by a contrariety or antipathy in nature, which serveth for their own counterpoison; but wickedness engendering within itself (I wot not what) displeasure and punishment, not after a sinful act is committed, but even at the very instant of committing, it beginneth to suffer the pain due to the offence: neither is there a malefactor, but when he seeth others like himself punished in their bodies, beareth forth his own cross; whereas mischievous wickedness frameth of herself, the engines of her own torment, as being a wonderful artisan of a miserable life, which (together with shame and reproach) hath in it lamentable calamities, many terrible frights, fearful perturbations and passions of the spirit, remorse of conscience, desperate repentance, and continual troubles and unquietness. But some men there be, who for all the world resemble little children, that beholding many times in the theatre, lewd and naughty persons arrayed in cloth of gold, rich mantles, and robes of purple, adorned also with crowns upon their heads, when they either dance or play their parts upon the stage, have them in great admiration, as reputing them right happy, until such time as they see them how they be either pricked and pierced with goads, or sending flames of fire out of those gorgeous, costly and sumptuous vestments. For to say a truth, many wicked persons, who dwell in stately houses, are descended from noble parentage, sit in high places of authority, bear great dignities and glorious titles, are not known (for the most part) what plagues and punishments they sustain, before they be seen to have their throats cut, or their necks broken, by being cast down headlong from on high; which a man is not to term punishments simply, but rather the final end and complishment of. thereof. For like as Herodicus of Selymbria, being fallen into an incurable phthisicke or consumption, by the ulcer of his lungs, was the first man (as Plato saith) who in the cure of the said disease, joined with other Physic, bodily exercise, and in so doing, drew out and prolonged death, both to himself and to all others who were likewise infected with that malady; even so may we say, that wicked persons (as many as seem to have escaped a present plague, and the stroke of punishment out of hand) suffer in truth, the pain due for their sinful acts, not in the end only and a great time after, but sustain the same a longer time: so that the vengeance taken for their sinful life is nothing slower, but much more produced and drawn out to the length; neither be they punished at the last in their old age, but they wax old rather in punishment, which they have endured all their life. Now when I speak of long time, I mean it in regard of ourselves; for in respect of the gods, the whole race of man's life (how long soever it be thought) is a matter of nothing, or no more than the very moment and point of the instant. For say, that a malefactor our should suffer the space of thirty years for some heinous fact that he hath committed, it is all one, as if a man should stretch him upon the rack, or hang him upon a jibbet in the evening toward night, and not in the morning betimes; especially, seeing that such an one (all the while that he liveth) remaineth close and fast shut up (as it were) in a strong prison or cage, out of which he hath no means to make an escape and get away. Now if in the mean while they make many feasts, manage sundry matters, and enterprise diverse things; if they give presents and largesses abroad; and say they give themselves to their disports and pleasures; it is even as much, and all one, as when malefactors (during the time they be in prison) should play at dice or cockall game, having continually over head the rope hanging, which must strangle them: for other wise, we might aswell say, that 〈◊〉 condemned to die, suffer no punishment all the whiles they lie in hard and cold irons, nor until the executioner come and strike the head from the shoulders; or that he who by sentence of the judges hath drunk the deadly potion of hemlock, is not punished, because he walketh still, and goeth up and down alive, waiting until his legs become heavy, before the general cold and congelation surprise him, and extinguish both sense and vital spirits, in case it were so, that we esteem and call by the name of punishment, nothing but the last point and extremity thereof; letting pass and making no reckoning at all of the passions, fears, painful pangs, expectance of death, pricks and sorrows of a penitent conscience, wherewith every wicked person is troubled and tormented: for this were as much as to say, that the fish which hath swallowed down the hook, is not caught, until we see the said fish cut in pieces, or broiled, roasted and sodden by the cook. Certes every naughty person is presently become prisoner unto justice, so soon as he hath once committed a sinful act, and swallowed the hook together with the bait of sweetness and pleasure, which he taketh in lewdness and wrongful doing; but when the remorse of conscience imprinted in him, doth prick, he feeleth the very torments of hell, and can not rest; 
But as in sea the Tuny fish doth swiftly cross the waves,  
And travers still while tempest lasts, so he with anguish raves.  For this audacious rashness and violent insolence (proper unto vice) is very puissant, forward, and ready at hand, to the effecting and execution of sinful acts; but afterwards, when the passion (like unto a wind) is laid, and begins to fail, it becometh weak, base and feeble, subject to an infinite number of fears and superstitions; in such sort, as that Stesichorus the Poet seemeth to have devised the dream of queen Clytaemnestra, very conformable to the truth, and answerable to our daily experience, when he bringeth her in, speaking in this manner: 
Me thought I saw a dragon come apace,  
Whose 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Which some interpret: Having a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  crest aloft on head 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Which some interpret: Having a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  with blood was steined;  
With that anon there did appear in place  
Plisthenides the king, who that time reigned.  For the visions by night in dreams, the fantastical apparitions in the day time, the answers of oracles, the prodigious signs from heaven, and in one word, whatsoever men think to be done immediately by the will and finger of God, are wont to strike great troubles and horrors into such persons so affected, and whose consciences are burdened with the guilt and privity of sin. Thus the report goeth of Apollodorus, that he dreamt upon a time, how he saw himself first flaied by the Scythians, then cut as small as flesh to the pot, and so boiled; he thought also that his heart spoke softly from out of the cauldron, and uttered these words: I am the cause of all these thy evils: and again, he imagined in his sleep, that his own daughters, all burning on a light flaming fire, ran round about him in a circle. Semblably Hipparchus the son of Pisistratus, a little before his death, dreamt that Venus out of a certain vial sprinkled blood upon his face. The familiar friends likewise of king Ptolomaeus, surnamed Ceraunos, that is to say, Lightning, thought verily in a dream that they saw Seleucus accuse and indite him judicially before wild wolves, and greedy geires that were his judges, where he dealt and distributed a great quantity of flesh among his enemies. Pausanias' also at Byzantium, sent for Cleonice, a virgin and gentlewoman free borne, of a worshipful house; intending perforce to lie with her all night, and abuse her body; but being half a sleep when she came to his bed, he awakened in a fright, and suspecting that some enemies were about to surprise him, killed her outright; whereupon ever after he dreamt ordinarily, that he saw her, and heard her pronounce this speech: 
To judgement seat, approach thou near I say,  
Wrong dealing is to men most hurtful ay.  Now when this vision as it should seem ceased not to appear unto him night by night; he embarked and sailed into Heraclea, to a place where the spirits and ghosts of those that are departed be raised and called up, where after he had offered certain propitiatory sacrifices, and powered forth funeral effusions, which they use to cast upon the tombs of the dead; he wrought so effectually, that the ghost of Cleonice appeared; and then she said unto him, that so soon as he was arrived at Lacedaemon, he should have repose and an end of all his troubles: and so in very truth, no sooner was he thither come, but he ended his life and died. If therefore the soul had no sense after it is departed out of the body, but cometh to nothing; and that death were the final end and expiration aswell of thankful recompenses, as of painful punishments, a man might say of wicked persons who are quickly punished, and die soon after that they have committed any misdeeds; that God dealeth very gently and mildly with them: For if continuance of time, and long life bringeth to wicked persons no other harm; yet a man may at leastwise say thus much of them, that having known by proof, and found by experience, that injustice is an unfrutefull, barren, and thankless thing, bringing forth no good thing at all, nor aught that deserveth to be esteemed after many travels and much pains taken with it; yet the very feeling and remorse of conscience for their sins, disquieteth and troubleth the mind, and turneth it upside down. Thus we read of king Lysmachus, that being forced through extreme thirst, he delivered his own person, and his whole army into the hands of the Geteses; and when being their prisoner, he had drunk and quenched his thirst, he said thus: O what a misery is this, and wretched case of mine, that for so short and transitory a pleasure, I have deprived myself of so great a kingdom, and all my royal estate. True it is, that of all things it is an exceeding hard matter to resist the necessity of a natural passion; but when as a man for covetousness of money, or desire of glory, authority, & credit among his countrymen and fellow-citizens, or for fleshly pleasures, falleth to commit a foul, wicked, and execrable fact, and then afterwards in time, when as the ardent thirst and furious heat of his passion is past, seeing that there abide and continue with him, the filthy, shameful, and perilous perturbations only of injustice and sinfulness; but nothing at all that is profitable, necessary, or delightsome; is it not very likely and probable, that he shall eftsoons, and oftentimes recall into this thought, and consideration? how being seduced and carried away by the means of vainglory, or dishonest pleasures, (things base, vile, and illiberal) he hath perverted and overthrown the most beautiful and excellent gifts that men have, to wit, right, equity, justice, and piety; and in stead thereof, hath filled and polluted his life, with shame, trouble, and danger? For like as Simonides was wont to say in mirth: That he found one coffer of silver and money always full; but that other of savours, thanks, and benefits, evermore empty; even so wicked men, when they come to examine and peruse aright the vice that is in themselves, they find it presently (for one pleasure which is accomplained with a little vain and glozing delight) void altogether and destitute of hope; but fully replenished with fears, cares, anxieties, the unpleasant remembrance of misdemeanours past, suspicion of future events, and distrust for the present: much after the manner as we do hear lady Ino in the theatres, repenting of those foul facts which she had committed, and speaking these words upon the stage: 
How should I now, my friends and ladies dear  
Begin to keep the house of Athamas,  
Since that all while that I have lived here,  
Nought hath been done by me that decent was?  Or thus: 
How may I keep, o ladies dear alas,  
The house again of my lord Athamas,  
As who therein had not committed ought  
Of those lewd parts which I have done and wrought.  For semblably it is meet that the mind and soul of every sinful and wicked person should ruminate and discourse of this point in itself after this manner: After what sort should I forget and put out of remembrance the unjust and lewd parts which I have committed? how should I cast off the remorse of conscience from me? and from henceforth being to turn over a new leaf, & lead another life: for surely with those in whom wickedness beareth sway, & is predominant, there is nothing assured, nothing firm & constant, nothing sincere and sound; unless haply we will say and maintain; that wicked persons and unjust, were some Sages and wise philosophers. But we are to think, that where avarice reigneth & excessive concupiscence, and love of pleasure, or where extreme envy dwelleth, accompanied with spite and malice; there if you mark and look well about, you shall find superstition lying hidden among, sloth and unwillingness to labour, fear of death, lightness and quick mutability in changing of mind and affection, together with vain glory proceeding of arrogancy: those who blame them, they fear, such as praise them, they dread and suspect; as knowing well how they are injured and wronged by their deceitful semblance, and yet be the greatest enemies of the wicked, for that they commend so readily, and with affection, those whom they suppose, and take to be honest: for in vice and sin (like as in bad iron) the hardness is but weak and rotten, & the stiffness also brittle & easy to be broken: and therefore wicked men (learning in process of time, better to know themselves what they are) after they come once to the full consideration thereof, are displeased, and discontented, they hate themselves, and detest their own lewd life: for it is not likely that if a naughty person otherwise (though not in the highest degree, who hath regard to deliver again a pawn or piece of money left in his hands to keep; who is ready to be surety for his familiar friend, & upon a bravery and glorious mind, hath given largesses, and is priest to maintain & defend his country, yea, and to augment and advance the good estate thereof) soon repent and immediately be grieved for that which he hath done, by reason that his mind is so mutable, or his will so apt to be seduced by an opinion or conceit of his: considering that even some of those who have had the honour to be received by the whole body of the people in open theatre, with great applause and clapping of hands, incontinently fall to sigh to themselves, and groan again, so soon as avarice returneth secretly, in place of glorious ambition: those that kill and sacrifice men to usurp and set up their tyrannies, or to maintain and compass some conspiracies, as Apollodorus did; circumvent and defraud their friends of their goods and moneys, which was the practice of Glaucus, the son of Epicydes, should never repent their misdeeds, nor grow into a detestation of themselves, nor yet be displeased with that they have done: For mine own part, I am of this opinion (if it be lawful so to say) That all those who commit such impieties and misdemeanours, have no need either of God or man to punish them; for their own life only being so corrupt, and wholly depraved and troubled with all kind of wickedness, is sufficient to plague and torment them to the full: But consider (quoth I) whether this discourse seem not already to proceed farther, and be drawn out longer than the time will permit. Then Timon answered: It may well so be, if peradventure we regard the length and prolixity of that which followeth and remaineth to be discussed; as for myself, I am now ready to rise as it were out of an ambush, and to come as a fresh and new champion with my last doubt and question, forasmuch as me thinks, we have debated enough already upon the former: for this would I have you to think, that although we are silent and say nothing, yet we complain as Euripides did, who boldly challenged and reproached the gods, for that 
The parent's sin and their iniquity,  
They turn on children and posterity.  For say that themselves, who have committed a fault, were punished, then is there no more need to chastise others, who have not offended, considering it were no reason at all to punish twice for one fault the delinquents themselves: or be it so, that through negligence they having omitted the punishment of wicked persons and offenders, they would long after make them to pay for it who are innocent; surely they do not well, by this injustice to make amends for the said negligence. Lke as it is reported of Aesopc, who in times past came hither to this city, being sent from king Croesus with a great sum of gold, for to 〈◊〉 unto god Apollo in magnificent wise, yea, and to distribute among all the citizens of Delphos, 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  four pounds a piece: but it fortuned so, that he fell out with the inhabitants of the city upon some occasion, and was exceeding angry with them, insomuch as he performed in deed the sacrifice accordingly, but the rest of the money which he should have dealt among the people, be sent back again to the city of Sardis, as if the Delphians had not been worthy to enjoy the king's liberality; whereupon they taking great indignation, laid sacrilege to his charge, for deteming (in such sort) that sacred money; and in truth, after they had condemned him thereof, they pitched him down headlong from that high rock, which they call Hyampia: for which act of theirs, god Apollo was so highly displeased, that he sent upon their land sterility and barrenness, besides many and sundry strange and unknowen diseases among them, so as they were constrained in the end, to go about in all the public feasts and general astemblies of the Greeks, of purpose, to make proclamation by sound of trumpet: That whosoever he was (kinsman or friend of Aesop) that would require satisfaction for his death, should come forth, and exact what penalty he would desire: and thus they ceased not continually to call upon them; until at length, and namely, in the third generation after, there presented himself a certain Samian, named Idmon, who was nothing at all of kin to Aesop, but only one of their posterity, who at the first had bought him for a slave in open market, within the isle of Samos; and the Delphians having in some measure made satisfaction and recompense unto him, were immediately delivered from their calamities: and it is said, that from that time forward, the execution of sacrilegious persons, was translated from the foresaid rock old unto the cliff of Nauplia. And verily, even those, who of all others most admire Alexander the Great & celebrate his memorial, of which number we also confess ourselves to be, can in no wise approve that which he did unto the Branchides, when he razed their city to the very ground, & put all the inhabitants thereof to the sword, without respect either of age or of sex, for that their ancestors in old time had betrayed and delivered up by treason, the temple of Miletum. And Agathocles the tyrant of Syracuse, who laughed and scoffed at the men of Corphu: for when they demanded of him the occasion why he forraied their isle, made them this answer: Because (quoth he) your forefathers in times past, received and entertained Ulysses. Semblably, when the islanders of Ithaca made complaint unto him of his soldiers, for driving away their sheep: Why? (quoth he) your king, when he came one time into our island, not only took away our sheep, but also put out the eye even of our shepherd. Think you not then that Apollo dealt more absurdly and unjustly than all these, in destroying the Pheneotes at this day, in stopping up the mouth of that bottomless pit that was wont to receive and soak up all the waters which now do overflow their whole country; because that a thousand years ago (by report) Hercules having taken away from the Delphians, that sacred trefeets, from which the oracles were delivered, brought the same to the city Pheneum? And as for the Sybarites, he answered them directly: That their miseries should then cease, when they had appeased the ire of Juno Leucadia, by three sundry mortalities. Certes, long ago it is not, since that the Locrians desisted and gave over sending every year their daughters, virgins, unto Troth, 
Who there went barefoot, and did serve all day from morn to night,  
In habit of poor wretched slaves, in no apparel dight;  
No coif, no call, nor honest veil, were they allowed to wear  
In decent Wise, for womanhood, though aged now they were:  
Resembling such as never rest, but Pallas temple sweep,  
And sacred altar daily cleanse, where they do alway keep.  and all for the lascivious wantonness and incontinence of Ajax. How can this be either just or reasonable, considering that we blame the very Thracians, for that (as the report goes) they use still (even at this day) to beat their wives in revenge of Orpheus death? Neither do we commend the barbarous people, inhabiting along the river Po, who (as it is said) do yet mourn and wear black, for Phaeton his fall. Yet (in my conceit) it is a thing rather sottish and ridiculous, that whereas the men who lived in Phaeton his time, made no regard of his ruin: those that came sive (yea, and ten) ages after his woeful calamity, should begin to change their raiment for his sake, and bewail his death: for surely, herein there is nothing at all to be noted, but mere folly; no harm, no danger or absurdity (otherwise) doth it contain. But what reason is it, that the wrath and judgement of the gods, hidden (upon a sudden) at the very time of some heinous fact committed (as the property is of some rivers) should break out, and show itself afterwards, upon others, yea, and end with some extreme calamities? He had no sooner paused awhile, and stayed the current of his speech: but I doubting whereto his words would tend, and fearing lest he should proceed to utter more absurdities and greater follies, presently made this reply upon him: And think you, sir, indeed, that all is true that you have said? What if all (quoth he) be not true, but some part thereof only, think you not yet, that the same difficulty in the question still remaineth? Even so peradventure (quoth I) it fareth with those who are in an extreme burning fever, who whether they have more or less clothes upon them, feel evermore within them the same excessive heat of the ague; yet for to comfort and refresh them a little, and to give them some ease, it is thought good to diminish their clothes, and take off some of them. But if you are not so disposed, let it alone, you may do your pleasure; howbeit, this one thing I will say unto you, that the most part of these examples resemble fables and fictions, devised for pleasure: Call to mind therefore and remembrance, the feast celebrated of late in their honour, who sometime received the gods into their houses, and gave them entertainment; also that beautiful & honourable portion set by apart, which by the voice of an herald was published expressly to be for the posterity descended from Pindarus, and record with yourself how honourable and pleasant a thing this seemeth unto you. And who is there (quoth he) that would not take pleasure to see this pre-eminence and preference of honour so natural, so plain, and so ancient, after the manner of the old Greeks, unless he be such an one, as (according to the same Pindarus) 
Whose heart all black of metal forged twis  
And by cold flame, made stiff and hardened is.   
I omit (quoth I) to speak of the like solemn commendation published in Sparta, which ensued ordinarily after the Lesbian song, or canticle in the honour and memorial of that ancient Terpander: for it seemeth, that there is the same reason of them both: But you who are of the race of Opheltes, and think yourself worthy to be preferred before all others, not Baeotians only, but Phocaeans also; and that in regard of your stockfather Daiphantus, have assisted and seconded me, when I maintained before the Lycormians and Satilaians (who claimed the privilege and honour of wearing coronets due by our laws and statutes unto the progeny of Hercules) That such dignities and prerogatives ought inviolably to be preserved and kept for those indeed who descend in right line from Hercules, in regard of his beneficial demerits which in times past he heaped upon the Greeks, and yet during his life, was not thought worthy of reward and recompense: You have (quoth he) revived the memory of a most pleasant question to be debated, and the same marvellous well beseeming the profession of Philosophy: But I pray you my very good friend (quoth I unto him,) forbear this vehement and accusatory humour of yours, and be not angry, if haply you see that some because they be borne of lewd and wicked parents, are punished; or else do not rejoice so much, nor be ready to praise, in case you see nobility also of birth to be so highly honoured: for if we stand upon this point, and dare avow, that recompense of virtue ought by right and reason to continue in the line and posterity; we are by good consequence to make this account, that punishment likewise should not stay and cease together with misdeeds committed, but reciprocally fall upon those that are descended of misdoers and malefactors: for he who willingly seeth the progeny of Cimon, honoured at Athens, and chose is offended and displeased in his heart, to see the race of Lachares, or Ariston banished & driven out of the city; (he I say) seemeth to be too soft, tender, and passing effeminate, or rather to speak more properly, over-contentious and quarrelsome, even against the gods, complaining and murmuring of the one side; if the children, & children's children of an impious & wicked person do prosper in the world: and chose is no less given to blame and find fault, if he do see the posterity of wicked and ungracious men to be held under, plagued, or altogether destroyed from the face of the earth; accusing the gods if the children of a naughty man be afflicted even as much as if they had honest persons to their parents: But as for these reasons alleged, make you this reckoning, that they be bulwarks and ramparts for you, opposed against such bitter & sharp accusers as these be. But now taking in hand again the end (as it were) of a clew of thread, or a bottom of yearn, to direct us as in a dark place, and where there be many cranks, turnings and windings to and fro (I mean the matter of gods secret judgements) let us conduct and guide ourselves gently and warily, according to that which is most likely & probable, considering that even of those things which we daily manage, and do ourselves, we are not able to set down an undoubted certainty: as for example; who can yield a sound reason, wherefore we cause and bid the children of those parents who died either of the phthisic and consumption of the lungs, or of the dropsy, to sit with their feet drenched in water, until the dead corpse be fully burned in the funeral fire? For an opinion there is, that by this means the said maladies shall not pass unto them as hereditary, nor take hold of their bodies? as also, what the cause should be, that if a goat hold in her mouth the herb called Eryngites, that is to say, Seaholly, the whole flock will stand still, until such time as the goatherd come and take the said herb out of her mouth? Other hidden properties there be, which by secret influences and passages from one to another, work strange effects, and incredible, as well speedily, as in longer tract of time: and in very truth, we wonder more at the intermission and stay of time between, than we do of the distance of place, and yet there is greater occasion to marvel thereat: as namely, that a pestilent malady which began in Aethiopia, should reign in the city of Athens, and fill every street and corner thereof, in such sort, as Pericles died, and Thucydides was sick thereof; than that when the Phocaeans and Sybarits had committed some heinous sins, the punishment therefore should fall upon their children, & go through their posterity? For surely these powers and hidden properties have certain relations and correspondences from the last to the first; the cause whereof, although it be unknowen to us, yet it ceaseth not secretly to bring forth her proper effects. But there seemeth to be very apparent reason of justice, that public vengeance from above should fall upon cities many a year after; for that a city is one entire thing, and a continued body as it were, like unto a living creature, which goeth not beside or out of itself for any mutations of ages, nor in tract and continuance of time, changing first into one, and then into another by succession, but is always uniform and like itself, receiving evermore, and taking upon it, all the thank for well doing, or the blame for misdeeds, of whatsoever it doth or hath done in common, so long as the society that linketh & holdeth it together maintaineth her unity: for to make many, yea & innumerable cities of one, by dividing it according to space of time, were as much as to go about to make of one man many, because he is now become old, who before was a young youth, & in times passed also a very stripling or springal: or else to speak more properly, this resembleth the devises of Epicharmus, whereupon was invented that manner of Sophisters arguing, which they call the Croissant argument; for thus they reason: He that long since borrowed or took up money, now oweth it not, because he is no more himself, but become another: & he that yesterday was invited to a feast, cometh this day as an unbidden guest, considering that he is now another man. And verily, diverse ages make greater difference in each one of us, than they do commonly in cities and States: for he that had seen the city of Athens thirty years ago, and came to visit it at this day, would know it to be altogether the very same that then it was; insomuch as the manners, customs, motions, games, pastimes, serious affairs, favours of the people, their pleasures, displeasures and anger at this present, resemble wholly those in ancient time: whereas if a man be any long time out of sight, hardly his very familiar friend shall be able to know him, his countenance will be so much changed; and as touching his manners and behaviour, which alter and change so soon upon every occasion, by reason of all sorts of labour, travel, accidents and laws, there is such variety and so great alteration, that even he who is ordinarily acquainted and conversant with him, would marvel to see the strangeness and novelty thereof; and yet the man is held and reputed still the same, from his nativity unto his dying day: and in like case, a city remaineth always one and the self same; in which respect we deem it great reason, that it should participate aswell the blame and reproach of ancestors, as enjoy their glory and puissance, unless we make no care to cast all things in the river of Heraclitus, into which (by report) no one thing entereth twice, for that it hath a property to alter all things and change their nature. Now if it be so, that a city is an united and continued thing in itself, we are to think no less of a race and progeny, which dependeth upon one and the same stock, producing and bringing forth a certain power and communication of qualities, and the same doth reach and extend to all those who descend from it: neither is the thing engendered of the same nature that a piece of work is, wrought by art, which incontinently is separate from the workman, for that it is made by him, and not of him; whereas chose, that which is naturally engendered, is form of the very substance of that which engendered it, in such sort as it doth carry about it some part thereof, which by good right deserveth either to be punished or to be honoured even in itself. And were it not, that I might be thought to jest & speak in game and not in good earnest, I would aver and pronounce assuredly, that the Athenians offered more wrong and abuse unto the brazen statue of Cassander, which they caused to be defaced and melted; and likewise the dead corpse of Dionysius suffered more injury at the hands of the Syracusians, which after his death they caused to be carried out of their confines, than if they had proceeded in rigour of justice against their of spring and posterity; for the said image of Cassander did not participate one whit of his nature; and the soul of Dionysius was departed a good while before out of his body: whereas Niseus, Apollocrates, Antipater, Philip & all such other, descended from vicious & wicked parents, retained still the chief and principal part which is in them inbred, and remaineth not quiet, idle and doing nothing, but such as whereby they live and are nourished, whereby they negotiate, reason and discourse: neither ought it to seem strange and incredible, that being of their issue, they should likewise retain their qualities and inclinations. In sum, I say and affirm, that like as in Physic, whatsoever is wholesome and profitable, the same is also just; and worthy were he to be laughed at and mocked, that calleth him unjust, who for the Sciatica or disease of the hucklebone, would cauterize the thumb; or when the liver is impostumate, scarify the belly; and if kine or oxen be tender and soft in the clees, anoint the extremities and tips of their horns; even so he deserveth to be scorned and reproved as a man of a shallow conceit, who in chastisement of vice, esteemeth any other thing just, than that which may cure and heal the same; or who is offended and angry, if a medicine be applied, or a course of Physic used into some parts for curing others; as they do who open a vein for to heal the inflammation of the eyes: such an one (I say) seemeth to see and perceive no further than his own outward senses lead him, and remembreth not well, that a schoolmaster often times in whipping one of his scholars, keepeth all the rest in awe and good order; and a great captain and general of the field, in putting to death for exemplary justice, one soldier in every ten, reformeth all beside, and reduceth them to their duty; and even so there happen not only to one part by another, but also to one soul by another, certain dispositions, aswell to worse and impairing, as to better and amendment, yea, and much more than to one body by the means of another; for that there, to wit, in a body, there must (by all likelihood) be one impression and the same alteration; but here, the soul (which often times is led and carried away by imagination, either to be confident, or distrustful and timorous) fareth better or worse accordingly. And as I was going forward to speak, Olympiacus interrupting my speech: By these words of yours (quoth he) you seem to set down as a supposal, a subject matter of great consequence and discourse, to wit, the immortality of the soul, as if it remained still after the separation from the body: Yea mary (quoth he) & even this have I inferred by that which you do now grant, or rather have granted heretofore; for our discourse hath been from the beginning prosecuted to this presupposed point: That God dealeth & distributeth to every of us according as we have deserved. And how (quoth he) doth this follow necessarily, that in case God doth behold all humaneaffaires, & dispose of every particular thing here upon earth, the souls therefore should become either immortal & incorruptible, or else continue in their entire estate long after death? O good sir (quoth I) be content; is God (think you) so base minded, or employed in so small & trifling matters, and having so little to do, that (when we have no divine thing in us, nor aught that in any sort resembleth him, or is firm and durable, but that we continually decay, fade and perish like unto the leaves of trees (as Homer saith) and that in a small time) he should all on a sudden make so great account of us (like to those women, who cherish and keep the gardens (as they say) of Adonis within brittle pots and pans of earth) as to make our souls, for one day to flourish and look green within our fleshly body, which is not capable of any strong root of life, and then within a while after, suffer them to be extinguished and to die upon the least occasion in the world? But if you please, let us pass other gods, and consider we a little this our God only, him I mean, who is honoured and invocated in this place, namely, whether he (knowing that the souls of the dead are presently exhaled and vanished away to nothing, like unto a vapour or smoke, breathing forth of our bodies) doth ordain incontinently oblations to be offered, and propitiatory sacrifices to be made for the departed? and whether he demand not great honours, worship and veneration in the memorial of the dead? or whether he doth it to abuse and deceive those that believe accordingly? For I assure you, for my part I will never grant that the soul dieth, but remaineth still after death, unless some one or other (as by report Hercules did in old time) come first and take away the prophetical stool or trefeets of Pythius, and destroy the oracle for ever rendering any more answers, as it hath delivered even unto these our days, such as by report was given in old time to Corax the Naxian in these words: 
Impiety great it is for to believe,  
That souls do die, and not for ever live.  Then Patrocles: What prophecy (quoth he) was this? and who was that Corax? for surely the thing itself, & that very name, be both of them strange and unknowen to me: That cannot be (quoth I) but think better of the matter; for it is long of me who have used his surname in stead of his proper name; for I mean him who flew Archilochus in battle, whose name indeed was Callondas, but men surnamed him Corax: This man was at the first rejected by the prophetess Pythia, as a murderer who had killed a worthy parsonage consecrated & devoted unto the Muses; but afterwards having used certain humble prayers & requests, together with diverse allegations of excuse, pretending to justify his fact, in the end he was enjoined by the oracle, to go to the house & habitation of Tettix, & there by certain expiatory sacrifices & oblations, to appease & pacify the ghost of Archilochus; now this house of Tettix was the cape or promontory Taenarus; for it is said, that Tettix the Candian, arriving with his fleet in times past, at the head of Taenarus; there built a city, & inhabited it, near unto the place where the manner was to conjure spirits, & raise the ghosts of those that were departed: The semblable answer being made to those of Sparta, namely, that they should make means to pacify the soul of Pausanias, they sent as far as into Italy for sacrificers exorcists, who had the skill to conjure spirits, & they with their sacrifices chased his ghost out of the temple: This is one reason therefore (quoth I) that doth confirm and prove, that both the world is governed by the providence of God, and also, that the souls of men do continue after death: neither is it possible that we should admit the one, & deny the other: If it be so then that the soul of man hath a subsistence & being after death; it is more probable & soundeth to greater reason, that it should then either taste of pain for punishment, or enjoy honour for reward: for during this life here upon earth, it is in continual combat in manner of a champion; but after all combats performed & finished, than she receiveth according to her deserts. Now as touching those honours or punishments which it receiveth in that other world, 〈◊〉 by herself, and separate from the body, the same concern and touch us nothing 〈◊〉, who remain alive; for either we know them not, or give no belief thereto; but such as be either conferred or inflicted upon their children or posterity, for that they be apparent and evident to the world, those do contain and curb wicked men, that they do not execute their malicious designs: And considering that there is no punishment more ignominous, or that cometh nearer to the quick, and toucheth the heart more, than for men to see their offspring, or those that depend upon them, afflicted for their sake & punished for their faults; & that the soul of a wicked person, enemy to God and to all good laws, seeth after his death, not his images & statues, or any ensigns of honour overthrown, but his own children, his friends & kinsfolk ruinate, undone & persecuted with great miseries & tribulations, suffering grievous punishment for it; there is no man I think, but would choose rather to forego all the honours of Jupiter, if he might have them, than to become again either unjust or intemperate & lascivious. And for the better testimony & truth hereof, I could relate unto you a narration which was delivered unto me not long since, but that I am afraid you will take it for a fabuolus tale, devised to make sport: In regard whereof I hold it better to allege unto you nothing but substantial reasons, and arguments grounded upon very good likelihood and probability. Not so (quoth Olympiacus) in any case; but rehearse unto us the narration which you speak of: And when others also requested the same at my hands: Suffer me yet first (quoth I) to set abroad those reasons which carry some good show of truth, and then afterwards, if you think well of it, I will recite the fable also, if so be it is a fable: As for Bion when he saith, that God in punishing the children of wicked men and sinners for their fathers, is much more ridiculous than the physician, who for the malady of father or grandsire, goeth about to minister medicine unto the child or nephew; surely this comparison faulteth herein, that things be partly semblable, and in part diverse and unlike; for if one be cured of a disease by medicinable means, this doth not by and by heal the malady or indisposition of another: For never was there man yet being sick of a fever, or troubled with bleered and impostumate eyes, became cured by seeing an ointment applied, or a salve laid unto another: But chose, the punishment or execution of justice upon malefactors, is for this cause done publicly before all the world, that justice being ministered with reason and discretion, should effect thus much, namely to keep in, and retain some by the chastisement and correction of others: But that point wherein the foresaid comparison of Bion answereth to our matter in question, himself never understood; for many times it falleth out, that a man being fallen sick of a dangerous disease, how beit not incurable, yet through his intemperance and disorder afterwards, suffereth his body to grow into greater weakness and decay, until at last he dieth: whereupon his son after him being not actually surprised with the same disease, but only disposed thereto, a learned physician, some trusty friend, or an expert annointer, and master of exercises, perceiving so much, or rather indeed a kind friend and gentle master & governor, who hath a careful eye over him, taketh him in hand, bringeth him to an exquisite manner of austere diet, cutteth off all superssuity of viands, dainty cates, & banqueting dishes, debarreth him of unseasonable drink, and the company of women, purgeth him continually with sovereign medicines, keepeth his body down by ordinary labour and exercise, and so doth dissipate and dispatch the first beginning and small inclination to a dangerous disease, in not permitting it to have head & to grow forward to any greatness: And is not this an usual practice among us to admonish those who are borne of sickly and diseased parents, to take good heed unto themselves, and not to neglect their indisposition, but betimes and even at the very first to endeavour for to remove and rid away the root of such inbred maladies, which they bring with them into the world? for surely it is an easy matter to expel and drive out, yea and to conquer and overcome the same, by prevention in due time: Yes verily answered they all. Well then (quoth I) we commit no absurdity, nor do any ridiculous thing, but that which is right, necessary and profitable, when we ordain and prescribe for the children of those who are subject to the falling sickness, to madness, frenzy and the gout, exercises of the body, diets, regiments of life, and medicines appropriate for those maladies, not when they are sick thereof, but by way of precaution, to prevent that they should not fall into them: for the body engendered of a corrupt and diseased body, neither needeth nor deserveth any punishment, but physic rather by good medicines and careful attendance; which diligence and heedful regard, if any one upon wantonness, nicety and delicacy do call chastisement, because it depriveth a man of pleasures and delights, or haply inferreth some prick of dolour and pain, let him go as he is, we pass not for him. Now if it be expedient to cure and medicine carefully one body issued and descended from another that is corrupt, is it meet and convenient to let go the resemblance of an hereditary vice, which beginneth to bud and sprout in a young man, to stay and suffer it (I say) to grow on still, burgeon and spread into all affections, until it appear in the view of the whole world? for as Pindarus saith: 
The foolish heart doth bring forth from within,  
Her hidden fruit, corrupt and full of sin.  And think you not that in this point God is wiser than the Poet Hesiodus, who admonisheth us and giveth counsel in this wise: 
No children get, if thou be newly come  
From doleful grave or heavy funeral:  
But spare not when thou art returned home  
From solemn feast of God's celestial.  as if he would induce men to beget their children, when they be jocund, fresh and merry, for that the generation of them received the impression, not of virtue and vice only, but also of joy, sadness, & all other qualities: howbeit, this is not a work of human wisdom (as Hesiodus supposeth) but of God himself, to discern & foreknow perfectly either the conformities or the diversities of men's natures, drawn from their progenitors, before such time as they break forth into some great enormities, whereby their passions & affections be discovered what they are: for the young whelps of bears, wolves, apes & such like creatures, show presently their natural inclination, even whiles they be very young, because it is not disguised or masked with any thing; but the nature of man casting itself, and settling upon manners, customs, opinions & laws, concealeth often times the ill that it hath, but doth imitate & counterfeit that which is good and honest; in such sort as it may be thought either to have done away clean all the stain, blemish & imperfection of vices inbred with it, or else to have hidden it a long time, being covered with the vail of craft & subtlety, so as we are not able, or at leastwise have much ado to perceive their malice, by the sting, bit & prick of every several vice. And to say a truth, herein are we mightily deceived, that we think men are become unjust then only and not before; when they do injury; or dissolute, when they play some insolent and loose part; cowardly minded, when they run out of the field; as if a man should have the conceit, that the sting in a scorpion was then bred & not before, when he gave the first prick; or the poison in vipers was engendered then only, when they bit or stung; which surely were great simplicity and mere childishness: for a wicked person becometh not then such an one, even when he appeareth so, and not before; but he hath the rudiments and beginnings of vice and naughtiness imprinted in himself, but he showeth and useth the same, when he hath means, fit occasion, good opportunity, and might answerable to his mind; like as the thief spieth his time to rob, and the tyrant to violate and break the laws. But God, who is not ignorant of the nature and inclination of every one, as who searcheth more into the secrets of the heart and mind than into the body, never waiteth and stayeth until violence beperformed by strength of hand; impudency bewrayed by malapert speech; or intemperance and wantonness perpetrated by the natural members and privy parts, ere he punish: for he is not revenged of an unrighteous man, for any harm and wrong that he hath received by him; nor angry with a thief or robber, for any forcible violence which he hath done unto him; ne yet hateth an adulterer, because he hath suffered abuse or injury by his means; but many times he chastiseth by way of medicine, a person that committeth adultery; a covetous wretch and a breaker of the laws; whereby otherwhiles he riddeth them of their vice, and preventeth in them (as it were) the falling sickness before the sit surprise them. We were erewhile offended and displeased, that wicked persons were over-late and too slowly punished; and now discontented we are, & complain, for that God doth repress & chastise the evil habit and vicious disposition of some, before the act committed; never considering and knowing, that full often a future mischief is worse and more to be feared, than the present; and that which is secret and hidden, more dangerous than that which is open and apparent. Neither are we able to comprehend and conceive by reason, the causes wherefore it is better otherwhiles to tolerate and suffer some persons to be quiet, who have offanded and transgressed already; and to prevent or stay others, before they have executed that which they intent: like as (in very truth) we know not the reason, why medicines and physical drogues (being not meet for some who are sick) be good and wholesome for others, though they are not actually diseased, yet haply in a more dangerous estate than the former. Hereupon it is, that the gods turn not upon the children and posterity, all the faults of their fathers and ancestors: for if it happen, that of a bad father there descend a good son, like as a sickly and crazy man may beget a sound, strong and healthful child, such an one is exempt from the pain and punishment of the whole house and race, as being translated out of a vicious family, and adopted into another: but, that a young son (who shall conform himself to the hereditary vice of his parents) is liable to the punishment of their sinful life, aswell as he his bound to pay their debts by right of succession and inheritance. For Antigonus was not punished for the sins of his father Demetrius; nor (to speak of lewd persons) Phileus for Augeas, ne yet Nestor for Neleus his sake; who albeit they were descended from most wicked fathers, yet they proved themselves right honest: but all such, as whose nature loved, embraced and practised that which came unto them by descent and parentage; in those (I say) divine justice is wont to persecute and punish that which resembleth vice and sin: for like as the werts, black moles, spots and freckles of fathers, not appearing at all upon their own children's skin, begin afterwards to put forth and show themselves in their nephews, to wit, the children of their sons and daughters: And there was a Grecian woman, who having brought forth a black infant, and being troubled therefore, and judicially accused for adultery, as if she had been conceived by a blacke-moore, she pleaded and was found to have been herself descended from an Aethiopian, in the fourth degree removed: As also it is known for certain, that of the children of Python the Nisibian who was descended from the race and line of those old Spartans', who were the first lords and founders of Thebes, the youngest, and he that died not long since, had upon his body the print and form of a spear, the very true and natural mark of that ancient line; so long and after the revolution of so many years; there sprang and came up again as it were out of the deep, this resemblance of the stock and kindred: even so it falleth out many times, that the first generations and descents, do hide and after a sort drown those qualities and affections of the mind which are affected and appropriate to some kindred; but afterwards, at one time or other, put them forth, and drive them outward to appear in those that follow, and the same do represent that which is proper to each race, as well in virtue as vice. Now when I had finished this speech, I held my peace; and with that Olympicus smiled and said: We would not have you to think (quoth he) that we commend you, as having sufficiently proved your discourse by demonstration, lest we might seem to have forgotten or to neglect the tale or narration which you promised to relate unto us: Mary then will we give our sentence and opinion thereof, when we shall likewise have heard the same. Thus therefore I began again to enter into speech, and follow my intended purpose. There was one Thespesius. of the city of Soli in Cilicia, a great friend and familiar of Protogenes, who sometime here conversed with us, who having led his youthful days very loosely, within a small time had wasted and consumed all his goods, whereby he was fallen for a certain space to extreme want and necessity, which brought him also to a lewd life, insomuch as he proved a very bad man; and repenting his former follies and dispense, began to make shifts, and seek all means to recover his state again; much like unto those loose and lascivious persons, who making no account of their lawful and espoused wives, nor caring at all for them whiles they have them; afterwards, when they have cast them off, and put them away, seeing them wedded unto others, solicit them to yield their bodies, & give the attempt to force and corrupt them most wickedly: Thus he forbore no lewd, indirect, and shameful practices, so they turned to his gain and profit, and within a little while, he got together not great store of goods, but procured to himself a bad name of wicked dealing, much shame, and infamy: But the thing that made him famous, and so much spoken of; was the answer delivered unto him from the oracle of Amphilochus, for thither had he sent, as it should seem, to know whether he should live the rest of his life better than he had done before? Now the oracle returned this answer: That it would be better with him after he was dead; which in some sort happened unto him not long after: For being fallen from an high place with his head forward, without any limb broken, or wound made; only with the fall, the breath went out of his body, and there he lay for dead; and three days after, preparation being made for his funerals, carried forth he was to be buried; but behold all on a sudden, he revived, and quickly came to himself again; whereupon there ensued such a change and alteration in his life, that it was wonderful; for by the report and testimony of all the people of Cicilia, they never knew man of a better conscience in all his affairs and dealings, whiles he did negotiate and dwell among them; none more devout and religious to godward, none more fast and sure to his friends, none bitterer to his enemies; insomuch, as they who were most inward with him, and had kept his company familiarly a long time, were very desirous & earnest with him, to know the cause of so strange and sudden alteration; as being 〈◊〉 that so great amendment of life (so loose & dissolute as it was before) could not come by mere chance and casualty, (as in truth it did,) according as himself made relation unto the said Protogenes, and other such familiar friends of his; men of good worth & reputation; for thus he reported unto them & said: That when the spirit was out of his body, he fared at the first (as he thought himself) like unto a pilot, flung out of his ship, and plunged into the bottom of the sea; so wonderfully was he astonished at this change; but afterwards when as by little & little he was raised up again and recovered, so that he was ware that he drew his breath fully, and at liberty, he looked round about him, for his soul seemed as if it had been one eye fully open; but he beheld nothing that he was wont to view, only he thought that he saw planets and other stars of an huge bigness, distant an infinite way a sunder, and yet for multitude innumerable, casting from them a wonderful light, with a colour admirable, and the same glittering and shining most resplendent, with a power and force incredible, in such sort, as the said soul being gently and easily carried, as in a chariot, with this splendour and radiant light, as it were upon the sea in a calm, went quickly whether soever she would; but letting pass a great number of things worthy there to be seen; he said that he beheld how the solves of those that were departed this life, as they rose up and ascended, resembled certain small fiery bubbles, and the air gave way and place unto them as they mounted on high; but anon when these bubbles by little and little braced in sunder, the souls came forth of them, and appeared in the form and shape of men and women, very light and nimble, as discharged from all poise to bear them down: howbeit, they did not move and bestir themselves all alike and after one sort; for some leapt with a wonderful agility, and mounted directly and plumb upright; others turned round about together like unto bobins or spindle's, one while up and another while down, so as their motion was mixed and confused, and so linked together, that unneath for a good while and with much ado, they could be stayed and severed asunder. As for these souls and spirits, many of them he knew not (as he said) who they were; but taking knowledge of two or three among them who had been of his old acquaintance, he pressed forward to approach near and to speak unto them: but they neither heard him speak, nor in deed were in their right senses; but being after a sort astonished and beside themselves, refused once to be either seen or felt, wandering and flying to and fro apart at the first; but afterwards, encountering and meeting with a number of others disposed like unto themselves, they closed and clung unto them, and thus linked and coupled together, they moved here and there disorderly without discretion, and were carried every way to no purpose, uttering I wot not what voices, after a manner of yelling or a blacke-sanctus, not significant nor distinct, but as if they were cries mingled with lamentable plaints and dreadful fear. Yet there were others to be seen aloft in the upmost region of the air, jocund, gay and pleasant, so kind also an courteous, that often times they would seem to approach near one unto another, turning away from those other that were tumultuous and disorderly; and as it should seem, they showed some discontentment, when they were enlarged and huddled close together; but well appaied and much pleased, when they were enlarged and severed at their liberty. Among these (by his own saying) he had a sight of a soul belonging to a kinsman and familiar friend of his, & yet he knew him not certainly, for that he died whiles himself was a very child; howbeit, the said soul coming toward him, saluted him in these terms: God save you Thespesius: whereat he marveled much, and said unto him: I am not Thespesius, but my name is Aridaeus: True in deed (quoth the other) beforetime you were so called, but from henceforth 
* That is to say, Divine.  Thespesius shall be your name; for dead you are not yet, but by the providence of God and permission of Destiny, you are hither come, with the intellectual part of the soul; and as for all the rest, you have left it behind, sticking fast as an anchor to your body: and that you may now know this and evermore hereafter, take this for a certain rule and token: That the spirits of those who are departed and dead indeed, yield no shadow from them; they neither wink nor yet open their eyes. Thespesius hearing these words, began to pluck up his spirits so much the more, for to consider and discourse with himself: looking therefore every way about him, he might perceive that there accompanied him a certain shadowy and dark lineature, whereas the other souls shone round about, and were clear and transparent within forth, howbeit, not all alike; for some yielded from them pure colour, uniform and equal, as doth the full moon when she is at the clearest; others had (as it were) scales or cicatrices, dispersed here and there by certain distant spaces between; some again, were wonderful hideous and strange to see unto, all to be specked with black spots, like to serpent's skins; and others had light scarifications and obscure risings upon their visage. Now this kinsman of Thespesius (for there is no danger at all to term souls by the names which men had whiles they were living) discoursed severally of each thing, saying: That Adrastia the daughter of Jupiter and Necessity, was placed highest and above the rest, to punish and to be revenged of all sorts of crimes and heinous sins; and that of wicked and sinful wretches, there was not one (great or small) who either by force or cunning could ever save himself and escape punishment: but one kind of pain and punishment (for three sorts there be in all) belonged to this gaoler or executioner, and another to that; for there is one which is quick and speedy, called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, Penalty, and this taketh in hand the execution and chastisement of those, who immediately in this life (whiles they are in their bodies) be punished by the body, after a mild and gentle manner, leaving unpunihsed many light faults, which require only some petty purgation; but such as require more ado to have their vices and sins cured, God committeth them to be punished after death to a second tormentresse, named Dice, that is to say, Revenge; mary those who are so laden with sins, that they be altogether incurable, when Dice hath given over and thrust them from her, the third ministress of Adrastia, which of all other is most cruel, and named Erinnys runneth after, chase and pursuing them as they wander and run up and down; these (I say) she courseth and hunteth with great misery and much dolour, until such time as she have overtaken them all and plunged them into a bottomless pit of darkness inenarrable and invisible. Now of these three sorts of punishments, the first which is executed by Paene, in this life resembleth that which is used in some barbarous nations: for in Persis, when any are by order of law and judicially to be punished, they take from them their copped caps or high pointed turbans, and other robes, which they pluck and pull hair by hair, yea, and whip them before their faces, and they themselves shedding tears and weeping, cry out piteously and beseech the officers to cease and give over; semblably, the punishments inflicted in this life in body or goods, are not exceeding sharp nor come very near to the quick, neither do they pierce & reach unto the vice and sin itself, but the most part of them are imposed according to a bare opinion only, and the judgement of outward natural sense. But if it chance (quoth he) that any one escape hither unpunished, and who hath not been well purged there before, him Dice taketh in hand all bare and naked as he is, with his soul discovered and open, as having nothing to hide, palliate and mask his wickedness, but lying bare and exposed to the view throughout, and on every side, she presenteth and showeth him first to his parents, good and honest persons (if haply they were such) declaring how abominable he is, how dextenerate and unwoorthy of his parentage; but if they also were wicked, both he and they sustain so much more grievous punishment, whiles he is tormented in seeing them, and they likewise in beholding him how he is punished a long time, even until every one of his crimes and sins be dispatched and rid away with most dolorous and painful torments, surpassing in sharpness and greatness, all corporal griefs, by how much a true vision indeed is more powerful and effectual than a vain dream or fantastical illusion: whereupon, the wales, marks, scars and cicatrices of sin and vice remain to be seen, in some more, in others less. But observe well (quoth he) and consider the diverse colours of these souls of all sorts; for this blackish and foul duskish hue, is properly the tincture of avarice and nigardise; that which is deep red and fiery, betokeneth cruelty and malice; whereas, if it stand much upon blue, it is a sign that there, intemperance and looseness in the use of pleasures, hath remained a long time, and will be hardly scoured off, for that it is a vile vice: but the violet colour and sweetish withal, proceedeth from envy, a venomous and poisoned colour, resembling the ink that cometh from the cuttle fish, for in life, vice when the sail is altered and changed by passions, and withal doth turn the body, putteth forth sundry colours: but here it is a sign that the purification of the soul is fully finished, when as all these tincttures are done away quite, whereby the soul may appear in her native hue, all fresh, neat, clear and lightsome: for so long as any one of these colours remaineth, there will be evermore some recidivation and return of passions and affections, bringing certain tremble, beat as it were of the pulse, and a panting in some but weak and feeble, which quickly stayeth, and is soon extinguished; and in other more strong, quick, and vehement: Now of these souls, some there be which after they have been well and thoroughly chastised, and that sundry times, recover in the end a decent habitude and disposition; but others again are such, as the vehemence of their ignorance, and the flattering show of pleasures and lustful desire, transporteth them into the bodies of brute beasts; for the feebleness and defect of their understanding, and their sloth and slackness to contemplate and discourse by reason, maketh them to incline and creep to the active part of generation; but then they find and perceive themselves destitute of a lascivious organ or instrument, whereby they may be able to execute and have the fruition of their appetite, and therefore desire by the means of the body to enjoy the same: forasmuch as, here there is nothing at all but a bare shadow, and as one would say, a vain dream of pleasure, which never cometh to perfection and fullness. When he had thus said, he brought and lead me away, most swiftly, an infinite way; howbeit, with ease, and gently, upon the rays of the light, as if they had been wings, unto a certain place, where there was a huge wide chink, tending downward still, and thither being come, he perceived that he was forlorn and forsaken of that powerful spirit that conducted and brought him thither; where he saw that other souls also were in the same case; for being gathered and flocked together like a sort of birds, they fly downward round about this gaping chawne, but enter into it directly they durst not; now the said chink resembled for all the world within, the caves of Bacchus, so tapissed and adorned they were with the verdure of great leaves and branches, together with all variety of gay flowers, from whence arose and breathed forth a sweet and mild exhalation, which yielded a delectable and pleasant favour, wonderful odoriferous, with a most temperate air, which no less affected them that smelled thereof, than the sent of wine contenteth those who love to drink: in such sort as the souls feeding and feasting themselves with these fragrant odours, were very cheerful, jocund, and merry; so as round about the said place, there was nothing but pastime, joy, solace, mirth, laughing and singing, much after the manner of men that rejoice one with another, and take all the pleasure and delight that possibly they can. And he said moreover, that Bacchus by that way mounted up into the society of the gods, and afterwards conducted Semele; and withal, that it was called, theplace of Lethe, that is to say, Oblivion: Whereupon he would not let Thespesius, though he were exceeding desirous, to stay there, but drew him away perforce; instructing him thus much, and giving him to understand, that reason and the intelligible part of the mind is dissolved, and as it were melted and moistened by this pleasure; but the unreasonable part which savoreth of the body, being watered and incarnate therewith, reviveth the memory of the body; and upon this remembrance, there groweth and ariseth a lust and concupiscence, which haileth and draweth unto generation (for so he called it) to wit, a consent of the soul thereto, weighed down and aggravated with overmuch moisture: Having therefore traversed another way as long as the other, he was ware that he saw a mighty standing bowl, into which diverse rivers seemed to fall and discharge themselves, whereof one was whiter than the some of the sea, or driven snow, another of purple hue or scarlet colour, like to that which appeareth in the rain bow; as for others, they seemed a far off to have every one of them their distinct lustre, and several tincture: But when they approached near unto them, the foresaid bowl, after that the air about was discussed and vanished away, and the different colours of those rivers no more seen, left the more flourishing colour, except only the white: Then he saw there three Daemons or Angels, sitting together in triangular form, meddling and mixing the rivers together, with certain measures. And this 〈◊〉 of Thespecius soul said morever, that Orpheus came so far when he went after his wife; but for that he kept not well in mind, that which he there saw, he had sown one false tale among men; to wit: That the oracle at Delphi was common to Apollo, and the Night, (for there was no commerce or fellowship at all between the night and Apollo) But this oracle (quoth he) is common to the moon and the night, which hath no determinate and certain place upon the earth, but is always errant and wandering among men, by dreams and apparitions; which is the reason that dreams compounded and mingled as you see, of falsehood and truth, of variety and simplicity, are spread and scattered over the world. But as touching the oracle of Apollo, neither have you seen it (quoth he) nor ever shallbe able to see; for the terrene substance or earthly part of the soul, is not permitted to arise & mount up on high, but bendeth downward, being fastened unto the body: And with that he approached at once nearer, endevoring to show him the shining light of the threefeets of threefooted stool, which (as he said) from the bosom of the goddess Thenis, reached as far as to the mount Pernasus: And having a great desire to see the same, yet he could not, his eyes were so dazzled with the brightness thereof; howbeit, as he passed by, a loud and shrill voice he heard of a woman, who, among other things delivered in metre, uttered also as it should seem by way of prophesy, the very time of his death: And the Daemon said, it was the voice of Sibylla; for she being carried round in the globe and face of the moon, did foretell and sing what was to come; but being desirous to hear more, he was repelled and driven by the violence of the moon as it were with certain whirlepuffes, clean a contrary way; so he could hear and understand but few things, and those very short; namely the accident about the hill 
* Or Lesbius.  Vesuvius, and how Dicaearchia should be consumed and burnt by casual fire, as also a clause or piece of a verse, as touching the emperor who then reigned, to this effect: 
Agracious prince he is, but yet must die,  
And empire leave by force of malady.  After this they passed on forward to see the pains and torments of those who were punished; and there at first they beheld all things most piteous and horrible to see to; for Thespesius who doubted nothing less, met in that place with many of his friends, kinsfolk, and familiar companions, who were in torment, and suffering dolorous pains, and infamous punishment, they moaned themselves, lamenting, calling and crying unto him; at the last he had a sight of his own father, rising out of a deep pit, full he was of pricks, gashes, and wounds, and stretching forth his hands unto him, was (maugre his heart) forced to break silence, yea and compelled by those who had the charge and superintendence of the said punishments, to confess with a loud and audible voice, that he had been a wicked murderer of certain strangers, and guests whom he had lodged in his house; for perceiving that they had silver and gold about them, he had wrought their death by the means of poison: and albeit he had not been detected thereof in his life time, whiles he was upon the earth, yet here was he convicted and had sustained already part of his punishment, and expected to endure the rest afterwards. Now Thespesius durst not make suit nor intercede for his father, so affrighted he was and astonished; but desirous to withdraw himself and be gone, he lost the sight of that courteous and kind guide of his, which all this while had conducted him, and he saw him no more: but he might perceive other horrible and hideous spirits, who enforced and constrained him to pass farther, as if it were necessary that he should traverse still more ground: so he saw those who were notorious malefactors, in the view of every man (or who in this world had been chastised) how their shadow was here tormented with less pain, and nothing like to others, as having been feeble and imperfect in the reasonless part of the soul, and therefore subject to passions and affections; but such as were disguised and cloaked with an outward appearance and reputation of virtue abroad, and yet had lived covertly and secretly at home in wickedness, certain that were about them, forced some of them to turn the inside outward, and with much pain and grief to lay themselves open, to bend and bow, and discover their hypocrital hearts within, even against their own nature, like unto the scolopenders of the sea, when they have swallowed down an hook, are wont to turn themselves outward: but others they flaied and displayed, discovering plainly and openly, how faulty, perverse and vicious they had been within, as whose principal part of the reasonable soul, vice had possessed. He said moreover, that he saw other souls wound and interlaced one within another, two, three and more together, like to vipers and other serpents, and these not forgetting their old grudge and malicious ranker one against another, or upon remembrance of losses and wrongs sustained by others, fell to gnawing and devouring each other. Also, that there were three parallel lakes ranged in equal distance one from the other; the one seething and boiling with gold, another of lead exceeding cold, and a third, most rough, consisting of iron: and that there were certain spirits called Daemons, which had the overlooking and charge of them; and these, like unto mettall-founders or smiths, with certain instruments either plunged in, or else drew out, souls. As for those who were given to filthy jucre, and by reason of insatiable avarice, committed wicked parts, those they let down into the lake of melted gold, and when they were once set on a light fire, and made transparent by the strength of those flames within the said lake, than plunged they were into the other of lead; where after they were congealed and hardened in manner of hail, they transported them anew into the third lake of iron, where they became exceeding black and horrible, and being cracked and broken, by reason of their dryness and hardness, they changed their form, and then at last (by his saying) they were thrown again into the foresaid lake of gold, suffering by the means of these changes and mutations, intolerable pains. But those souls (quoth he) who made the greatest moan unto him, and seemed most miserably (of all others) to be tormented, were they, who thinking they were escaped and passed their punishment, as who had suffered sufficiently for their deserts at the hands of vengeance, were taken again, and put to fresh torments; and those they were, for whose sins their children and others of their posterity suffered punishment: for whensoever one of the souls of these children or nephews in lineal descent, either met with them, or were brought unto them, the same fell into a fit of anger, crying out upon them, showing the marks of the torments and pains that it sustained, reproaching and hitting them in the teeth therefore; but the other making haste to fly and hide themselves, yet were not able so to do; for incontinently the tormentors followed after and pursued them, who brought them back again to their punishment, crying out, and lamenting for nothing so much, as that they did foresee the torment which they were to suffer, as having experience thereof already. Furthermore, he said that he saw some, and those in number many, either children or nephews, hanging together fast, like bees or bats, murmuring and grumbling for anger, when they remembered and called to mind what sorrows and calamities they sustained for their sake. But the last thing that he saw, were the souls of such as entered into a second life and new nativity, as being turned and transformed forcibly into other creatures of all sorts, by certain workmen appointed therefore, who with tools for the purpose and many a stroke, forged and framed some of their parts new, bend and wrested others, took away and abolished a third sort; and all, that they might sort and be suitable to other conditions and lives: among which he espied the soul of Nero afflicted already grievously enough otherwise, with many calamities, pierced thorough every part with spikes and nails red hot with fire: and when the artisans aforesaid took it hand to transform it into the shape of a viper, of which kind (as Pindarus saith) the young ones gnaweth thorough the bowels of the dam to come into the world, and to devour it, he said that all on a sudden there shone forth a great light, out of which there was heard a voice giving commandment that they should metamorphoze and transfigure it into the form of another kind of beast, more tame and gentle, forging a water creature of it, chanting, about standing lakes and marshes; for that he had been in some sort punished already for the sins which he had committed, and beside, some good turn is due unto him from the gods, in that of all his subjects, he had exempted from tax, tallage and tribute, the best nation and most beloved of the gods, to wit, the Greeks. Those far forth, he said, he was only a spectator of these matters; but when he was upon his return, he abide all the pains in the world, for very fear that he had; for there was a certain woman, for visage and stately bigness, admirable, who took hold on him, and said: Come hither, that thou mayest keep in memory all that thou hast seen, the better: wherewith she put forth unto him a little rod or wand all sierie, such as painters or enamellers use, but there was another that stayed her; and then he might perceive himself to be blown by a strong and violent wind with a trunk or pipe, so that in the turning of an hand he was within his own body again, and so began to look up with his eyes in manner, out of his grave and sepulchre.    

THAT BRUTUS BEASTS HAVE USE OF REASON; A discourse in manner of a dialogue, named GRYLLUS.  

The Summarie.  
THey who have given out that man is a living creature endued with reason, have in few words expressed that which every one of us ought principally to consider in him: But for want of declaring what this word reason doth import, themselves for the most part have not well understood this definition, but as much as in them is, reduced the condition of men to a worse estate, than that of brute beasts: For albeit man's body moved and governed by his immortal soul, hath many excellent advantages above beasts; yet if reason the guide of the soul have no other help than of herself, ceries, it may be well and truly said; that man is the most miserable creature in the world: And herein it is, that Philosophers destitute of the light of god's word, are become and so remain far short, as being ignorant of Adam's fall, original sin, and the hereditary source and spring of so many defects and impersections which proceed from the understanding and the will, so much depravate and corrupt in us by sin, that when we are to range and reduce reason, to her true devoir and duty in deed; namely, to know and serve God, according as he commandeth, she is stark blind, yea and a very enemy herself to that good grace which is offered unto her. By reason therefore, which maketh the difference between us and brute beasts, we are to understand the true knowledge of God, for to serve and glorify him according to the tenor of his word all the days of our life; this is called true religion, of which if man be destitute, according to the sentence of our Saviour: It booteth not him to have gained the whole world, if he lose his own soul: as also; That it were better for a 〈◊〉 man, and him by whom offence cometh, never to have been borne, or at least wise soon exterminate and rooted out: Likewise, that whosoever is proud of himself, and forgetteth his God, is no more a man, but resembleth brute beasts, whose soul perisheth together with the body. But to enter no farther into this Theological disccuse we see in this present dialogue somewhat thereof, & that the intention of Plutarch was to slew that the intelligence and cogitation of God, is the only true privilege prerogative and advantage which men have above beasts: how beit, left he hath this work imperfect, even in that very point, which of all other is hardest, and impossible to be proved by him or his like: for what sound understanding, apprehension, or conceit could they have of God, who knew not at all true God? So then, it may be said that this parcel or remnant of the disputation, containeth a form of process against all Pagants and Atheists, to prove that brute beasts excel them, and be in more happy estate than they. As touching the discourse itself, to the end that it might not be odious, in case he had handled it as his own invention, he helpeth himself with the fabulous tale of Circe, who transformed into beasts the companions of Ulysses: By which allegory, the Philosophers and Poets imply and teach thus much, that 〈◊〉 pleasure doth make all persons brutish, save only the wise, whouse & enjoy goods, honours, & delights, with a stayed mind & spirit settled, & which never misseth, nor cometh short or wide of the mark that it shooteth at: He bringeth in therefore Ulysses, conferring by the leave and permission of Circe, with a Greek named Gryllus, transmuted and turned into a swine: and the chief point of their disputation is this: Whether the life of man is better to be esteemed than that of beasts? Gryllus for to uphold and maintain his cause, treateth of sour points principally: First of the verrne in general; secondly of the valour and fcrtitude; in the third place of the temperance; and last of all, the wisdom of beasts; proving against Ulysses, and that by diverse arguments set out and marked in order, that beasts have the start and vantage of men in all these points; and leaving the Reader to make the conclusion; he showeth sufficiently, that if men have no other approach to rest upon, than a natural habitude of an earthly virtue, and can assure the repose of their consciences upon nothing but upon human valiance, temperance, and wisdom, they do but go in the company of beasts, or rather come behind them. Thus you see why our author maketh Ulysses to enter into a discourse as touching the knowledge of God: But whether it were that his other offaires and occupations or the iniquity of time hath deprived us of the rest, this treatise or dialogue hath been cut off in that very place, where it deserved and required to be more thoroughly and lively prosecuted: And this remaineth and is come unto our hands, may serve all men in good stead for their instruction and learning, not to glory and vaunt themselves, but in the mercy of him, who calleth them to a better life, wherein brute beasts, (created only for our use, and for the present life, with which they perish for ever) have no part nor portion at all.   

THAT BRUTE BEASTS have use of reason.  
The personages that discourse in this Dialogue, ULYSSES, CIRCE, GRYLLUS.  ULYSSES. 
ME thinks dame Circe that I have sufficiently conceived, and firmly imprinted these matters in my memory. Now would I gladly ask the question, and know of you, whether among those men which be transformed into wolves and lions, you have any Greeks or no?  CIRCE. 
Yes mary have I, and those very many, dear heart Ulysses; but wherefore demand you this question?  ULYSSES. 
Because I am persuaded, it will be greatly for mine honour among the Greeks, if by your gracious favour I may obtain thus much, as at your hands to receive them men again, and save them, strangers though they be, as well as my companions; nor so neglect their state, as to suffer them against nature to age & wax old in the bodies of wild beasts, leading a life so miserable, ignominous, and infamous.  CIRCE. 
See the simplicity of this man; he would through his folly, that his ambitious mind should procure damage and calamity not to himself only and his friends, but also to those who are mere aliens, and nothing belonging to him?  ULYSSES. 
I perceive very well (o Circe) that you are about the tempering and brewing of another cup and potion of words, to bewitch me; for certainly you should make a very beast of me in deed, if I would suffer myself to be persuaded, that it were a detriment or loss to become a man again of a brute beast.  CIRCE. 
Why? have you not already done worse for yourself than so, and committed greater absurdities? considering that letting go a life immortal, and not subject to old age, which you might enjoy if you would make your abode and dwell with me; you will needs go in all the haste to a woman mortal, and (as I dare well say) very aged by this time, and that through ten thousand dangers, which yet you must endure, promising yourself, that you shall thereby be better regarded, more honoured and renowned from hence forth, than now you are; and in the mean while you consider not that you seek after a vain felicity, and the image or shadow only for the thing indeed.  ULYSSES. 
Well Circe, I am content that it be so as you say; for why should we so often contest and debate thus about the same still? But I pray you of all loves, unbind and let lose these poor men for my sake, and give them me.  CIRCE. 
Nay, that I will not, I swear by Hecate: You shall not come so easily by them; for I tell you they be no mean persons, and of the common sort: But you were best to ask them first if they themselves be willing thereto or no? And if they answer nay? then, like a noble valiant gentleman as you are, deal with them effectually, and induce them thereto: But in case you cannot with all your reasons bring them to it, and that they be able to convince you by force of argument, let it suffice you that you have advised yourself and your friends but badly.  ULYSSES. 
Is it so indeed good lady? and are you about to mock and make a fool of me? For how can they either yield or receive reason in conference, so long as they be asses, swine and lions, as they are.  CIRCE. 
Go to sir, most ambitious man that you are; let that never trouble you; for I will uphold them sufficient both to hear and understand whatsoever you shall allege unto them, yea, and able to reason and discourse with you: Or rather, I pass not much if one of them for all his fellows shall both demand and 〈◊〉 Lo hear is one, deal with him as it pleaseth you.  ULYSSES. 
And by what name shall we call him, Circe? or who might he be, when he was a man?  CIRCE. 
What matters that? and what maketh it to disputation and question in hand? Howbeit, name him if you think good, Grydus: And to the end that you should not think, that for to gratify or do me a pleasure, he may seem to reason cross and against your mind, I will for the time retire myself out of the place.  GRYLLUS. 
God save you Ulysses.  ULYSSES. 
And you also gentle Gryllus.  GRYLLUS. 
What is your will with me, and what would you demand of me?  ULYSSES. 
I wot well that you and the rest were sometimes men, and therefore I have great ruth and pity to see you all in this estate, but as good reason is, it grieveth me most for the Greeks, that they are fallen into this calamity: But so it is, that even now I requested Circe, to loosen as many of you as be willing thereto, and after she hath restored them to their ancient shape, to give them leave to go with me.  GRYLLUS. 
Peace Ulysses, and say not a word more I beseech you; for we all have you in contempt now, seeing that you have been taken and named all this while for a singular man, and seemed far to surpass all others in wisdom, whereas there is little or no cause thereof; in that you have been afraid even of this, to change from the worse to the better; and never considered, that as children abhor the medicines and drogues that Physicians ordain, and refuse to learn those sciences and disciplines, which of sickly, diseased and foolish, might make them more healthy, sound, & wise; even so you have rejected & east behind you this opportunity to be transformed and changed from one to another; and even still you tremble and dare not venture to keep company and lie with Circe, for dread and fear, lest ere you be aware, she should make of you either a swine, or a wolf; and you would persuade us, that whereas we live now in abundance, and enjoy the affluence of all good things, we should quit the same, and withal, abandon and forsake her who hath procured us this happiness, and all to go away with you, when we are become men again; that is to say, the most wretched creatures in the world.  ULYSSES. 
It seemeth Gryllus that the potion which you drank at Circe's hands, hath not only marred the form and fashion of your body, but also spoiled your wit and understanding; having intoxicate your brain, and filled your head with corrupt, strange, and monstrous opinions for ever; or else some pleasure that you have taken by the acquaintance of this body so long, hath clean bewitched you.  GRYLLUS. 
Nay iwis, good sir, it is neither so nor so, if it please you o king of the Cephallenians; but if you be disposed to argue with reason, rather than to wrangle with opprobrious terms, we will soon bring you to another opinion, and prove by sound arguments, upon the experience which we have of the one life and the other, that there is great reason why we should love and embrace this present state above the former.  ULYSSES. 
For mine own part I am ready to give you the hearing.  GRYLLUS. 
And I as willing likewise to deliver my mind: But first and foremost, begin I will to speak of virtues, upon which I see you stand so much, and in regard whereof, you woondrously please yourselves, as who would be thought in justice, in wisdom, in magnanimity and other virtues, to excel and far surpass all brute beasts: Answer me therefore I beseech you, the wisest man of all other, to this point: For I have heard say, that upon a time you made relation unto Circe of the Cyclopes country, how the soil there is naturally so good and fertile, that without ploughing, sowing, or planting at all, it bringeth forth of itself all sorts of fruit: Tell me I say, whether you esteem better of it (so fruitful as it is) or of Ithaca a rough and mountain region, good only for to breed goats in, and which hardly and with great labour yieldeth unto those that till it, small store (God wot) of poor and lean fruits, which will not quit for the cost and pains? But take heed it grieve you not to answer contrary to your mind, for the love that you bear unto your native country.  ULYSSES. 
I love verily (for I must not lie) yea, and I embrace and hold most dear, mine own country and place of nativity: howbeit, I praise and admire that other region of theirs.  GRYLLUS. 
Why then belike, the case stands thus, and this we are to say, that the wisest man is of opinion, that there be some things which are to praise and commend, and other things to choose and love: and verily, I think that your judgement is the same of the soul; for the like reason there is of it and a land or plot of ground, namely, that the soul is better, which without any travel or labour, bringeth forth virtue, as a fruit springing and growing of itself.  ULYSSES. 
Well: be it so as you say.  GRYLLUS. 
You grant then and confess already, That the soul of brute beasts is by nature more kind, more perfect and better disposed to yield virtue, considering that without compulsion, without commandment, or any teaching, which is as much to say, as without tillage and sowing it bringeth forth and nourisheth that virtue which is meet and convenient for every one.  ULYSSES. 
And what virtue is that (my good friend Gryllus) whereof beasts be capable?  GRYLLUS. 
Nay, what virtue are they not capable of? yea, and more than the wisest man that is. But first, consider we (if you please) valour and fortitude, whereupon you bear yourself and vaunt so highly, neither are you abashed and hide yourself for fear, but are very well pleased when as men surname you, hardy, Bold, and a Winner of cities; whereas you have (most wicked wretch that you are) circumvented and deceived men, who know no other way of making war, but that which is plain and generous, and who were altogether unskilful of fraud, guile and leasing, by your wily shifts and subtle pranks, attributing the name of virtue unto cunning casts, the which in deed knoweth not what deceit and fraud meaneth. But you see the combats of beasts aswell against men as when they fight one against another, how they are performed without any craftiness or sleight, only by plain hardiness and clean strength, and as it were upon a native magnanimity, they defend themselves, and be revenged of their enemies: and neither by enforcement of laws, nor for fear to be judicially reproved and punished for cowardice, but only through instinct of nature avoiding the shame and disgrace to be conquered, they endure and hold out fight to the very extremity, and all to keep themselves invincible: for say they be in body the weaker, yet they yield not for all that, nor are fainthearted and give over, but choose to die in fight: and many of them there be, whose courage and generosity, even when they are ready to die, being retired into some one corner of their body, and there gathering itself, resisteth the killer, it leapeth and fretteth still, until such time as, like a flame of fire, it be quenched and put out once for all: they can not skill of praying and entreating their enemy, they crave no pardon and mercy; and it were strange in any of them, to confess that they are overcome; neither was it ever seen that a lion became a slave unto a lion, or one horse unto another in regard of fortitude, like as one man to another, contenting himself and willingly embracing servitude as next cousin and a surname appropriate unto cowardice. And as for those beasts which men have surprised and caught by snares, traps, subtle sleights and devices of engines, such if they be come to their growth and perfect age, reject all food, refuse nourishment, yea, and endure thirst, to such extremity, that they choose to die and seek to procure their own death, rather than to live in servitude; but to their young ones and whelps, which for their tender age be tractable, pliable, and easy to be led which way one will, they offer so many deceitful baits to entice and allure them with their sweetness, that they have no sooner tasted thereof, but they become enchanted and bewitched therewith: for these pleasures, and this delicate life, contrary to their nature, in tract of time causeth them to be soft and weak, receiving that degeneration (as it were) and effaeminate habit of their courage, which folk call tameness, and in deed but baseness and defect of their natural generosity: whereby it appeareth, that beasts by nature are bred and passing well disposed to be audacious and hardy; whereas chose, it is not kindly for men to be so much as bold of speech and resolute in speaking their minds. And this you may (good Ulysses) learn and know especially by this one argument: for in all brute beasts, nature swayeth indifferently and equally of either side, as touching courage and boldness, neither is the female in that point inferior to the male, whether it be in sustaining pain and travel for getting of their living, or in fight for defence of their little ones. And I am sure you heard of a certain Cromyonian swine, what foul work she made, being a beast of the faemale sex, for Theseus, & how she troubled him; as also of that monstrous Sphinx, which kept upon the rock Phition, and held in awe all that tract underneath and about it: for surely all her craft and subtlety in devising riddles, and proposing dark questions, had booted her nothing, in case she had not been withal, of greater force and courage than all the Cadmeians. In the very same quarter was (by report) the fox of Telmesus, a wily and crafty beast. And it is given out, that near unto the said place, was also the fell dragon which fought in single fight hand to hand with Apollo, for the signory of the oracle at Delphi. And even your great king Agamemnon, took that brave mare Aethe, as a gift, of an inhabitant of Sytion, for his dispensation and immunity, that he might not be priest to the wars: wherein he did well and wisely in mine opininion, to prefer a good and courageous beast, before a coward and dastardly man: and you your own self (Ulysses) have seen many times lionesses and she leopard's, how they give no place at all to their males in courage and hardiness, as your lady Penelope doth, who gives you leave to be abroad in warfarre, whiles she sits at home close by the hearth, and by the fire side, and dares not do so much as the very swallows, in repelling those back who come to destroy her and her house, for all she is a Laconian woman borne: What should I tell you of the Carian or Maeonian women? for by this that hath been said already, it is plain and evident, that men naturally are not endued with prowess, for if they were, than should women likewise have their part with them in virtue and valour: And thereupon I infer and conclude that you and such as you are, exerercise a kind of valiance (I must needs say) which is not voluntary nor natural, but constrained by force of laws, subject and servile to (I wot not what) custom's reprehensions; and you mediate I say and practise for vainglorious opinion, fortitude, gaily set out with trim words; you sustain travels and perils, not for that you set light by them, nor for any hardiness and confidence in yourselves, but because you are afraid lest others should go before you, and be esteemed greater than you. And like as here among your mates at sea, he that first riseth to his business of rowing, layeth hand and seizeth upon the lightest oar that he can meet with, doth it not, for that he despiseth it, but because he avoideth and is afraid to handle one that is heavier: and he that endureth the knock of a baston or cudgel, because he would not receive any wound by the sword: as also he that resisteth an enemy for to avoid some ignominous infamy of death, is not to be said valiant in respect of the one, but coward in regard of the other: even so the valour in you, is nothing else but a wise and wary cowardice, and your prowess and boldness, is no better than timorousness, accompanied with skill and knowledge how to decline one danger by another. To be brief, if you think yourselves to be more hardy and valiant than beasts, how cometh it, that your Poets term those who fight manfully against their enemies, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, wolves for courage; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, lion-hearted; and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, resembling the wild boar in animosity and force: but never doth any of them call a lion, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, as valiant as a man: or a wild boar, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, comparable to a man in courage and strength. Yet I wot well, when they would speak excessively in comparison, their manner is, to call men that are swift in running, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, lightfooted like the wind: and those who be fair ad beautiful, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, angelical, or to see to, like unto angels: and even so, they compare and resemble brave warriors in the highest degree, unto beasts, who in that case are much more excellent than men: the reason is this, for that choler and heat of courage is (as it were) the steel, the file, yea, the very whetstone that giveth the edge unto fortitude; and this do brute beasts bring with them pure and simple unto fight; whereas in you, it being alway mingled and tempered with some discourse of reason, as if wine were delayed with a little water, it is gone and to seek in the greatest dangers, and faileth at the very point of opportunity, when it is most to be used. And some of you are of opinion, and stick not to say, that in battle and fight there is no need at all of anger, but that laying aside all choler, we are to employ sober and stayed reason; wherein they speak not amiss, and I hold well with them, when the question is of defence only, and the securing of a man's own life: but surely, if the case be so, that we are to offend, to annoy and defait our enemy, they talk most shamefully. Is it not a very absurd thing, that ye should reprove and blame nature, for that she hath not set unto your bodies any stings or pricks, nor given you tusks and teeth to revenge yourselves with, ne yet armed you with hooked claws and talons to offend your enemies; and in the mean while your own selves take, spoil, and bereave the soul of that natural weapon which is inbred with it, or at leastwise cut the same short and disable it?  ULYSSES. 
What Gryllus! you seem (as far as I guess) to have been heretofore some witty and great orator; who now grunting out of your sty or frank, have so pithily argued the case, and discoursed of the matter in hand: but why have you not in the same train disputed likewise of temperance?  GRYLLUS. 
Because forsooth I thought that you would first have refuted that which hath already been spoken; but I see well you desire to hear me speak of temperance, because you are the husband of a most chaste wife, and you think beside, that yourself have showed good proof of your own continency, in that you have rejected the love & wanton company of Circe; but even herein you are not more perfect, I mean in continence, than any one beast, for even they also lust not at all to company or engender with those that are of a more excellent kind than their own, but take their pleasure with those, and make love to such as be of the same sort, and therefore no marvel, that as the Mendesian buck-goat in Egypt, when he was shut up with many fair and beautiful women, never for all that made to any of them, but abhorred to meddle with them; whereas he was raging wood in heat of lust after the does or female goats: So you taking delight in your ordinary love, have no desire at all, being a man, to sleep or deal carnally with an immortal goddess: And as for the chastity and continence of your own lady Penelope, I tell you there be ten thousand crows in the world, that after their manner, caing and croaking as they do, will make a mere mock of it, and show that it is no such matter to be accounted of; for there is not one of them, but if the male or cock chance to die, remaineth a widow without seeking after a make, not for a little while, but even for the space of nine ages & lives of a man; so that in this respect, your fair Penelope cometh behind the poorest crow or raven that is, and deserveth not the ninth part of her honour for chastity: But seeing you are ware that I am so eloquent an orator, I care not much if I observe a methodical order in this discourse of mine, and like a clerk indeed, begin first with the definition of temperance, and then proceed to the division of appetites and lusts, according to their several distinct kinds right formally. Temperance therefore is a certain restraint, abridgement, or regularity of lusts, and desires, a restraint I say, and abating of such as are foreign, strange, and superfluous, to wit, unnecessary, and a regularity which by election and choice of time and temperature of a mean, doth moderate those that be natural and necessary; for you see that in lusts and desires, there be infinite differences: As for example, the appetite to drink, besides that it is natural, is also necessary; But the lust of the flesh, or concupiscence, although nature hath given the beginning thereof; yet so it is, that we may live commodiously without it; so as well it may be called natural, but in no wise necessary. Now there is another sort of desires, that be neither natural nor necessary, but accidental, and infused from without by a vain opinion, and upon ignorance of that which is good, and there be such a number of them, that they go very near to chase away and thrust out, all your natural appetites, much like as when the aliens and strangers that swarm in a city, drive out and expel the natural inhabitants; whereas brute beasts give no entrance nor any communication and fellowship to foreign affections for to settle in their souls, but in their whole life, & all their actions be far remote from vainglory, self-conceit, & fond opinions, as if they abode within the mediterranean parts, distant from the sea: True it is that in their port and carriage, they be not so elegant, so fine & curious as men: howbeit otherwise, for temperance & good government of their affections, which be not many in number, either domestical, or strange & foreign, they are more precise & wonderful exact in the observing of them than they; for the proof and truth hereof, the time was once, when I myself no less doted and was besotted upon gold than you are now, thinking verily that there was no good nor possession in the world comparabnle to it; I was in love also foe silver and ivory, and he that had most store hereof, me thought was a right happy man, and most highly in grace and favour with the gods, whether he were Phrygian or Carian it skilled not, more base minded than Dolon, or infortunate otherwise than Priamus; insomuch as being linked fast and tied to these deires, I reaped and received no pleasure nor any contentment at all from all other blessings; for notwithstanding I was sufficiently furnished with them, yet I took myself left needy and destitute of those which I accounted the greatest; and therefore I well remember, when I saw you upon a time stately arrayed, with a rich rob in Candie, I wished not to have your wisdom and virtue, but your beautiful cassock so daintily and finely wrought, your mantel I say of purple, so delicate & soft, the beauty whereof I beheld with such admiration, that I was even ravished and transported with the sight thereof, as for the button or clasp, all of pure gold, belonging thereto, it had in it a singularity by itself, and an excellent workman he was no doubt, who took delight in the turning and graving thereof; and verily for mine own part, I followed after you for to see it, as if I had been enchanted or bewitched; as women that be amorous of their lovers: But now being delivered from these vain and foolish opinions, and having my brain purged from such fantastical conceits, I pass over gold and silver, and make no more account of them, than I do of other ordinary stones; your goodly habiliments, your fine embroidered garments of needle work and tapistry, I set so light by, that I make more reckoning I assure you, of a good deep puddle of soft mire and dirt to walter and wallow in at mine ease, and for to sleep when my belly is full, than of them: neither is there any of these appetites coming from without, that hath place in our soul, but our life for the most part we pass in desires and pleasures necessary; and even those which are mere natural only, and not altogether so necessary, we use them neither disorderly, nor yet unmeasurably: And of them let us first discourse: As for that familiar pleasure which proceedeth from sweet odours, and such things, as by their scent do affect the smelling, over and beside the simple delight that it yieldeth, which costeth nought, it bringeth therewith a certain profit and commodity, for to discern nourishment, and make choice of food; for the tongue is named, as it is indeed, the judge of sweet, of sharp, eager and sour sapours, namely, when as the juices of those things which are tasted, come to be mingled and concorporate with the discretive faculty, and not before: But our sense of smelling, before we once taste those juices or sapours, judgeth of the force and quality of every thing, yea, and scenteth them much more exquisitely than all the tasters that give essay before kings and princes: As for that which is familiar and agreeable unto us, it receiveth inwardly, but whatsoever is strange and offensive, it rejecteth and sendeth forth, neither will it suffer the same once to touch us, or to offend our taste; but it bewrayeth, accuseth, and condemneth the evil and noisome quality thereof, before it doth us any harm, and otherwise it troubleth not us at all, as it doth you, whom it forceth to mix and compound together for perfumes, cinnamon, nard, spike, lavender camel, the sweet leaf malabathum, and the aromatical calamus, or cane of Arabia, meddling and incorporating one within another, by the exquisite skilling and cunning of the apothecary and perfumer, forcing drogues and spices of diverse natures to be blended and confected together, and buying for great sums of money one pleasure, which is not beseeming men, but rather fit for fine wenches and dainty damosels, and nothing at all profitable: And yet being thus corrupt as it is, it mareth not only all women, but also the most part of you that are men, in so much as you will not otherwhiles, lie with your own espoused wives, unless they be perfumed and besmeared all over with sweet oils and ointments, or else bestrewed with odoriserous powders, when they come to company with you: Whereas chose among us, the sow allureth the boar, the do or she goat draweth unto her the buck, & other females the males of their kind, by their own scent and smell, casting from them the pure and neat savour of the meadows, and the verdure of the fields, and so coming together as in marriage for generation, with a kind of mutual love and reciprocal pleasure; neither do the females hold off and make it dainty, disguising and covering (as it were) their own lust as harlots do, with looking strange and coy at the matter, pretending colourable excuses, or making semblance of refusal, and all to enchant, entice, and draw on the rather; nor the males when they come unto them, being pricked with the furious instinct of lust to generation, do buy either for money or for great pain and travel, or for long subjection and servitude, the act of generation; but they perform the same unfeignedly, and without deceit in due time and season, without any cost, when as nature in the spring stirreth up and provoketh the generative concupiscence of all living creatures, even as it putteth forth the buds and sprouts of plants, and anon delaieth as it were and quencheth the same; for neither the female after she is once sped and hath conceived, seeketh after the male, nor the male wooeth her any more, nor followeth after her; of so little regard and small price is this pleasure among us; but nature is all in all, and nothing do we against it: Hereof also it is, that there hath not been known unto this day, any lust so far to transpote beasts, as that males should join in this act with males, or females with females; whereas among you, there be many such examples, even of such as otherwise were accounted great and worthy personages, for I let those pass who were of no worth or note to speak of: Even Agamemnon went through all Boeotia, chase and hunting after 
* Or, Argeus.  Argynnus, who fled seuretly from him; mean while he pretended colourable, yet false excuses of his abode there, to wit, the sea and the winds, and afterwards this fair and goodly knight, bathed himself gently in the pool of Copais, as it were there to quench the heat of his love, and to deliver himself from this furious lust. semblably Hercules pursuing after a young beardless Genymade whom he loved, was left behind the other gallants and brave knights that enterprised the voyage for the golden fleece, and so not embarking with them, betrayed the fleet. Likewise upon a scutchian of the louvre or vaulted roof of Apollo's temple, surnamed Ptoius, there was one of you, who secretly wrote this inscription; Achilles the fair; even after that Achilles himself had begotten a son; and I hear say, that these letters remain there to be seen even at this day: Now if it chance that a dunghill cock tread another cock, when there is no hen at hand; he is burnt quick, for that some wizard, soothsayer, or interpreter of such strange prodigies, will pronounce that it is ominous, and presageth some evil luck: Thus you see, how men themselves are forced to confess, that beasts are more continent than they, & that to satisfy & fulfil their lusts, they never violate nor abuse nature; whereas in you it is otherwise: for nature (albeit she have the help and aid of the law) is not able to keep your intemperance within the limits and bounds of reason; but like unto a violent stream which runneth forcibly, often times and in many places it worketh much outrage, causing great disorder, scandal and confusion against nature, in this point of carnal love and fleshly lust: for there have been men who attempted to meddle and deal with she goats, with sows and mares; as also women who have been as wood and raging mad after certain beasts of the male kind: and verily, of such copulations as these, are come your Minotaures and Aegipanes; yea, and as I verily think, those Sphinxes and Centaurs in time past, have been bred by the same means. True it is (I confess) that otherwhiles, upon necessity and extreme famine, a dog hath been known to have devoured a man or a woman, yea, and some fowl hath tasted of their flesh, and begun to eat it; but there was never found yet any brute beast to have lusted after man or woman, to engender with them; whereas men both in this lust and in many other pleasures, have often times perpetrated outrage upon beasts. Now if they be so unbridled, so disordinate and incontinent in these appetites, much more dissolute they are known to be than beasts in other desires and lusts that be necessary, to wit, in meats and drinks, whereof we never take pleasure, but it is with some profit; but you seeking after the tickling pleasure and delight in drinking and eating, rather than the needful nourishment to content and satisfy nature, are afterwards well punished for it by many grievous and long maladies, which proceed all from one source, to wit, surfeit and repleation, namely, when you stuff and fill your bodies with all sorts of flatulent humours & ventosities which hardly are purged & excluded forth: for first & foremost, each sort of beasts hath a several food and peculiar kind of nourishment; some feed upon grass, others upon roots, and some there be again which live by fruits: as for those that devour flesh, they never touch any other kind of pasture, neither come they to take from the weaker and more feeble kind, their proper nouriture, but suffer them to graze & feed quietly. Thus we see that the lion permitteth the stag and hind to graze; and the wolf likewise the sheep, according to nature's ordinance and appointment: but man (being through his disordinate appetite of pleasures, and by his gluttony, provoked to all things, tasting and assaying whatsoever he can meet with or hear of, as knowing indeed no proper and natural food of his own) is of all creatures living, he alone that entereth and devoureth all things; for first, he feedeth upon flesh, without any need or necessity enforcing him thereto, considering that he may always gather, press, cut and reap from plants, vines and seeds, all sort of fruits, one after another in due and convenient seasons, until he be weary again, for the great quantity thereof; and yet for to content his delicate tooth, and upon a loathsome fullness of necessary sustenance, he seeketh after other victuals, neither needful nor meet for him, ne yet pure and clean, in killing living creatures, much more cruelly than those savage beasts that live of ravine: for blood and carnage of murdered carcases is the proper and familiar food for a kite, a wolf, or a dragon; but unto man it serveth in stead of his dainty dish: and more than so, man in the use of all sorts of beasts, doth not like other creatures that live of prey, which abstain from the most part, and war with some small number, even for very necessity of food; for there is neither fowl flying in the air, nor (in manner) any fish swimming in the sea, nor (to speak inone word) any beast feeding upon the face of the earth, that can escape those tables of yours, which you call gentle, kind and hospital. But you will say, that all this standeth in stead of sauce to season your food: be it so: why then do you kill the same for that purpose, and for to furnish those your mild and courteous tables?  

* It seemeth that somewhat is here wanting.  But the wisdom of beasts, far different; for it giveth place to no art whatsoever, that is vain and needless; and as for those that be necessary, it enterteineth them not as coming from others, nor as taught by mercenary masters for hire and money; neither is it required, that it should have any exercise to glue (as it were, and join after a slender manner) each rule, principle and proposition, one to another; but all at once of itself, it yieldeth them all as native and inbred therewith. We hear say, that all the Egyptians be Physicians; but surely every beast hath in itself not only the art and skill to cure and heal itself when it is sick, but also is sufficiently instructed how to feed and nourish itself, how to use her own strength, how to fight, how to hunt, how to stand at defence, yea, and in very music they are skilful, each one in that measure as is requisite and befitting the own nature: for of whom have we learned, finding ourselves ill at ease, to go into the rivers for to seek for crabs and craifish? who hath taught the tortoises, when they have eaten a viper, to seek out the herb Organ for to feed upon? who hath showed unto the goats of Candie, when they be shot into the body with arrows, to find out the herb Dictamnus, for to feed on it, and thereby to cause the arrow head to come forth and fall from them? For if you say (as the truth is) that nature is the schoolmistress, teaching them all this, you refer and reduce the wisdom and intelligence of dumb beasts unto the sagest and most perfect cause or principle that is; which if you think you may not call reason, nor prudence, ye ought then to seek out some other name for it, that is better and more honourable: and to say a truth, by effects she showeth her puissance to be greater and more admirable, as being neither ignorant nor ill taught, but having learned rather of itself, not by imbecility and feebleness of nature, but chose, through the force and perfection of natural virtue, letting go, and nothing at all esteeming that beggarly prudence which is gotten from other by way of apprentissage. Nevertheless, all those things which men either for delicacy or in mirth and pastime, do present unto them for to learn and to exercise their conceit and wit withal, howsoever they be against the natural inclination of their bodies: yet such is their capacity and the excellency of their spirit, that they will reach thereto and compass the same thoroughly. I say nothing how whelps follow and trace beasts by the foot, or how colts practise to set their feet forward in their pace by measures: but how crows and ravens will talk and prattle, how dogs will leap and dance upon wheels as they turn round about: also horses and oxen we see in the theatres, how they being taught to couch and lie down, to dance, to stand upright on their hinder feet, so wonderfully, that men themselves have much ado to perform the like dangerous gestures, and yet this they do after they have once learned it from others, yea, and remember the feat thereof, only for a proof, if there were nothing else, that docible they be and apt to learn whatsoever a man would have them, since that all this serveth for nothing else in the whole world. Now if you be hard of belief, and will not be persuaded that we learn the arts, I will say more than so; namely, that we can teach the same: for the old rowen partridges teach their young ones how to run away from before the fowler, and to escape by lying upon their backs, and holding up with their feet a clod of earth to hide themselves under it; and see we not daily upon the tops of our houses, how the old storks standing by their little ones, train and teach them how to fly; semblably the nightingales instruct their young birds in song, insomuch as those which be taken unfledge out of the nest, and are nourished by man's hand, never afterwards sing so well, because they be had away before their time from school, and want their master of music. For mine own part after that I was entered into this body, I marveled much at those reasons and discourses of sophisters, who maintained and persuaded me before time, that all living creatures besides man were without reason and understanding.  ULYSSES. 
You are indeed Gryllus now much changed, and you can show unto us by sound demonstrations, that a sheep is reasonable, and an ass hath wit, can you not?  GRYLLUS. 
Yes iwis, good Ulysses, for even by these very arguments, a man may principally collect and gather, that the nature of beasts is not altogether void of the use of reason and intelligence: Like as therefore among trees, there is not one more or less destitute of soul, (I mean that which is sensitive) than another, but they be all indifferently & equally void thereof, and not one of them is one jot endued therewith; even so in sensible beasts, there would not be one found more slow and unapt to learn things of wit and understanding than another, if they were not all partakers of reason and intelligence, although some have the same in more or less measure than others; and say there be some very blockish and exceeding dull of conceit, consider withal, how the wily sleights and crafty conceits of others may be put in balance against the same, namely, when you shall compare the fox, the wolf, or the bees with the sheep and the ass; it is all one as if you should set Polyphemus to yourself; or that Homer of Corinth to your grandfather Autolycus: And yet I think verily, that there is not so great difference and distance between beast and beast, as there is odds in the matter of wisdom, discourse of reason, and use of memory between man and man.  ULYSSES. 
But take heed of one thing Gryllus, that it be not a strange and absurd position, sounding of no no probability at all, to attribute any use of reason unto those who have no sense or knowledge at all of God.  GRYLLUS. 
What Ulysses, shall we not say that you being so wise and excellent as you are, were descended from the race of Sisyphus, etc.    

WHETHER IT BE LAWFUL TO EAT FLESH OR NO. The former Oration or Treatise.  

The Summarie.  
ELoquence was highly esteemed in times passed among Greeks and Romans, and therefore their children were trained and framed betimes in the schools to discourse well, in good terms, and proper phrases, yea, and with pregnant and sound reasons of diverse matters; to the end that when they were come to more years, they might make proof of their sufficiency in courts and public assemblies of cities, in private consultations and familiar conferences, as it appeareth very plainly by the histories of all ages: Now after that young children had learned of their schoolmasters the rules and precepts named Progymnasmata, or the first exercises, they were brought into the auditory of some great prosessor in Rhetoric; where there were proposed unto them certain themes, gathered out of poets, historians, or philosophers, upon which they exercised their style to write Pro & contra, in the defence or confutation of this or that opinion, according to the measure of their spirit and capacity, more or less: Those who were more forward, and farther proceeded than the rest, con by heart that which they had penned, and pronounced the same afterward in the presence of those that came to hear them: Some of them who were grown to a greater measure of knowledge, and as it were in the highest form of such exercises, were wont to stand forth and answer to all questions propounded, disputing and discour sing in the praise or dispraise of one and the same thing, as Gorgias, Carneades, and an infinite number of others, are able to make good and verify. This manner of exercise, anmed Declamations, was practised in Plutarch's time, as may be collectedout out of diverse places of his works: and as these two treatises immediately following, do sufficiently declare, the which are maimed and imperfect at the very beginning, in the mids and toward the end, especially the second: for it may be easily seen that they are fragments of certain declamations which he wrote for his own exercise when he was a young man. Now albeit they be so corrupt and defective in manner all throughout, yet the remnant which is left unto us, doth sufficiently discover the honest occupation and employment of learned men in those days, and the careful industry that they had to examine & discuss all things thoroughly, to the end that by a diligent conference thereof, the truth might the better appear and be known. And if otherwhiles they maintained certain paradoxes and strange opinions, it was not upon any cross and litigious spirit to defend obstinately all that came into their fant asticall brame, but for to augment and increase in themselves an earnest desire to apprehend and understand things better: And howsoever our author seemeth to be of mind for to defend the opinion of Pythagoras, as touching the transmigration of souls, and the prohibition to eat flesh; yet by other treatises written with more deliberate, mature and stayed judgement, he giveth us to understand, that he is of a contrary opinion; but his principal scope that he shooteth at, seemeth to be a cutting off and abridging of the great excess and superfluity in purveying, buying, and spending of viands, which in his time began to grow out of all measure; a disorder and enormity which afterwards increased much more. For to gain and compass this point, he would seem to persuade men to the opinion of Pythagoras, which mightily cutteth the wings of all riot and waste full dissolution. Moreover, this ought not to be taken so, as if it favoured and seconded the error of certain fantastical persons, who have condemned the use of God's good creatures: for in the school of Christ we are taught good lessons, which refute sufficiently the dreams of the Pythagoreans, and resolve assuredly the good conscience of all those that make use of all creatures (meet for the sustentation of this life) soberly and with thanks giving, as knowing them to be good, and their use clean and pure unto those whom the spirit of regeneration hath sanctified, for to make them partakers of that realm which is not shut up and enclosed in meats and drinks. As touching this present tract for the maintenance of Pythagoras his paradox, he allegeth five reasons: to wit, That the eating of flesh, is a testimony and sign of inhumanity; That we ought to forbear it, considering we are not driven upon necessity to feed there upon; That it is an unnatural thing; That it hurteth soul and body: and for a conclusion; That men will never come themselves and converse modestly together, if they learn not first to be pitiful and kind even to the very dumb beasts.   

WHETHER IT BE Lawful to eat flesh or no. The former Oration or Treatise.  
BUt you demand of me, for what cause Pythagoras abstained from eating flesh? And I again do marvel, what affection, what manner of courage, or what motive and reason had that man, who first approached with his mouth unto a slain creature, who durst with his lips once touch the flesh of a beast either killed or dead; or how he could find in his heart to be served at his table with dead bodies, and as a man may say, very idols, to make his food and nourishment of those parts and members which a little before did blea, low, bellow, walk and see. How could his eyes endure to behold such murder and slaughter, whiles the poor beasts were either sticked or had the throats cut, were flaied and dismembered? how could his nose abide the smell and sent that came from them? how came it that his taste was not clean marred and overthrown with horror, when he came to handle those uncouth sores and ulcers, or receive the blood and humours, issuing out of the deadly wounds. 
The skins now flaied, upon the ground did sprawl,  
The flesh on spits did bellow still and low:  
Roast, sod and raw, did cry aswell as crawl,  
And yield a voice of living ox or cow.  But this, you will say, is a loud lie, and a mere poetical fiction; howbeit, this was certainly a strange and monstrous supper, that any man should hunger after those beasts, and desire to eat them whiles they still kept a lowing; to prescribe also, and teach men how they should feed of those creatures which live and cry still; to ordain likewise, how they ought to be dressed, boiled, roasted, and served up to the board.  
But he who first invented these monstruosities, aught to be inquired after, and not he who last gave over and rejected the same. Or a man may well say, that those who at the first began to eat flesh, had all just causes so to do, in regard of their want and necessity: for surely, it was not by reason of disordinate and enormous appetite which they used a long time, nor upon plenty and abundance of necessary things, that they grew to this insolency, to seek after strange pleasures, & those contrary to nature. But verily, if they could recover their senses and speech again, they might well say now, Oh how happy and well beloved of the gods are you, who live in these days! in what a world and age are you borne! what affluence of all sorts of good things do you enjoy! what harvests, what store of fruits yieldeth the earth unto you! how commodious are the vintages! and what riches do the fields bring unto you! what a number of trees and plants do furnish you with delights and pleasures, which you may gather and receive, when you think good! you may live (if you list) in all manner of delicacy, without once fouling your hands for the matter; whereas our hap was to be borne in the hardest time and most terrible age of the world, when as we could not choose but incur (by reason of the new creation of all things) a great want and straight indigence of many necessaries: the face of the heaven and sky was still covered with the air; the stars were dusked with troubled and instable humours, together with fire and tempestuous winds: the sun was not yet settled and established, having a constant and certain race to hold his course in, 
From East to West, to make both even and morn  
Dinstinct nor by return from Tropiques twain;  
The seasons changed from those that were before,  
Bedight with leaves, with flowers, with fruits and grain.  The earth suffered wrong by the inordinate streams and inundations of rivers, which had neither certain channels nor banks: much of it lay waste and deformed, with loughs, marshes, and deep bogs; much also remained savage, being overspread with wild woods and fruitless sorests: it brought forth no fruits ripe and pleasant, neither were there any tools and instruments belonging to any art; nor so much as any invention of a witty head. Hunger never gave us case or time of repose; neither was there any expectation or waiting for the yearly seasons of seedness, for there was no sowing at all. No marvel therefore, if we did eat the flesh of beasts and living creatures even contrary to nature, considering that then the very moss and bark of trees served for food; & well was he who could find any green grass or quick coich, or so much as the root of the herb 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which is the baike, & who would say, the root of a bark, but Phleos as Theophraslus reporteth, is an herb growing plenteously in the lake Orchomenus in Paeotia, and therefore well enough known to Plutarch I take it to be Red-mace or Cats-taile.  Phleos: but whensoever men could meet with acorns and mast to taste and feed upon, they would dance and hop for joy about an oak or beech tree; and in their rustical songs call the earth their bountiful mother, and their kind nurse: and such a day as that only, they accounted festival: all their life beside was full of vexation, sorrow and heaviness. But now, what rage, what fury and madness inciteth you to commit such murders and carnage? seeing you have such store and plenty of all things necessary for your life? why bely you the earth, and most unthankfully dishonour her, as if she could not sustain and nourish you? why do you violate the divine power of Ceres the inventresse of sacred laws, and shame sweet and gracious Bacchus, as if these two deities gave you not sufficient whereupon you might live? what! are you not abashed to mingle at your tables pleasant fruits with bloody murder? You call lions and libards savage beasts; mean while yourselves are stained with bloodshed, giving no place to them in cruelty, for where as they do worry and kill other beasts, it is for very necessity and need of sood; but you do it sor dainty fare, for when we have slain either lions or wolves in defence of ourselves, we eat them not but let them lie: But they be the innocent, the harmless, the gentle and tame creatures, which have neither teeth to bite, nor prick to sting withal, which we take and kill, although nature seemeth to have created them, only for beauty and delight: [Much like as if a man seeing Nilus' overflowing 
* I see not how this that is included within these marks [] agreeth with this place, or matter in hand: I suppose therefore it is inserted here without judgement, & taken out of some other book.  his banks, and filling all the country about with running water, which is generative and fruitful, would not praise with admiration the property of that river, causing to spring and grow so many fair and goodly fruits, and the same so necessary for man's life; but if he chance to espy a crocodile swimming, or an aspic creeping and gliding down, or some venomous fly, hurtful and noisome beasts all, blameth the said river upon that occasion, and saith that they be causes sufficient, that of necessity he must complain of the thing: Or verily, when one seeing this land and champain country overspread with good and beautiful fruits, charged also and replenished with ears of corn, should perceive casting his eye over those pleasant corn sields, here & there an ear of darnel, choke-ervil, or some such unhappy weed among, should thereupon forbear to reap and carry in the said corn, and forego the benefit of a plentiful harvest, & find fault therewith: Semblably standeth the case when one seeth the plea of an orator in any cause or action, who with a full and forcible stream of eloquence, endeavoureth to save his client out of the danger of death, or otherwise to prove and verify the charges and imputations of certain crimes; this oration (I say) or eloquent speech of his, running not simply and nakedly, but carrying with it many and sundry affections of all sorts, which he imprinteth in the minds and hearts of the hearers or judges, which being many also, and those diverse and different, he is to turn, to bend and change, or otherwise, to dulce, appease and stay; if he I say should anon pass over and not consider the principal issue, and main point of the cause, and busy himself in gathering out some by-speeches besides the purpose, or haply some phrases improper and impertinent, which the oration of some advocate with the flowing course thereof, hath carried down with it, lighting thereupon, and falling with the rest of his speech.] But we are nothing moved either with the fair and beautiful colour, or the sweet and tuneable voice, or the quickness and subtlety of spirit, or the reat and clean life, or the vivacity of wit and understanding, of these poor silly creatures; and for a little piece of flesh we take away their life, we bereave them of the sun and of light, cutting short that race of life which nature had limited and prefixed for them; and more than so, those lamentable and trembling voice which they utter for fear, we suppose to be inarticulate or unsignificant sounds, and nothing less than pitiful prayers, supplications, pleas & justifications of these poor innocent creatures, who in their language, every one of them cry in this manner: If thou be forced upon necessity, I beseech thee not to save my life: but if disordinate lust move thee thereto, spare me: in case thou hast a mind simply to eat on my flesh, kill me: but if it be for that thou wouldst feed more delicately, hold thy hand and let me live. O monstrous cruelty! It is an horrible sight to see the table of rich men only, stand served and furnished with viands, set out by cooks and victuallers that dress the flesh of dead bodies; but most horrible it is to see the same taken up, for that the relics and broken meats remaining, be far more than that which is eaten: To what purpose then were those silly beasts slain? Now there be others, who making spare of the viands served to the table, will in no hand that they should be cut or sliced; sparing them when as they be nothing else but bare flesh; whereas they spared them not whiles they were living beasts: But forasmuch as we have heard that the same men hold and say: That nature hath directed them to the eating of flesh; it is plain and evident, that this cannot accord with man's nature: And first and foremost this appeareth by the very fabric and composition of his body; for it resembleth none of those creatures whom nature hath made for to feed on flesh, considering they have neither hooked bill, no hauke-pointed talons, they have no sharp and rough teeth, nor stomach so strong, or so hot breath and spirit, as to be able to concoct and digest the heany mass of raw flesh: And if there were nought else to be alleged, nature herself by the broadness and united equality of our teeth, by our small mouth, our soft tongue, the imbecility of natural heat, and spirits serving for concoction, showeth sufficiently that she approoveth not of man's usage to eat flesh, but dissavoreth and disclaimeth the same: And if you obstinately maintain and defend, that nature hath made you for to eat such viands; then, that which you mind to eat first kill yourself, even your own self (I say) without using any blade, knife, bat, club, axe, or hatchet: And even as bears, lions, and wolves, slay a beast according as they mean to eat it; even so kill thou a beef, by the bit of thy teeth; slay me a swine with the help of thy mouth and jaws; tear in pieces a lamb or an hare with thy nails; and when thou hast so done, eat it up while it is alive, like as beasts do; but if thou stayest until they be dead ere thou eat them, and art abashed to chase with thy teeth the life that presently is in the flesh which thou eatest; why dost thou against nature eat that which had life? and yet, when it is deprived of life, and fully dead, there is no man hath the heart to eat the same as it is; but they cause it to be boiled, & to be roasted; they alter it with fire, and many drogues and spices, changing, disguising, and quenching (as it were) the horror of the murder, with a thousand devices of seasoning; to the end that the sense of tasting being beguiled and deceived by a number of sweet sauces and pleasant conditure, might admit and receive that which it abhorreth, and is contrary unto it. Certes it was a pretty conceit which was reported by a Laconian, who having bought in his Inn or hostelry, a little fish, gave it, as it should seem, to the Innkeeper for to be dressed; but when he called unto him for vinegar, cheese, and oil to do it withal: If (quoth the Laconian) I had that which thou demandest of me, I would never have bought this fish. But we chose, for to please our delicate tooth, are so delighted in slaughter and carnage, that flesh we call our viand; and yet then we have need of other viands for the very dressing of flesh itself, mixing and adding thereto, oil, wine, honey, the prickle or sauce garum and vinegar, embalming (as it were) and burying a dead corpse with Syriake spices and Arbicke sauces. And verily, when our flesh meats after this manner be mortified, made tender, and in some sort putrefied, our natural heat hath much ado to concoct the same, and being not able in deed to digest them perfectly, it engendereth in us dangerous heaviness and crudities apt to breed diseases. Diogenes upon a time was so rash, that he durst eat a polype or pourcuttle fish all raw, because he would have taken away the use and help of fire in dressing such meats: and there being certain priests and many other men standing about him, when he covered his head with his cloak, and put the flesh of the said poulpe to his mouth, he said unto them all; For your sake it is that I hazard myself thus as I do, and adventure this jeopardy. Now by Jupiter, this was a proper peril in deed, and a doughty danger, was it not? for this Philosopher here exposed not himself to any perilous hazard, as Pelopidas did, for recovery of the Thebans liberty; nor as Armodius and Aristogiton, for the freedom of Athens: who thus wrestled with a raw poulpe fish in his stomach, and all to make the life of man more beastlike and savage. Well then, plain it is that the eating of flesh is not only unnatural in regard of the body, but also by repletion, fullness and satiety, it maketh the soul fat and gross: for the drinking of wine and feeding upon flesh meats to the full, howsoever it may seem to cause the body to be more able and strong, yet surely the mind it doth enseeble and weaken. And lest I should be thought a professed enemy to those who practise the exercise of the body named Athleticae, I will use the domestical examples of mine own country: for the inhabitants of Attica do term us of Boeotia, fat-backs, gross and senseless, yea, and blockish sots, principally for our rank and large seeding; like as one said: 
Of truth these men, in judgement mine,  
Be nothing else but franked swine.  And as Menander wrote in one place: 
With fat their cheeks be puffed and swollen:  
See, see their chaps how they be bolue.  As also Pindarus: 
They ply their jaws, they feed amain,  
That even their cheeks do shine again.   
But according to Heraclitus, the dry soul seemeth to be the wisest: for know thus much moreover; that empty, runs, pipes, or barrels, resound when they be knocked upon; whereas if they be full, they answer not again to the knocks or strokes given them: brass pans or coppers which be thin & slender, render sounds, and ring all about until such time as one come and with his hand seem to stop and dull the stroke that otherwise went round about: The eye filled with superfluous humidity, becometh dim and dark, neither hath it the full strength and power to perform his office. When we behold the sun through a moist air, and a number of thick mists, and gross undigested vapours, we see him not in his own nature pure, clear, and bright; but as it were in the bottom of a cloud, all duskish, and casting forth thick wandering and dispersed beams: And even so through a body troubled with vapours, full said overcharged with nutriments, of unkind and strange viands, it cannot choose but all the light and shining brightness of the soul which is natural, should become dusked and troubled, having radiant settled splendour, able to pierce thoroughly to the ends and extermities of subtle and fine objects, hardly to be discerned, but the same is wandering, unsteady and dispersed.  
But setting all these matters aside, is it not, think you, a right commendable thing to be acquainted and accustomed to humanity? for who would ever find in his heart to abuse & wrong a man, who is affectionate, gentle, and mild, to the very beasts which are of a strange kind from us, and have no communication of reason with us? Three days ago, I alleged and cited in my disputation a testimony of Xenocrates to this purpose; and namely: How the Athenians condemned him to pay a round fine, who had flaied a quick ram: And in very truth, he that tormenteth and putteth to pain one that is living, is not in my conceit worse than he that taketh the life away and killeth him: Howbeit, as far as I can see, more sense and feeling we have of such things as be unusual and against custom, than unnatural and contrary unto kind: But those reasons which I then delivered, smell haply of some grossness, and were too trivial; for I fear and am loath to touch and set abroach these my discourses, that great and high principle, that deep and mystical cause of this our position: That we ought not to eat flesh; for that I say the hidden secret and original thereof is so incredible to base and timorous persons, as Plato saith, and to such as favour of nothing but of earthly and mortal matters; and herein I fare much like unto the pilot and master of the ship, who in a tempest is afraid to put his ship to sea; or unto a poet, who dareth not set up his fabric or engine in the theatre, all while the stage or pageant is turned and carried round about: And yet peradventure it were not amiss in this place to resound and pronounce aloud those verses of Empedocles, ***. For under covert terms he doth allegorize and give us to understand; that the souls here, are tied and fastened to mortal bodies, by way of punishment, for that they have been murderers, have eaten flesh, devoured one another, and been said by mutual slaughter and carnage: And yet this seemeth to be an opinion more ancient than Empedocles: for those fictions of Poets as touching the dismembering of Bacchus, and the outrageous attempts of the tyrants against him, and how they tasted of flesh murdered, as also of their punishment, and how they were smitten with lightning, they be mere fables: the hidden mythology whereof, tendeth to that renovation of birth or resurrection: for surely that brutish and reasonless part of our soul which is violent, disordered, and not divine, but devilish and daemoniack, the ancient philosophers called Titans; and this is that which is tormented, and suffereth judicial punishment.    

OF EATING FLESH. The second Declamation.  

The Summarie.  
Our author pursuing in this second Treatise his matter and proposition, which he broached and began in the former declamation; and acknowledging how gourmandise, gluttony, and evil custom be dangerous counsellors; yet granteth and agreeth in the end, that a man may eat flesh, upon certain conditions which he doth specify, condemning withal, the cruel excess and riot of many in their fare. After this, having showed by the example of Lycurgus, that we ought to cut off the first occasions of all super fluities, he conferreth the opinions of Pythagoras and Empedocles, with those of other philosophers, and therewith setteth down his own conceit and advice. Afterwards when he had in one word touched, from whence, and whereupon men become so bold and hardy to eat flesh; he declareth a fresh and brooveth, that this manner of feeding doth wonderfully prejudice both body and soul. And in conclusion, he confuteth the Stoics, opposite enemies to the doctrine of Pythagoras; leaving this refutation unperfect, were it that himself never finished it, or that the malice and iniquity of the time hath deprived us thereof: Like as many other fragments missing in these works.   

OF EATING FLESH. The second Declamation.  
REason would, that we should be fresh disposed, and ready in will, in mind and thought, to hear the discourse against this musty and unsavoury custom of eating flesh: For hard it is, as Cato was wont to say, to preach unto the belly that hath no ears; and beside we have all drunk of the cup of custom, resembling that of Circe which 
Compounded is of dolours griefs and pains,  
Of sorrows, woes, and of deceitful trains.  Neither is it an easy matter for them to cast up again the hook of the appetite to eat flesh, who have swallowed it down into their entrails, and are transported and full of the love of pleasures and delights: But well and happy it were for us, if, as the manner is of the Egyptians, so soon as men are dead, to paunch them, and when their belly and bowels be taken forth, to mangle, cut and slice the same against the sun, and then to fling them away, as being the cause of all sins that they have committed: so we would first cut away from ourselves all our gourmandise, gluttony, and murdering of innocent creatures, that we might afterwards lead the rest of our life pure and holy; considering that it is not the belly itself that by murder defileth us; but polluted it is by our intemperance. But say, it is not in our power to effect thus much, or be it, that upon an inveterate custom, we are ashamed in this point to be innocent and faultless; yet let us at leastwise commit sin in measure, and transgress with reason: Let us I say eat flesh, but so, as we be driven thereto for very hunger, and not drawn to it by a liquorous tooth, to satisfy our necessity, and not to feed our greedy and delicate humour: kill we a beast, howbeit with some grief of heart, with some commiseration and pity; and not of a proud and insolent spirit, ne yet of a murderous mind; as men do now adays, after many and diverse sorts: For some in killing of swine or porkets, thrust them in with red hot spits; to the end that the blood being shed and quenched as it were by the tincture of the sirie iron, running through the body, might cause the flesh forsooth to be more tender and delicate: ye shall have others leap upon the udders and paps of the poor sows ready to farrow, and trample upon their bellies and teats with their feet, that the blood, the milk, and the congealed bag of the young pigs, knit within the dams womb, being all jumbled, coufused and blended together, even amid the painful pangs of farrowing (O Jupiter Piacularis) they might make (I would not else) a most dainty dish of meat, and devour the most corrupt and putrefied part of the poor beast: many there are who have a device to stitch and sow up the eyes of crane's and swans, and when they have so done, to mew them up in a dark place, and so feed them, cramming them with strange compositions and pastes made of dried figs; but wot you why? because their flesh should be more dainty and pleasant: whereby it appeareth evidently, that it is not for need of nourishment, nor for want and necessity; but even for satiety, wantonness, sumptuous curiosity, and superfluous excess, that of horrible injustice and wickedness, they make their pleasure and delight: and like as the filthy lecherous person, who is unsatiable in the pleasure of women, after he hath assayed many, runneth on headlong still, roving and ranging every way, and yet his unbrideled and untamed lust is not yet satisfied, but he falleth to perpetrate such horrible villainies as are not once to be named; even so intemperance in meats, when it hath passed once the bounds of nature, and limits of necessity, proceedeth to outrage and cruelty, searching all means how to vary and change the disordinate appetite; for the organs and instruments of our senses, by a fellow ceiling and contagion of maladies, are affected one by another, yea, and run into disorder and sin together, through intemperance, when they rest not contented with the measure assigned them by nature: Thus the hearing being out of frame and sick, or not gulded by reason, marreth music; the feeling when it is degenerate into an effeminate delicacy, seeketh silthily after wanton tickle, touchings, and frictious handling of women: the same vice of intemperance hath taught the eyesight not to be contented with beholding morisks, pyrthick, or warlike dances, nor other law dabble and decent gestures, ne yet to see and view fair pictures and goodly statues, but to esteem the death and murder of men, their mortal wounds, bloody fights, and deadly combats, to be the best fights and spectacles that can be devised. And hereupon it is, that upon such excessive fare & superfluity at the table, there ensue ordinarily wanton loves; upon lechery and filthy venery, there followeth beastly talk; these bawdy ballads and stinking tales, be accompanied commonly with hideous sights, & monstrous shows: lastly, these hornble spectacles have attending upon them, cruelty and inhuman impassibility, even in the cases of very mankind. Hereupon it was that Lycurgus the divine law giver, in those three ordmances of his which he called Rhetrae, commanded that the doors, roufes & finials of houses, should be made with the saw & the axe only, & no other instrument besides thereto employed; which he did not, I assure you, for any hatred at all that he conceived against augers, wimbles, twibils, or other tools for joiners or carvers work; but he knew well enough, that a man would never bring among such simple frames a gilded bedstead, nor venture to carry into an house so plainly built, silver rabbles, hangings, carpets and cover of rich tapestry died with purple, or any precious stones; and he wist full well, that with such an house, with such bedsteads, tables and cups, a frugal supper and a simple dinner would agree and sort best. For to say a truth, upon the beginning and foundation of a disordinate diet, and superfluous kind of life; all manner of delcacie and costly curiosity useth to follow 
Like as the sucking foal, alway  
Runs with the dam, and doth not stay.  What supper then, is not to be counted sumptuous, for which there is evermore killed some living creature or other: for do we think little of the dispense of a soul? and suppose we, that the loss of life is not costly? I do not now say, that it was peradventure the soul of a mother, a father, some friend, or a son, as Empedocles gave it out; but surely a soul endued with sense, with seeing, hearing, apprehension, understanding, wit and discretion, such as nature hath given to each living creature, sufficient to seek and get that which is good for it, and likewise to avoid and shun whatsoever is hurtful and contrary unto it. Consider now a little, whether those philosophers that teach and will us to eat our children, our friends, our fathers and wives when they are dead, do make us more gentle and fuller of humanity, than Pythagoras and Empedocles, who accustom and acquaint us to be kind and just, even to other creatures. Well, you mock and laugh at him that maketh conscience to eat of a mutton; and shall not we (say they) laugh a good and make sport when we see one cutting and chopping pieces of his father or mother being dead, and sending away some thereof to his friends who are absent, and inviting such as be present and near at hand, to come and make merry with the rest, causing such joints and pieces of flesh to be served up to the table, without any spare at all? But it may be, that we offend now, and commit some fault in handling these books, having not beforehand cleansed our hands, mundified our eyes, purified our feet, and purged our ears; unless perhaps this be their cleansing and expiation, to devise & discourse of such things with sweet & pleasant words, which as Plato saith, wash away all fault & brackish hearing: but if a man should set these books & arguments in parallel opposition or comparison one with another; he would judge that some of them were the Philosophy of the Scythians, Tartarians, Sagidians, and Melanchlaenians, of whom when Herodotus writeth, he is taken for a liar; and as for the sentences and opinions of Pythagoras and Empedocles, they were the very laws, ordinances, statutes, and judgements of the ancient Greeks, according to which they framed their lives, to wit: That there were between us and brute beasts certain common rights: who were they then, that afterwards otherwise ordained? 
Even they who first of iron and steel, mischievous swords did sorge:  
And of poor labouring ox at plough, began to cut the gorge.  For even thus also began tyrants to commit murders; like as at the first in old time, they killed at Athens one notorious and most wicked sycophant, named Epitedeius; so they did by a second, and likewise a third: now the Athenians being thus acquainted to see men put to death; saw afterwards Niceratus the son of Nicias murdered; Theramenes also the great commander and captain general; yea and Polemarchus the philosopher. Semblably, men began at first to eat the flesh of some savage and hurtful beast, than some fowls and fish were snared and caught with nets, and consequently, cruelty (being fleshed as it were, exercised and enured in these and such like slaughters) proceeded even to the poor labouring ox, to the silly sheep that doth clad and trim our bodies, yea, and to the house-cocke: and thus men by little and little augmenting their insatiable greediness, never stayed until they came to manslaughter, to murder, yea, and to bloody battles. But if a man can not prove nor make demonstration by sound reasons, that souls in their resurrections and new nativities meet with common bodies; so as that which now is reasonable, becometh afterwards reasonless, and likewise that which at this present is wild and savage, cometh to be by another birth and regeneration, tame and gentle again; and that nature transmuteth and translateth all bodies, dislodging and replacing the soul of one in another, 
And cladding them with robes unknowen,  
Of other flesh, as with their own.  Are not these reasons yet at leastwise sufficient to reclaim and divert men from this unbrideled intemperance of murdering dumb beasts? namely, that it breedeth maladies, crudities, heaviness and indigestion in the body, that it marreth and corrupteth the soul, which naturally is given to the contemplation of high and heavenly things? to wit, when we have taken up a wont and custom, not to feast a friend or stranger who cometh to visit us, unless we shed blood; and cannot celebrate a marriage dinner, or make merry with our neighbours and friends without committing murder? And albeit the said proof and argument of the transmigration of souls into sundry bodies, be not sufficiently declared, so as it may deserve to be credited and believed; yet surely the conceit and opinion thereof, aught to work some scruple and fear in our hearts, and in some sort hold us in & stay our hands. For like as when two armies encounter one another in a night battle; if one chance to light upon a man fallen upon the ground, whose body is all covered and hidden with armour, and present his sword to cut his throat, or run him through, and therewith hear another crying unto him, that he knoweth not certainly, but thinketh and supposeth that the party lying along is his brother, his son, his father, or tent-fellow; whether were it better, that he giving ear and credit to this conjecture and suspicion (false though it be) should spare and forbear an enemy for a friend, or rejecting that which had no sure and evident proof, kill one of his friends in stead of an enemy? I suppose there is not one of you all but will say, that the later of these were a most gross and lewd part. Behold moreover Merope in the tragedy when she lifteth up her axe for to strike her own son, taking him to be the murderer of her son, and saying withal: 
Have at thy head, for now I trow,  
I shall thee give a deadly blow.  what a stir and trouble she maketh over all the theatre? how she causeth the hair to stand upright upon the heads of the spectators, for fear lest she should prevent the old man who was about to take hold of her arm, and so wound the guiltless young man her son? But if peradventure in this case there should have stood another aged man fast by, crying unto her: strike hardly, for it is your enemy, and a third chose, saying: Strike not in any wise, it is your own son; whether had been the greater and more grievous sin, to let go the revengement of her enemy for doubt that he was her son, or to commit silicide and murder her son indeed, for the anger she bore unto her enemy? When as therefore there is neither hatred nor anger that driveth us to do a murder; when neither revenge, nor fear of our own safety and life moveth us, but even for our pleasure we have a poor sheep lying under our hand with the throat turned upward, a philosopher of the one side should say: Cut the throat, for it is a brute beast, and another admonish us on the other side, saying: Stay your hand and take heed what you do; for what know you to the contrary, whether in that sheep be the soul lodged of some kinsman of yours, or peradventure of some God? Is the danger (before God) all one and the same, whether I refuse to eat of the flesh, or believe not that I kill my child or some one of my kinsfolk?  
But surely the Stoics are not equally matched in this fight for the defence of eating flesh: For what is the reason that they so band themselves, and be so open mouthed in the maintenance of the belly and the kitchen? what is the cause that condemning pleasure as they do, for an effeminate thing, and not to be held either good or indifferent, no nor so much as familiar and agreeable to nature, they stand so much in the patronage of those things that make to the pleasure and delight of feeding? And yet by all consequence, reason would, that considering they chase and banish from the table, all sweet perfumes and odoriferous ointments, yea, and all pastry work, and banqueting junkets, they should be rather offended at the sight of blood and flesh. But now, as if by their precise philosophical rules, they would control our day books and journals of our ordinary expenses, they cut off all the cost bestowed upon our table in things needless and superfluous; mean while they find no fault with that which savoureth of bloodshed and cruelty in this superfluity of table furniture: We do not indeed, (say they) because there is no communication of rights between beasts and us; but a man might answer them again very well. No more is there between us and perfumes or other foreign and exotic sauces, and yet you would have us to abstain from them, rejecting and blaming on all sides, that which in any pleasure is neither profitable nor needful. But let us I pray you consider upon this point a little nearer, to wit, whether there be any community in right and justice, between us and unreasonable creatures or no? and let us do it not subtly and artificially, as the captious manner is of these sophisters in their disputations; but rather after a gentle and familiar sort, having an eye unto our own passions and affections, let us reason and decide the matter with ourselves.    

THAT A MAN CANNOT LIVE PLEASANTLY ACCORDING TO THE DOCTRINE OF EPICURUS.  

The Summarie.  
GReat disputations there have been holden among the Philosophers and Sages of the world, as touching the sovereign good of man, as it may appear even at this day by the books that are extant among us; and yet neither one nor other, have hit the true mark whereat they shot, to wit: The right knowledge of God: Howbeit, some of them are a great deal farther out of the way than others; and namely the Epicureans, whom our author doth perstringe in many places, as holding a doctrine clean contrary unto theirs, according as his writings do testify. And forasmuch as Epicurus and his disciples placed and established this sovereign good, in pleasure of the body: this their opinion is here examined and confuted at large: for in form of a dialogue Plutarch rehearseth the communication or conference which he had with Aristodemus, Zeuxippus, and Theon, as they walked together immediately after one lecture of his upon this matter, who having showed in general terms the absurdities of this Epicurian doctrine, maint eineth in one word: That it is no life at all for to live according to the same. Then he explaineth and showeth what the Epicureans mean by this word To live: and from thence proceedeth forward to refute their imagination, and whatsoever dependeth thereupon, and that by sound and weighty arguments, intermingling many pretty conceits and pleasant jests, together with certain proper similitudes for the purpose: After he had proved that they were deceived themselves, and seduced their disciples; he holdeth moreover this point: That even they deprive themselves of the true good, which consisteth in the repose and contentment of the mind, rejecting (as they do) all Histories, Mathematical arts and liberal sciences, and among the rest, poetry and Music; showing throughout all this discourse, that such persons are deprived of common sense. Passing forward, he holdeth and maintaineth that the soul taketh joyin a contentment proper to itself: and afterwards in discoursing of the pleasure that active life doth bring; he refuteth more and more his adversary, addressing to this purpose, a certain conference and comparison between the pleasures of body and soul; whereby a man may see the misery of the one, and the excellency of the other. This point he enricheth with diverse examples; the end whereof showeth: That there is nothing at all to be counted great or profitable in the school of Epicurus, whose scholars never durst approve his opinion, especially in death: also: That virtuous men have without all comparison much more pleasure in this world, than the Epicureans, who in their afflictions know not how to receive any joy or comfort by remembrance of their pleasures past. And this is the very sum of the dialogue during the time that the above named persons did walk; who after they were set, began the disputation a fresh, and spoke in the first place, of God's providence, condemning by diversreasons the atheism of the Epicureans, who are altogether inexcusable, even in comparison of the common sort given to superstition: continuing and holding on this discourse, he depainteth very lively the nature of the Epicureans, and cometh to represent and set down the contentment that men of honour have in their religion; where also he holdeth this point: That God is not the author of evil; and that the Epicureans are sufficiently punished for their impiety, in depriving themselves of that pleasure which cometh unto us by meditation of the divine wisdom, in the conduct and management of all things. Consequently he showeth that this their profane philosophy overthroweth and confoundeth all persons, as well in their death, as during their life: Whereupon he proceedeth to treat of the immortality of the soul, and of the life to come; describing at large the misery of the Epicureans: and for a final conclusion, he compriseth in four or five lines the summary of all their error, and so shutteth up and concludeth the whole disputation.   

THAT A MAN CANNOT live pleasantly according to the doctrine of Epicurus.  
COlotes one of the disciples, and familiar followers of Epicurus, wrote and published a book, wherein he endeavoured to prove and declare: That there was no life at all to speak of, according to the opinions and sentences of other Philosophers. Now as touching that which readily came into my mind for the answer of his challenge and the discourse against his reasons in the defence of other Philosophers, I have beforetime put down in writing: but forasmuch as after the lecture and disputation of this matter ended, there passed many speeches in our walk against that sect; I thought it good to collect and gather the same, yea, and to reduce them into a written treatise; if for nothing else, yet for this cause, to give them at leastwise to understand who are so ready to note, censure and correct others, that a man ought to have heard and read with great heed and diligence (and not superficially) the works and writings of those whom he taketh upon him to reprove and refute, and not to pick out one word here & another there, or to take hold of his words delivered by way of talk & conference, and not couched and set down precisely in writing, thereby to repel and drive away the ignorant and such as have no knowledge of those things. For when as we walked forth, after the lecture (as our manner was) out of the school into the common place of exercise, Zeuxippus moving speech, began in this wise: Methinks (quoth he) that this discourse hath been delivered much more mildly and gently, than becometh frankness and liberty of speech beseeming the schools; which is the reason that Heraclides and his followers be departed from us, as discontented and displeased, yea, and much more bitterly nipping and checking us (without any cause given on our part) than either Epicurus or Metrodorus. Then Theon: Why said 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (quoth he) that Colotes (in comparison of them) is the most modest and fairest spoken man in the world? For the most foul and reproachful terms that can be devised for to rail and slander withal, to wit, of sacrileges, scurrilities, vanities of speech, talkative, babbling, glorious and vaunting arrogancy, whoremonging, murders, counterfeit hypocrites, cousiners, cursed creatures, heavy headed, brainsick, tedious and making their brains ache who read them: these (I say) they have raked up together, and discharged as it were haile-shot upon Aristotle, Socrates, Pythagoras, Protagoras, Theraclides, Hipparchus, and whom not of all the most renowned and principal Philosophers? in such sort, that how well and wisely soever they have carried themselves otherwise, yet in regard of their foul mouths, slanderous speeches, and beastly backbitings, they deserve to be sequestered far off, and put out of the range and number of wise men and Philosophers: for envy, emulation and jealousy ought not to enter into this divine dance and heavenly choir, being so weak and impotent, that they can not dissemble and hide their grief and discontent. hereat Aristodemus: Heraclides (quoth he) who by profession is a Grammarian, in the behalf of all the poetical rabble (for so it pleaseth the Epicureans to blazon them) and for all the foolish and fabulous vanities of Homer, hath well requited Epicurus; or because Metrodorus in so many places of his writings hath reviled and abused that prince of poets: but as for them (o Zeuxippus) let them go as they are: and whereas it was objected in the beginning of the speech against those men: That there was no living at all after their precepts and rules, why do not we ourselves, alone by ourselves, taking unto us Theon for our associate (because this man here is weary) go in hand to prosecute the same thoroughly? Then Theon made him this answer: 
This combat hath before us, been  
Performed by others, well I ween.  And therefore propounding to ourselves (if it please you) another mark and scope to aim at, let us (for to be revenged of the injury done unto other philosophers) proceed after this form of process, and assay to prove and show (if it be possible) that according to the doctrine even of these Epicureans, men can not live in joy and pleasure. Say you so? (quoth I then, and laughed heartily withal) now surely, me thinks you are leapt upon their bellies, and be ready to trample then with both your feet: certes, you will enforce these men to fight for their very own flesh if you bereave them of pleasure, who do nothing else but cry out and sing this note: 
We are in deed no champions brave,  
In fight with fists no grace we have,  neither are we eloquent orators, wise magistrates or prudent governors and rulers of cities or States, 
But for to feast and make good cheer,  
To eat and drink, we have no peer.  We love (I say) to banquet always and make merry, to give ourselves contentment and all the delightful motions and pricks of the flesh, if haply any pleasure and joy thereby may be transmitted and sent into the soul: so as you seem to me not to deprive these men of joy and solace only, but also of their very life, in case you do not leave them a pleasant and jocund life. How then? (quoth Theon) if you think so well of this subject matter, why do not you set in hand to it at this present. For mine own part (said he again) content I will be to hear you, and answer again, if you request so much; but begin you first to set us in the train thereof, for I will yield unto you the superiority and presidence of this disputation. Now when Theon seemed to pretend some small excuse; Aristodemus: O what a compendious, ready, fair & plain way (quoth he) have you cut us of, for to come unto this point, in not permitting us first to make inquisition unto this Epicurean sect, and to put them to their trial as touching virtue and honesty! for it no easy matter, nay it is impossible to drive these men from a pleasant and voluptuous life, so long as they suppose and set down this: That the supreme end of all human felicity lieth in pleasure; whereas, if we could once have brought this about: That they lived not honestly; presently and withal, they had been put by their pleasant life; for they themselves confess, and say: That a man can not live in joy, unless he be honest; for that the one may not stand without the other. As touching that point (quoth Theon) we will not stick in the progress of our discourse, to handle it, but for the present, we will take that which they grant, and make our use of it; this therefore they hold: That the sovereign good whereof we speak, consisteth in the belly and the parts thereabout, as also in those other passages and conduits of the body, thorough which, pleasure entereth into it; & no pain at all: and they are of opinion that all the fine devices, subtle and witty inventions in the world were put in trial and practised, for to please and content the belly, or at leastwise, for the good hope that she should enjoy contentment, according as the wise Philosopher Metrodorus hath said and written. And verily, by this their first supposition, without going any farther, it is easy to be known and seen (my good friend) what a slender, poor, rotten and unsteady foundation they have laid, to ground upon it their sovereign good; considering that even those pores & conduits abovesaid (by which they bring in their pleasures) lie aswell open to admit grievous pains; or to say more truly, there be very few ways in the body of man, by which, pleasure entereth; whereas there is no part or member thereof, but receiveth dolour and pain. For be it granted, that all pleasures have their seat in the natural parts, about joints, sinews, feet and hands; why, even in these very places are bedded and seated also the most cruel and grievous passions that be; to wit, of gouty fluxes and rhewmaticke ulcers, of gangrenes, tetters, wolves, cancerous sores, which corrode, eat, mortify and putrify the parts that they possess. If you present unto the body the sweetest odours and the most pleasant savours that be, you shall find but few places therein (and seek throughout) affected therewith mildly and gently to their contentment; whereas all the rest often times are grieved and offended thereby: nay there is no part at all of the body, but subject it is to feel and suffer the smart dolours inflicted by fire, by sword, by sting, biting, scourging and whipping; the ardour of heat, the rigour of cold entereth and pierceth into all parts, like also as doth the fever: but pleasures verily are much like unto pretty puffs and gentle gales of wind, blowing after a smiling manner, some upon one extremity that beareth out of the body, and some upon other, as if it were upon the rocks lying forth in the sea, they pass away, blow over and vanish incontinently, their time and continuance is so short: much like unto those meteors or fire-lights in the night, which represent the shooting of stars as if they fell from heaven, or traversed the sky from one side to the other; soon are the pleasures on a light fire, and as soon again gone out and quenched at one instant in our flesh; but chose, how long pains and dolours do endure, we cannot allege a better testimony than that of Philoctetes in Aeschylus, who speaking of the pain of his ulcer, saith thus: 
That dragon fell, doth never leave his hold,  
By day or night, since first my foot he caught:  
The stinging smart goes to my heartful cold,  
By poisoned tooth which from his mouth it reached.  Neither doth the anguish of pain lightly run over and gild, after a tickling manner, upon other superficial parts and externities of the body; but chose, like as the grain or seed of the Sea-claver or Trefoil Medica, is writhe and full of points and angles, whereby it taketh hold of the earth and sticketh fast, and there (by reason of those points so rough and rugged) continueth a long time; even so dolour and pain, having many crotchets and hooked spurns of roots, which it putteth forth and spreadeth here and there, inserteth and interlaceth itself within the flesh, and there abideth, not only for a night and a day, but also for certain seasons of whose years, yea, and some revolutions of Olympiades', so that hardly and with much ado at the last departeth, being thrust out by other pains, like as one nail is driven forth by another stronger than it. For what man was ever known to have drunk or eaten so long a time, as they endure thirst who are sick of an ague, or abide hunger who are besieged? and where is that solace and pleasure in the company and conversation of friends, that lasteth so long as tyrant's cause them to abide torture and punishment, who fall into their hands? and all this proceedeth from nought else but the inability and untowardness of the body, to lead a voluptuous life; for that in truth, made it is more apt to abide pain and travel, than to joy in delights and pleasures; to endure laborious dolours, it hath strength and power sufficient; whereas to enjoy pleasures and delights, it showeth presently how feeble and impotent it is, in that so soon it hath enough and is weary thereof: by occasion whereof, when they see that we are minded to discourse much as touching a voluptuous life, they interrupt and break incontinently our purpose, confessing themselves; that bodily and fleshly pleasure is very small and feeble, or (to say a truth) transitory, and such as passeth away in a moment; unless haply they are disposed to lie and speak otherwise than they think; like as Metrodorus did, when he said: That often times we spit against the pleasures of the body; and Epicurus, when he writeth: That a wise man being sick and diseased, laugheth and rejoiceth in the mids of the greatest and most excessive pains of his corporal malady. How is it possible then, that they who so lightly and easily bear the anguish of bodily pains, should make any account of pleasures? for admit that they give no place to pains, either in greatness or continuance of time, yet they have at leastwise some reference and correspondence unto them, in that Epicurus hath given this general limitation and common definition to them all; to wit, Indolence or a subtraction of all that which might cause and move pain; as if nature extended joy to the easement only of dolour, and suffered it not to proceed further in augmentation of pleasure; but when it came once to this point, namely, to feel no more pain, it admitted only certain needless varieties. But the way to come with an appetite and desire to this estate, being indeed the full measure of joy and pleasure, is exceeding brief and short; whereupon these Epicureans perceiving well, that this place is very lean and hard, do translate and remove their sovereign good, which is the pleasure of the body, as it were out of a barren soil, into a more fruitful and fertile ground, and namely, to the soul, as if therein we should have always orchards, gardens and meadows covered over with pleasures and delights, whereas according to the saying of Telemachus in Homer: 
In Ithaca there is no spacious place,  
Affourding plains at large to run a race.  And even so in this poor fleshly body of ours, there is no fruition of pleasure united, plain and smooth, but altogether rugged and rough, intermingled and delayed for the most part, with many agitations that be feverous and contrary to nature. Hereat Zeuxippus taking occasion to speak: Think you not then (quoth he) that these men do very well in this, that they begin with the body; wherein it seemeth that pleasure engendereth first, & afterwards end in the soul, as in that which is more constant & firm, reposing therein all absolute perfection? Yes I wis (quoth I) and my thinks I assure you that they do passing well, and according to the direction of nature, in case they still search after and find that which is more perfect, and accomplished like as those persons do, who give themselves to contemplation and politic life; but if afterwards you hear them protest and cry with open mouth, that the soul joieth in no worldly thing, nor findeth content and repose, but only in corporal pleasure, either present and actual, or else in mere expectation thereof, and that therein alone consisteth their sovereign good: think you not that they use the soul as a receptorie for the body, and in thus translating the pleasure of the body into it, they do as those who power and fill wine out of one vessel that leaketh and is nought, unto another that is more compact and will hold better, for to preserve and keep it longer, as supposing thereby, to make the thing far better, and more honourable; and verily time doth keep well and mend the wine that is thus powered out of one vessel into another: But of pleasure, the soul receiving the remembrance only, as the odour and smell thereof, retaineth nothing else; for that so soon as pleasure hath wrought or boiled as it were one walm in the flesh, it is soon quenched and extinguished, and that remembrance remaining thereof passeth soon away as a shadow, smoke, or fuming vapour; much like as if a man should gather and heap together a number of fancies and cogitations of whatsoever he had eat or drunk before time, and so make his repast and food thereof, for default of other wines and viands fresh and present in place: yet see how much more modestly the Cyrenaic philosophers are affected, although they have drunk out of the same bottle with Epicurus; for they are of opinion, that the wanton sports of Venus should not be exercised openly, and in the day light, but would have the same to be hidden and covered with the darkness of the night; for fear lest our cogitation receiving clearly by the eyesight the representations of this said act, might eftsoons inflame and stir up the lust and appetite thereto: whereas these men chose do hold, that herein consisteth the perfection of a wise man's felicity, for that he remembreth certainly, and retaineth surely all the evident figures, gestures, and motions of pleasures past. Now whether such precepts and rules as these, be unwoorthy the name of those who make profession of wisdom, namely thus to suffer such scour and filthy ordures of their pleasures to remain in the soul, as it were in the sink and draft of the body, I purpose not to discourse at this time. But surely that impossible it is for such matters to make a man happy, or to live a joious life, may hereby appear most evidently: For the pleasure of remembering delights past, cannot be very great unto those, who had but a small fruition thereof when they were present; and unto those likewise, who find it expedient for them, to have the same presented in a measure, & soon to retire & withdraw themselves from them, it cannot be profitable to think thereupon long after, considering that even with those persons who of all other be most sensual & given to fleshly pleasures, the joy & contentment abideth not at all after they have once performed the action; only there remaineth with them a certain shadow, and the illusion (as it were in a dream) of the pleasure that is slowen away, continueth a while in their mind, for to maintain and kindle still the fire of their concupiscence: much like unto those who in their sleep dream that they are drinking, or enjoying their loves; and verily such imperfect pleasures and imaginary joys do nothing else but more eagerly whet and provoke lascivious life: neither (I assure you) is the remembrance of those pleasure which these men have enjoyed in times past, delectable; but only out of the small relics remaining of their pleasure, which are but weak, slender and feeble, the same remembrance doth renew and stir up again a furious appetite, which pricketh and provoketh them evidently, and giveth them no rest. Again, no likelihood there is, that even those who otherwise be sober, honest, and continently given, do amuse themselves and busy their heads in calling to mind such matters, and to read and count them out of a journal register or daybook and Calendar, according as the ridiculous jest goes of one Carneades who was wont to do so, namely: How often have I lain with Hedia or with Leontum? In what and how many places have I drunk Thasian wine? At how many set feasts at three weeks or twenty days end, have I been merry and made, great and sumptuous cheer? For this passionate affection of the mind, and disordinate forwardness, thus to call to remembrance and represent delights past, doth argue and bewray most evidently an outrageous appetite and beastly furious heat after pleasures either present, or expected and looked for: and therefore my concet is this: That even these men themselves perceiving what absurdities do follow hereupon, have had recourse to indolency and the good state and disposition of the body; as if to live in joy and happiness, were to think and imagine upon such a complexion, that either shall be or hath been in some persons. For this firm habit and compact constitution of the flesh (say they) and the assured hope that it will continue, bringeth an exceeding contentment, and a most sound permanent joy unto as many as can discourse and think thereupon in in their minds: For the better proof hereof, consider first and foremost their behaviour, and what they do, namely, how they remove, toss and transport up and down this pleasure, indolency, or firm disposition of the flesh, (call it what you will) transferring it out of the body into the soul, and again from the soul to the body, for that they cannot hold and stay it, being apt to slide and run from them; whereupon they are forced to tie and fasten it to some chief head and principle; and thus they do stay and sustain the pleasure of the body with the joy of the mind, and reciprocally determine and accomplish the joy of the mind in the hope and expectation of bodily pleasure. But how is it possible, that the foundation being thus movable and inconstant, the rest of the building upon it, should not likewise be unsteadfast? or how can the hope be fast, and the joy assured, being founded upon a groundwork exposed so much unto wavering and to so many mutations as these be, which compass and environ ordinarily the body, subject to a number of necessary injuries, hurts and wounds from without, and having within the very bowels thereof, the sources and springs of many evils and maladies, which the discourse of reason is not able to avert and turn away? For otherwise it could not be, that these men (prudent and wise as they are) should have been afflicted and tormented with the diseases of painful strangury or pissing drop-meale, the suppression and difficulty of urine, bloudy-flixes, dysenteries and dolorous wrings in the guts, phthisicks, and consumptions of the lungs or dropsies; of which maladies Epicurus himself was plagued with some, Polyenus with others, Nicocles also and Agathobulus had their part and were much troubled therewith, which I speak not by way of reproach unto them; for I know very well, that Pherecides and Heraclitus, two singular personages, were likewise encumbered with grievous maladies: but we would gladly require and request of them (if they will acknowledge their own passions and accidents which they endure, and not, upon a vain bravery of words, to win a popular favour and applause of the people, incur the crime of insolent arrogance, and be convict of leasing) either not to admit the firm and strong constitution of the flesh, for the element and principle of all joy; or else not to bear us in hand and affirm, that those who be fallen into painful anguish and dolorous disease, do laugh, disport, and be wanton merry: for well it may be, that the body and flesh may be many times in good plight and in firm disposition; but that the hope should be assured and certain that the same will so continue, never yet could enter into a man of stayed mind and sound judgement. But like as in the sea, according to the Poet Aeschylus, 
The night always, even to a pilot wise,  
Breeds woe, for fear lest tempests should arise.  
So doth a calm—  For why? who knows what will ensue? and future time is ever uncertain. Impossible it is therefore, that a soul which placeth and reposeth her fovereigne good in the sound disposition of the body, and in the hope of continuance therein, should hold long without fear and trouble; for that the body is not only subject to storms and tempests without, as the sea is; but the greatest part of troublesome passions, and those which are most violent, she breedeth in herself; and more reason there is for a man to hope for fair weather in Winter, than to promise himself a constitution of body exempt from pain and harm, to persever and remain so, long: for what else hath given Poets occasion and induced them to call the life of man a day-flower, unstable, unconstant and uncerteine; or to compare it unto the leaves of trees, which put out in the Spring season, fade and fall again in Autumn; but the imbecility and feebleness of the flesh, subject to infinite infirmities, casualties, hurts and dangers? the best plight whereof, and highest point of perfection, physicians themselves are wont to admonish us for to suspect, fear, diminish, and take down. For according to the Aphorism of Hypocrates: The good constitution of a body when it is at the height, is dangerous and slippery: and as Euripides the poet said very well: 
Whose body strong, whose fast and brawny flesh,  
Did show erewhile a colour gate and fresh,  
Soon gone he was, and extinct so dainly,  
As star that seems to shoot and fall from sky.  Nay, that which more is; a common received opinion it is, that those persons who are most fair and in the flower of their beauty, if they be eie-bitten, or looked wistly upon by a witching or envious eye, sustain much hurt and damage thereby; because the perfection and highest degree of vigour in the body, is most subject to a sudden alteration, by reason of very weakness and frailty; and that there is small or no assurance at all that a man should lead his life without pain and sorrow, may evidently appear by that which they themselves do say unto others; for they affirm: That whosoever commit wickedness and transgress the laws, live all their days in misery and fear; for howsoever they may perhaps live undetected, yet impossible it is that they should promise themselves assured security, never to be discovered; insomuch as the doubt and fear of future punishment, will not give them leave to take joy, or assuredly to use the benefit of present impunity; in delivering these speeches to other, they perceive not how they speak against themselves: For semblably well it may be, that oftentimes they may have their health, and carry able bodies about them; but to be assured that they shall continue so always, or a long time, is a thing that cannot be performed; for needs they must evermore stand in doubt and distrust of their body for the time to come; like as women great with child, are ever gruntling and groaning against the time of their travel: otherwise, let them say, why they attend still a sure and confident hope of that which hitherto they never could attain unto. Moreover, it is not sufficient to work assured confidence, for a man to forbear sin and wrong-doing, or not at all to offend the laws, considering that to be afflicted justly, and for desert, is not the thing to be feared, but simply to endure pain, is fearful and terrible. For if it be a grief and trouble to be touched and vexed with a man's own sins and trespasses; he cannot choose but be molested and disquieted also with the enormities and transgressions of others: And verily if the outrageous violence and cruelty of Lachares was not more offensive and troublesome to the Athenians; and likewise the tyranny of Dionysius to the Syracusanes; yet I am sure at leastwise it was full as much as to their own selves; for whiles they vexed them, tormented they were and molested themselves, and they looked to suffer punishment one time or other for their wrongs and outrages, for that they offered the same before unto their citizens and subjects who fell into their hands. What should a man allege to this purpose, the furious rage of the multitude, the horrible and bloody cruelty of thieves and rovers, the mischievous pranks of proud and presumptuous inheritors, plague and pestilence by contagion and corruption of the air, as also the fell outrage of the angry sea, in a ghust whereof Epicurus himself writeth, he had like to have been swallowed up as he sailed to the city Lampsacus? It may suffice to relate in this place the nature only of our body and frail flesh, which hath within itself the matter of all maladies, cutting (as we say merrily in the common proverb) out of the very ox, leather thongs; that is to say, taking pains and torments from itself, thereby to make life full of anguish, fearful, and dangerous, as well to good persons as to bad; in case they have learned to rejoice, and to found the confidence and surety of their joy upon nothing else but the flesh and the hope thereof, according as Epicurus himself hath left written, as in many other of his books, so in those especially which he entitled, Of the sovereign end of all good things. We may therefore directly conclude, that these men do hold for the foundation of a joyful & pleasant life, not a principle that is not only unsteady, tottering, and not to be trusted upon, but also base, vile, and every way contemptible; if so be that to avoid evils, be their only joy and the sovereign felicity that they seek for; and in case they say: That they respect and regard nought else; and in one word: That nature herself knoweth not where else to lodge and bestow the said happiness, but only there, from whence is chased and driven away, that which might annoy and offend her; and thus hath Metrodorus written in his treatise against sophisters: so that according to their doctrine, we are to make this definition of sovereign good, even the avoidance of evil; for how can one lodge any joy, or place the said good, but only there, from whence pain and evil hath been dislodged & removed: To the same effect writeth Epicurus also, to wit: That the nature of a good thing is engendered and ariseth from the eschewing & shunning of evil; as also that it proceedeth from the remembrance, cogitation, and joy which one conceiveth, in that such a thing happened unto him. For surely it is an inestimable and incomparable pleasure (by his saying) to wit, the knowledge alone that one hath escaped some notable hurt or great danger: And this (quoth he) is certainly the nature and essence of the sovereign good, if thou wilt directly apply thyself thereto, as it is meet, and then anon rest and stay therein, without wandering to and fro, here and there, prating and babbling I wot not what concerning the definition of the said sovereign good. O the great felicity and goodly pleasure which these men enjoy, rejoicing as they do in this, that they endure none evil, feel no pain, nor suffer sorrow! Have they not (think you) great cause to glorify, & to say as they do, calling themselves immortal, and gods fellows? Have they not reason for these their grandeurs, and exceeding sublimites of their blessings, to cry out with open mouth, & as if they were possessed with the frantic fury of Bacchus' priests, to break forth into loud exclamation for joy, that surpassing all other men in wisdom and quickness of wit, they only have found out the sovereign, celestial, and divine good, and that which hath no mixture at all of evil? So that now their beatitude and felicity is nothing inferior to that of swine and sheep, in that they repose true happiness in the good and sufficient estate of the flesh principally, and of the soul likewise in regard of the flesh; of hogs I say and sheep; for to speak of other beasts which are of a more civil, gentle, and gallant nature; the height and perfection of their good, standeth not upon the avoiding of evil, considering that when they are full, and have stored their craws, some fall to singing and crowing, others to swimming; some give themselves to fly, others to counterfeit all kinds of notes and sounds, disporting for joy of heart and the pleasure that they take; they use to play together, they make pastime, they hop, leap, skip, and dance one with another, she wing thereby, that after they have escaped some evil, nature inciteth and stirreth them to seek forward, and look after that which is good, or rather indeed that they reject and cast from them, all that which is dolorous and contrary to their nature, as if it stood in their way, and hindered them in the pursuit of that which is better, more proper & natural unto them: for that which is necessary is not strait ways simply good; but surely the thing that in truth is desirable and worthy to be chosen above the rest, is situate farther, and reacheth beyond the avoidance of evil; I mean that which is indeed pleasant, and familiar to nature, as Plato said; who forbade expressly to call or once to esteem the deliverance of pain and sorrow, either pleasure or joy, but to take them as it were for the rude Sciographie or first draft of a painter, or a mixture of that which is proper and strange, familiar and unnatural, like as of black and white. But some there be, who mounting from the bottom to the mids, for want of knowledge, what is the lowest and the middle take the middle for the top and the highest pitch, as Epicurus & Metrodorus have done, who defined the essential nature and substance of the sovereign good, to be the deliverance and riddance from evil, contenting themselves with the joy of slaves and captives, who are enlarged and delivered out of prison, or eased of their irons, who take it to be a great pleasure done unto them in case they be gently washed, bathed, and anointed after their whipping-cheere, and when their flesh hath been torn with scourges; meanwhile they have no taste at all or knowledge of pure, true, and liberal joys indeed, such as be sincere, clean and not blemished with any scars or cicatrices, for those they never saw, nor came where they grew; for say that the scurf, scab, and manginess of the flesh, say that the bleerednesse or gummy watering of rheumatic eyes, be troublesome infirmities, and such as nature cannot away withal, it followeth not hereupon that the scraping and scratching of the skin, or the rubbing and cleansing of the eyes should be such wonderful matters, as to be counted felicities: neither if we admit, that the superstitious fear of the gods, and the grievous anguish and trouble arising from that which is reported of the devils in hell be evil; we are not to infer by and by that to be exempt and delivered there fro, is happiness, felicity, and that which is to be so greatly wished and desired: certes, the assign a very strait room and narrow place for their joy, wherein to turn, to walk, too room and tumble at ease, so far forth only, as not to be terrified or dismayed with the apprehension of the pains and torments described in hell, the only thing that they desire. Lo, how their opinion which so far passeth the common sort of people, setteth down for the final end of theri singular wisdom, a thing, which it seemeth the very brute beasts hate even of themselves: for as touching that firm constitution and indolence of the body, it makes no matter, whether of itself or by nature, it be void of pain and sickness; no more in the tranquility and repose of the soul, skilleth it much, where by the own industry or benefit of nature, it be delivered from fear and terror: and yet verily a man may well say, and with great reason, that the disposition is more firm and strong, which naturally admitteth nothing to trouble and torment it; than that which with judgement and by the light and guidance of learning doth avoid it: But set the case, that the one were as effectual and powerful as the other; then verily it will appear at leastwise, that in this behalf, they have no advantage and pre-eminence above brute beasts; to wit, in that they feel no anguish nor trouble of spirit, for those things which are reported either of the devils in hell, or the gods in heaven; nor fear at all pains and torments, expecting when they shall have an end. That this is true, Epicurus verily himself hath put down in writing: If (quoth he) the suspicious and imaginations of the meteores and impressions which both are and do appear in the air and sky above, did not trouble us; nor yet those of death and the pangs thereof; we should have no need at all to have recourse unto the natural causes of all those things, no more than those dumb beasts who entertain no evil suspicions or surmises of the gods, nor any opinions to torment them, as touching that which shall befall unto them after death: for they neither believe and know, not so much as once think of any harm at all in such things. Furthermore, if in the opinion that they hold of the gods, they had reserved and left a place for divine providence, believing that thereby the world was governed, they might have been thought wise men as they are, to have gone beyond brute beasts for the atteinting of a pleasant and joyful life, in regard of their good hopes; but seeing all their doctrine as touching the gods tendeth to this end, namely, to fear no god, and otherwise to be fearless and careless altogether, I am persuaded verily, that this is more firmly settled in those, having no sense and knowledge at all of God, than in these who say they know God, but have not learned to acknowledge him for a punishing God, and one that can punish and do harm: for those are not delivered from superstition; and why? they never fell into it, neither have they laid away that fearful conceit and opinion of the gods; and no marvel, for they never had any such: the same may be said as touching hell and the infernal spirits; for neither the one nor the other have any hope to receive good from thence; marry, suspect, fear and doubt what shall betide them after death those must needs, less, who have no fore-conceit at all of death, than they in whom this persuasion is imprinted beforehand, that death concerneth us not: and yet thus far forth it toucheth them, in that they discourse, dispute, and consider thereupon; whereas brute beasts are altogether freed from the thought and care of such things as do nothing pertain unto them: true it is, that they shun strokes, wounds and slaughter; and thus much (I say) of death they fear, which also even to these men is dreadful and terrible. Thus you see what good things wisdom (by their own saying) hath furnished them withal: but let us now take a sight and survey of those which they exclude themselves sro and are deprived of. As touching those diffusions of the soul, when it dilateth and spreadeth itself over the flesh, and for the pleasure that the flesh feeleth, if the same be small or mean, there is no great matter therein, nor that which is of any consequence to speak of; but if they pass mediocrity, than (besides that they be vain, deceitful and uncerteine) they are found to be cumbersome and odious, such as a man ought rather to term, not spiritual joys and delights of the soul, but rather sensual and gross pleasures of the body, fawning, flattering and smiling upon the soul, to draw and entice her to the participation of such vanities: as for such contentments of the mind which deserve indeed and are worthy to be called joys and delights, they be purified clean from the contrary, they have no mixture at all of troublesome motions, no sting that pricketh them, nor repentance that followeth them, but their pleasure is spiritual, proper and natural to the soul; neither is the good therein borrowed abroad, and brought in from without, nor absurd and void of reason, but most agreeable and sorting thereto, proceeding from that part of the mind which is given unto contemplation of the truth, and desirous of knowledge, or at leastwise from that, which applieth itself to do and execute great and honourable things: now the delights and joys aswell of the one as the other, he that went about to number, and would strain and force himself to discourse how great and excellent they be, he were never able to make an end: but in brief and few words, to help our memory a little as touching this point: Histories minister an infinite number of goodly and notable examples, which yield unto us a singular delight and recreation to pass the time away, never breeding in us a tedious satiety, but leaving always the appetite that our soul hath to the truth, insatiable and desirous still of more pleasure and contentment; in regard whereof, untruths and very lies therein delivered, are not without their grace; for even in fables and sictions poetical, although we give no credit unto them, there is some effectual force to delight and persuade: for think (I pray you) with yourself, with what heat of delight and affection we read the book of Plato entitled Atlanticus, or the last books of Homer's Ilias? consider also with what grief of heart we miss and want the residue of the tale behind, as if we were kept out of some beautiful temples, or fair theatres, shut fast against us? for surely the knowledge of truth in all things, is so lovely and amiable, that it seemeth, our life and very being, dependeth most upon knowledge and learning; whereas the most unpleasant, odious and horrible things in death, be oblivion, ignorance and darkness; which is the reason (I assure you) that all men in a manner sight and war against those who would bereave the dead of all sense, giving us thereby to understand, that they do measure the whole life, the being also, and joy of man, by the sense only and knowledge of his mind; in such sort, that even those very things that are odious and offensive otherwise, we hear other while with pleasure; and often times it falleth out, that though men be troubled with the thing they hear, so as the water standeth in their eyes, and they be ready to weep and cry out for grief, yet they desire those that relate the same to say on and speak all: as for example, Oedipus in Sophocles. THE MESSENGER. 

Alas, my lord, I see that now I shall  
Relate the thing which is the worst of all.   OEDIPUS. 

Woe is me likewise: to hear it I am priest,  
There is no help; say on, and tell the rest.   But peradventure this may be a current and stream of intemperate pleasure and delight, proceeding from a curiosity of the mind and will, too forward to hear and know all things, yea, and to offer violence unto the judgement and discourse of reason: howbeit, when as a narration or history containing in it no hurtful and offensive matter, besides the subject argument, which consisteth of brave adventures and worthy exploits, is penned and couched in a sweet style, with a grace and powerful force of eloquence; such as is the history of Herodotus as touching the Greek affairs, or of Xenophon concerning the Persian acts, as also that which Homer with an heavenly spirit hath indited and delivered in his verses, or Eudoxus in his peregrinations and description of the world, or Aristotle in his treatise of the founding of cities and governments of State, or Aristoxenus who hath left in writing, the lives of famous and renowned persons; in such (I say) there is not only much delight and contentment, but also there ensueth thereupon no displeasure nor repentance. And what man is he, who being hungry, would more willingly eat the good and delicate meats? or athirst, desire and choose to drink the dainty and pleasant wines of the Phoeacians, rather than read that fiction and discourse of the voyage and pilgrimage of Ulysses? and who would take more pleasure to lie with a most fair and beautiful woman, than to sit up all night, reading either that which Xenophon hath written of lady Panthea, or Aristobulus of dame Timoclea, or Theopompus of fair Thisbe? These be the pleasures and joys indeed of the mind: but our Epicureans reject likewise, all those delights which proceed from the fine inventions of the Mathematical sciences: and to say a truth, a history runneth plain, even, simple and uniform; whereas the delectation that we have in Geometry, Astronomy and Music, have beside (I wot not what) forcible bait of variety so attractive, that it seemeth men are charmed and enchanted by them; so forcibly they allure, and so mightily they hold men with their delineations and descriptions, as if they were so many sorceries, spells and incantations: so that whosoever hath once tasted thereof, so he be practised and exercised therein, he may go all about well enough, chanting these verses of Sophocles: 
The furious love of Muse's mine  
Hath heart and mind possessed mine:  
Thus ravished, fast I me high  
To crest and cape of mountain high:  
Melodious songs, and sound withal  
Of pleasant harp, me forth doth call.  Certes, Thamyras exercised his poetical head about nothing else; no more verily did Eudoxus, Aristarchus and Archimedes'. For seeing that studious and industrious painters took so great pleasure in the excellency of their works, that Nicias when he was painting Homer's Necyia (that is to say, the call forth and raising the ghosts of folk departed) being so affectionate to it, forgot himself and asked his servitors eftsoons about him, whether he had dined or no: and when Ptolomeus king of Egypt sent unto him threescore talents for the said picture after it was finished, he refused the same, and would never sell, or part with his handiwork. What pleasure reaped (think you) and how great delight took Euclides in Geometry and Astrology, when he wrote the propositions of Perspective; and Philip when he composed the demonstrations of the diverse forms and shapes appearing in the Moon? Archimedes also, when by the angle called Gonia, he found out, that the Diameter of the Sun is just so big a part of the greatest circle, as the angle is of four right lines; Apollonius likewise and Aristarchus, who were the inventours of the like propositions: the contemplation and knowledge whereof, even at this day, bringeth exceeding pleasure and wonderful generosity & magnanimity unto those who can intend to study upon them. And verily those base and abject pleasures of the kitchen and brothell-house, we ought not so much as to compare with these, and thereby to contaminate and disgrace the sacred Muses and their mountain Helicon, 
Where shepherd none durst tend his flock,  
On hill above or vale below:  
Nor edged tool was known to shock  
Or cut one tree that there did grow.  But these pleasures are indeed the intemperate & undefiled pastures of the gentle bees; whereas those other resemble properly, the itching lusts of swine and goats, which over and beside the body, fill with their filthy ordure the sensual part of the soul, subject to all passions and perturbations. True it is, that lust and desire to enjoy pleasures, is a passion adventurous and hardy enough to enterprise many and sundry matters; yet was there never any man found so amorous, who for joy that he had embraced his paramour, sacrificed a beef; nor ever was there known so notorious a glutton, who wished in his heart and desired, so he might first fill his belly with delicate viands and princely banqueting dishes, to die presently: and yet Eudoxus made this prayer, that he might stand near unto the sun, for to learn the form, the magnitude and the beauty of that planet, upon condition to be burnt presently, as Phaethon was, with the beams thereof. Pythagoras for the proof of one proposition or figure which he had invented, sacrificed an ox, as Apollodorus hath recorded in this Dysticon: 
No sooner had Pythagoras this noble figure found,  
But solemnly he sacrificed an ox, even in that stound.  Whether it were that slope line in Geometry, called Hypotinusa, which answering directly to the right angle of a triangle, is as much in effect as the other two that comprehend and make the said angle; or rather that linearie demonstration or proposition, whereby he measured the plot in a parabolicke section of a Cone or round pyramidal figure. As for Archimedes, he was so intentive and busy in drawing his Geometrical figures, that his servants were feign by force to pull him away to be washed and anointed; and even then he would with the strigill or bathcombe (which served to curry and rub his skin) draw figures even upon his very belly: and one day above the rest, having found out whiles he was a bathing, the way to know, how much gold the goldsmith had robbed in the fashion of that crown which king Hiero had put forth to making, he ran forth suddenly out of the bane, as if he had been frantic, or inspired with some fanatical spirit, crying out; Heureca, Heureca, that is to say, I have found it, I have found it, iterating the same many times all the way as he went. But we never heard of any glutton so given to gourmandise & belly cheer, who went up and down crying Bebroca, that is to say, I have eaten, I have eaten; nor of a wanton & amorous person, who having enjoyed his love, would set up this note, Ephilesa, that is to say, I have kissed, I have kissed. Notwithstanding there have been & are at this day, a thousand millions, even an infinite number of lascivious & loose persons: But chose, we detest and abhor those, who upon an affection, bravery and pride, make rehearsal what feasts they have been at, as persons who highly account of so base and unworthy pleasures, which men ought indeed to have in contempt. Whereas in reading the works of Eudoxus, Archimtdes, and Hipparchus, we are ravished and transported as it were with some heavenly and divine delight; believing that saying of Plato to be true, who writeth: That the Mathematical arts, howsoever they be contemned, by those that be ignorant, and for default of knowledge and understanding neglected; yet for the grace and delight that they yield, be more and more in request, even in despite of those blind and blockish persons: All which pleasures so great and so many in number, running always as a river; these men here do turn and derive another way, for to impeach and hinder those who approach unto them, and give ear unto their doctrine, that they should not once taste thereof, but command them to set up and spread all their main sails, and fly away as fast as they can. Yea, and that which more is, all those of this sect, both men and women, pray and request Pythocles (for Epicurus sake) not to make any account of those arts which we name liberal: And in praising our Apelles, among other singular qualities, that they attribute unto him, they set down this for one: That from his first beginning he had forborn the study of the Mathematics, and by that means kept himself unspotted and undefiled: As for histories (to say nothing, how of all other sciences they have neither heard nor seen any) I will cite only the words Metradorus writing of Poets: Tush (quoth he) be not abashed nor think it a shame to confess that thou knowest not, of whether side Hector was, of the Greeks part or of the Trojans? neither think it a great matter if thou be ignorant what were the first verses of Homer's Poem, and regard thou as little those in the mids.  
Now for as much as Epicurus wist well enough, that the pleasures of the body (like unto the aniversarie Etesian minds) do blow over and pass away, yea and after the flower of man's age is once gone, decay sensibly, and cease altogether; therefore he moveth a question: Whether a wise man, being now far stepped in years, and not able any more to keep company with a woman, taketh pleasure still in want on touching, feeling or handling of fair and beautiful persons: Wherein verily he is far from the mind and opinion of Sophocles; who rejoiced and thanked God, that he had escaped from this voluptuous and fleshly love, as from the yoke, chain, or clog of some violent and furious master. Yet rather ought these sensual and voluptuous persons, seeing that many delights and pleasures corporal, do fade and decay in old age, 
And that with aged folk in this,  
Dame Venus much offended is.  (as saith Euripides) to make provision then most all, of other spiritual pleasures, and to be stored beforehand, as it were against some long siege, with such dry victuals as are not subject to putrefaction and corruption: Then I say should they hold their solemn feasts of Venus, & goodly morrow-minds, to pass the time away by reading some pleasant histories, delectable poems, or pretty speculations of music or geometry: And verily they would not so much as think any more of those blind feelings and bootless handle (as I may term them) which indeed are no more but the pricks and provocations of dead wantonness, if they had learned no more but as Aristotle, Heraclides, and Dicaearchus did, to write of Homer and Euripides: But they being never careful and provident to purvey such victuals, and seeing all the rest of their life otherwise to be unpleasant, and as dry as a kex, (as themselves are wont to say of virtue) yet willing to enjoy still their pleasures continually, but finding their bodies to say nay, and not able to perform the same to their contentment, they bewray their corruption in committing foul and dishonest acts out of season, enforcing themselves (even by their own confessions) to awaken, stir up, and renew the memory of their former pleasures in times past, and for want of fresh and new delights, making a shift to serve their turn with the old & stale, as if they had been long kept in salt-pickle, or compassed, until their goodness and life were gone; desirous they are to stir, kindle, and quicken others that lie extinct in their flesh, as it were raked up in dead and cold ashes long before, clean against the course of nature; and all for default that they were not provided before of some sweet thing laid up in their soul, proper unto her, and delightsome according to her worthiness: As for other spiritual pleasures we have spoken of them already, as they came into our mind: but as touching music, which bringing with it so many contentments, & so great delights, men yet reject & fly fro, no man I now would willingly pass it over in silence, considering the absured and impertinent speeches that Epicurus giveth out: for in his questions he maintaineth: That a wise man is a great lover of shows & spectacles, delighting above all others to hear and see the pastimes, sports, & sights, exhibited in theaters during the feast of Bacchus; yet will not he admit any musical problems, any disputations or witty discourses of Critics in points of humanity & learning, so much as at the very table, in dinner and supper time; but giveth counsel unto kings and princes that be lovers & favourers of literature, to abide rather the reading & hearing of military narrations & stratagems at their feasts & banquets, yea, and scurril talk of buffoons, pleasants, and jesters, than any questions propounded or discussed, as touching music or poetry: for thus much hath he delivered in his book entitled: Of Royalty: as if he had written the same to Sardanapalus or Naratus, who was in times past a great potentate and lord of Babylon. Certes, neither Hiero nor Attalus, ne yet Archelaus, would ever have been persuaded to remove and displace from their tables such as Eruiptdes, Simonides, Melanippides, Crates or Diodorus, for to set in their rooms Cardax, Ariantes and Callias, known jesters and notorious ribauds; or some parasitical Thrasonides and Thrasyleons, who could skill of nothing else but how to make folk laugh, in counterfeiting lamentable yell, groans, howl, and all to move applause and clapping of hands. If king Ptolomeus the first of that name, who also first erected a library, and founded a college of learned men, had light upon these goodly rules and royal precepts of his putting down, would not he have exclaimed and said unto the Samians: 
O Muses fair, o ladies dear,  
What envy, and what spite is here!  For, beseeming it is not any Athenian thus maliciously to be bend unto the Muses, and be at war with them: but according to Pindarus; 
Whom Jupiter doth not vouchsafe  
His love and favour for to have.  
Amazed they stand and quake for fear,  
When they the voice of Muses bear.  What say you, Epicurus? you go early in the morning by break of day unto the Theatre, to hear musicians playing upon the harp and lute, or sounding shawms and hautboys: if then it fortune at the table, in time of a banquet, that Theophrastus discourseth of Symphonies and musical accords? or Aristoxenes, of changes and alteration of tunes? or Aristophanes of Homer's works, will you stop your ears with both hands because you would not hear, for that you so abhor and detest them? Surely, there was more civility yet and honesty (by report) in that barbarous king of Scythia, Ateas, who when that excellent minstrel Ismenias, being his captive, taken prisoner in the wars, played upon the flute before him as he sat at dinner, swore a great oath, that he took more pleasure to hear his horse neigh. Do not these men (think you) confess and grant (when they be well charged) that they have given defiance to virtue and honesty, proclaiming mortal and irreconcilable war, without all hope of truce, parley, composition and peace? for surely, setting pleasure only aside, what other thing is there in the world (be it never so pure, holy and venerable) that they embrace and love? Had it not been more reason, for the leading of a joyful life, to be offended with sweet perfumes, and to reject odoriferous oils and ointments, as bettles, jeires and vultures do, than to abhor, detest and shun the talk and discourses of Humanitians, Critics, Grammarians and Musicians? for, what manner of flute or hautboys, what harp or lute how well soever set, tuned, and fitted for song, 
What choir resounding loud and shrill  
From pleasant mouth and breast so sweet,  
A song in parts, set with great skill,  
When cunning men in music meet?  so greatly delighted Epicurus and Metrodorus, as the discourses, the rules and precepts of quites and carols, the questions and propositions concerning flutes and hautboys, touching proportions, consonances & harmonical accords would affect Aristotle, Theophrastus, Hieronymus and Dicaearchus? as for example, what is the reason, that of two pipes or flutes (otherwise even and equal) that which hath the straighter and narrower mouth, yieldeth the bigger and more base sound? also, what might be the cause, that the same pipe when it is lifted and set upward, becometh loud in all the tones that it maketh; but hold it downward once, it soundeth as low? so doth one pipe also when it is set close unto another, give a base sound; but chose, if it be disjoined and put asunder, it soundeth higher and more shrill. As also, how it cometh to pass that if a man sow chaff or cast dust thick upon the stage or scaffold in a Theatre, the people there assembled be deaf and cannot hear the players or minstrels? Semblably, when king Alexander the Great was minded to have made in the city of Pella the forepart of the stage in the Theatre, all of brass; what moved his workman or Architect not to permit him so to do, for fear it would drown and dull the voice of the players? Finally, why among sundry kinds of Music, that which is called Chromaticall, delighteth, enlargeth and joieth the heart, whereas the Harmonical contracteth and draweth it in, making it sad and dampish? Moreover, the manners and natures of men which Poets represent in their writings, their witty fictions, the difference and variety of their style, the solution of dark doubts and acquaint questions, which (besides a delightsome grace and beautiful elegance) carry with them a familiar and persuasive power, whereout each one may reap profit; insomuch as they are able (as Xenophon saith) to make a man forget even love itself, so effectual is this pleasure and delight. Howbeit, the Epicureans here have no feeling and experience; nay, which is worse, they desire to have none, as they say themselves; but employing the whole contemplative part of the soul, in thinking upon nothing else but the body, and plucking it downward together with sensual and carnal lusts, as fisher's nets with little rolls and plummets of lead, they differ nothing at all from horsekeepers or shepherds and other herdsmen, who lay before their beasts, hay, straw, or some kind of grass and herbs, as the proper fodder & forage for the cattle which they have in charge: for do they not even so intent to feed the soul fat (as men frank up swine) with bodily pleasures; in that they would have her to be glad for the hope she hath that the body shall shortly enjoy some pleasure, or else in the remembrance of those which it hath enjoyed in times past? as for any proper delight or particular pleasure of her own, they suffer her to receive none from herself, nor so much as to seek thereafter.  
And verily, can there be any thing more absurd & beside all appearance and show of reason, than (whereas there be two parts whereof man is compounded, to wit, soul and body, of which the soul is more worth, and placed in the higher degree) to say and affirm, that there is in the body some good thing, proper, peculiar, familiar, and natural unto it, and none in the soul; but that she sits still tending the body, and looking only to it? that she smileth upon the passions and affections thereof, joying and taking contentment with it only; having of herself originally no motion, no election, no choice, no desire nor pleasure at all? Now surely they should either by putting off their mask and discovering themselves, have gone roundly to work, making man flesh, and nothing else but flesh; as some there be who flatly deny, that there is any spiritual substance in him; or else leaving in us two different natures, they ought to have let either of them alone by itself, with their several good and evil; that I say which is familiar or contrary unto it: like as among the five senses, every one is destined & appropriate to one object sensible, although all of them by a certain wonderful sympathy be affected one to the other. Now the proper sensative organ or instrument of the soul is, the understanding; and to say that the same hath no peculiar subject to work upon, no proper spectacle to behold, no familiar motion, no natural and inbred passion or affection, in the fruition whereof it should take pleasure and delight, is the greatest absurdity of all others: And verily this is the saying of these men; unless haply some there be, who ere they be aware, charge upon them some slanderous and false imputations. hereat began I to speak and say unto him: Not so sir, if we may be judges; but I pray you let be, all action of inquiry, and proceed hardly to finish and make an end of your discourse. And why (quoth he) should not Aristodemus succeed after me, if you haply refuse slatly, or be loath to speak? You say true indeed, (quoth Aristodemus) but that shall not be until you be weary of speech, as this man is; and for the present, since you are yet fresh and in heart, I beseech you my good friend, spare not yourself, but use your faculty, lest you be thought for very sloth and idleness to draw back and go out of the lists. Certes (quoth Theon then) it is but a small matter, and the same very easy which is behind; for there remaineth no more but to show and recount how many joys and pleasures there be in active life, and that part of the soul which is given to action? First and foremost, even they themselves in some place grant and confess; that it is a greater pleasure to do good, and to benefit others, than to receive a benefit from another; as for good turns, a man I confess may do them in bare words and sayings; but surely the most and greatest are performed by acts and deeds, and thus much doth the very word of benefit or well-doing import; and even they themselves testify no less: For but a while since, we heard this man report, what words and speeches Epicurus delivered; what letters he wrote and sent unto his friends, in extolling, praising, and magnifying Metrodorus; how bravely and valiantly he went down from the city of Athens to the port Pyreaeum, for to aid and succour Mythris the Syrian, albeit Metrodorus did no service at all in that sally: What manner of pleasures then, and how great ought we to esteem those which Plato enjoyed, when Dion a scholar of his & one of his bringing up, rose up to put down the tyrant Dionysius, & to deliver the state of Sicily from servitude? what contentment might Aristotle find, when he caused the city of his nativity which was ruinate and razed to the ground to be re-edified, and his countrymen & fellow-citizens to be called home who were banished? what delights and joys were those of Theophrastus and Phidias, who deposed and overthrew those tyrants who usurped the lordly dominion of their country? and for private persons in particular, how many they relieved, not in sending unto them a strike or a bushel of corn and meal, as Epicurus sent unto some; but in working and effecting, that those who were exiled out of their native country, driven from their own houses, and turned out of all their goods, might return home again and re-enter upon all; that such as had been prisoners and lain in irons, might be delivered and set at large; as many also as were put from their wives and children, might recover and enjoy them again: What need I make rehearsal unto you, who know all this well enough? But surely the impudence and absurdity of this man, I can not (though I would) pass over with silence, who debasing and casting under foot the acts of Themistocles and Miltiades as he did, wrote of himself to certain of his friends in this sort: Right nobly, valiantly, and magnificently, have you showed your endeavour and care of us, in provision of corn to furnish us withal; and again you have declared by notorious signs, which mount up into heaven, the singular love and good will which you bear unto me. And if a man observe the manner of this style and writing, he shall find, that if he take out of the mysteries of this great philosopher, that which concerneth a little corn, all the words beside are so curiously couched and penned, as if the epistle had been written purposedly as a thanks giving for the safety of all Greece, or at leastwise, for delivering, setting free, and preserving the whole city and people of Athens.  
What should I busy my head to show unto you, that for the delights of the body, nature had need to be at great cost and expenses; neither doth the chief pleasure which they seek after, consist in course bisket-bread, in pease pottage, or lentil broth; but the appetites of these voluptuous persons, call for exquisite and dainty viands, for sweet and delicate wines, such as those be of Thasos, for sweet odours, pleasant perfumes, and precious ointments, for curious junkets and banqueting dishes, for tarts, cakebread, marchpanes, and other pastry works, well wrought, beaten and tempered with the sweet liquor gathered by the yellow winged Bee: over and beside all this, their mind stands also to fair and beautiful young damosels, they must have some pretty Leontium, some fine Boïchon, some sweet Hedia, or dainty Nicedion, whom they keep and nourish of purpose within their gardens of pleasure, to be ready at hand. As for the delights and joys of the mind, there is no man but will confess and say: That founded they ought to be upon the greatness of some noble actions, and the beauty of worthy and memorable works, if we would have them to be not vain, base and childish; but chose, reputed grave, generous, magnificent and manlike; whereas to vaunt and glory of being let loose to a dissolute course of life and the fruition of pleasures and delights, after the manner of sailors and mariners when they celebrate the feast of Venus; to boast also and please himself in this: That being desperately sick of that kind of dropsy which the Physicians call Ascites, he forbore not to feast his friends still, and keep good company, neither spared to add and gather more moisture and waterish humours still unto his dropsy: and remembering the last words that his brother Neocles spoke upon his deathbed, melted and consumed with a special joy and pleasure of his own, tempered with tears; there is no man (I trow) of sound judgement and in his right wits, who would term these sottish follies, either sound joys or perfect delights; but surely, if there be any Sardonian laughter (as they call it) belonging also to the soul, it is seated (in my conceit) even in such joys and mirths mingled with tears as these, which do violence unto nature: but if any man shall say, that these be solaces, let him compare them with others, and see how far these excel and go beyond them which are expressed by these verses: 
By sage advice I have effected this.  
That Sparta's martial fame eclipsed is.  Also: 
This man, o friend and stranger both, was while he lived here,  
The great and glorious star of Rome, his native city decree.  Likewise: 
I wot not what I should you call,  
An heavenly God and man mortal.  And when I set before mine eyes the noble and worthy acts of Thrasibulus and Pelopidas; or behold the victories either of Aristides in that journey of Plateae, or of Miltiades at the battle of Marathon, I am even ravished and transported besides myself, and forced to say with Herodotus, and deliver this sentence: That in this active life, there is more sweetness and delectation, than glory and honour: and that this is so, Epaminondas will bear me witness, who (by report) gave out this speech, that the greatest contentment which ever he had during his life, was this: That his father and mother were both alive to see that noble Trophy of his, for the victory that he won at Leuctres, being general of the Thebans against the Lacedæmonians. Compare we now with this mother of Epaminondas, Epicurus his mother, who took so great joy to see her son keeping close in a dainty garden and orchard of pleasure, where he and his familiar friend Polyenus got children in common, upon a trull and courtesan of Cyzicum: for, that both mother and sister of Metrodorus were exceeding glad of his marriage, may appear by his letters missive written unto his brother, which are extant in his books; and yet they go up and down every where crying with open mouth: That they have lived in joy, doing nought else but extol and magnify their delicate life, faring much like unto slaves when they solemnize the feast of Saturn, supping and making good cheer together, or celebrate the Bacchanales, running about the fields; so as a man may hardly abide to hear the utas and yelling noise they make, when upon the insolent joy of their hearts, they break out into many fooleries, and utter they care not unto whom, as vain and fond speeches, in this manner: 
Why sut'st thou still, thou wretched lout,  
Come let us drink and quaff about:  
The meats upon the board set are,  
Be merry man, and make no spare:  
No sooner are these words let fly,  
But all at once they hout and cry;  
The pots than walk, one fills out wine,  
Another bring a garland fine  
Of flowers full fresh, his head to crown,  
And decks the cup, whiles wine goes down:  
And then the minstrel, Phoebus' knight,  
With fair green branch of Laurel dight,  
Sets out his rude and rusty throat,  
And sings a filthy tunelesse note:  
With that one thrusts the pipe him fro,  
And sounds his wench and bed felo.  Do not (think you) the letters of Metrodorus resemble these vanities, which he wrote unto his brother in these terms? There is no need at all, Timocrates, neither aught a man to expose himself into danger for the safety of Greece, or to strain and busy his head to win a coronet among them, in testimony of his wisdom; but he is to eat, and drink wine merrily, so as the body may enjoy all pleasure, and sustain no harm. And again in another place of the same letters he hath these words: Oh how joyful was I, and glad at heart! ôh what contentment of spirit found I, when I had learned once of Epicurus, to make much of my belly, and to gratify it as I ought! For to say a truth to you, o Timocrates, that art a Naturalist: The sovereign good of a man lieth about the belly.  
In sum, these men do limit, set out and circumscribe the greatness of human pleasure within the compass of the belly, as it were within centre and circumserence; but surely impossible it is, that they should ever have their part of any great, royal and magnifical joy, such as indeed causeth magnanimity and haughtiness of courage, bringeth glorious honour abroad, or tranquility of spirit at home, who have made choice of a close and private life within doors, never showing themselves in the world, nor meddling with the public affairs of common weal; a life (I say) sequestered from all offices of humanity, far removed from any instinct of honour, or desire to gratify others, thereby to deserve thanks, or win favour: for the soul (I may tell you) is no base and small thing, it is not vile and illiberal, extending her desires only to that which is good to be eaten, as do these poulps or pourcuttle fishes which stretch their cleys as far as to their meat and no farther; for such appetites as these, are most quickly cut off with satiety, and filled in a moment; but when the motions and desires of the mind tending to virtue and honesty, to honour also and contentment of conscience, upon virtuous deeds and well doing, are once grown to their vigour and perfection, they have not for their limit, the length and term only of man's life: but surely, the desire of honour, and the affection to profit the society of men, comprehending all eternity, striveth still to go forward in such actions and beneficial deeds as yield infinite pleasures that cannot be expressed; which joys, great personages and men of worth can not shake off and avoid though they would: for fly they from them what they can, yet they environ them about on every side, they are ready to meet them wheresoever they go, when as by their beneficence and good deeds they have once refreshed and cheered many other: for of such persons may well this verse be verified: 
To town when that he comes, or there doth walk:  
Men him behold as God, and so do talk.  For when a man hath so affected and disposed others, that they are glad and leap for joy to see him, that they have a longing desire to touch, salute, & speak unto him; who seeth not (though otherwise he were blind) that he findeth great joys in himself, and enjoieth most sweet contentiment: this is the cause that such men are never weary of well doing, nor think it a trouble to be employed to the good of others; for we shall evermore hear from their mouths these and such like speeches: 
Thy father thee begat and brought to light,  
That thou one day mightst profit many a wight.  Again, 
Let us not cease, but show a mind,  
Of doing good to all mankind.  What need I to speak here of those that be excellent men, and good in the highest degree? for if to any one of those who are not extremely wicked, at the very point and instant of death; he in whose hands lieth his life, be he a god or some king, should grant one hours respite, and permit him to employ himself at his own choice, either to execute some memorable act, or else to take his pleasure for the while, so that immediately after that hour past, he should go to his death: How many think you would choose rather during this small time, to lie with that courtisane and famous strumpet Lais, or drink liberally of good Ariusian wine, than to kill the tyrant Archias, for to deliver the city of Thebes, from tyrannical servitude? for mine own part verily, I suppose, that there is not one: for this I observe in those sword-fencers, who fight at sharp a combat to the uttrance, such I mean as are not altogether brutish and savage, but of the Greekish nation, when they are to enter in place for to perform their devoir, notwithstanding there be presented unto them many dainty dishes, and costly cates, choose rather at this very time to recommend unto their friends, their wives and children, to manumise and enfranchise their slaves, than to serve their bellies and content their sensual appetites: But admit that these bodily pleasures be great matters, and highly to be accounted of, the same are common also even to those that lead an active life, and manage affairs of State: For as the Poet saith: 
Wine muscadel they drink, and likewise eat  
Fine manchet bread, made of the whitest wheat.  They banquet also, and feast with their friends, yea and much more merrily (in my conceit, after they be returned from bloody battles or other great exploits and important services; like as Alexander & Agesilaus; Photion also and Epaminondas were wont to do) than these who are anointed against the fire, or carried easily in their litters: and yet such as they, mock and scorn those, who indeed have the fruition of other greater and more dainty pleasures: for what should a man speak of Epaminondas, who being invited to a supper unto his friend's house, when he saw that the provision was greater and more sumptuous than his state might well bear, would not stay and sup with him, but said thus unto his friend: I thought you would have sacrificed un-the gods, and not have been a wasteful and prodigal spender: and no marvel; for king Alexander the Great refused to entertain the exquisite cooks of Ada Queen of Caria; saying: That he had better about him of his own to dress his meat, to wit, for his dinner or breakfast, early rising and traveling before daylight; and for his supper, a light and hungry dinner. As for Philoxenus who wrote unto him concerning two most fair and beautiful boys, to this effect, whether he should buy them for to send unto him or no? he had like to have lost the place of government under him, for his labour: and yet to say a truth, who might have better done it than Alexander? But like as of two pains & griefs (as Hypocrates saith) the less is dulled and dimmed (as it were) by the greater; even so, the pleasures proceeding from virtuous and honourable actions, do darken and extinguish (by reason of the minds joys, and in regard of their exceeding greatness) those delights which arise from the body. And if it be so as these Epicureans say, that the remembrance of former pleasures and good things, be material and make much for a joyful life; which of us all will believe Epicurus himself, that dying (as he did) in most grievous pains and dolorous maladies, he eased his torments or assuaged his anguish by calling to mind those delights which beforetime he had enjoyed? For surely, it were an easier matter to behold the resemblance of ones face in the bottom of a troubled water, or amid the waves during a tempest, than to conceive and apprehend the smiling and laughing remembrance of a pleasure past, in so great a disquietness and bitter vexation of the body; whereas the memory of virtuous and praiseworthy actions, a man can not (would he never so feign) chase and drive out of his mind. For how is it possible, that Alexander the Great, should ever forget the battle at Arbela? or Pelopidas, the defaiture of the tyrant Leontiades? or Themistocles, the noble field fought before Salamis? for as touching the victory at Marathon, the memorial thereof the Athenians do solemnize with feasts even to this day; like as the Thebans celebrate the remembrance of the famous fight at Leuctres: and we verily (as you know well enough) make feasts for the victory of Daiphantus before the city Hyampolis; and not only we, keep yearly holiday then, but also the whole country of Phocis (upon that anniversary day) is full of sacrifices and due honours: neither is there one of us that taketh so great contentment of all that he eateth or drinketh such a festival time, as he doth in regard of the remembrance of those noble acts which those brave men performed: we may well guess and consider therefore, what joy, what mirth, what gladness and solace of heart accompanied them all their life time after, who executed these noble feats of arms, considering that after five hundred years and above, the memory of them is fresh, and the same attended with so great cheer and rejoicing. And yet Epicurus himself doth acknowledge, that of glory there do arise certain joys and pleasures; for how could he do less, seeing that himself is so desirous thereof, that he is even mad withal, and fareth after a furious manner to attain thereto; insomuch, as not only he disavoweth his own masters and teachers, contesteth against 
* Or rather 〈◊〉  Democrates (whose opinions and doctrines he stealeth word for word) upon certain syllables and nice points, maintaining that there never was any wise man nor learned clerk, setting himself and his disciples aside: but also, which more is, he hath been so impudent, as to say and write; that Colotes adored him as a god, touching his knees full devoutly, when he heard him discourse of natural causes; and that his brother Neocles affirmed and gave out even from his infancy; that Epicurus had never his like or fellow, for wisdom and knowledge; as also, that his mother was happy and blessed for bearing in her womb such a number of Atoms, that is to say, indivisible small bodies, who concurring all together, framed and form so skilful a parsonage. Is not this all one with that which Callicratides sometime said of Conon: That he committed adultery with the sea; even so a man may say that Epicurus (secretly by stealth and shamefully) made love unto Glory, and went about to solicit, yea, force her by violence, not being able to win and enjoy her openly; whereupon he became passionate and lovesick: for like as a man's body in time of famine, for that it hath no food and nourishment otherwise, is constrained even against nature, to feed upon the own substance; even so ambition and thirst after glory, doth the like hurt unto the souls of ambitious persons: for being ready to die for thirst of glory, and seeing they can not have it otherwise, enforced they are to praise themselves. But they that be thus passionately affected with desire of praise and honour, confess not they manifestly, that they reject, forego and neglect great pleasures and delights; when through their feeble, lazy and base minds, they fly from public offices of State, forbear the management of affairs, and regard not the favours of kings and following of great persons; from whence Democritus saith; there accrue unto man many ornaments to grace and commend this life? For Epicurus shall never be able to make the world believe, that (esteeming so much as he did and making so great account of Neocles his brother's testimony or the adoration of Colotes) he would not have been ready to have leapt out of his skin, and gone besides himself for joy, if he had been received by the Greeks at the solemnity of the Olympian games, with joious acclamations and clapping of hands: nay, he would no doubt have showed that gladness and contentment of heart with open mouth; he would have been aloft and flown abroad, as the Poet Sophocles saith: 
Like to the Down, which being light and soft  
From thistle old, the wind doth mount aloft.  And if it be a gracious and acceptable thing, for a man to brute that he hath a good name; it followeth consequently, that grievous it is to be in an ill name: and what is more infamous and odious, than to be friendless, to want employment, to be infected with Atheism and impiety, to live loosely and abandoned to lusts and pleasures; finally, to be neglected and contemned? and verily (setting themselves aside) there is no man living, but he thinketh all these qualities and attributes to agree fitly unto this sect of theirs. True (will some man say) but they have the greater wrong. Well, the question now, is not, what is the truth, but what is the common opinion that the world hath of them: and to this purpose I mean not to cite the public decrees and acts of Citres, nor to allege the defamatory books written against them; for that were too odious: but if the oracles, if divination, if the prescience and providence of the gods, if the natural love and affectionate kindness of parents to their children, if the managing of politic affairs, if the conduct of armies, if magistracy and rule in commonwealth, be matters honourable and glorious, than it must needs be, that they who affirm: That no travel ought to be made for the safety of Greece, but that we are to eat and drink, so as the belly may be pleased, and receive no harm and discontentment, should be infamous, and reputed for wicked persons; and such as are so taken, must needs be odious and in great disgrace, if so be they hold, honour, good name and reputation, to be things pleasant and delectable.  
When Theon had made an end of this speech, thought good it was to give over walking: and when (as our custom and manner was) we were set down upon the seats, we rested a pretty while in silence, ruminating (as it were) and pondering that which had been delivered, but long this was not; for Zeuxippus thinking upon that which had been said: And who (quoth he) shall go through with that which remaineth behind, considering that me thinks we are not as yet come to a full point and final conclusion? for seeing that erewhile he hath made mention by the way of Divination, and likewise put us in mind of Divine providence two main points, I may tell you whereupon these men do greatly stand, and which by their saying yield them not the least pleasure, contentment, repose of spirit, and assurance in this life; 
* To wit, in 〈◊〉 both the one and the other.  therefore I hold it necessary that somewhat were said as touching the same. Then Aristodemus taking the matter in hand: As for the pleasure (quoth he) which they pretend in this case, me thinks (by all in manner that hath been spoken) that if their reasons should go for currant, and bring that about which they purpose & intend, well may they free and deliver their spirit of (I wot not what) fear of the gods, and a certain superstition; butsurely they imprint no joy, nor minister any comfort and contentment to their minds at all, in any regard of the gods: for to be troubled with no dread of the gods, nor comforted by any hope from them, worketh this effect, and maketh them so affected towards the gods, as we are to the fishes of the Hyrcan sea, expecting neither goodness nor harm from them. But if we must add somewhat more to that which hath been said already; thus much I take it we may be bold to set down, as received and granted by them: First and foremost, that they impugn them mightily, who condemn and take away all heaviness, sorrow, weeping, sighs, and lamentations for the death of friends: and they assirme, that this indolence tending to a kind of impassibility, proceedeth from another evil, greater and worse than it, to wit, cruel inhumanity, or else an outrageous and furious desire of vainglory and ostentation; and therefore they hold it better to suffer a little sorrow, and to grieve moderately, so a man run not all to tears and mar his eyes with weeping, nor show all manner of passions as some do by their deeds and writings, because they would be thought affectionate and hearty lovers of their friends, and withal of a gentle and tender nature: For thus much hath Epicurus delivered in many of his books, and namely in his letters where he maketh mention of the death of Hegesianax, writing unto Dositheus the father, and Pyrsoes the brother of the man departed: For long it is not since by fortune those letters of his came to my hands, which I perused, and in imitating their manner of arguing, I say: That Atheism and impiety is no less sin, than the cruelty or vain and arrogant ostentation abovesaid; unto which impiety they would induce us with their persuasions, who take from God both favour and also anger: For, better it were, that to the opinion and belief which we have of the gods, there were adjoined and engrafted an affection mixed and compassed of reverence and fear, than in flying therefrom, to leave unto ourselves neither hope nor pleasure, no assurance in prosperity, ne yet recourse unto the goodness of of the gods in time of adversity: True it is, that we ought to rid away from the opinion that we have of the gods, all superstition, if it be possible, as well as from our eyes all gummy and glutinous matter, offending the sight; but if this may not be, we are not therefore to cut away quite, or to put out the eyes clean of that faith and belief, which men for the most part have of the gods; and this is not a severe, fearful and austere conceit as these imagine, who traduce and slander divine providence, to make it odious and terrible, as folk do by little children, whom they use to scar with the fantastical illusion, Empusa, as if it were some infernal fury, or tragical vengeance seizing upon them: but some few men there be, who in that sort do fear God, as that it is better and more expedient for them so to do, than otherwise not to stand in awe of him: for in dreading him as a gracious and propitious lord unto the good, and an enemy unto the wicked, by this one kind of fear which maketh them that they have no need at all of many others, they are delivered from those baits which many times allure and entice men to evil; and thus keeping vice short, and not giving it head, but holding it near unto them, and within their reach, that it cannot escape and get from them, they be less tormented than those who be so hardy as to employ the same, and dare put it in practice, but soon after, fall into fearful fits, and repent themselves: But as touching the disposition toward God in the common sort of men, who are ignorant, unlettered, and of a gross conceit for the most part; howbeit not very wicked, nor stark nought: true it is, that as together with the reverence and honour that they bear to the gods, there is intermingled a certain trembling fear, which properly is called superstition; so likewise there is an infinite deal more of good hope and true joy, which causeth them to pray unto the gods continually for their own good estate, and for happy success in their affairs, and they receive all prosperity as sent unto them from heaven above; which appeareth evidently by most notable and significant arguments: for surely no exercises recreate us more, than those of religion and devotion in the temples of the gods; no times and seasons are more joious, than those solemn feasts in their honour; no actions, no sights, more delight and joy our hearts, than those which we do and see ourselves, either singing and dancing solemnly in the presence of the gods, or being assistant at their sacrifices, or the ceremonious mysteries of divine service; for at such times our soul is nothing sad, cast down, or melancholic, as if she had to deal with some terrible tyrants, or bloody but cheers; where good reason were, that she should be heavy and dejected; but look where she thinketh and is persuaded most that God is present, in that place especially, she casteth behind her all anguishes, agonies, sorrows, fears and anxieties; there I say she giveth herself to all manner of joy, even to drink wine most liberally, to play, disport, laugh and be merry: As the poet said in love and wanton matters: 
Both greybeard, old and aged trot when they the sports remember,  
Of lovely Venus, leap for joy, no cares their heart encumber.  So verily in these solemn pomps, processions and sacrifices, not only the aged husband and the old wife, the poor man that liveth in low and private estate, but also 
The fat legged wench well under laid  
Which to the mill bestirs full yearn,  
Her good round stumps, and well apaid  
To grind her grist, doth turn the querne.  the household hines and servants, and the mercenary day-labourers, who get their living by the sweat of their brows, do altogether leap for mirth and joy of heart: Kings and princes keep great cheer in their royal courts, and make certain royal and public feasts for all comers; but those which they hold in the sacred temples, at sacrifices and solemnities of the gods, performed with fragrant perfumes and odoriforous incense; where it seemeth that men approach nearest unto the majesty of the gods, & think they even touch them, and be conversant with them in all honour and reverence: such seasts (I say) yield a more rare joy and singular delectation, than any other; whereof he hath no part at all who denieth the providence of God: for it is not the abundance and plenty of wine there drunk, nor the store of roast & sodden meat there eaten, which yieldeth joy and contentment at such solemue seasts; but the assured hope and full persuasion that God is there present, propitious, favourable and gracious; and that he accepteth in good part the honour and service done unto him. For some feasts and sacrifices there be, where there is no music at all of flutes and hautboys, ne yet any chaplets and garlands of flowers used at all; but a sacrifice, where no god is present, like as a temple without a sacred feast or holy banquet, is 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  profane, unfestivall, impious, irreligious, and without divine inspiration and devotion; and to speak better, wholly displeasant and odious to himself that offereth it; for that he counterfeiteth by hypocrisy, prayers and adorations, only in a show and otherwise than he meaneth, for fear of the mulutude, and pronounceth words clean contrary unto the opinions which he holdeth in Philosophy: when he sacrificeth, he standeth by the priest as he would by a cook or butcher, who cutteth the throat of a sheep; and after he hath sacrificed, he goes his way home, saying thus to himself: I have sacrificed a sheep as men ordinarily do unto the gods, who have no care and regard of me. For so it is that Epicurus teacheth his scholars, to set a good countenance of the matter, and neither to envy nor incur the hatred of the common sort, when they are disposed to be merry, but seeming others in practice, and themselves inwardly in being displeased with things done: for according as Euenus saith: 
What things are done perforce by us,  
Displeasant be and odious.  Hereupon it is, that they themselves do say and hold: That superstitious persons are present at sacrifices and religious ceremonies, not for any joy or pleasure they take there, but upon a fear that they have: and verily, herein no difference is between them and superstitious folk, in case it be so, that they do the same things for fear of the world, which the other do for fear of the gods; nay rather they be in a worse condition than those, in that they have not so much hope of good as they, but only stand always in dread and be troubled in mind, lest they should be detected and discovered, for abusing and deceiving the world by their counterfeit hypocrisy; in regard of which fear, they have themselves written books and treatises of the gods and of deity, so composed, that they be full of ambiguities; and nothing is therein sound or clearly delivered, they do so mask, disguise and cover themselves; and all to cloak and hide the opinions which in deed they hold, doubting the fury of the people. Thus much concerning two sorts of men, to wit, the wicked and the simple or common multitude: now therefore let us consider of a third kind, such as be of the best mark, men of worth and honour, most devout and religious in deed; namely, what sincere and pure pleasures they have, by reason of the persuasion that they hold of God; believing firmly, that he is the ruler and director of all good persons, the author and father from whom proceed all things good and honest; and that it is not lawful to say or believe, that he doth evil, no more than to be persuaded that he suffereth evil: for good he is by nature; and look whatsoever is good, conceiveth no envy to any, is fearful of none, neither is it moved with anger or hatred of aught: for like as heat can not cool a thing, but always naturally maketh it hot; so that which is good can not hurt or do ill. Now, anger and favour be far remote one from the other; so is choler and bitter gall much different from mildness and benevolence; as also malice and frowardness are opposite unto bounty, meekness, and humanity; for that the one sort ariseth from virtue and puissance; the other from weakness and vice. Now are we not to think that the divine power is given to be wrathful and gracious alike; but to believe rather, that the proper nature of God is always to be helpful and beneficial; whereas to be angry and to do harm, is not so natural; but that mighty Jupiter in heaven, he descendeth from thence first down to the earth, to dispose and ordain all things: after him, other gods, of whom the one is surnamed, The Giver; another, Mild and Bounteous; a third, Protector or Defender: as for Apollo, as Pindarus saith: 
Who doth in winged chariot fly,  
Amid the stars in a zure sky,  
To every man in his affair,  
Reputed is most debonair.  Now as Diogenes was wont to say, all things are Gods, and likewise among friends, all things are common, and good men are Gods friends; even so, impossible it is, that either he who is devout and a lover of God, should not be withal happy; or that a virtuous, temperate, and just man should not likewise be devout and religious. Think ye then, that these who deny the government of God's providence, need other punishment, or be not punished sufficiently for their impiety, in that they cut themselves from so great joy and pleasure as we find in ourselves, we (I say) who are thus well given and religiously affected toward God? The greatest joy that Epicurus stood upon and bore himself so boldly, were Metrodorus, Polyaenus, Aristobulus and such; and those he was always employed about, either in curing and tending them when they were sick, or in bewailing them after they were dead: whereas Lycurgus was honoured even by the prophetess Pythia in these terms: 
A man whom Jupiter did love,  
And all the heavenly saints above.  As for Socrates, who had a familiar spirit about him, whom he imagined to speak and reason friendly with him, even of kindness and good will: and Pindarus likewise, who heard god Pan chant one of those canticles which himself had composed, think we that they took small pleasure and contentment of heart thereby? Or what may we judge of Phormio, when he lodged in his house, Castor and Pollux; or of Sophocles, for entertaining of Aesculapius, as both himself was persuaded, and as others believed, for the manifest apparitions presented unto them? It were not amiss and beside the purpose, to rehearse in this place, what a faith and belief in the gods, Heromogenes had, and that in those very words and terms which he setteth down himself: The gods (quoth he) who know all things, and likewise can do all, are so friendly unto me, that for the care they have of my person and my affairs, are never ignorant day or night, either of that action which I purpose to do, or of that way which I intend to go: and for that they foresee the issue and event of whatsoever I enterprise and undertake; they advertise me thereof before hand, by presage of osses, voices, dreams, auguries and bird-flights, which they send as messengers to me of purpose. Moreover, meet it is, that we should have this opinion of the gods, that whatsoever proceedeth from them is good; but when we are persuaded that the goods which we receive from them, be sent unto us, upon special favour and grace, this is a wonderful contentment to the mind, this worketh much confidence, breedeth a marvelous courage, and inward joy, which seemeth as it were to smile upon good men: whereas, they who are otherwise minded and disposed, hinder themselves of that which is most sweet in prosperity, and leave no refuge or retiring place in time of adversity; for when any misfortune lighteth upon them, no other haven or retreat have they than the dissolution or separation of body and soul; nothing I say but the depriving of all sense: as if in a storm or tempest at sea, a man should come and say for the better comfort and assurance of the passengers, that neither the ship had a pilot, nor the lucky fire-lights (Castor and Pollux) appeared to allay the surging waves, or still the boisterous and violent winds, and yet for all that, there was no harm toward, because forsooth the ship should soon sink and be swallowed up of the sea; or that she would quickly turn side, or run upon some rock for to be split and broken in pieces: for these be the proper reasons which Epicurus useth in grievous maladies and extreme perils: Hopest thou for any good at God's hand with all thy religion? thou art much deceived: for the essence and nature of God being happy & immortal; is neither given to anger, nor yet inclined to pity: Dost thou imagine a better state or condition after thy death, than thou hast in thy life? surely thou dorest, and art mightily beguiled; for that which is once dissolved, loseth presently all manner of sense; & if it be senseless, what is that to us? it toucheth not us, whether it be good or ill. But he are you (my good friend:) How is it that you exhort me to eat, to drink, and make good cheer? Marry because the tempest is so big, that of necessity shipwreck must soon ensue, and the extreme peril at hand will quickly bring thee to thy death: and yet the poor passenger (after that the ship is broken all to pieces, or that he is flung or fallen out of it) beareth himself upon some little hope, that he shall (by one good fortune or other) reach unto the shore and swim to land; whereas by these men's philosophy, there is no evasion for the soul: 
To any place without the sea  
With frothing some all hoar and grey.  For that immediately she is dissolved, perisheth and dieth before the body; insomuch as she feeleth excessive joy, by having learned and received this most wise and divine doctrine: That the end of all her adversities and miseries, is to perish for ever, to corrupt and come to nothing. But it were (quoth he, casting his eye upon me) a great folly to speak any more of this matter, (considering that long since we have heard you discourse in ample manner) against those who hold; that the reasons and arguments of Epicurus make us better disposed and ready to die, than all that Plato hath written in his treatise concerning the soul. What of that? (quoth Zeuxippus) shall this present discourse be left unperfect and unfinished because of it? and fear we to allege the oracle of the gods, when we dispute against the Epicureans? No (quoth I again) in any wise, for according to the sentence of Empedocles: 
A good tale twice a man may tell,  
And hear it told as oft full well.  And therefore we must entreat Theon again; for I suppose he was present at the said disputation, and being (as he is) a young man, he need not fear that young men will charge him for oblivion, or default of memory. Then Theon seeming as if he had been forced and overcome by constraint: Well (quoth he) since there is no other remedy, I will not do as you Aristodemus did; you were afraid to repeat that which this man had delivered; but I will not stick to make use of that which you have said: for in mine opinion you have done very well, in dividing men into three sorts; the first, of those, who are lewd and wicked; the second of them that be simple, ignorant, and the common people; the third, of such as be wise, honest, and of good worth. As for those who be wicked & naughty persons (in fearing the pains and punishments proposed in general unto all) they will be afraid to commit any more sin, and by this means not breaking out, but restraining themselves, they shall live in more joy, & with less trouble and disquietness. For Epicurus thinketh, that there is no other means to divert men from evil doing, than, fear of punishment; & therefore he thinketh it good policy, to imprint in them the frights occasioned by superstition, to masker them with the terrors of heaven & earth, together with fearful earthquakes, deep chinks, and openings of the ground, and generally all sorts of fears and suspicions; that being terrified thereby, they might live in better order, and carry themselves more modestly; for more expedient it is for them, not to commit any heinous fact for fear of torments which they were to suffer after their death, than to transgress & break the laws, and thereby, live all their life time in danger, and exceeding perplexity and distrust: As touching the mean people and ignorant multitude (to say nothing of the fear of that which such men believe to be in hell) the hope of eternity, where of the poets make so great promises, and the desire to live always (which of all other desires is the most ancient and greatest) surpasseth in pleasure and sweet contentment, all childish fear of hell; insomuch as foregoing and losing their children, their wives and friends, yet they wish rather they should still be somewhere, and continue (though they endured otherwise all manner of pains and calamities) than wholly to be taken out of the universal world, and brought to nothing: yea, and willing they are, and take pleasure to hear this spoken of one that is dead: How he is departed out of this world into another, or gone to God; with other such like manner of speeches, importing, that death is no more but only a change or alteration, but not a total and entire abolition of the soul. And thus they use to speak: 
Then shall I call even there to mind,  
The sweet acquaintance of my friend.  Also: 
What shall I say from you to Hector bold?  
Or husband yours, right dear, who lived so old?  And hereof proceeded and prevailed this error: that men supposed they are well eased of their sorrow, and better appaied when they have interred with the dead, the arms, weapons, instrustruments and garments which they were wont to use ordinarily in their life time; like as Minos buried together with Glaucus: 
His Candiot pipes, made of the longshank bones  
Of dapple do or hind, that lived once.  And if they be persuaded, that the dead either desire or demand any thing, glad they are and willing to send or bestow the same upon them. And thus did Periander, who burned in the funeral fire together with his wife, her apparel, habiliments, and jewels, for that he thought she called for them, and complained that she lay a cold. And such as these are not greatly afraid of any judge Aeacus, of Ascalaphus, or of the river Acheron; considering that they attribute unto them dances, theatrical plays, and all kind of music, as if they took delight and pleasure therein: and yet there is not one of them all, but is ready to quake for fear, to see that face of death, so terrible, so unpleasant, so glum and grizzly, deprived of all sense, and grown to oblivion and ignorance of all things; they tremble for very horror, when they hear any of these words: He is dead, he is perished, he is gone, and no more to be seen: grievously displeased and offended they be, when these and such like speeches are given out: 
Within the earth as deep as trees do stand,  
His hap shall be to rot and turn to sand:  
No feasts he shall frequent nor hear the lute  
And harp, ne yet the sound of pleasant flute.  Again: 
When once the ghost of man from corpse is fled,  
And passed the ranks of teeth set thick in head;  
All means to catch and fetch her are but vain,  
No hope there is of her return again.  But they kill them stone dead, who say thus unto them: 
We mortal men have been once borne for all,  
No second birth we are for to expect,  
We must not look for life that is eternal,  
Such thoughts, as dreams, we ought for to reject.  For, casting and considering with themselves, that this present life is a small matter, or rather indeed a thing of nought, in comparison of eternity; they regard it not, nor make any account to enjoy the benefit thereof; whereupon they neglect all virtue and the honourable exploits of action, as being utterly discouraged and discontented in themselves, for the shortness of their life so uncerteine and without assurance; and in one word, because they take themselves unfit and unworthy to perform any great thing. For, to say that a dead man is deprived of all sense, because (having been before compounded) that composition is now broken and dissolved: to give out also, that a thing once dossolved, hath no Being at all; and in that regard toucheth us not: howsoever they seem to be goodly reasons, yet they rid us not from the fear of death, but chose, they do more confirm and enforce the same: for this is it in deed which nature abhorreth, when it shallbe said, according to the Poet Homer's words: 
But as for you, both all and some,  
Soon may you earth and water become.  meaning thereby, the resolution of the soul into a thing that hath neither intelligence nor any sense at all; which Epicurus holding to be a dissipation thereof into (I wot not what) emptiness, or voidness & small indivisible bodies, which he termeth Atomies, by that means cutteth off (so much the rather) all hope of immortality: for which (I dare well say) that all folk living, men and women both, would willingly be bitten quite thorough and gnawn by the hel-dog Cerberus, or carry water away in vessels full of holes in the bottom, like as the Danaides did, so they might only have a Being, and not perish utterly for ever, and be reduced to nothing. And yet verily, there be not many men who fear these matters, taking them to be poetical fictions and tales devised for pleasure, or rather bug bears that mothers and nurses use to fright their children with; and even they also who stand in fear of them, are provided of certain ceremonies and expiatory purgations, to help themselves withal: by which (if they be once cleansed and purified) they are of opinion, that they shall go into another world to places of pleasure, where there is nothing but playing and dancing continually among those who have the air clear, the wind mild and pure, the light gracious, and their voice intelligible: whereas the privation of life troubleth both young and old: for we all (even every one of us) are sick for love, and exceeding desirous 
To see the beauty of suns light,  
Which on the earth doth shine so bright,  as Euripides saith: neither willing are we, but much displeased to hear this: 
And as he spoke, that great immortal eye  
Which giveth light throughout the fabric wide  
Of this round world, made haste and fast did high  
With chariot swift, clean out of sight to ride.  Thus together with the persuasion and opinion of immortality, they bereave the common people of the greatest and sweetest hopes they have. What think we then of those men who are of the better sort, and such as have lived justly and devoutly in this life? Surely, they look for no evil at all in another world, but hope and expect there the greatest and most heavenly blessings that be: for first and foremost, champions or runners in a race, are never crowned so long as they be in combat or in their course, but after the combat ended and the victory achieved; even so, when these persons are persuaded that the proof of the victory in this world is due unto them after the course of this life, wonderful it is, and it can not be spoken, how great contentment they find in their hearts for the privity and conscience of their virtue, and for those hopes which assure them, that they one day shall see those (who now abuse their good gifts insolently, who commit outrage by the means of their might, riches and authority, and who scorn and foolishly mock such as are better than themselves) pay for their deferts, and suffer worthily for their pride and insolency. And forasmuch as never any of them who are enamoured of learning, could satisfy (to the full) his desire as touching the knowledge of the truth, and the contemplation of the universal nature of this world; for that indeed they see as it were through a dark cloud and a thick mist; to wit, by the organs and instruments of this body, and have no other use of reason, but as it is charged with the humours of the flesh, weak also and troubled, yea, and wonderfully hindered; therefore having an eye and regard always upward, & endevoring to fly forth of the body (as a bird that taketh her flight and mounteth up aloft, that she may get into another lightsome place of greater capacity) they labour to make their soul light, and to discharge her of all gross passions and earthly affections, such as be base and transitory, and that by the means of their study in philosophy, which they use for an exercise and meditation of death. And verily for my part, I esteem death a good thing, so perfect and consummate in regard of the soul which then shall live a life indeed, sound and certain, that I suppose the life here is not a subsistent and assured thing of itself, but resembleth rather the vain illusions of some dreams. And if it be so (as Epicurus saith:) That the remembrance and renewing acquaintance of a friend departed out of this life is every way a pleasant thing; a man may even now consider and know sufficiently, of what joie these Epicureans deprive themselves, who imagine otherwhiles in their dreams; that they reveive and entertain, yea and follow after to embrace, the very shadows, visions, apparitions, and ghosts of their friends who are dead, and yet they have neither understanding nor sense at all; and mean while they disappoint themselves of the expectation to converse one day indeed with their dear father and tender mother, and to see their beloved and honest wives; and are destitute of all such hope of so amiable company and sweet society, as they have, who are of the same opinion, that Pythagoras, Plato, and Homer were, as touching the nature of the soul. Certes I am verily persuaded, that Homer (covertly and as it were by the way) showed, what manner of affection theirs is in this point, when he casteth and projecteth amid the press of those that were fight, the image of Aeneas, as if he were dead indeed; but presently after, he exhibiteth him marching alive, safe and sound: 
And when his friends saw him so vigorous  
And whole of limbs, and with heart generous,  
To battle priest, whom erst they took for dead,  
They leapt for joy, and banished all dread.  leaving therefore the foresaid image and show of him, they ranged all about him. Let us likewise (seeing that reason proveth & showeth unto us; that a man may in very truth converse with those that are departed; that lovers and friends may touch, handle, and keep company one with another, having their perfect senses) be of good cheer and shun those, who can not believe so much, nor reject and cast behind, all such fantastical images and outward barks and rinds only, in which they do all their life time nothing else but grieve and lament in vain. Moreover, they that think the end of this life to be the beginning of another that is better; if they lived pleasantly in this world, better contented they are to die, for that they look for to enjoy a better estate in another; and is things went not to their mind here, yet are they not much discontented, in regard of the hopes which they have of the future delights and pleasures behind: and these work in them such incredible joys and expectances, that they put out and abolish all defects and offences whatsoever; these drown (I say) and overcome all discontentments otherwise of the mind, which by that means beareth gently, and endureth with patience what accidents soever befall in the way, or rather in a short diverticle or turning of the way: where as chose (to those who believe, that our life here is ended and dissolved in a certain deprivation of all sense) death (because it bringeth no alteration of miseries) is dolorous as well to them of the one fortune as the other; but much more unto those who are happy in this present life, than unto such as are miserable; for that as it cutteth these short of all hope of better estate; so from those it taketh away a certainty of good, which was their present joyful life: And like as many medicinable and purgative drougs (which are neither good nor pleasant to the stomach, howbeit in some respect necessary, howsoever they case and cure the sick) do great hurt, and offend the bodies of such as be in health; even so the doctrine of Epicurus unto those who are infortunate and live miserably in this world, promiseth an issure out of their miseries, and the same nothing happy, to wit; a final end, and total dissolution of their soul: And as for those who are prudent, wife, and live in abundance of all good things, it impeacheth and hindereth altogether their alacrity & contentment of spirit, in bringing and turning them from an happy life to no life at all, from a blessed estate to no estate or being whatsoever. For first & foremost this is certain: That the very apprehension of the loss of goods, afflicteth and vexeth a man as much, as either an assured expectance, or a present enjoying and fruition thereof rejoiceth his heart: yet would they bear us in hand, that the cogitation of this final dissolution and perdition into nothing, leaveth unto men a most assured and pleasant good, to wit, the refutation or putting by of a certain fearful doubt and suspicion of infinite and endless miseries: and this say they, doth the doctrine of Epicurus effect, in abolishing the fear of death, and teaching that the soul is utterly dissolved. Now if this be a singular and most sweet content (as they say it is) to be delivered from the fear and expectation of calamities and miseries without end, how can it otherwise be but irksome and grievous, to be deprived of the hope of joys sempiternal, and to lose that supreme and sovereign felicity? Thus you see it is good neither for the nor the other, but this, Not-being, is naturally an enemy, and quite contrary unto all that have Being: And as for those whom the misery of death seemeth to deliver from the miseries of life, a poor and cold comfort they have (God wot) of that insensibility, as if they had an evasion and escaped thereby; and on the other side, those who lived in all prosperity, and afterwards came of a sudden to change that state into nothing: me thinks I see very plainly, that these tarry for a fearful and terrible end of their race, which thus shall cause their felicity to cease; for nature abhorreth not privation of sense, as the beginning of another estate and being, but is afraid of it because it is the privation of those good things which are present. For to say: That the thing which costeth us the loss of all that we have, toucheth us not, is a very absurd speech, considering, that this very cogitation and apprehension thereof concerneth us much already: for this insensibility doth not afflict and trouble those who have no more Being, but such as yet are, namely, when they come to cast their account, what detriment and loss they receive by being no more, and that by death they shall be reduced to nothing: for it is not the three-headed-helhound Cerberus, nor the river of tears and weeping, Cocytus, which cause the fear of death to be infinite and interminable; but it is that menacing intimation of Nullity or Not being, & of the impossibility to return again into a state of Being, after men once are gone and departed out of this life; for there is no second nativity nor regeneration, but that Not-being must of necessity remain for ever, according to the doctrine of Epicurus: for if there be no end at all of Non-essence, but the same continue infinite and immutable, there will be found likewise an eternal and endless misery in that privation of all good things, by a certain insensibility, which never shall have end. In which point Herodotus seemeth yet to have dealt more wisely, when he saith: That God having given a taste of sweet eternity, seemeth envious in that behalf, especially to those who are reputed happy in this world; unto whom that pleasure was nothing else but a bait to procure dolour, namely, when they have a taste of those things which they must for go: for what joy, what contentment and fruition of pleasure is there so great, but this conceit and imagination of the soul (falling continually as it it were into a vast sea of this infinition) is not able to quell and chase away, especially in those who repose all goodness and beatitude in pleasure? And if it be true as Epicurus saith: That to die in pain, is a thing incident to most men; then surely there is no mean at all to mitigate or allay the fear of death, seeing it haileth us even by grief and anguish to the loss of a sovereign good: and yet his sectaries would seem to urge and enforce this point mainly, to wit, in making men believe that it is a good thing to escape and avoid evil; and yet forsooth, that they should not think it evil, to be deprived of good. They confess plainly, that in death there is no joy nor hope at all, but what pleasure and sweetness soever we had, is thereby and then cut off; whereas chose, even in that time, those who believe their souls to be immortal and incorruptible, look to have and enjoy the greatest and most divine blessings; and for certain great revolutions of years, to converse in all happiness and felicity, sometime upon the earth, otherwhiles in heaven, until in that general resolution of the universal world they come to burn together with Sun and Moon, in a spiritual and intellectual fire.  
This spacious place of so many and so great joys, Epicurus cutteth off and abolisheth clean, in that he anulleth all hopes that we ought to have in the aid and favour of the gods; whereby both in contemplative life he exstinguisheth the love of knowledge and learning; and also in the active, the desire of valorous acts of winning honour and glory; restraining, driving and thrusting nature into a narrow room, of a joy which is very straight, short and unpure, to wit, from the soul's delight to a fleshly pleasure; as if she were not capable of a greater good, than the avoiding of evil.    

WHETHER THIS COMMON MOT, BE WELL SAID: LIVE HIDDEN: OR, SO LIVE, AS NO MAN MAY KNOW THOU LIVEST.  

The Summarie.  
THis precept was first given by Neocles the brother of Epicurus, as saith Suidas: and (as if it had been some golden sentence) it went currant ordinarily in the mouths of all the Epicureans, who advised a man that would live happily, not to intermeddle in any public affairs of State: but Plutarch considering well how ill this Emprese sounded, being taken in that sense and construction which they give unto it, and foreseeing the absurd and dangerous consequences ensuing upon such an opinion, doth now confute the same by seven arguments or sound reasons, to wit: That therein such foolish Philosophers discover mightily their excessive ambition: That it is a thing dishonest and perilous for a man to retire himself apart from others; for that if a man be vicious, he ought to seek abroad for remedy of his malady: if a lover of goodness and virtue, he is likewise to make other men love the same. Item: That the Epicureans life being defamed with all or dure and wickedness, it were great reason in deed, that such men should remain hidden and buried in perpetual darkness. After this, he showeth that the good proceeding from the life of virtuous men, is a sufficient encouragement for every one to be employed in affairs: for that there is nothing more miserable than an idle life, and that which is unprofitable to our neighbours: That life, birth, generation, man's soul, yea, and man himself wholly as he is, teach us by their definitions and properties: That we are not set in this world, for to be directed by such a precept as this: and in conclusion: That the estate of our souls, after they be separate from the body, condemneth and overthroweth this doctrine of the Epicureans, and proveth evidently, that they be extreme miserable, both during and after this life. All these premises well marked and considered, instruct and teach them that be of good calling in the world, and in higher place, to endeavour and strain themselves in their several vocations to fly an idle life, so far forth, that they take heed withal, they be not over curious, pragmatical, busy and stirring, nor too ready and forward to meddle in those matters which ought to be let alone as they be; for fear lest whiles they ween to raise and advance themselves, they fall back, and become lower than they would.   

WHETHER THIS COMMON Mot, be well said: Live hidden: or, So live, as no man may know thou livest.  
Lo how even himself, who was the author of this sentence, would not be unknown, but that all the world should understand, that he it was who said it; for expressly he uttered this very speech, to the end that it might not remain, unknowen that he had some more understanding than others, desirous to win a glory undeserved and not due unto him, by diverting others from glory, and exhorting them to obscurity of life. I like the man well verily, for this is just according to the old verse: 
I hate him who of wisdom bears the name,  
And to himself cannot perform the same.   
We read that Philoxenus the son of Eryxis, and Gnatho the Sicilian, (two notorious gluttons given to bellie-cheere, and to love their tooth) when they were at a feast, used to snite their noses into the very dishes and platters with meat before them; thereby to drive those in their mess, and who were set at the table, from eating with them, and by that means to engorge themselves, and fill their bellies alone with the best viands served up: Semblably, they who are excessively and out of all measure ambitious, before others as their concurrents and corrivals, blame and dispraise glory and honour, to the end that they alone without any competitors might enjoy the same: And herein they do like unto mariners sitting at the oar in a boat or galley; for howsoever their eye is toward the poop, yet they labour to set the prow forward, in that the flowing of the water by reciprocation, caused by the stroke of the oars, coming forcibly back upon the poop, might help to drive forward the vessel; even so, they that deliver such rules and precepts, whiles they make semblant to fly from glory, pursue it as fast as they can; for otherwise if it were not so: what need had he (whosoever he was) to give out such a speech? what meant he else to write it, and when he had written it, to publish the same unto posterity? If I say he meant to be unknown to men living in his time, who desired to be known unto those that came after him? But let us come to the thing itself: How can it choose but be simply nought? Live so hidden (quoth he) that no man may perceive that ever you lived; as if he had said: Take heed you be not known for a digger up of sepulchers, & a defacer of the tombs & monuments of the dead: But chose, a foul & dishonest thing it is to live in such sort, as that you should be willing that we all, know not the manner thereof: Yet would I for my part say clean contrary: Hide not thy life, how ever thou do, and if thou hast lived badly, make thyself known; bewiser, repent & amend: if thou be endued with virtue, hide it not, neither be thou an unprofitable member; if vicious, continue not obstinate there, but yield to correction, & admit the cure of thy vice; or rather at (leastwise sir) make a distinction, & define who it is, to whom you give this precept? If he be ignorant, unlearned, wicked, or foolish, than it is as much as if you said thus: Hide thy fever; cloak & cover thy frenzy; let not the physician take notice of thee; go and put thyself into some dark corner, where no person may have a sight of thee, or of thy maladies and passions; go thy way aside with all thy naughtiness, sick as thou art of an incurable and mortal disease; cover thy spite and envy; hide thy superstition; suppress and conceal (as it were) the disorderly beat of thine arteries; take heed & be afraid how you let your pulse be felt, or bewray yourself to those who have the means, & are able to admonish, correct, and heal you. But long ago, & in the old world, our ancestors were wont to take in hand and cure openly in public place, those that were diseased in body: in those days, every one (who had met with any good medicine, or known a remedy, whereof he had the proof, either in himself being sick, or in another cured thereby) would reveal and communicate the same unto another that stood in need thereof: and thus they say: The skill of Physic arising first, and growing by experience, became in time, a noble and excellent science. And even so, requisite it is and necessary, to discover and lay open unto all men, lives that be diseased, and the infirmities of the soul, to touch and handle them, and by considering the inclinations of every man, to say thus unto one: Subject thou art to anger, take heed thereof; unto another: Thou art given to jealousy and emulation, beware of it, do thus and thus; to a third: Art thou amorous and full of love? I have been so myself otherwhiles, but I repent me thereof. But now a days it is clean contrary; in denying, in cloaking, covering, and hiding, men thrust and drive their vices inwardly, and more deeply still into their secret bowels. Now if they be men of worth and virtuous, whom thou counselest to hide themselves, that the world may take no knowledge of them, it is all one as to say unto Epaminondas: Take no charge of the conduct of an army: or to Lycurgus: Amuse not your head about making laws: and to Thrasibulus: Kill no tyrants: to Pythagoras: Keep no school, nor teach in any wise: to Socrates: See you dispute not, nor hold any discourses of philosophy: and to yourself Epicurus first of all: Write not to your friends in Asia; enrol and gather no soldiers out of Egypt; have no commerce nor negotiate with them; do not protect and defend as it were with a guard from villainy and violence, the young gentlemen of Lampsacum; send not your books abroad to all men and women alike, thereby to show your learning; finally, ordain nothing about your sepulture. To what tended your public tables? what meant those assemblies that you made of your familiar friends and fair young boys; to what purpose were there so many thousands of verses written and composed so painfully by you in the honour of Metrodorus, Aristobulus, & Chaeredemus, to the end that after death they should not be forgotten? Was all this because you would ratify and establish virtue by oblivion; arts by doing nothing, philosophy by silence; and felicity by forgetfulness? Will you needs bereave man's life of knowledge, as if you would take away light from a feast, to the end that men might not know that you & your followers do all for pleasure, & upon pleasure? then good reason you have to give counsel, & say unto yourself: Live unknown. Certes, if I had a mind to lead my life with Haedia the harlot, or to keep ordinarily about me, the strumpet Leontium; to detest all honesty; to repose all my delight and joy in the tickling pleasures of the flesh, and in wanton lusts: these ends verily would require to be hidden in darkness, and covered with the shadow of the night; these be the things that would be forgotten, and not once known: But if a man in the science of natural philosophy, delight in hymns and canticles to praise God, his justice and providence; or in morallknowledge, to set out and commend the law, human society, and the politic government of commonweal; and therein regard honour and honesty, not profit and commodity; what reason have you to advise him for to live obscurely? Is it because he should teach none by good precept? is it for that no man should have a zealous love to virtue, or affect honesty by his example? If Themistocles had never been known to the Athenians, Greece had not given Xerxes the foil and repulse; likewise if Camillus had been unknown to the Romans, peradventure by this time Rome had been no city at all; had not Dion known Plato, Sicily should not have been delivered from tyranny. But this is my conceit; that like as light effecteth thus much, that we not only know one another, but also are profitable one unto another; even so in my judgement, to be known abroad, bringeth not only honour and glory, but also means of employment in virtue: Thus Epaminondas unknown unto the Thebans, until he was forty years old, stood them in no stead at all; but after that they took knowledge of him once, and had committed unto him the leading of their army, he saved the city of Thebes, which had like to have been lost, and delivered Greece, being in danger of servitude; showing in renown and glory (no less than in some clear light) virtue producing her effects in due time: For according to the poet Sophocles; By use it shineth 
Like iron or brass, that is both fair and bright  
So long as men do handle it aright.  
In time also, an house goes to decay,  
And falleth down, if dweller be away.  Whereas the very manners & natural conditions of a man be marred & corrupted, gathering as it were a moss, & growing to age in doing nothing, through ignorance & obscurity. And verily a mute silence, a sedentary life, retired a part in idleness, causeth not only the body, but the mind also of man to languish & grow feeble: & like as dornant, or close & standing waters, for that they be covered, overshadowed, & not running, grow to putrify; even so, they that never stir, nor be employed, what good parts soever they have in them, if they put them not forth, nor exercise their natural and inbred faculties, corrupt quickly, and become old. See you not how when the night cometh on & approacheth near, our bodies become more heavy, lumpish, and unfit for any work, our spirits more dull and lazy to all actions, and the discourse of our reason and understanding more drowsy and contracted within itself? like unto fire that is ready to go out; and how the same by reason of an idleness and unwillingness coming upon it, is somewhat troubled and disquieted with diverse fantastical imaginations; which observation advertiseth us daily after a secret and silent manner, how short the life of man is: 
But when the sun with light some beams  
Dispatched hath these cloudy dreams,  after he is once risen (and by mingling together the actions and cogitations of men with his light; awakeneth and raiseth them up (as Democritus saith) in the morning, they make haste jointly one with another upon a foreign desire, as if they were compunded and knit with a certain mutual bond, some one way, and some another, rising to their several works and business. Certes, I am of advice that even our life, our very nativity, yea & the participation of mankind is given us of God to this end: That we should know him; for unknown he is and hidden in this great fabric and universal frame of the world, all the while that he goeth too and fro therein by small parcels and piecemeal: but when he is gathered in himself, and grown to his greatness; then shineth he and appeareth abroad, where before he lay covered; then is he manifest and apparent, where before he was obscure and unknowen; for knowldege is not the way to his essence, as some would have it; but chose, his essence is the way to knowledge; for that knowledge maketh not each thing, but only showeth it when it is done; like as the corruption of any thing that is, may not be thought a transporting to that which is not, but rather a bringing of that which is dissolved to this pass, that it appeareth no more: Which is the reason that according to the ancient laws and traditions of our country, they that take the sun to be Apollo, give him the names of Delius and Pythius; and him that is the lord of the other world beneath, whether he be a god or a devil, they call Ades; for that when we are dead and dissolved, we go to a certain 
* 〈◊〉  obscurity, where nothing is to be seen: 
Even to the prince of darkness and of night  
The lord of idle dreams deceiving sight.  And I suppose that our ancestors in old time called man, Phos, of light, for that there is in every one of us, a vehement desire and love to know and be known one of another, by reason of the consanguinity between us. And some philosophers there be, who thick verily, that even the soul in her substance is a very light, whereupon they are led as welby other signs & arguments, as by this, that there is nothing in the world that the soul hateth so much as ignorance, rejecting all that is obscure and unlightsome; troubled also when she is entered into dark places, for that they fill her full of fear and suspicion: but chose, the light is so sweet and delectable unto her, that she taketh no joy and delight in any thing; otherwise lovely and desirable by nature, without light or in darkness; for that is it which causeth all pleasures, sports, pastimes, & recreations to be more jocund, amiable, & to man's nature agreeable; like as a common sauce that seasoneth and commendeth all viands wherewith it is mingled: whereas he that hath cast himself into ignorance, and is enwrapped within the clouds of misty blindness, making his life a representation of death, and burying it as it were in darkness, seemeth that he is weary even of being, and thinketh life a very trouble unto him: and yet they are of opinion, that the nature of glory and essence, is the place assigned for the souls of godly, religious, and virtuous folk: 
To whom the sun shin's always bright  
When here with us it dark night:  
The me dove's there, both fair and wide,  
With roses red are beautified:  
The fields all round about them dight  
With verdure, yield a pleasant sight:  
All tapissed with flowers full gay,  
Of fruitful trees, that blossom ay:  
Amid this place the rivers clear  
Run soft and still, some there, some here.  Wherein they pass the time away, in calling to remembrance and recounting that which is past, in discoursing also of things present, accompanying one another, and conversing together. Now there is a third way, of those who have lived ill, and be wicked persons, the which sendeth their souls headlong into a dark gulf and bottomless pit: 
Where, from the dormant rivers bleak  
Of shady night, thick mists do reek,  
As black as pitch continually  
And those all round about do fly.  ensolding, whelming, and covering those in ignorance and forgetfulness, who are tormented there and punished: for they be not greedy geiers or vultures, that evermore eat and gnaw the liver of wicked persons laid in the earth; and why? the same already is either burned or rotten: neither be there certain heavy fardels, or weighty burdens that press down and overcharge the bodies of such as be punished: 
For such thin ghosts and fibres small,  
Have neither flesh nor bone at all.  yet are the relics of their bodies who be departed, such as be capable of punishment, for that belongeth properly to a body that is solid and able to resist; but the only way and true manner of chastising and punishing those, who have lived badly in this world, is infamy, ignorance, an entire abolition, and total reducement to nothing, which bringeth them from the river Lethe, that is to say, Oblivion, into another mournful river, where there is no mirth, no joy, nor cheerfulness, & from thence plungeth them into a vast sea, which hath neither shore nor bottom, even idleness and unaptness to all good, which can do nought else but draw after it a general forgetfulness and burial (as it were) in all ignorance and infamous obscurity.    

RULES AND PRECEPTS OF HEALTH IN MANNER OF A DIALOGUE.  

The Summarie.  
THe conjunction of the soul with the body being so strait, as every man knows it is, I can not see how it is possible that the one should commit any disorder or excess, but the other must needs be grieved there with immediately: And if there be any thing that ought to be deplored and lamented, it is the loss of time, especially and above all, when the same is occasioned by our own intemperance; for that at such a time when as we should attend upon our duty, we become and continue unprofitable, hurting many times both ourselves and many others. Now for that the study of good literature requireth a soul well composed and governed in a sound, heathfull, and vigorous body; it is not without good cause, that Plutarch in termingleth among philosophical discourses certain rules & precepts as touching health. For in truth a vain endeavour & enterprise this were, and hardly could a man have his mind disposed to good things, in case the body be ill affected and misgoverned: But fearing lest it would be thought, that he who made profession of philosophy only, proceeded farther than in reason he ought, and broke the limits and bounds of sciences, in meddling with physic here: Before that he entereth into the Dialogue, when he had touched the occasion of this conference and talk; he showeth: that the study of physic is agreeable to philosophy: which done, he representeth certain questions proposed by a third person, which serve in stead of a preface to those precepts and lessons, by him set down afterwards; not following herein any exact or exquisite method, but making choice of that which he thought to be most meet for the time, and suiting best to those persons, for whose sake this Dialogue was written. He speaketh first therefore of the use of meats, especially such as are sweet and pleasing to the tooth: also what a man is to take heed of in this behalf: Then he treateth of the pleasures of the body, declaring what measure therein we ought to keep, and discovering by a certain similitude, the pernicious indiscretion of those who love to keep good cheer and maintain dainty fare. Consequently hereupon, he forbiddeth us to use bodily pleasures unless we be in good and perfect health; condemneth fullness and overmuch repletion, which is the cause of most diseases that are incident to man's body, and this he enricheth and amplifieth by another proper similitude. He is desirous also that maladies were foreseen and prevented, setting down a special remedy therefore, and proving; that the body cannot enjoy any delight whatsoever, either in eating or drinking, in case it be not healthy. From this he proceedeth to make mention of diet, and of the prognostikes of diseases breeding and roward. Item, how, and wherewith the maladies of our friends ought to serve and stead us; adding thus much moreover; that for the better maintenance and preservation of health, a man is not to feed to satiety; that he ought to travel and not spare himself; also that he is to save his natural seed: upon this he discourseth of the exercise and nouxishment of students and scholars, desciphring particularly whatsoever in this point is most worth the noting and observation, and so cleareth this question, namely; Whether it be wholesome for the body to dispute either at the table, or presently upon meat: After all this, he treateth of walking, of sleep, of vomiting, of purgations of the belly, of diets over exquisite and precise; condemning expressly idleness, as a thing contrary to the good disposition of the body. Furthermore, he showeth when a man ought to be at quiet and rest; as also the time that he may give himself to pleasure: but above all, he requireth of every man; that he learn to know his own nature and inclination, as also the meats and drinks that be agreeable unto his stomach: exhorting in the end all students to spare their bodies, to look unto them, and make much of them, that they may have the better means to proceed and go forward in the knowledge of good letters, whereby they might another day be profitable members of the commonwealth, and do more good to the society of men.   

RULES AND PRECEPTS OF health in manner of a dialogue.  
The personages speaking in this dialogue: MOSCHION and ZEUXIPPUS.  MOSCHION. 
ANd did you then indeed, (my friend Zexippus) turn away Glaucus the physician yesterday, who was desirous to confer with us in philosophy?  ZEUXIPPUS. 
No iwis, (good Moschion) neither did I put him away; desirous was he to do as you say: But this was it that I avoided and feared, namely: To give him any advantage or occasion to fasten upon me, and take hold on me, knowing him as I do to be litigious and quarrelsome: for in physic, if I may use the words of Homer: 
He may well stand for many a one,  
Although he be but one alone.  As for philosophy, he is not well affected thereto, but always provided of some shrewd & bitter terms against her in all his disputations, and as then especially; for I observed how he came directly against us, crying out upon us a far off with a loud voice, & charging us; that we had to enterprise a great matter, and the same not very civil & honest, and in that we had broken the bounds, and plucked up (as a man would say) the very limit-marks of sciences, laying all common, and making a confusion of them, in disputing as we did of wholesome diet, and of the manner how to live in good health. For the confines and frontiers (quoth he) of Physicians and Philosophers, are (as we use to say in the vulgar proverb, as touching Mysians and Phrygians) far different, and removed a sunder: Moreover, he had readily in his mouth certain speeches and sentences of ours, which we delivered by way of pastime only, and yet for all that, were not impertinent or unprofitable, and those he would seem to control, reprove, and scorn.  MOSCHION. 
But I for my part (o Zeuxippus) could be very well content, yea, and most desirous to hear, even those speeches that mocked, as others beside, which ye had concerning this matter, if so be it might stand with your pleasure to rehearse the same.  ZEUXIPPUS. 
I think no less (o Moschion) for that you are inclined naturally to philosophy, and think now well of that philosopher who is not well affected to physic, but are displeased and offended with him; in case (I say) he suppose it more meet and beseeming for him to be seen studying Geometry, Logic, or Music, than willing to inquire and learn 
What rule at home in house, what work there is,  
How things do stand, what goes well, what amiss?  When I say, at home, I mean in his own body; and yet a man shall see ordinarily, what a number more there be of spectators at theatres, where there is some public dole or free distribution of money to those that are assembled to see the games and pastimes, as the manner is at Athens, than otherwise. Now of all the liberal sciences, Physic is one, which as it giveth place to none whatsoever, in beauty, in outward show, and in pleasure or delight; so it alloweth a great reward and salary unto those that love it, even as much as their life and health comes to; and therefore we are not to accuse and charge Philosophers, who discourse and dispute of matters concerning like regiment of health, for passing beyond their bounds and confines: but rather we ought to blame them, if they think that they should pluck altogether, and take away those landmarks, to labour (as it were) in some common field between them and Physicians, in the study & contemplation of things good and honest, aiming & seeking in all their disputations and discourses, after that which is both pleasant to know & necessary to understand.  MOSCHION. 
But let us I pray you (o Zeuxippus) leave Glaucus to himself, who for the gravity which he carrieth, would be accounted a man in all points accomplished without any need at all of Philosophies help; and recount unto me (if you please) all those speeches which you had, especially at first, those I mean which you said were not spoken in earnest, and yet were scorned and reproved by Glaucus.  ZEUXIPPUS. 
I will, and that right willingly. This friend of ours therefore delivered thus much; how he heard one say: That to have one's hands always warm, and never suffer them to be cold, was no small means to the preservation of health: but chose, to have ordinarily the 〈◊〉 parts of the body cold, drove heat inwardly into the centre of the body, and brought us to a certain familiarity and acquaintance with a fever; as also, to turn and drive with out forth together with heat the matter thereof, and to distribute the same equally throughout the whole body, was an wholesome thing; as we see by experience, that if we occupy our hands, and do some work with them, the very motion exciteth and stirreth up, yea, and maintaineth natural heat: but if we have no such business or employment for them, but hold them still and idle, yet for all that we are not to admit or entertain cold in those extreme parts of the body: This (I say) was one of the points that Glaucus laughed at. The second (as I take it) was touching the meats that ye use to give unto sick persons: For that he counseled men (in time of health) to taste the same by little and little; so as they might be acquainted therewith, to the end that they should not abhor and loath them (as little children use to do) nor hate such a kind of diet; but make the same in some sort after a gentle manner, familiar unto their appetite; that (when soever it happened they were sick) such viands might not go against their stomachs, as if they were Physic drougues or medicines, out of the apothecary's shop: also, that we should not be offended and discontent, otherwhiles to feed upon one single dish and no more, and the same without any sauce to draw it on, or fine dressing and handling by cooks craft, to commend it. For which cause he would not have men think it strange, to come now and then to the table, without being at the bane or hothouse before; nor to drink shear water, when wine is upon the board, nor to forbear to drink our drink hot in summer time, although there be snow set before us to cool it. Provided always, that this abstinence proceed not from any ambitious ostentation and vainglory, or because we would vaunt and make our boast thereof afterward; but that we do it apart by ourselves, making no words thereof, and accustom by little and little our appetite to obey reason willingly, and to be ruled by that which is good and profitable, by weaning our minds (long before) from that scrupulous curiosity, dainty niceness, and wayward complaints, about these matters in time of sickness; when commonly we are ready to whine and lament, for that we miss those our former pleasures, and great delights, which we were wont to enjoy, and see ourselves brought to a more base kind of diet, and a straighter rule of life. For a good saying it was: Choose the best life simply that is; use and custom will make it pleasing and agreeble unto thee: the which by good proof and experience hath been found profitable in all things, but principally in the regard and care of our bodies (as touching diet,) which in time of best health aught to be ordered so by use and custom, that the same may become kind, familiar, and agreeable to our nature; and namely by calling to mind that which others are wont to do and say in their sickness, how they fume and chafe, how they fare and go to work when hot water is brought unto them for to drink, or warm broths to be supped, or drie-bread to be eaten; how they call these, untoward, naughty, and unsavoury victuals, yea and name those, cursed and odious persons, who would seem to force the same upon them for to eat or drink. Many there have been, who had their bane by baines, such as ailed not much at the first, and were not very sick at the beginning; only they had brought themselves to this pass, that they could neither eat nor drink, unless they were first bathed, or had sweat in a stouph: among whom, Titus the emperor of Rome was one, as they were able to testify who had the cure of him when he lay sick. It was said morever: That always viands most simple, and such as cost least, were wholesomest for the body; also that above all things, men ought to beware of repletion, of drunkenness and voluptuous life; especially, when there is some festival day toward, wherein they use to make exceeding cheer; or when they purpose to invite their friends to a great dinner, or otherwise look to be bidden themselves to some royal feast of a king or lord general, or else to a banquet, where they shall be put to quaff and carouse in their turn, which they may not refuse to do: against such times (I say) they ought to prepare their bodies beforehand, as it were whiles the weather is calm and fair, and make it more fresh and lightsome, yea, and better able to abide the storm and tempest toward: for a very hard matter it is in such assemblies, and feasts of great lords or dear friends, for a man to stay himself in a mean, and maintain his accustomed sobriety; but he shall be thought uncivil, unmannerly, insociable, too austere and odious to all the company. To the end therefore that we should not put fire to fire (as they say) lay gorge upon gorge, surset upon surset, and wine and wine, good it were to imitate and follow in good earnest that which was sometime merrily done by king Philip, and that was this: A certain man invited him upon a time to a supper, into the country, thinking that he would come with a small company about him; but seeing that he brought a great train and retinue with him, and knowing well that he had prepared no more than would serve for a few guests; he was wonderfully troubled; Philip perceiving it, sent underhand to every one of his friends that came with him, this word: That they should keep a room in their stomachs for a dainty tart or cate that was coming: they believing this message in good sadness, made spare of other viands that stood before them, looking evermore when this dainty should be served up, in such sort, as that the meat provided was sufficient for the whole company; even so we ought beforehand to be prepared against the time that we are to be at such great feasts and meetings aforesaid, where we shall be put to it perforce, to drink round in our turn, and to answer every one's challenge, to reserve (I say) a place in our bodies, both for meats and also for fine cates, and junketting dishes: yea and believe me, if need be, for drunkenness, and thither to bring an appetitie fresh and ready for such things. But if peradventure such constreints and compulsions surprise us upon a sudden, when we are either full and heavy, or ill at ease, for that we have a little before over-eaten and drunk ourselves; in case (I say) some great lords be come to us, or in place unexpected, or haply a friend or stranger take us at unawares, and unprovided, so that we be forced for shame to keep others company, who are well enough disposed in body, and prepared for to drink and make merty; then must we be especially well armed against foolish bashfulness, and to meet with such bad shamefastness is the cause of so many evils among men; and namely, by alleging and saying these verses of king Creon in a tragedy of Euripides: 
Better it were for me, you to displease  
My friend, than at this time, for your contnent,  
To give myself to pleasure and mine ease,  
But after, with great sorrow to repent.  For to cast a man's self into a pleurisy or frenzy, for fear to be held and reputed rustical and uncivil, is the part of a rude clown in deed, and of one who hath neither wit nor judgement, ne yet any skill or speech to entertain and keep company with men, unless they may be drunken and engorge themselves like gluttons: for the very refusal itself of eating and drinking, if it be handled with dexterity and a good grace, will be no less acceptable to the company, than drinking square and carousing round. And if the man who maketh a feast, abstain himself, though he sit at the table (as the manner is at a sacrifice whereof he tasteth not) entertaining his guests with a cheerful countenance and a friendly welcome, and whiles the cups and trenchers walk about him, be disposed to mirth and cast out some pretty jests of himself, he shall no less content and please his guests, than he that will seem to be drunken for company, and cram his belly with them, till it be ready to crack. To this purpose he made mention of certain ancient examples; and namely (among other) of Alexander the Great, who after he had drunk well and liberally, was abashed and ashamed to deny the challenge of Medius, one of his captains, who had invited him to supper; and thereupon (falling again to drink wine afresh) died thereof. And of those who lived in our days, he spoke of one Riglis, a notable Pancratiast or champion at all feats of activity, whom Titus Caesar the emperor, sent for one day betimes in the morning to come and bathe with him, who came indeed, and after he had bathed and had drunk a great draft, was (by report) surprised with an Apoplexy, whereupon he died immediately. All these matters, our Physician Glaucy mocked and reproved, calling them discourses of schoolmasters to children their scholars: and as he was not very willing to hear more, so were not we greatly discourse to relate and discourse farther unto him; for that he had no mind to consider each thing accordingly that was delivered. Socrates verily, who was the first that debarred us from eating those meats which drew us on to eat more still when we were not hungry nor had a stomach thereto; and from drinking such drinks which caused us to drink, although we were not dry and thirsty; forbade us not simply to use meats and drinks, but taught us rather to use them only when we had need of them, joining the pleasure of them with their necessity; like as they do, who employ the public money of cities (which before was wont to be spent at theatres, in exhibiting plays and shows) about the charges of maintaining soldiers for the wars: for that which is sweet, so long as it is a part of our nourishment, we hold to be proper and familiar to nature; and we ought all the while that we be hungry, to use and enjoy necessary nourishment, as sweet and pleasant; but otherwise not to stir and provoke other new and extraordinary appetites apart, after that we are delivered from those that be common and ordinary: for like as unto Socrates himself, dancing was no unpleasant exercise; even so he who maketh his whole supper or meal of junkets and banqueting dishes, catcheth less harm thereby: but when a man hath taken already as much as is sufficient to content nature, and wherewith he is well satisfied, he ought to beware as much as in any thing else, how he putteth forth his hands to any such dainties. And we are to fly and avoid in these things, folly and ambition, no less than friandise or gluttony: for these two vices induce us likewise often times to eat some thing when we are not hungry, and to drink also when we be not athirst; yea, and they suggest and minister unto us certain base and extravagant imaginations, to wit, that it were great simplicity, and a very absurd thing, not to feed liberally of a rare, dear and geason dish, if it may be had; as for example: That which is made of a sows paps when she is newly farrowed, Italian mushrooms, Samian cakes, or snow out of Egypt; for these toys and imaginations smelling somewhat of vainglory as the sent of meat coming out of a kitchen, main times set our teeth a watering and our stomach on edge to use them, forcing the body (which otherwise would not seek after them) to participate thereof, only because they be much spoken of and hard to come by; to the end that we make our report and recount unto others, what we have done, and be reputed by them right happy and fortunate; for that we have enjoyed things, so dear, so singular and so geason. The like affection they carry to women also of great name and reputation: for it falleth out, that having their own wives in bed with them, and those fair and beautiful dames, such also as love them dearly, they lie still and stir not; but if they meet with any courtesan, such as Phryne or Lais was, unto whom they have paid good silver out of their purse, though otherwise their bodies be unable, dull and heavy in performing the work of Venus, yet doing they will be, what they can, and strain themselves upon a vainglorious ambition, to provoke and stir up their lascivious lust unto fleshly pleasure: whereupon Phryne herself, being now old and decayed, was wont to say: That she sold her lees and dregs the dearer, by reason of her reputation.  
A great thing it is and wonderful, that if we receive into our bodies as many pleasures as nature doth require or can well bear; or rather, if upon diverse occasions and businesses, we resist her appetites, and put her off unto another time, and that we be loath and hardly brought to yield unto her necessities, or (according as Plato saith) give place, after that she hath by sine force pricked and urged us thereto, we should not suffer for all that, any harm thereby, but go away freely without any loss or detriment: but on the other side, if we abandon ourselves to the desires that descend from the soul to the body, so far forth as they force us to minister unto the passions thereof, and rise up together with them, impossible it is, but that they should leave behind them exceeding great losses and damages, in stead of a few pleasures, and those feeble and small in appearance, which they have given unto us: and this above all things would be considered, that we take heed how we provoke the body to pleasures, by the lusts of the mind; for the beginning thereof is against nature. For like as the tickling under the armholes, procureth unto the soul a laughter, which is not proper, mild and gentle, but rather troublesome and resembling some spasme or convulsion; even so all the pleasures which the body receiveth when it is pricked and provoked by the soul, be violent, forced, turbulent, furious and unnatural. Whensoever therefore any occasion shall present itself to enjoy such rare and notable delights, it were better for us to take a glory in the abstinence, rather than in the fruition thereof, calling to mind that which Simonides was wont to say: That he never repented any silence of his, but often times he beshrewed himself for his speech; and even so we never repent that we have refused any viands, or drunk water in slead of good Falerne wine. And therefore we ought not only, not to force nature, but if otherwhiles we be served with such cates and meats as she craveth, we are to divert our appetite from the same, and to reduce it to the use of simple and ordinary things many times, even for custom and exercise: 
If right and law may broken be, for any earthly thing,  
The best pretence is for to win a crown, and be a king.  So said Eteocles the Theban, though untruly: but we may better say: If we must be ambitious and desirous of glory in such things as these, it were most honest and commendable to use continence and temperance for the preservation of health. Howbeit, some there be, who upon an illiberal pinching and mechanical sparing, can restrain and keep down their appetites when they be at home in their own houses; but if it chance they be bidden forth to others, they gorge and fill their bellies with these exquisite and costly viands; much like to those, who in time of war and hostility, raise booties, and prey upon the lands of their enemies what they can; and when they have so done, they go from thence ill at ease, carrying away with them for the morrow (upon this their fullness and unsatiable repletion) crudity of stomach and indigestion. Crates therefore, the philosopher thinking; that civil wars and tyrannies arise and grow up in cities, aswell by reason of superfluity and excess in dainty fare, as upon any other cause whatsoever, was wont by way or mirth, to give admonition in these terms: Take heed you bring us not into a civil sedition, by augmenting the platter always before the Lentil: that is to say, by dispending more than your revenues will bear. But in deed, every man ought to have this command and rule of himself, as to say: Augment not evermore the platter before the Lentil, nor at any time pass beyond the Cresses and the Olive, even to fine tarts and delicate fishes, lest you bring your body into a domestical dissension afterwards with itself; namely, to painful colickes, lasks, and fluxes of the belly, by overmuch fullness and excess of feeding: for simple viands and ordinary, contain the appetite within the bounds and compass of nature; but the artificial devices of cooks and cunning fellows in pastry, with their curious cates of all sorts, with their exquisite sauces and pickles (as the comical Poet saith) set out and extend always the limits of pleasure, encroaching still beyond the bounds of utility and profit. And I wot not verily, how it comes about, that considering we so much detest and abhor those women, who give love-drinks, and can skill of charms and forceries to bewitch and enchant men with, we betake thus as we do, unto mercenary hirelings or slaves, our meats and viands, to be medicined (as it were) and no better than poisoned for to enchant and bewitch us. And admit, that the saying of Arcesilaus the Philosopher, against adulterers and other lascivious persons, may seem somewhat with the bitterest; namely: that it made no great matter, which way one went about that beastly work, whether before or behind, for that the one was as bad as the other; yet impertinent it is not, nor beside the subject matter which we have in hand. For to say a truth, what difference is there between eating of Ragwort, Rogket, and such hot herbs, for to stir up the lust of the flesh, and to provoke the taste and appetite to meat by smells and sauces? like as mangy and itching places have always need of rubbing and scratching. But peradventure it would be better, to reserve unto another place, our discourse against dishonest fleshly pleasures, and to show how honest and venerable a thing in itself, is continence: for our purpose at this present, is to debar many great pleasures, otherwise in their own nature honest: for I assure you, our diseases do not put us by so many actions, so many hopes, voyages or pastimes, as they deprive us of our pleasures, yea, and mar them quite; and therefore they who love their delights and pleasures most, had least need of any men in the world, to neglect their health. For many there be, who for all they be sick, have means to study philosophy, and discourse thereof: neither doth their sickness greatly hinder them, but that they may be generals in the seld to lead armies, yea, and kings (believe me) to govern whole realms.  
But of bodily pleasures and fleshly delights, some there be which during a malady will never breed; and such as are bred already, yield but a small joy, and short contentment, which is proper and natural unto them, and the same not pure and sincere, but confused, depraved and corrupted with much strange stuff, yea and disguised and blemished as it were, with some storm and tempest: for the act of Venus is not to any purpose performed upon gourmandise and a full belly, but rather when the body is calm, and the flesh in great tranquillity; for that the end of Venus is pleasure, like as of eating also and of drinking; and health unto pleasures, is as much as their fair weather and kind season, which giveth them secure and gentle breeding, much like as the calm time in winter affords the sea-fowles called halcyons, a safe cooving, sitting and hatching of their eggs. Prodicus is commended for this pretty speech: That sire was the best sauce: and a man may most truly say: That health is of all sauces must divine, heavenly and pleasant: for our viands how delicate soever they be, boiled, roasted, baked or stewed, do no pleasure at all unto us, so long as we are diseased, drunken, full of surfeit, or queasy stomached, as they be who are seasick; whereas a pure and clean appetite causeth all things to be sweet, pleasant, and agreeable unto sound bodies, yea, and such as they, will be ready to snatch at, as Homer saith. But like as Demades the orator, seeing the Athenians without all reason, desirous of arms and war, said unto them: That they never treated and agreed of peace, but in their black robes, after the loss of kinsfolk and friends; even so we never remember to keep a spary and sober diet, but when we come to be cauterized, or to have cataplasms and plasters about us: we are no sooner fallen to those extremities, but then we are ready to condemn our faults, calling to mind what errors we have committed in times past; for until then, we blame one while the air, as most men do; another while the region or country, as unsound and unwholesome; we find fault that we are out of our native soil, and are wonderful loath to accuse our own intemperance and disordinate appetites. And as king Lisymachus being constrained and enforced within the country of the Geteses for very thirst to yield himself prisoner, and all his army captivate unto his enemies; after he had taken a draft of cold water, said: Good God, what a great felicity have I foregone and lost, for a momentary and transitory pleasure! even so we may make use thereof, and apply the same unto ourselves when we are sick, saying thus: How many delights have we marred quite? how many good actions have we fore-let? what honest pastimes have we lost? and all by our drinking of cold water, or bathing unseasonably, or else for that we have over-drunke ourselves for good fellowship: for the bite & sting of such thoughts as these, toucheth our remembrance to the quick, in such sort as the scar remaineth still behind, after that we are recovered, and maketh us in time of our health more stayed, circumspect, and sober in our diet: for a body that is exceeding sound and healthy, never bringeth forth vehement desires, and disordinate appetites, hardly to be tamed or with stood; but we ought to make head against them, when they begin to break soorth and 〈◊〉 out for to enjoy the pleasures which they are affected unto; for such lusts, some complain, pule, and cry for a little, as wanton children do, and no sooner is the table taken away, but they be quiet and still; neither find they fault and make complaint of any wrong or injury offered unto them: but chose, they be pure, jocund, and lightsome, not continuing heavy, nor ready to heave and cast, the next day to an end: like as by report, captain Timotheus, (having upon a time been at a sober and frugal scholars supper, in the academy with Plato) said: That they who supped with Plato were merry and well appaied the next day after. It is reported also, that king Alexander the Great when he turned back those cooks which queen 〈◊〉 sent unto him, said: That he had about him all the year long better of his own, namely, for his breakfast or dinner, rising betimes, and marching before day light; and for his supper, eating little at dinner. I am not ignorant that men otherwhiles are very apt to fall into an ague upon extreme travel, upon excessive heats also and colds: but like as the odours and scents of 〈◊〉 he weak & seeble of themselves; whereas if they be mixed with some oil, they take force 〈◊〉, even so fullness and repletion is the ground, which giveth (as a man would say) body 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 unto the outward causes, and occasions of maladies; and of a great quantity of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 humours there is no danger, because all such indispositions and crudities are soon 〈◊〉 dissipated, and dissolved, when some fine or subtle blood, when some pure spirit (I 〈◊〉 their motion: but where there is a great repletion indeed, and abundance of 〈◊〉, (as it were a deep and miry puddle all troubled and stirred) then there arise from 〈◊〉 many malign accidents, such as be dangerous and hard to cure: and therefore we are 〈◊〉 to do like some good masters of ships who never think their vessels be fully fraught and charged thoroughly; and when they have taken in all that ever they can, do nothing else but work at the pump, void the sink, and cast out the sea water which is gotten in; even so when we have well filled and stuffed our bodies, fall to purge and cleanse them with medicines and 〈◊〉: but we ought rather to keep the body always neat, nimble, and light, to the end, that if it chance otherwise at any time to be pressed and held down, it might be seen above for lightness like unto a piece of cork floating aloft upon the water: but principally we are to beware of the very 〈◊〉 indispositions, which are forerunners of maladies: for all diseases walk not (as Hesicdus saith) in silence and say nothing when they come, 
As whom wise Jupiter hath bearest  
Of voice, and tongue to them none left.  But the most part of them have their vant-curreurs as it were, their messengers, & trumpets; namely crudities of stomach, weariness and heaviness over all the body. According to the 〈◊〉 of Hypocrates; lassitudes and laborious heaviness of the body, coming of themselves without any evident cause, prognosticate and foresignify diseases; for that as it should seem, the spirits that should pass unto the nerves and sinews, are obstructed, stopped, and excluded, by the great repletion of humours: and albeit the body itself tendeth as it were to the contrary, and pulleth us to our bed and repose, yet some there be, who for very gluttony and disordinate lust, put themselves into baines & hothouses, making haste from thence, to drinking square with good fellows, as if they would make provision beforehand of victuals against some long siege of a city, or fear that the fever should surprise them fasting, or before they had taken their full dinner: others somewhat more honest, yea & civil than they, are not this way 〈◊〉, but being ashamed (fools as they are) to confess that they have eaten or drunk overmuch, that they feel any heaviness in head or crudity in stomach, loath also to be known for to keep their chamber all the day long in their night gowns, whiles their companions go to tennis and other bodily exercises abroad in public place, and call them forth to bear them company, rise up and make them ready to go with them, cast off their clothes to their naked skin, with others, and put themselves to do all that men in perfect health are to perform. But the most part of these (induced and drawn on, by hope persuaded) are bold to arise, and to do hardly after their wont manner, assisted by a certain hope, grounded upon a proverb; 〈◊〉 an advocate to descend gourmandise, and wanton life, which adviseth them that they should 〈◊〉 wine with wine; drive or digest one surfeit with another. Howbeit, against all such hope, 〈◊〉 are to oppose the wary and considerate caution, that Cato speaketh of (which as that wise 〈◊〉 saith) doth diminish and lessen great things; and as for small matters it reduceth them to nothing: also that it were better to endure want of meat, and to keep the body empty and in 〈◊〉, than so to hazard it, by entering into a bane, or run to an high ordinary to dine and 〈◊〉: 〈◊〉 be some disposition to sickness, hurtful it will be that we have not taken heed, nor contained ourselves, but been secure: if none, dangerous it will not be that we have held 〈◊〉 restrained ourselves, and by that restraint made our body so much more pure and clear. But that 〈◊〉 fool whosoever he be, that is afraid to let his friends and those of his own house know that he is amiss or ill at ease, for that he hath eaten overmuch, or surfeited with strong drink, as being ashamed to confess this day his indigestion, shall be forced to morrow even against his will, to bewray either an inordinate catarrh and flux, or an ague, or else some wrings and torments of the belly: thou takest it for a great shame to be known that thou didst want or were hungry: but far greater shame it is to avow crudity and rawness, to bewray heaviness, proceeding from full diet, and upon repletion of the body to be drawn nevertheless into a bane, as if some rotten vessel or leaking ship, that would not keep out water, should be shot into the sea. Certes such persons as these, resemble some sailors or seafaring men, who in the tempestuous time of winter, be ashamed to be seen upon the shore doing nothing: but when they have once weighed anchor, spread sail, and launched into the deep, and open sea, they are very ill appaied, crying out piteously, and ready to cast up their gorge: even so, they that doubt some sickness, or find a disposition of the body ready to fall into it, think it a great shame and discredit, to stand upon their guard, one day to keep their beds and forbear their ordinary table and accustomed diet: but afterwards with more shame, they are feign to lie by it many days together, whiles they be driven to take purgations, to apply many cataplasms, to speak the physicians fair, and fawn upon them, when they would have leave of them to drink wine or cold water; being so base minded, as to do absurdly, and to speak many words impertinently, feeling their hearts to fail, and be ready to faint, for the pain they endure already, and the fear they are in to abide more. Howbeit, very good it were to teach and admonish such persons (as otherwise cannot rule and contain themselves, but either yield, or be transported and carried away by their lusts) that their pleasures take the most and best part of the body for their share. And like as the Lacedæmonians after that they had given vinegar and salt to the cook, willed him to seek for the rest in the beast sacrificed; even so in a body which one would nourish, the best sauces for the meat are these, which are presented unto it, when it is sound in health and clean. For that a dish of meat is sweet or dear, is a thing by itself, without the body of him who taketh it, and eateth thereof: but for the pleasantness or contentment thereof, we ought to have regard unto the body that receiveth it; also for to delight therein, it should be so disposed as nature doth require; for otherwise, if the body be troubled, ill affected, or overcharged with wine; the best devices and sauces in the world will lose their grace, and all their goodness whatsoever: and therefore it would not be so much looked unto, whether the fish be new taken, the bread made of pure and fine flower, the bathe hot, or the harlot fair and beautiful; as considered precisely, whether the man himself have not a loathing stomach, apt to heave and vomit, be not full of crudities, error, vanity, and trouble: else it will come to pass, that she shall incur the same fault and absurdity that they do, who after they are drunken, will needs go in a mask, to play and dance in an house, where they all mourn for the death of the master thereof lately deceased: for in stead of making sport and mirth, this were enough to set all the house upon weeping, and piteous wailing. For even so, the sports of love or Venus, exquisite viands, pleasant baines, and good wines, in a body ill disposed and not according to nature, do no other good, but stir, trouble phlegm and and choler in them, who have no settled and compact constitution, and yet be not altogether corrput; as also they trouble the body, and put it out of tune more than any thing else, yielding no joy that we may make any reckoning of, nor that contentment which we hoped and expected. True it is, that an exquisite diet observed straightly and precisely according to rule, and missing not one jot, causeth not only the body to be thin, hollow, and in danger to fall into many diseases; but also dulleth all the vigour, and daunteth the cheerfulness of the very mind, in such sort, as that she suspecteth all things, and feareth continually to stay long as well in delights and pleasures, as in travels and pains; yea, and generally in every action enterprising nothing assuredly and with confidence whereas we ought to deal by our body, as with the sail of ship; (that is to say) neither to draw it in & keep it down too strait in time of calm & fair 〈◊〉, nor to spread and let it out over slack and negligently, when there is presented some 〈◊〉 of a tempest; but as occasion shall require, to spare it, and give some ease and remission, that afterwards it may be fresh and lightsome, as hath been said already, and not to slack the time, and stay until we sensibly feel, crudities, laskes, inflammations; or chose, stupidities and mortifications of members, by which signs (being as it were messengers, and ushers going before a fever, which is hard at the door) hardly will some be so much moved, as to keep in, and restrain themselves, (no not when the very access and fit is ready to surprise them) but rather long before to be provident, and to prevent a tempest: 
So soon as from some rock we find  
The puffing gales of northern wind.  For absurd it is, and to no purpose, to give such careful heed unto the crying wide throats of crows, or to the craing and cackling of hens, or to swine, when in a rage they toss and fling straw about them (as Democritus saith) thereby to gather presages, & prognostications of wind, rain, and storms; and in the mean time not to observe the motions, troubles, and firing indispositions of our body, nor prevent the same, ne yet to gather undoubted signs of a tempest ready to rise and grow even out thereof. And therefore we ought, not only to have an eye unto the body, for meat and drink, and for bodily exercises, in observing whether we fall unto them more lazily and unwillingly than our manner was before time; or chose whether our hunger and thirst be more than ordinary; but also we are to suspect and fear, if our sleeps be not mild, and continued, but broken & interrupted: we must beside, regard our very dreams; namely, whether they be strange and unusual: for if there be represented extraordinary fancies and imaginations, they testify and show a repletion of gross, viscuous or slimy humours, and a great perturbation of the spirits within. Otherwhiles also it happeneth, that the motions of the soul itself, do foresignify unto us, that the body is in some near danger of disease: for many times men are surprised with timorous fits of melancholy, and heartless distrusts without any reason or evident cause, the which suddenly extinguish all their hopes: you shall have some upon every small occasion apt to fall into choleric passions of anger; they become eager and hasty, troubled, pensive and offended with a little thing, insomuch as they will be ready to weep and run all to tears, yea and languish for grief and sorrow: And all this cometh, when evil vapours, sour and bitter fumes engendered within, do arise and steam up, and so (as Plato saith) be intermingled in the ways and passages of the soul. Those persons therefore who are subject to such things, aught to think and consider with themselves; that if there be no spiritual cause thereof, it cannot choose but some corporal matter had need either of evacution, alteration, or suppression.  
Expedient also it is and very profitable for us, when we visit our friends that be sick, to inquire diligently the causes of their maladies, not upon a cavilling curiosity or vain ostentation, (to dispute sophistically, and discourse thereof only, or to make a show of our eloquence, in talking of the instances, the insults, the intercidences, communities of diseases, and all to show what books we have read, & that we know the words & terms of physic;) but to make search and enquiry in good earnest, and not slightly or by the way, as touching these slight common and vulgar points, namely; whether the sick party be full or empty? whether he overtravelled himself before, or no? and whether he slept well or ill? but principally, what diet he kept? and what order of life he followed, when he fell (for examples sake) into the ague: then (according as Plato was wont to say unto himself, whensoever he returned from hearing and seeing the faults that other men committed:) Am not I also such an one? so you must compose and frame yourself to learn by the harms and errors of neighbours about you, for to look well unto your own health, and by calling them to mind, to be so wary & provident, that you fall not into the same inconveniences, and forced to keep your bed, and there extol & commend health, wishing & desiring (when it is too late) for to enjoy so precious a treasure; but rather (seeing another to have caught a disease) to mark and consider well, yea, and to entertain this deep impression in your heart; how dear the said health ought to be unto us, how careful we should be to preserve, and chary to spare the same. Moreover, it would not be amiss for a man, afterwards to compare his own life with that of the foresaid patient: for if it fall out so, that (notwithstanding we have used over-liberall diet both in drinks and meats, or laboured extremely, or otherwise committed error in any excess and disorder) our bodies minister unto nature no suspicion, nor threaten any sign of sickness toward; yet ought we nevertheless, to take heed and prevent the harm that may ensue; namely; if we have committed any disorder in the pleasures of Venus and love-delights; or otherwise been overtravelled, to repose ourselves and take our quiet rest; after drunkenness or carousing wine round for good fellowship, to make amends and recompense with drinking as much cold water for a time; but especially, upon a surfeit taken with eating heavy and gross meats, and namely, of flesh, or else feeding upon sundry and diverse dishes, to fast or use a sparie diet, so as there be left no superfluity in the body: for even these things, as of themselves alone (if there were no more) be enough to breed diseases; so unto other causes they add matter and minister more strength. Full wisely therefore was it said by our ancients in old time, that for to maintain our health, these three points were most expedient: To feed without satiety: To labour with alacrity: and To preserve and make spare of natural seed. For surely lascivious intemperance in venery of all things, most decayeth and enfeebleth the strength of that natural heat, whereby our meat and food which we receive is concocted, and so consequently is the cause of many excrements and superfluities engendered, whereupon corrupt humours are engendered and gathered within the body.  
To begin therefore to speak again of every of these points; let us consider first the exercises meet and agreeable to students or men of learning: for like as he who first said: That he wrote nothing of Teeth to those that inhabited the sea coasts, taught them (in so saying) the use of them; even so a man may say unto scholars and men of learning: That he writeth nothing unto them as touching bodily exercises; for that the daily practice of the voice by speech and pronunciation, is an exercise wonderful effectual, not only for health, but also for strength, I mean not such as is procured to wrestlers and champions by art, which breedeth brawny carnosity, and causeth the skin to be firm and fast without forth (like unto an house which to the outward show is rough-cast or thick coated with lime or plaster;) but that which maketh a tough constitution and a vigorous firmitude and strength indeed, in the noblest parts within, and the principal instruments of our life. Now, that the spirits augment & confirm the powers of our body, the anointers of men's bodies in the place of public exercise know full well, when they give order and command the wrestlers and such like, when their limbs are rubbed, to withstand such frictions in some sort, in holding their wind, observing precisely, and having an eye to each part of the body that is handled or rubbed. The voice therefore (being a motion of the spirit (fortified, not superficially and by starts, but even in the proper fountains and springs which are about the vital bowels) increaseth natural heat) doth subtiliat the blood, cleanseth the veins, openeth all the arcteries, not suffering any obstruction, oppilation or stopping by superfluous humours to grow upon us or remain behind (like unto dregs or grounds) in the bottom of those vessels which receive and concoct those viands whereof we are nourished: by reason whereof, they have need to use ordinarily this exercise, and make it familiar unto them, by speaking in public place and discoursing continually. But if haply they doubt that their bodies be but weak, and not able to support and endure so much travel, yet at least wise they are to read with a loud voice; for look what proportion there is between gestation or carriage of the body, and the exercise thereof upon the very ground, the same is between simple reading and discoursing or open disputation: for this reading doth gently stir and mildly carry the voice by the chariot (as it were) and litter of another man's speech; but disputation addeth thereto a certain heat and forcible vehemence; for that the mind and the body conspire and concur together in that action: howbeit, in this exercise we must beware of over-loud vociferations and clamours; for such violent strainings of the voice, and unequal extensions and intentions of the wind, many times cause some rupture of veins, or inward spasmes and convulsions. Now when a student hath either read or discoursed in this manner, good it is for him before he walk abroad, to use some uncteous, warm and gentle frictions, to handle and rub the skin and flesh after a soft and mild manner; yea, and as much as he can, to reach into the very bowels within, that the spirits may be spread and distributed equally throughout, even to the very extremities of the body. In these rubbings and frictions, this gage & measure would be observed; that he continue them so long and so often, as he findeth them to agree sensibly with his body, and bring no offence with them. He that in this wise hath appeased & settled the trouble or tension of the spirits in the centre of the body, if haply there should remain some superfluity behind, it would do him no great harm: for say, that he should forbear walking, for want of leisure or by occasion of sudden business, it is all one, and it maketh no matter; for why, nature hath had already that which is sufficient, and standeth satisfied therewith. And therefore a man is not to pretend colourably for to excuse his silence, or forbearance of reading either navigation, when he is accompanied with other passengers at sea in one ship, or his abode and sojourning in an hostelry or common inn, although all the company there should mock him for it: for as it was no shame nor dishonest thing, to eat before them all; no more unseemly is it to exercise himself in their presence by reading. But rather more undecent it were, to be afraid or stand in awe of mariners, muleteers or innkeepers, when they laugh at you, not for playing at ball alone, or fight with your own shadow, but for speaking before them in your speech, either teaching, or discoursing, or else learning by 〈◊〉 and rehearsing some good thing for your exercise. Socrates was wont to say: That for him who would move and stir his body by way of dancing, a little room (that would receive seven settles or seats) was sufficient & big enough; but him that mindeth to exercise his body either by singing or saying, every place will serve, whether he stand, lie or sit. Only this must we take heed of, that we strain not our voice nor set out an open throat, when we are privy to ourselves that we have eaten or drunk liberally, ne yet presently after the company of a woman, or any other wearisome travel whatsoever; as many of our orators & great masters of rhetoric use to do; who enforce and give themselves to declaim and pronounce their orations too loud, even above the strength of their body; some for vainglory and ambition, because they would put forth themselves; others sor reward and to get a fee, or else upon emulation to their concurrents. Thus did Niger, (a friend of ours) who professed rhetoric in Galatia: this man having swallowed down a fish-bone which stuck still in his throat (when another rhetorician traveling that way, chanced to make a public oration; for that he was ashamed to be thought his inferior, and yet durst not deal with him in that faculty) would needs show himself in open place, and declaim, whiles the said bone remained still in his throat: but by this means there ensued a dangerous and painful inflammation; and being no longer able to endure the dolorous anguish thereof, he suffered himself to be lanced without forth, and to have a deep incision and a wide orifice made, whereby the bone indeed was plucked out, but the wound was so grievous, and oppressed beside with a descent and defluxion of thewmaticke humours thither, that he died thereof. But haply, better to the purpose it were, to speak of this hereafter. Well, after exercise to go presently into the bath, & to wash in cold water, were the part of a lusty wildbrain and a giddy-headed youth, who will needs in a bravery show what he can do, rather than wholesome any way: for all the good that such cold baths bring, is this, that they seem to harden the body, and confirm it so, as it is less subject to take offence by the qualities of the air without; but surely they do more harm within, by a great deal; for that they enclose and shut up the pores of the body, causing the humours and fumosities which would evaporate and breath forth continually, to become thick and gross. Furthermore, needful it is for them that love to bathe thus in cold water, to fall into the subjection of that over-straight and exquisite diet (which we would avoid) having evermore an eye upon this, not to break the same in any point whatsoever, for that the least fault and smallest error in the world, is presently sore chastised and costeth full dear: whereas chose to enter into the bane, and wash in hot water, pardoneth us, and holdeth us excused sor many things; for it doth not so much diminish the strength and force of the body, as it bringeth profit another way for the health thereof; framing and applying most gently and kindly the humours to concoction and in case there be some which can not well and perfectly be digested, (so they be not altogether cruide and raw, nor float aloft in the mouth of the stomach) it causeth them to dissolve and exhale without any sense of pain; yea, and withal, it doth mitigate and cause to vanish and pass away the secret lassitudes of the musculous members. And yet as good as banes be, if we perceive the body to be in the natural state and disposition, firm and strong enough, better it were to intermit and for-let the use of baths; and in stead thereof, I hold it wholesomer to anoint and rub the body before a good fire, namely, if it have need to be chafed and set in an heat; for by this means there is dispersed into it as much heat as is requisite, and no more; which cannot be against the sun; for of his heat a man can not take more or less at his own discretion, but according as he affecteth or tempereth the air, so he affourdeth his use. And thus much may serve for the exercise of students.  
To come now unto their food and nouriture: if the reasons and instructions before delivered, by which we learn to restrain, repress and mitigate our appetites, have done any good, time it were to proceed forward to other advertisements; but in case they be so violent, so unruly and untamed, as if they were newly broken out of prison, that it is an hard piece of work to range them within the compass of reason; and if it be a difficult piece of work to wrestle with the belly, which (as Cato was wont to say) hath no ears; we must work another feat and device with it; namely, by observing the quality of the viands, to make the quantity more light and less offensive: and if they be such as be solid and nourish much; as for example, gross flesh meats, cheese, dry figs, and hard eggs, they must feed of them as little as they can; for to refuse and forbear them altogether were very hard; but they may be more bold to eat heartily of those that be thin and light, such as are the most part of words, or potherbs, birds, and fishes, that be not fat & oileous: for in eating of such meats, a man may at once both gratify his appetite, and also never overcharge his body: but above all, take heed they must of crudities and surfeits, proceeding from liberal eating of fleshmeats; for besides that they load the stomach presently as they are taken, there remain afterwards behind naughty relics: and therefore it were very well, that they accustomed their bodies never to call for flesh, considering that the earth itself bringeth forth other kinds of food, sufficiently not only for the necessity of nourishment, but also for pleasure and the contentment of the appetite; for some of them are ready to be eaten without any dressing, or the help of man's hand, others be mingled and compounded after diverse sorts to make them more savoury and toothsome. But for as much as custom (after a sort) is a second nature, or at leastwise not contrary to nature; we must not accustom ourselves to feed on flesh, for to fulfil our appetites, after the manner of wolves, & lions, but use it only as the foundation and ground of other viands; which being once laid, we are to make our principal nourishment of other cares and dishes, which as they are more appropriate to our bodies, and suitable to nature, so they do incrassate and dull less the vigour and subtility of the spirit, and the discoursing reasonable part of the soul, which is kindled, maintained, and set to burn clear, by a more delicate and light matter. As touching liquid things, they must use milk, not as an ordinary drink, but as a strong meat that nourisheth exceeding much: but for wine, we are to say to it, as Euripides did to Venus: 
Welcome to me in measure and in mean,  
Too much is nought: yet do not leave me clean.  for of all drinks it is most profitable, of medicines most pleasant, and of dainty viands most harmless; provided always that it be well delayed and tempered with opportunity of the time, rather than with water. And verily water (not that only wherewith wine is mingled, but also which is drunk between while, apart by itself) causeth the wine tempered therewith to do the less harm: in regard whereof, a student ought to use himself to drink twice or 〈◊〉 every day a draft of shear water, for that it will enfeeble the headiness of the wine, & make the usual drinking of pure water, more familiar to the stomach: and this I would have to be done, to this end, that if they be driven perforce to drink fair water, they might not think it strange, nor be ready to refuse it. For many there be, who oftentimes have recourse to wine, when iwis, they had more need to run to the water; and namely, when they be overheat with the sun: yea, and chose, when they be stiff frozen with cold, or have strained themselves to speak much, or studied and sitten hard at their book; and generally, after that they have traveled sore, till they be weary, or have performed some vehement exploit, or violent exercise; then (I say) they think, that they ought to drink wine; as if nature herself required and called for some contentment and refreshing of the body, and some change and alteration after travels: but nature verily is not desirous to have any good done to her in this sort, if you call such pleasure a doing of good; but she demandeth only a reducement to a mean between labour and rest: and therefore such persons as these, are to be cut short and abridged of their victuals, and either to be debarred quite of all wine, or else enjoined to drink it well delayed with water: for wine being of itself of a violent and stirring nature, augmenteth and maketh more unquiet the stormy perturbations arising within the body, it doth irritate and distemper more and more the parts therein already offended and troubled; the which had much more need to be appeased and dulced; to which purpose water serveth passing well: for if we otherwise being not a thirst, drink hot water after we have laboured, or done some painful exercise, in the exceeding heats of the summer; we find a notable cooling, refreshing, and easement in our inward bowels; the reason is; because the humidity of water is kind and mild, procuring no debate or disquietness at all; whereas the moisture of wine hath a vehement force, which never is at quiet and repose, but maketh a deep impression, nothing agreeable nor fit to appease the indispositions that are a breeding. Now if one do fear the sour and sharp acrimonies, and the bitter tastes which (by the saying of some) hunger and want of food engender in our bodies, or as little children use to do, thinketh much not to sit at the table for to eat, a little before the fit of an ague, or when he suspecteth it coming: the drinking of water is as it were a confine and frontier between both, very fit to remedy the one and the other: and many times we offer unto Bacchus himself certain sacrifices called Nephalia, for that there is no wine used therein; accustoming ourselves wisely thereby not to be always desirous sor to drink wine. Minos took away from sacrifices, the flute, and the chaplets used to be worn on men's heads, in regard of grief and sorrow: and yet we know full well, that the heavy and sorrowful mind, is neither by flutes nor flowers, passionate; whereas there is 〈◊〉 the body of a man, (how strong and stout soever he be) but if it be stirred, troubled, and 〈◊〉, will take more harm and offence by wine if it be taken or powered into it. It is recorded in the Chronicles; that the Lydians in time of a great dearth and famine, did eat but once in two days, and spent the time between, at diceplay, and other such games and pastimes: and even so it were well beseeming a student and lover of the Muses and his book, at such a time as he had need to make a late and short supper, to have before him, the figure serving for some Geometrical proposition, or some little book, some harp or lute; this will not suffer him to be led as prisoner to his own belly, but by diverting and turning ordinarily his mind from the board, to these honest pastimes and recreations; will chase away from the Muses the greedy appetite of eating and drinking, as if they were so many ravenous fowls and harpies: For a shame it were that a Scythian whiles he is drinking, should eftsoons take his bow in hand ready bend, and twang the string, and by the sound thereof, awaken and quicken his courage, which otherwise would become drowsy, loose, and dull by wine: and that a Grecian should be ashamed or afraid of a flout or mock, in assaying gently to refrain and bridle an unreasonable, violent, and greedy appetite, by the means of books and writings: for much after the same manner in a comedy of Menander, when there was a bawd, who for to tempt certain young men suiting at supper together, brought in amongst them certain pretty young wenches, very fair, & richly arrayed; every one of the said young men (because they were afraid & unwilling to look those beautiful damosels in the face) made no more ado, but as he saith, 
Cast down the head, and like good merry mates,  
Fall to their junkets hard, and dainty cates.  Moreover, men that are addicted to their study, and to learning, have many other proper and pleasant means to turn away their eyes, and divert their minds, if otherwise they be not able to look off; and to stay or hold in, this violent and dogge-like greedy appetite, when the meat standeth before them upon the board. For as touching the speeches of some masters of wrestlers, or the words of certain schoolmasters, who go up and down, saying: That to reason, argue, and discourse at the table upon points of learning; causeth the meat to corrupt within the stomach, and breedeth headache, or heaviness of the brain: we may indeed fear somewhat; if we will needs (while we be at our repast) fall to resolve such a sophistical argument, as the Logicians call Indos: or if we be disposed to reason and dispute about the masterfull sophism 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Which some 〈◊〉, the brains of the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: but this bird 〈◊〉 so rare as that it is thought for a 〈◊〉 thing, I see not how this property should be observed in the brains thereof  named Kyriton: It is said, that the crown or upmost tuft growing upon the date tree, called the brain thereof, is exceeding sweet and pleasant to the taste, howbeit, hurtful to the head: howbeit, these pricky and intricate disputations in Logic at supper time; are no pleasant banqueting dishes, but offensive to the brain, tedious, and irksome, nothing more. But if those men will not permit us to discourse, to hear, read, or talk of other matters in supper time, which together with honesty and profit, have an attractive pleasure and sweetness joined therewith: we will desire them to let us alone, & not trouble us, but to arise from the table, and go their ways into their galleries and hals for wrestling, and there to hold and maintain such positions among their scholars and champions, whom they withdraw and turn away from the study of good letters; and accustoming them to spend their time all the day long in scoffs and scurrile speeches, they make them in end (as gentle Ariston said) as witless, and without sense (yet glib and well greased) as the stone pillars which support those galleries, and places of exercise where they use to converse and keep school. But we chose being ruled by the physicians, who advise us always to interpose some competent time between supper and sleep, are not presently to go unto it, after we have filled our bellies with viands, and stuffed our spirits, even whiles the morsels of meat be all raw, or beginning now to be concocted, thereby to hinder and stay digestion; but give some space and breathing time between, until the meat be well settled in the stomach. And as they who give us counsel to move and stir the body after meals, will us, not to run ourselves out of breath, nor to exercise ourselves so, as that we put all the parts of our body to the trial, after the manner of the Pancratiasts; but either to walk fair and softly, or to dance after a gentle and easy manner; semblably, we are to think, that we ought to exercise our wits and minds after a dinner or supper, not about any affairs of deep study, and profound meditation, nor in sophistical disputes, tending to the ostentation of a quick and lively spirit, or which be litigious, and breed contention; but there be many questions beside of natural philosophy, pleasant to be discussed, and easy to be decided; many pretty tales and narrations there are, out of which a man may draw good considerations and wise instructions, for to train and frame our manners; and these contain that grace & facility in them, which the poet Homer calleth Menocikes, that is to say, yielding to anger, and in no wise cross and resistant: Hereupon it is, that some do pleasantly team this exercise of moovoing, propounding & resolving historical or poetical questions; the second course or the service of banqueting dishes, for students and learned men. Moreover, there be other sorts of pleasant talk besides these, and namely; to hear and recite fables, devised for mirth and pleasure; discourses of playing upon the flute, harp, or lute, which many times give more contentment and delight, than to hear the flute, harp, or lute itself played upon. Now the very precise time measured as it were and marked out to be most proper and meet for such recreations; is when we feel that our meat is gently gone down, and settled quietly in the bottom of the stomach, showing some sign of concoction, and that natural heat is strong, and hath gotten the upper hand.  
Now forasmuch as Aristotle is of opinion, that walking after supper doth stir up and kindle (as one would say) our natural heat: and to sleep immediately after a man hath supped, doth dull and quench it: considering also, that others be of a contrary mind, and hold; that rest and repose, is better for concoction; that motion so soon after, troubleth and impeacheth the digestion and distribution of the meats, which is the cause that some use to walk after supper, others sit still and take their ease: me thinks a man may reconcile and satisfy very well after a sort these two opinions; who cherishing and keeping his body close and still after supper, setteth his mind a walking, awakeneth it, suffering it not to be heavy & idle at once by and by; but sharpeneth and quickeneth his spirits, as is before said, by little and little, in discoursing, or hearing discourses of pleasant matters and delectable, such as be not biting in any wise, nor offensive and odious.  
Moreover, as touching vomits or purgations of the belly by laxative medicines, which are the cursed and detestable easements and remedies of fullness and repletion; surely they would never be used but upon right great and urgent necessity: a contrary course to many men, who fill their gorges and bodies with an intent to void them soon after; or otherwise, who purge and empty the same for to fill them again, even against nature; who are no less troubled, nay much more offended ordinarily, by being fed and full, than fasting and empty: insomuch as such repletion is an hindrance to the contentment and satisfying of their appetites and lusts; by occasion whereof, they take order always, that their body may be evermore emptied; as if this avoidance were the proper place and seat of their pleasures. But the hurt and damage that may grow upon these ordinary purgations and vomits, is very evident; for that both the one and the other, put the body to exceeding great strains and violent disturbances. As for vomiting, it bringeth with it one inconvenience by itself, more than the former, in that it procureth & augmenteth an unsatiable greediness to meat: for engendered there is by that means a violent & turbulent hunger (like as when the course or stream of a river, hath been for a while stopped & stayed) snatching or greedy at meat, which is evermore offensive, & not a kind appetite indeed, when as nature hath need of meat; but resembling rather the inflammations occasioned by medicines or cataplasms. Hereupon it is that the pleasures proceeding from thence, paste and slip away incontinently, as abortive and unperfect, accompanied with inordinate pant and beat of the pulse, great wrings in the enjoying of them, and afterwards ensue dolorous tensions, violent oppressions or stops of the conduits & pores, & the relics or retensions of ventosities; which stay not for natural ejections and evacuations, but run up and down all over our bodies, like as if they were ships surcharged, having more need to be eased of their burden, than still to be laden with more excrements. As for the troublesome motions of the belly and guts, occasioned by purgative drougues, they corrupt, spill and resolve the natural strength of the solid parts, so that they engender more superfluties within than they thrust out and expel. And this is for all the world, like as if a man, being discontented to see within his native city a multitude of natural greeks inhabitants, should for to drive them out, fill the same with Scythians or Arabian strangers. For even so, some there be, who (greatly miscounting and deceiving themselves) for to send forth of their bodies the superfluous humours which are in some sort domestical and familiar unto them, put into them I wot not what, Guidian grains, Scammoni and other strange drougues fet from far countries, such as have no familiar reference to the body, but are mere wild and savage, and in truth have more need to be purged and chased out of the body themselves, than power and virtue to void away and expel that wherewith nature is choked and overcharged. The best way therefore is, by sobriety and regular diet, to keep the body always in that moderate measure of evacuation and repletion, that it may be able by proportionable temperature, to maintain itself, without any outward help. But if it fall out otherwhiles, that there be some necessity of the one or the other; vomits would be provoked without the help of strange physical drogues, and not with much ado and curiosity, that they disquiet & trouble no parts within, but only for to avoid crudity and indigestion, reject and cast up that gently which is too much, and cannot be prepared and made meet for concoction. For like as linen clothes that be scoured and made clean with sopes, ashes, lees and other abstersive matters, wear more and fret out sooner than such as be washed simply in fair water; even so, vomits provoked by medicines, offend the body much more, and mar the complexion. But say, the belly be bound and costive, there is not a drougue that easeth it so mildly, or provoketh it to the siege so easily, as do certain meats, whereof the experience is familiar unto us, and the use nothing dolorous and offensive. Now in case the body be so heard, that such kind viands will not work and cause it to be sollible, than a man ought for many days together, to drink thin and cold water, or use to fast, or else take some clyster, rather than purgative medicines, such as disquiet the body, and overthrow the temperature thereof. And yet many there be, who ever and anon are ready to run unto them; much like unto those lewd and light wanton women, who use certain inedicines to cause abortion, or to send away the fruit which they have newly conceived; to the end that they might conceive soon again, and have more pleasure in that fleshly action. Now is it time to say no more, but to let them go that persuade such evacuations.  
As for those on the contrary side, who interject certain exact, precise, and critical fastings, observed too straightly according to just periods and circuits of days: surely they teach nature, (wherein they do not well) to use astriction before it have need; and acquaint her with a necessary abstinence of food, which in itself is not necessary, even at a prefixed time, which calleth for that then, whereto it is accustomed. Better yet it were, for a man to use these chastisements of his body, freely and at his own liberty, without any foreknowledge of suspicion: and as for other diet, (as hath been said before) to order it so, that it may frame and be obsequent to all manner of occurrences & changes that shall come between, and not to be tied and bound to one form and manner of life, exactly to keep certain days, just numbers, and set circuits, without failing or missing in any jot. For this course is neither sure, nor easy; it is not civil nor yet agreeable to humanity: it resembleth rather the life of an oyster, or some stock of a tree; to captivate himself, and be so subject and thrall, that he cannot change or alter his viands; he may not once vary in his fastings and abstinencies, in his motions or repose, but continue always close and covert in a shady kind of life, idle, private to himself, without conversing with friends, without participation of honours, far remote from the administration of weal public, which were to shut himself up as it were a close prisoner; a life I assure you which I cannot like nor allow: for we cannot buy our health with idleness and doing nought, which two are the principal inconveniences incident unto diseases: and all one this were, as if a man would think to preserve his eyes, by not employing them to see; or his voice, by speaking not at all; thus to be persuaded, that for the preservation of health it were necessary to have continual repose, without doing aught: for a man in health, cannot do better for to maintain the same, than to be employed in many good duties, and commendable offices of humanity. An absurd error therefore it is, to think idleness to be either healthy or wholesome, considering that it destroyeth the very end of health, which is employment: neither is it true, that the less men do, the more healthful they be. For Xenocrates had not his health better than Photion; nor Theophrastus than Demetrius: and as for Epicurus and all the crew of his sectaries, they had no benefit at all for the attaining of that contentment and tranquility of the body which they make so great reckoning of, and praise so highly; by flying and avoiding all State affairs, and meddling in no public and honourable office. Other means therefore and provision would be made, to entertain and keep that disposion and habitude of the body, which is according to nature: for this is certain; that all sorts of life be capable, as well of sickness as of health. Howbeit, politicians (quoth he) and Statesmen are to be admonished to do clean contrary unto that which Plato advertised his young scholars to do. For Plato ever as he went out of the school, was wont thus to say unto them: Go to my sons, see you employ that leisure which you have, in some honest sports and pastimes. But we may exhort and put in mind those who deal in the administration of commonwealth, to bestow their labour and travel in honest and necessary things, and not to overtoile and spend their bodies in small matters of little or no consequence; as the manner is of most men, who trouble and torment themselves about just nothing, overwatching, running to and fro, here and there, up and down about things which many times are neither good nor honest; but only because they would disgrace and shame others, either upon envy that they bear unto them, or upon obstinate and wilful self-conceit, or else to pursue and maintain some vain and foolish opinions that they have taken. For I think verily it was in regard of such persons especially, that Democritus said: If the body should call the soul judicially into question upon an action of injury or wrong done, and for to make satisfaction of loss and damage; she were not able to answer it, but must needs confess the action, and be condemned. And Theophrastus peradventure said well and truly; when speaking by a metaphor or allegory; he affirmed, that the soul paid a dear rent for her dwelling within the body. For (I assure you) the body may thank the soul for many harms that it sustaineth; when as she useth it not with reason, nor entreateth it according as it is meet and convenient; and look when she hath any proper and peculiar passions of her own, or some enterprises and actions to be performed, she maketh no spare of the poor body. As for the tyrant Jason, he was wont (I wot not upon what reason or ground) to say: That he ought to deal unjustly in small matters, who would be just in the greatest affairs; and even so, we may well advise a man of State and government, to make no reckoning of trifling things, but disport, play, and solace himself in repose with them; if he would not have his body over-spent, dull, or lazy, against the time that he should employ it in great and important causes: much like to an old ship which hath been drawn up to land, for to be newly calked and trimmed, after hath rested a time, is fit to do new service at sea; for even so, the body upon repose and ease, whensoever the soul shall put it to any affairs, will be ready to follow 
And run with her, as sucking fool doth go  
Hard by the dam, and never parts her fro.  And therefore when occasions will permit and give leave, we are to refresh and recreate ourselves, not envying the bodies natural sleep, or usual repose and refection of dinner, ne yet easement and recreation, which is of a middle nature between pleasure and pain, nor observing a strict rule; which many men do keep, and in keeping it, spill and spend the body by sudden mutations; like as iron that is often made hot and quenched again: for whensoever the body is foiled and tired with travels, than they will even melt and dissolve it in excessive and unmeasurable pleasures: and all upon the sudden again, when it is weakened & enfeebled with the delights of Venus, or by drinking out of course, they will draw and drive it presently to the serious travels of the common hall or the court, to the soliciting and following of some affairs of great importance, which requireth earnest attendance and hot pursuit. Heraclitus the philosopher, being fallen into a dropsy, willed his physician to make drought of great rain. But most men ordinarily do fault herein exceeding much: now when they be wearied, toiled, and foiled with painful labours and wants, yield their bodies to be melted and spent quite with voluptuous pleasures; and afterwards again, wrest and strain them as it were upon the teinters, immediately upon the fruition of some pleasures. For nature verily neither liketh nor requireth these alterations and sudden changes by turns: but it is the incontinency and illiberal jasciviousnesse of the soul, and nothing else, that abandoneth herself inordinately unto pleasures and delights, so soon as it is out of laborious exerciese; like as mariners and sailors do at sea. And chose, immediately after sports & pleasures, betaketh itself to the eager pursuit of gain, & to the management of great affairs; giving no time and space of rest to nature, to enjoy repose and quiet tranquility, whereof it hath need, but setteth it out of frame, and distempereth it mightily, by reason of this inequality. But wise and discreet persons are very wary and careful in this behalf; never presenting such pleasures to their bodies when they be out-wearied with labour and travel, for need thereof they have none at all; and beside, they do not regard nor think upon them, having their minds continually intentive upon the honesty and decency of the action or thing whereabout they are; dulling or dimming as well the joy, as the earnest solicitude and care of their mind, by the means of other desires and appetites; as it is written of Epaminondas, that he should say in game and merriment, of a certain valiant man, who about the time of the Leuctrique war, died of sickness in his bed: O Hercules, how had this man any leisure to die, amid so many important affairs! even so it may be said truly and in good earnest of a great parsonage, who hath in his hand the managing of some weighty affairs in matter of government, or treatise of philosophy: How should such a man as he have time either to be drunken, or to surfeit with gluttony, or given himself to fleshly pleasures of the body? But wise men indeed, when they be freed from important matters of action, can find a time to rest and repose their bodies, discharging them of needless and unprofitable travels, but much more of superfluous and unnecessary pleasures, flying and shunning them as enemies and contrary to nature.  
I remember that upon a time I heard, how Tiberius Caesar was wont to say: That a man being once above threescore years of age deserveth to be mocked and derided, if he put forth his hand unto the physician for to have his pulse felt. For mine own part, I take this speech of his to be somewhat too proud and insolent; but me thinks this should be true: That every man ought to know the particularities and properties of his own pulse, for there be many diversities and differences in each one of us: also that it behoveth no man to be ignorant in the several complexion of his own body, as well in heat as in dryness: also to be skilful what things be good for him, and what be hurtful, when he useth them: for he that would learn these particularities of any other than of himself, or goeth to a physician to know of him, whether he be better in health in summer time than in winter; or whether he stand better affected in taking dry things rather than moist; also whether naturally he have a strong pulse or a weak, a quick or a slow; surely hath no sense or feeling of himself, but is as it were deaf and blind, a stranger he is dwelling in a borrowed body, and none of his own: for such points as those, are good to be known and easy to be learned; for that we may make proof thereof every hour, as having the body with us continually.  
Also meet it is, among meats and drinks, to know those rather which be good and wholesome for the stomach, than such as be pleasant to the tooth; and to have experience of that which doth the stomach good, more than of that which is offensive thereto; as also of those things that do not trouble and hinder concoction, than which content and tickle the taste. For to demand of a physician, what is easy of digestion, and what not; what doth loose, and what bindeth the belly; me thinks is no less shameful than to ask him, what is sweet; what bitter; what sour, tart or austere. But now we shall have many folk, that know well how to find fault with their cooks and dressers of meat, for seasoning their broths, or making sauce to their viands, being able to discern which is sweeter than it ought to be; which is over-tart or too much salted: and yet they themselves are not able to say, whether that which is put into the body and united therewith, be light or no; and whether it be harmless, not offensive, or profitable. Hereupon it is, that their pottage misseth not often, the right seasoning; whereas chose, for want of well seasoning their own selves, but daily faulting therein, they make much work for physicians: for they esteem not that pottage best, which is the sweetest, but they mingle therewith many sharp juices and sour herbs, to make it somewhat tart withal; but chose, they send into the body all manner of sweet and pleasant things, even until it cry, Ho; partly being ignorant, and in part not calling to mind and remembrance, that nature adjoineth always unto things that be good and wholesome, a pleasure not mingled with displeasure and repentance. Moreover, we are likewise to remember and bear in mind, all those things that be fit and agreeable to the body; or chose, in the changes of the seasons in the year, in the qualities and properties of the air, and other circumstances, to know how to accommodat and apply our diet accordingly: for as touching all the offences proceeding from nigardise, avarice and pinching, which the common sort do incur about the painful inning and laborious bestowing or laying up of their corn and fruits; who by their long watchings, by their running and trudging to and fro, discover and bewray what is within the body, rotten, faulty & ulcerous: we are not to fear, that such accidents will befall to learned persons or students, ne yet to Statesmen and politicians, unto whom principally I have addressed this discourse; but they ought to beware and eschew another kind of more eager covetousness and illiberal nigardise in matter of study and literature, forcing them to neglect and not regard their own poor bodies, which often times being so traveled and outwearied, that they can do them no more service, yet they spare them never the more, nor give them leave to be refreshed and gather up their crumbs again; but force that which is frail and mortal, to labour a vie with the soul, which is immortal; that (I say) which is earthly, to hold out with the spirit, that is heavenly. Well, the ox said unto the camel his fellow-servant, who would not ease him a little of his burden: Thou wilt not help me now to bear somewhat of my charge; but shortly thou shalt carry all that I carry, and me beside: which fell out so indeed, when the ox died under his burden; semblably it happeneth to the soul, which will not allow the silly body (wearied and tired) some little time of rest and repose: for soon after comes a fever, headache, dizziness of the brain, with a dimness of the sight, which will compel her to lay aside all books, to abandon all good letters, disputations and study; and in the end is driven to languish and lie sick in bed together with it for company. And therefore Plato wisely admonisheth us, not to move and exercise the body without the soul, not the soul without the body, but to drive them both together equally, as if they were two steeds drawing at one spire of a chariot; and especially at such a time, when as the body is busied with the soul, and laboureth together with her, we ought to have the most care of it, and to allow it that attendance & cherishment, which is meet and requisite, to the end, that thereby we may requite it with good and desirable health; esteeming this to be the greatest benefit and most singular gift that proceedeth thereupon, in that neither the one nor the other (for default of good disposition) is impeached or hindered in the knowledge of virtue and the practice thereof, aswell in literature as in the actions of man's life.    

OF THE ROMANS FORTUNE.  

The Summarie.  
IF ever there were any State politic, in the rising, growth and declination whereof, we are to see & acknowledge the admirable providence of God, together with the strength and wisdom of man, certes the Roman empire ought to be set in the foremost range. The causes of the foundation and advancement of this great Monarchy, are otherwise considered by those whom the heavenly truth (revealed in the holy Scripture) doth illuminate, than by the Pagans and Sages of this world, guidedonely by the discourse of their reason, corrupted with sin and ignorance of the true God. For when the question is, as touching the government of the universal world, although the sovereign Lord thereof, use often times, the spiritual and corpor all vigour both of mortal men, for to execute his will; yet we may behold above it, and before any exploit of visible instruments, this great and incomprehensible wisdom of his; who having decreed in himself all things, executeth every moment his deliberations; so that in regard of him, there is nothing casual, but all keep a course according to his determinate and resolute will: but in respect of us, many things be accident all; for that the counsels of that eternal and immutable wisdom are hidden from us, and appear not but by little and little. Infidels and miscreants, who are not able to comprehend this secret, have imagined and set down for governesses of man's life, Fortune and Virtue; meaning by Fortune, that which the common saying compriseth in these few words: In this world there is nothing else but good luck and bad; but so, as if any man could skill how to manage his own fortune, he might make it of bad, good and commodious: and this they meant by the word Virtue, which is an habitude or disposition of the mind and body; by the means whereof, he that is endued therewith, might prevent and overthrow quite all the assaults of Fortune. Some there be, who abuse the word Fortune, for to abolish the providence of God; and others have attributed so much unto Virtue, that they have set man out of those limits, in which his own proper nature, and above all the divine truth, placed him. Others again, have ascribed some thing unto Fortune, and yet they neither understand nor declare what it importeth, but have given out (although very irresolutely) that Fortune cannot give the check to a virtuous man. If we had this treatise following entire and perfect, all the ancient philosophy and learning, as touching this question, had been manifestly discovered unto us. But the principal part of this discourse is lost, in such sort, as Plutarch (having brought in Fortune and Virtue disputing upon this point: Whether of them should have the honour of the foundation and maintenance of the Roman empire?) hath left unto us nothing but the plea of Fortune; who by diverse reasons and proofs holdeth that the wisdom & valour of the people of Rome, was not the cause of their grandence; but Fortune, that is to say (as he expressly showeth in one place) the guidance and help of God, who hath so raised this estate for many others, and for to hold one good part of the world jointly in one body, under such a chief and sovereign. As concerning the reasons alleged in the favour and maintenance of Fortune, they be marked in order, and drawn out well at large: whereas those of Virtue are omitted, or peradventure reserved to the judgement and discretion of the reader, for to invent, devise, and apply them by himself, and of them all to collect and gather one conclusion, tending to this, for to show the great wonders of God's providence in sustaining the Roman empire, and the notable aid of an infinite number of instruments, which the said divine providence employed in planting, raising up, and pulling down so mighty and renowned a dominion.   

OF THE ROMANS FORTUNE.  
Virtue and Fortune have fought many great combats, and those oftentimes one against the other: but that which presenteth itself unto us at this time, is the greatest of all the rest; to wit: the debate plea which they had together as touching the empire of Rome, namely; whether of them twain wrought that work? and which of them brought forth so mighty a puissance? For this will be no small testimony on her side who shall gain the victory, or rather a great apology, against the imputation charged upon the one and the other. For Virtue is accused, in that she is honest, but unprofitable: and fortune, that she is uncerteine, but yet good: and it is commonly said, that as the former is fruitless for all her pains; so the other is faithless and untrusty in all her gifts. For who will not say, if the greatness of Rome be adjudged and awarded to one of them, that either Virtue is most profitable, in case she could do so much for good and honest men. or Fortune most firm and constant, if she have preserved and kept so long, that which she once hath given? Iön the poet in those works of his which he composed without verse, and in prose, saith: That Fortune and Wisdom (two most different things, and far unlike one to the other) produce nevertheless most like and semblable effects: both the one and the other indifferently make men great and honourable; they advance them in dignity, puissance, estate and authority. And what need I (for to draw out this matter at length) rehearse and reckon up a number of those whom they have preferred, considering that even nature herself who hath borne us, and brought forth all things; some take to be Fortune, and others Wisdom. This present discourse therefore, addeth unto the city of Rome a great and admirable dignity, in case we dispute of her as our manner is of the earth, the sea, the heaven and the stars, namely, whether it were by Fortune or by providence, that she was first founded and had her being? For mine own part, I am of this opinion, that howsoever Fortune and Virtue have always had many quarrels and debates otherwise, yet to the framing and composition of so great an empire and puissance, it is very like they had made truce and were at accord; that by one joint-consent also, they wrought both together, and finished the goodliest piece of work that ever was in the world. Neither think I that I am deceived in this conjecture of mine; but am persuaded, that like as (according to the saying of Plato) the whole world was not made at first, of fire and earth, as the two principal and necessary elements, to the end that it might be visible and palpable, considering that as the earth gave massiness, poise and firmitude; so fire conferred thereunto, colour, form, and motion. Besides, the other two natures and elements which are between these two extremes (to wit, air and water, by softening, melting, tempering and quenching (as it were) the great dissociation and dissimilitude of the said extremes) have drawn together, incorporate and united by the means of them, the first matter; even so, time and God together, intending such a stately piece of work as Rome, took Virtue and Fortune, and those they tempered and coupled in one, as yoke-fellows; to the end, that of the thing which is proper both to the one and the other, they might found, build, and rear a sacred temple indeed, an edifice beneficial and profitable unto all, a strong castle seated upon a firm groundwork, and an eternal element, which might serve in stead of a main pillar, to sustain the decaying state of the world, ready to reel and sink downward; and finally, as a sure ankerhold against turbulent tempests, and wandering waves of the surging seas, (as Democritus was wont to say.) For like as some of the natural philosophers hold: That the world at the first was not the world, and that the bodies would not join and mingle themselves together, for to give unto nature a common form, composed of them all: but when the said bodies, (such as yet were small and scattered here and there,) slid away, made means to escape and fly for fear they should be caught and interlaced with others; such also as were more strong, firm, and compact, even than strove mainly one against another, and kept a foul coil and stir together, in such manner, as there arose a violent tempest, a dangerous ghust and troublesome agitation, filling all with ruin, error, and shipwreck, until such time as the earth arose to greatness by the tumultuary concourse of those bodies that grew together, whereby she herself began first to gather a firm consistence; and afterwards yielded in herself, and all about her a 〈◊〉 seat and resting place for all other. Semblably, when the greatest empires and potentacies among men, were driven and carried to and fro, according to their fortunes, and ran one against another, by reason that there was not one of that grandence and puissance as might command all the rest, and yet they all desired that sovereignty: there was a wonderful confusion, a general destruction, a strange hurly burly, a tumultuary wandering, and an universal mutation and change throughout the world, until such time as Rome grew to some strength and bigness, partly by laying and uniting to herself the neighbour nations and cities near about her; and in part, by conquering the seignories, realms, and dominions of princes far of, and strangers be yond sea: by which means the greatest and principal things in the world began to rest, and be settled as it were a firm foundation and sure seat, by reason that a general peace was brought into the world, and the main empire thereof reduced to one round circle, so firm as it could not be checked or impeached: for that indeed all virtues were seated in those who were the founders and builders of this mighty State; and beside, Fortune also was ready with her favour to second and accompany them; as it shall (more plainly) appear and be showed in this discourse ensuing. And now me thinks I see from this project, as it were from some high rock and watch tower; Virtue and Fortune marching toward the pleading of their cause, and to the judgement and decision of the foresaid question propounded: but virtue in her part and manner of going, seemeth to be mild & gentle, in the carriage also of her eye, stayed and composed; the earnest care likewise and desire she hath to maintain and defend her honour in this contention, maketh her colour a little to rise in her face, albeit she be far behind Fortune, who cometh apace, and maketh all the haste she can: now there conduct her, and attend upon her round about in manner of a guard, a goodly train and troop 
Of worthies brave, who martial captains were,  
In bloody wars, and bloody armours bear.   
All wounded in the forepart of their bodies, dropping with blood and sweat mingled together, leaning upon the truncheons of the lances & pikes half broken, which they hud won from their enemies. But would you have us to demand and ask who they might be? They say, that they be the Fabricii, the Camilli, the Lucii surnamed Cincinnati, the Fabii Maximi, the Claudii Marcelli, and the two Scipios: I see also C. Marius all angry, and chase at Fortune. Mucius Scaevola likewise is amongst them, who showeth the stump of his burnt hand, crying aloud withal: And will you ascribe this hand also to Fortune? And Marcus Horatius Cocles that valiant knight, who fought so bravely upon the bridge, covered all over with the shot of Tuscan darts, and showing his lame thigh, seemeth to speak (from out of the deep whirlpit of the river into which he leapt) these words: And was it by chance & Fortwe that my leg became broken, & I lame upon it? Lo, what a company came with virtue to the trial of this controversy and matter in question! 
All warriors stout, in complete armour dight:  
Expert in feats of arms, and priest to fight.   
But on the other side, the gate and going of Fortune seems quick and fast, her spirit great, and courage proud, her hopes high and haughty: she overgoeth virtue, and approacheth near at hand already; not mounting and lifting up herself now, with her light and flight wings, nor standing a tiptoe upon a round ball or bowl, cometh she wavering and doubtful; and then goeth her way afterwards in discontentment and displeasure: but like as the Spartiates describe Venus, saying; That after she had passed the river Eurotas, she laid by her mirrors and looking glasses; cast aside her dainty jewels, and other wanton ornaments, and threw away that tissue and lovely girdle of hers; and taking spear and shield in hand, showeth herself thus prepared and set out, unto Lycurgus; even so Fortune having abandoned the Persians and Assyrians, flew quickly over Macedonia, and soon shook off Alexander the great: then travailed she a while through Egypt and Syria, carrying after her kingdoms as she went; and so having ruined and overthrown the Carthaginians state, which with much variety and change she had oftentimes upheld; she approached in the end to mount Palatine, and when she had passed over the river Tiber, even there (as it should seem) she cast off her wings; then she put off her flying patins; her bowl so inconstant turning and rolling to and fro she forsook, and so entered Rome as to make her stay and abode there: and in this guise and manner showeth she herself now, and maketh her appearance for to hear justice, & have this quarrel decided: Not as a base, unknown, and obscure person (as Pindarus saith) nor guiding and resting with her hand two helms; but rather as the sister of Eunomia, that is to say equity; and of Peitho, that is to say Persuasion; and the daughter of Promethia, that is to say Providence, according as Alcinus the poet deriveth her genealogy and pedigree. Moreover she holdeth between her hands that plentiful Horn of all abundance, so much celebrated and renowned, and the same filled, not with store of fruits always fresh and verdant which Autumue yieldeth, but brim full of all those precious and exquisite commodities 
Which any land or sea doth breed, or out of river's spring:  
Which in deep mines by delfe are found, or havens by vessels bring.   
And those poureth she forth abundantly, and giveth abroad in great largesse. There are about her also to be seen in her train, a number of most noble and right excellent personages, to wit: Numa Pompilius descended from the Sabines; Tarqvinius Priscus from the city Tarquinii; whom being aliens and mere strangers she installed kings, and enthronised in the royal seat of Romulus. Also Paulus Aemilius, who brought back his army safe and sound from the defaiture of Perseus and the Macedonians, where he achieved so fortunate a victory, that there was not seen one Roman with a weeping eye, for the loss of any friend in that warreand when he returned in triumph magnified Fortune. Even so did that good old knight, Caecilius Metellus, surnamed Macedonicus, aswell in regard of his brave victories, as of this rare felicity of his, that he was carried unto his sepulture by four of his own sons, who had been all consuls; namely, Quintus Balearius, Lucius Diadematus, Marcus Metellus, and Caius Caprarius: there attended also upon his corpse, two sons in law of his, that married his daughters, both consular men, and as many nephews, his daughter's children; men of mark and name all, both for great prowess in feats of arms, and also for their high place which they held in government of State and commonweal. Aemilius Scaurus likewise (who being of a low degree and condition of life, yet came from a stock more base than it, a new upstart and of the first head) was raised and advanced by her, and by the means of her favour, made a great lord and prince of that high court and honourable counsel, called the Senate. Cornelius Sylla likewise, whom she took out of the lap & bosom of Nicopolis a courtesan, for to exalt him above all the Cunbricke Trophies and Laureate Triumphs; yea, and the seven consulships of Marius, to raise him to that high pitch and sovereign degree of an absolute monarch in the world, and a dictator; he (I say) openly and directly gave himself (as it were) by way of adoption unto Fortune, and attributed his whole estate and all his actions to her favour, crying with a loud voice with Oedipus in Sophocles: 
To Fortune's court I owe all suits,  
And her good son myself reputes.  Insomuch as in the Roman language he surnamed himself Felix, that is to say, Happy: and unto the Greeks, he wrote thus in their tongue: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say: Lucius Cornelius Sylla, beloved of Venus and the Graces. And verily those trophies of his, which are to be seen in our country of Chaeronea, in regard of those noble victories which he gained against the lieutenant's general of king Mithridates, have the like inscription, and that right worthily. For it is not the night (as Menander saith) but Fortune, that is best acquainted and in greatest favour with Venus. Should not he therefore (who is desirous to plead the cause of Fortune) do very well to lay this for a good ground of his plea, and in the forefront and Exordium of his oration, bring in very fitly and properly for his witnesses to depose, the Romans themselves, who have ascribed more unto Fortune than to Virtue? Certes, late it was among them, & after many ages, ere Scipio Numantinus builded a temple to Virtue: & after him, Marcellus caused to be built that chapel bearing the name, Virtutis & Honoris, that is to say, Of Verand Honour: like as Aemilus Scaurus gave order for another to be reared by the name of Mentis, that is to say, of understanding; even about the time of the Cunbricke war: in which age, (when literature, and professors of learning & eloquence, flocked thick, as it were, and resorted to the city of Rome) they began to have in price and reputation, such matters: and yet to this very day there is not one chapel of Wisdom, Temperance, Patience & Magnanimity, ne yet of Continence; whereas of Fortune there be temples so stately, so glorious, and so ancient withal, that a man would take them to have been edified even in manner when the first foundations, of the city were laid. For first and foremost, Ancus Martius the nephew or daughter's son of king Numa, and the fourth king of Rome after Romulus, founded one in the honour of Fortune. And peradventure he it was that surnamed Fortune, Virilis, and derived it of Fortis; for that Virility, that is to say, Manhood, and Fortitude, that is to say Prowess and Valour, have most help by Fortune, to the achieving of victory. As for that temple of Feminine Fortune, named otherwise Muliebris, they built it also before the days of Camillus, at what time as Martius Coriolanus (who led under banners displayed, against the city of Rome, a puislant power of the Volscians) was turned back and retired, by the means and intercession of certain noble dames that encountered him: for those ladies went in a solemn embassage toward him, accompanied with his wife and mother; and so earnestly entreated and effectually persuaded with him, that in the end they prevailed, insomuch, as for their sakes he pardoned and spared the city, and so withdrew the forces of that barbarous nation: and then it was (by folks sayings) that the statue or image of Fortune at the dedication thereof, pronounced these words: You have (good Roman dames) according to the ordinance of the city, consecrated me right devoutly. And verily Furius Camillus (at what time as he had quenched the flaming fire of the Gauls, and recovered the city of Rome out of the very scoles of the balance where it was to be weighed in counterpoise against a certain quantity of gold) erected a temple, neither to Good counsel nor to Valour, but unto 
* To Aius 〈◊〉 as some think; to the goddess 〈◊〉 as O others.  Fame and Rumour, even in that very place by the new street, where (by report) Marcus Caeditius as he went by the way, heard in the night a voice, that gave warning and advertised, that shortly after they should look for the Gauls to war upon them. As for that temple (upon the bank of the river Tiber) of Fortune surnamed Fortis, that is to say, Strong, Martial, Valiant, and Magnanimous, for that to her belonged generosity and the forcible power to tame and overcome all things, they built a temple to the honour of her, within the orchards and gardens that Caesar (by his last will and testament) bequeathed unto the people of Rome; as being persuaded that himself (by the gracious favour of Fortune) became the greatest man of all the Romans, as himself doth testify. As concerning Julius Caesar, I would have been abashed and ashamed to say, that through the favour of Fortune he was lifted up to that rare greatness, but that his own self beareth witness thereof: for being departed from Brindois the fourth day of january, and embarked for to pursue Pompeius, even at the very height and in the heart of Winter, he crossed the seas most safely, as if Fortune had held in, the tempestuous weather of that season; and when he found Pompeius' strong and puissant aswell by sea as land, as having all his forces assembled together about him in a set and standing camp, being himself but weak and accompanied with a small power; for that the companies which Antonius and Sabinus should have brought, lingered and stayed behind, he adventured to take sea again; and putting himself into a small frigate, sailed away unknowen both to the master, and also to the pilot of the said bark, in simple habit, as if he had been some mean and ordinary servitor: but by occasion of a violent return of the tide, full against the current of the river, & withal, of a great tempest that arose, seeing that the pilot was ready to alter his course, and turn abaft back, he plucked away his garment from his head where with he sat hoodwinked, and discovered his face, saying unto the pilot: Hold the helm hard (good fellow) and be not afraid to set forward: be bold (I say) hoist sails, spread them open to the wind at aventure, and fear not, for thou hast aboard, Caesar and his Fortune. So much persuaded was he, and confidently assured, that Fortune sailed with him, accompanied him in all his marches and voyages, assisted him in the camp, aided him in battle. conducted and directed him in all his wars: whose work indeed it was, and could proceed from nothing else but her, to command a calm at sea, to procure fair weather and a Summer season in Winter; to make them swift and nimble, who otherwise were most slow and heavy; to cause them to be courageous, who were greatest cowards and most heartless; and that which is more incredible than all the rest, to force Pompey to fly, and Ptolemeus to kill his own guest, to the end that Pompey might die, and yet Caesar be not stained with his bloodshed. What should I allege the testimony of his son, the first emperor surnamed Augustus, who for the space of fifty years and four, was absolute commander both by sea and land of the whole world? who when he sent his nephew or sister's son to the wars, prayed and wished at God's hands for no more, but that he might prove as valiant as Scipio, and as well beloved as Pompey, and as fortunate as himself; ascribing the making of himself as great as he was, unto Fortune; as if a man should entitle some singular piece of work with the name of the workman or artificer: which Fortune of his, was the cause that he got the start and vantage of Cicero, Lepidus, Pausa, Hirtius, and Marcus Antonius, by whose counsels, brave exploits and prowesses, expeditions, victories, voyages, armadoes, legions, camps, and in one word, by these wars, as well by sea as by land, she made him ever chief and principal, lifting him on high still, and putting them down by whom he was mounted and advanced; until in the end, he remained alone, and had no peer nor second. For it was for his sake that Cicero gave counsel: Lepidus led an army; Pansa vanquished the enemy; Hirtius lost his life in the seld; and Antonius lived riotously in drunkenness, gluttony, and lechery: for I reckon Cleopatra among the favours that Fortune did to Augustus, against whom, as against some rock, Antonius so great a commander, so absolute a prince, and mighty triumvir, should run himself, be split, and sink; to the end that Caesar Augustus might survive and remain alone. And to this purpose reported it is of him; that there being so inward acquaintance and familiarity, as there was among them, that they used often to pass the time away together in playing at tennis, or at dice, or seeing some pretty sport of cocks and quails of the game, which were kept for the nonce to sight: when Antonius went evermore away with the worst, and on the losing hand; one of his familiar friends, (a man well seen in the art of divination) would many times frankly say unto him by way of remonstrance and admonition: Sir, what mean you to meddle or have any dealing with this young gentleman, (meaning Augustus) Fly and avoid his company, I advise you; more renowned and better reputed you are than he; his elder you are, you have a greater command and signory than he, more expert in feats of arms, and of better experience and practise by far: but good sir, your Genius or familiar spirit is afraid of his, your Fortune, which by itself apart is great, flattereth and courteth his, and unless you remove yourself far from him, it will forsake you quite and go unto him.  
Thus you see what evidences and proofs Fortune may allege for herself, by way of testimony. But we are beside to bring forth those which are more real, and drawn from the things themselves, beginning our discourse at the very foundation and nativity as it were of Rome city. In the first place therefore, who will not say and confess, that for the birth, the preservation, the nouriture, rearing, and education of Romulus, well might the excellencies of Virtue be the hidden groundwork, and first foundation; but surely it was Fortune alone that raised the same above ground, and built all up? For to begin at the very generation and procreation, even of those, who first founded and planted the city of Rome, they seem both to proceed from a wonderful favour of rare Fortune: for it is said, that their mother lay with god Mars, and was by him conceived: and like as the report goeth, that Hercules was begotten in a long night, by reason that the day extraordinarily, and besides the course of nature was held back, and the sun stayed in his race and rising; even so we find it recorded in histories, that when Romulus was gotten, and conceived, the sun became eclipsed, by reason of his full conjunction indeed with the moon, like as Mars being a very god, meddled with Sylvia a mortal woman: also that the same happened again unto Romulus, just upon the very same day when he was translated out of this life: for they say, that even at the very instant when the sun entered into the eclipse, he also departed out of sight, and was no more seen; which fell out to be upon the day called Nonae Capratinae: upon which day, the Romans do still at this present celebrate a solemn feast. Now when these first founders were in this manner bred and borne; after that the tyrant sought to make them away, by good fortune it happened, that the minister to take them and execute the deed, was neither a barbarous nor a merciless cruel slave, but a gracious and pitiful servitor, who would in no wise murder the silly babes: but finding a convenient place, upon the bank by the river side, adjoining hard to a fair green meadow, and shadowed with pretty trees growing low by the ground; there he bestowed the infants, near unto a wild sigge tree, which they called afterwards Ruminalis; for that a teat or pap in Latin is called Ruma: which done, it chanced that a bitch-wolf having newly whelped her litter, and feeling her paps bestruct with milk, and so stiff by reason that her young ones were dead, that they ached again, and were ready to burst, seeking to be eased and to discharge herself thereof; came gently to these babes, stooped down, and seemed to wind about them, put unto them her teats, desirous & labouring to be delivered of her milk, as if it had been a second litter: And then (see the fortune of it) a certain bird (consecrated to Mars, which thereupon men name in Latin Picus Martius, that is to say, a Speght or Wood-pecker) chanced to approach near, and having alighted gently upon the tips of her toes fast by them, & softly opened with one of her clees the mouths of these infants, one after another, she conveyed into them certain morsels, minced small, even of her own food & provision. That this is true, the said wild fig tree at this day is named Ruminalis of the wolves teat, called in Latin Ruma, which she held unto the babes for to suckle them, doth testify. And long time after, the inhabitants about that place have observed this custom; not to expose and cast forth any thing that is bred and borne amongst them; but to rear and nourish all, in a venerable memorial of this hap and resemblance of the accident which befell unto Romulus and his brother Remus. Now that these two foundlings were nourished and brought up afterward in the city of Gabii, unknowen to all the world that they were the children of Sylvia, and the nephews or daughters children of Numitor the king; may seem to be a crafty thievish cast, and deceitful sophistry, proceeding from Fortune; to the end that they should not perish before they had done some worthy exploit, by reason of their noble birth, but be discovered by their very deeds and effects; showing their virtue as a mark of their nobility. And here I call to mind a certain speech which Themistocles (a brave and wise captain) upon a time gave to some other captains, who after him, and in a second place, were in great name at Athens, and much esteemed, howbeit pretending to deserve more honour than he: The morrow-mind (quoth he) quarreled and contended upon a time with the feast or holiday, which went before it, saying: That she was 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  full of labour and business, and never had any rest; whereas in her there was nothing but eating and drinking that, which before hand had been prepared and provided with great pain and travel; unto whom the feast made this answer: Certes, true it is, that thou sayest; but if I had not been, where hadst thou been? Even so (quoth Themistocles) if I had not conducted the Medians war, what good would you have done now? and where had your employment been? Semblably, me thinks that Fortune saith the same unto the Virtue of Romulus: Thy acts are famous, and thy deeds renowned; thou hast showed by them indeed, that descended thou art from divine blood and some heavenly race; but thou seest again, how far short thou art of me, how long after me it was, ere thou didst come in place; for if I had not (when time was) showed myself kind, gracious and courteous unto those poor infants, but had forsaken and abandoned them silly wretches, how could you have had any being, and by what means should you have been so gloriously seen in the world? in case (I say) a female wild beast, even a she-wolf, had not come in the way, having her bigs swollen, inflamed and aching with the plenty of milk, flowing (as it were) a stream unto them, seeking rather whom to feed, than by whom she should be fed? or if she had been altogether savage indeed & hungerbitten; these royal houses, these stately temples, these magnificent theatres, these fair galleries, these goodly halls, palaces and counsell-chambers, had they not been at this day, the lodges, cottages and stalls of shepherds and herdsmen, serving (as slaves) some lords of Alba and Tuscan, or else some masters of the Latin nation? The beginning, in all things, is chief and principal, but especially in the foundation and building of a city; and Fortune is she who is the author of this beginning and foundation, in saving and preserving the founder himself: for well may Virtue make Romulus' great, but Fortune kept him until he became great.  
It is for certain known and confessed, that the reign also of Numa Pompilius, which continued long, was guided and conducted by the favour of a marvelous Fortune: for to say that the nymph Aegeria, one of the Wood-Fairies, called Dryads, a wise and prudent goddess, was enamoured of him, and that lying ordinarily by his side, taught him how to establish, govern and rule the weale-publicke, peradventure is a mere fabulous tale; considering that other persons, who are recorded to have been loved by goddesses (and to have enjoyed them in marriage; as for example, Peleus, Anchises, Orion & Emathion) had not for all that (throughout their life) contentment and prosperity, without some trouble and adversity: but surely it seemeth that Numa in very truth had good Fortune for his domestical and familiar companion, and to reign jointly with him; which Fortune of his (receiving the city of Rome, as in a boisterous and troublesome tempest, or in a turbulent sea, to wit, in the enmity, envy and malice of all the neighbor-cities and nations bordering upon it; and beside disquieted within itself, and troubled with an infinite number of calamities and seditious factions) quenched all those flames of anger, and allayed all spiteful and malicious grudges, as some boisterous and contrary winds. And like as men say, that the sea, even in midwinter receiveth the young brood of the birds Halcyones, after they be newly hatched, and giveth them leave to be nourished and fed in great calm and tranquility; even so Fortune (spreading and drawing round about this people newly planted, and as yet ready to wag and shake every way, such a quiet and still season, void of all busy affairs, without wars, without mortality, without danger or fear of danger) gave good means unto the city of Rome to take root and set sure footing, growing still in repose with all security, and without any hindrance and impeachment whatsoever. Much like therefore, as a great carraque, hulk or galley, is framed, wrought and set together by many a knock and stroke, and that with great violence; whiles it feeleth the blows of sledges and hammers, is pierced with spikes and great nails, cut with saws, axes and hatchets; and when it is once made and finished by the shipwright, aught to rest quiet and in repose, for a competent time, until the braces be well settled and fastened, and the joints firmly knit and compact: for otherwise, he that should stir it, and shoot it into the sea, whiles yet the junctures and commissures be yet green, fresh, loose, and not well consolidate, all would chink, cleave and open, when it came to be never so little shaken and tossed by the boisterous billows of the sea, so that she would leak & take in water throughout; even so, the first prince, author and founder of the city of Rome, having composed it of rustical peisants and herdsmen, as it were, of rough-hewen planks and posts of tough and stubborn oak, had much ado, and took no small pains, but engaged himself far into sundry wars, and exposed his person and estate to manifold and great dangers, being of necessity enforced to encounter and fight with those who opposed themselves, and withstood the nativity (as it were) and foundation thereof, before he could bring his work to an end; but the second king receiving the same at his hands, gave it good time and leisure to gather strength, and to confirm the growth and augmentation thereof by the favour of happy Fortune, who afforded him the means to enjoy great peace and long repose. But if at that time, some such as king Porsenna, had come against it, pitching his camp before it, and leading a strong army of Tuskans to give assault thereto, whiles the walls were yet green, soft, and ready to shake with every small thing; or if some puissant prince and potentate, or worthy warrior from among the Marsians, upon apostasy and revolt; or else some Lucan, for envy or upon a troublesome spirit and desire of contention, a busiheaded person, factious and quarrelsome, such an one as afterwards Mutius or stout Silon was, surnamed the Bold; or last of all, Telesinus, with whom Sylla scuffled, an found himself somewhat to do; him I mean, who (as it were) with one signal could make all Italy rise and take arms: if one of these (I say) had come and given the alarm, environing and assailing with sound of trumpets this Sage-like prince and philosopher Numa, whiles he was at sacrifice, or in his devotions and prayers to the gods; surely the city in that infancy of hers and first beginnings, had never been able to have held out and withstood so great a storm and tempest, neither had it grown up as it did, to so goodly a number of lusty and serviceable men: whereas, it seemeth that the long peace which continued under this king, served in stead of a provision of furniture and all sorts of munition for innumerable wars ensuing; and the people of Rome, much like unto a champion who hath to fight a combat, having been exercised and enured at leisure, in a peaceable time, for the space of three and forty years after the wars which they had fought under Romulus, became strong enough, and sufficient to make head against those that afterwards assailed them: for it is for certain recorded, that during all that time, there was neither pestilence nor famine, no unkind barrenness of the earth, nor unseasonable distemperature of Winter or Summer, to afflict or trouble the city of Rome, as if there had been no human providence, but only a divine Fortune which took the care and government of all those years. In those days likewise it was, that the twoleaved doors of the temple of Janus were shut up and locked fast, those (I mean) which they call the gates of war, for that they were set open in the time of war, and kept shut when it was peace. No sooner was king Numa dead, but these gates were opened for the Alban war, which broke out suddenly and with great violence, and so stood open still, during an infinite number of other wars ensuing continually one after another thereupon: but in process of time, namely, about four hundred and four score years after, they were shut again, when the first Punic war was ended, and peace concluded with the Carthaginians, even that year, wherein C. Attilius and Titus Manlius were consuls. After this, they were set open by occasion of new wars, which lasted until the very time that Caesar Augustus won that noble victory under the Promontory Actium. Then had the Romans a cessation or surcease of arms, but the same continued not long; for that the tumultuous stirs of the biscain's, the Galatians and Germains coming all together, troubled the peace. And thus much may serve out of histories, for testimonies in behalf of the felicity and good Fortune of king Numa.  
But the Kings also that reigned in Rome after him, highly honoured Fortune, as the chief patroness, nurse, and the prop or pillar, as Pindarus saith, which supported and upheld the city of Rome; as we may judge by the reasons and arguments following. There is at Rome, I wot well, the temple of Virtue highly honoured: but founded it was and built of late days, even by Marcellus, who forced and won the city of Syracuse. There was another also in the honour of reason, understanding, or good advice, which they called by the name of Mentis: but Aemilius Scaurus was the man who dedicated it; about the time of the Cimbricke wars. For that by this, the learning, the arts and pleasant eloquence of the greeks were crept already into the city: but, to wisdom there is not yet to this day so much as one temple or chapel; neither to temperance, not patience; ne yet to magnanimity, whereas of Fortune there be many churches and temples very ancient, and those much frequented; and to speak in one word, celebrated with all kinds of honour; as being founded and erected amid the noblest parts, and most conspicuous places of the city. For there is the temple of Masculine Fortune called; Fortuna virilis, which was built by Martius Ancus the fourth king of Rome, and by him so called; for that he thought that Fortune availed as much as Fortitude to the obtaining of victory. As for the other, entitled by the name of Fortune Feminine; otherwise called Fortuna Muliebris, every man knoweth that they were the dames of the city, who dedicated it, after they had averted and turned back Martius Coriolanus, who was come with a puissant power of enemies, and presented himself before the city. And Servius Tullius who augmented the puissance of the people of Rome. and brought it unto a goodly and beautiful manner of government, no prince so much, having set down and established a good order for the giving of suffrages and voices at the elections of magistrates, and enacting of laws: and beside instituted the order of military discipline; having been himself the first censor of men's manners, and the controller or overseer of every man's life and behaviour; who seemed also to have been a right valiant prince, and most prudent withal: this man I say, wholly avowed himself the vassal of Fortune, and did homage to her, acknowledging all principality to depend upon her; in such sort as men say Fortune herself used to come & lie with him, descending down by a window into his chamber; which now the call the gate Fenestella. He founded therefore within the Capitol one temple to the honour of Fortune, called Primigenia, which a man may interpret, first begotten; and another to Fortune obsequens, which some take to be as much as obeisant; others, gracious and favourable. But not to stand any longer upon the Roman names and appellations; I will leave them, & endeavour to reckon up and interpret in Greek the meaning and signification of all these temples, founded and dedicated in the honour of Fortune. For in the mount Palatine there standeth one chapel of private Fortune, and another of gluing Fortune: which term may haply seem to be ridiculous; howbeit, by way of a metaphor it carrieth a signification very important, as if we were to understand thus much by it: That it draweth unto it, and catcheth those things which be far off, and holdeth fast whatsoever sticketh and cleaveth to it. Moreover, near unto the fountain called Muscosa, that is to say, mossy; there is another chapel of Fortune the virgin: as also in the mount Esquiltus, another of Adverse Fortune; upon the street called the Long Way, an altar there is erected to Fortune Good-hope; or, as it were Hope: and near adjoining unto the altar of Venus' Epitalaria, that is is to say, Foote-winged Venus, a chapel and image of Fortune, Masculine: besides a thousand honours and denominations more of Fortune, which Servius for the most part instituted and ordained; as knowing full well, that in the regiment of all human things, Fortune is of great importance, or rather can do all in all. And good reason he had therefore, considering that himself by the beneficial favour of Fortune, being descended as he was by birth from a captive, and that of an enemy nation, was raised and advanced to royal dignity. For when the city of the Corniculanes was won forcibly by the Romans, a certain young damsel named Ocrisia, being taken prisoner (who notwithstanding her infortunate captivity; was neither for beauty of face, nor comely behaviour blemished or stained) was given unto queen Tanaquil, the wife of king Tarquin, to serve her, and afterwards bestowed in marriage upon one of the retainers or dependents to the king; such as the Romans call Clientes: and from these two came this foresaid Servius. Others say, that it was nothing so; but that this maiden Ocrisia taking ordinarily certain first-frutes or assays as it were, both of viands and wine from the king's table, carried the same to the hearth of the domestical altar; and when one day above the rest she cast these primicies or libaments aforesaid (as her usual manner was) into the fire upon the hearth; behold all on the sudden when the flame went out; there arose out of the said hearth, the genital member of a man; whereat the young damosel being affrighted, reported what a strange sight she had seen, unto queen Tanaquil alone: who being a wise and witty lady, appparelled and adorned the maiden like a bride in every respect, and shut her up with the foresaid apparition; taking it for a divine thing, presaging some great matter. Some say, that this was the domestical or tutelar god of the house, whom they call Lar; others Vulcan, who was enamoured of this young virgin: but whatsoever it was, Ocrisia was thereupon with child, and so was Servius borne. Now whiles he was but an infant, there was seen a shining light, much like unto the flash of lightning, to blaze out of his head round about. But Valerius Antias recordeth this narration otherwise: saying, that Servius had a wife named Gegania, who happened to die; by occasion of whose death, he grew into a great agony and passion of sorrow, in the presence of his mother, until in the end for very heaviness and melancholy, he fell a sleep, and as he slept, the woman of the house might perceive his head shining out in a light fire; a sufficient argument and testimony, that engendered he was of fire; yea, and an assured presage of a kingdom unlooked for; which he attained unto after the decease of Tarqvinius, by means of the port and favour that Tanaquil graced him with. For otherwise, of all the kings that were of Rome, he seemed to be the man that was unlikest to reach unto a monarchy, and least intended, or minded to aspire thereunto: considering that when he was king, he determined to resign up the crown; though he was impeached and stayed for so doing: because Tanaquil upon her deathbed conjured and bound him by an oath to continue in his royal estate and dignity, and in no case to give over the politic government of the Romans, wherein he was borne. Lo, how the regal power & kingdom of Servius may be wholly ascribed unto Fortune, seeing that as he came unto it beyond all hope and expectation, so he held it even against his will.  
But to the end it may not be thought, that we withdraw ourselves and retire, flying unto antiquity, as it were into a place obscure and dark, for want of more clear and evident proofs, let us leave the history of the kings, and turn our speech unto the most glorious acts of the Romans, and their wars, which were of greatest name and renown: wherein I will not deny; and who is there but must confess? there did concur 
Both boldness stout and fortitude, with martial discipline,  
In war which aye cooperant with virtue doth combine.  according as Timotheus the poet writeth? but the prosperous train and happy course of their affairs, the violent stream also, & current of their progress into such puissance & growth of greatness, showeth evidently unto those who are able to discourse with reason, and to judge aright, that this was a thing conducted neither by the hands nor counsels, ne yet by the affections of men, but by some heavenly guidance and divine direction, even by a forewind and gale of Fortune blowing at the poop, and hastening them forward. Trophies upon trophies by them were erected, one triumph met with another continually; the former blood upon the weapons not yet cooled, but still warm was washed away by new bloodshed coming upon it: they reckoned and numbered their victories, not by the multitude of enemies slain and heaps of spoils, but counted them by realms subdued, by nations conquered and brought to subjection, by isles and firm lands of the continent reduced into servitude and bondage, and all to augment the greatness of their empire. In one battle king Philip was chased out of Macedonia: one blow and one conflict caused Antiochus to abandon and forego Asia: by one defaiture the Carthaginians lost Lybia: one man alone in one expedition, and by the power of one army, 
* All this is to be understood of Pompeius Magnus.  conquered unto them Armenia, the kingdom of Pontus, the sea Euximus, Syria, Arabia, the Albanians, the Iberians, all the nations even as far as the mountain Caucasus, and the Hyrcanians, yea and the very ocean sea which environeth the world round about; saw the same man thrice victor and conqueror: the Nomads in Africa he repressed and vanquished, even to the coasts of the south sea: he subdued Spain which revolted and rebelled with Sertorius, as far as to the atlantike sea: the kings of the Albanians he pursued, & never left the chase until he had driven them to the Caspian sea. All these brave exploits and glorious conquests he achieved, so long as he used the public Fortune of the city, but afterwards he was overthrown and came to ruin by his own private desires. Now that great Daemon and tutelar god of the Romans, did not second them for a day as it were and no more; neither in a short time did his best and came to the height and vigour of his gracious favour, as that of the Macedonians; nor gave them his assistance upon the land only, as he who was the patron of the Lacedæmonians; or at sea alone, as the Athenians god; ne yet was long ere he would stir, as he whom the Colophonians trusted upon; no, nor gave over quickly, as the Persians patron did: but even from the very nativity and foundation of the city; it began, it grow up, waxed, and went forward as it did, it managed the government of it, it continued firm and sure with it, by land, by sea, in war, in peace, against Barbarians, and against the Greeks: He it was that when Hannibal the Carthaginian overspread all Italy, in manner of a land- 〈◊〉, or violent brook, wrought it so, that partly through envy, and in part through the malice of his spiteful fellow-citizens, no succours and supplies were sent to feed and maintain him; and so by that means wasted, spent, and consumed him to nothing in the end: he it was that dispersed and kept the armies and forces of the Cimbrians, & Teutonians a great way, and a long time asunder, so as they could not meet; to the end that Marius might be furnished and provided sufficiently to fight with them, and to defait them both, one after another: he impeached the joining together of three hundred thousand sighting men at one time, all invincible soldiers, and appointed with arms insuperable, that they might not invade and overrun all Italy. For this cause, and by the means of this protector, Antiochus sat still, and stirred not to aid Philip, all the while that the Romans made sharp war upon him: likewise, when Antiochus was in distress and danger of his whole estate, Philip being discomfited before, durst not hold up his head, and died the while: he, and none but he procured, that whiles the Marsians war set all Rome and Italy on a light fire, the Sarmatian, and Bastarnianwarre held king Mithridates occupied. Finally, through his procurement, king Tigranes, when Mithridates flourished, and was in his ruff most puissant, upon suspicion, envy, and distrust, would not join with him; and afterwards when the said Mithridates had an overthrow, combined and banded with him, that in the end he might also lose his life and perish with him for company.  
What! in the greatest distresses and calamities that lay heavy upon the city; was it not the Roman Fortune that redressed all, and set it upright again? As for example: When as the Gauls were encamped round about the mount Capitol, and held the castle besieged: 
A plague she sent, the soldiers soon fell sick,  
Throughout their host, whereof they died thick.  Fortune also it was, & mere chance, that revealed their coming in the night, & gave advertisement thereof, when no man in the world either knew or doubted thereof: and peradventure it would not be impertinent and beside the purpose, in this place to discourse of it more at large. After the great discomfiture and overthrow that the Romans received near the river Allia; as many as could save themselves by good foot-manship, when they were come to Rome, filled the whole city with a fright and trouble; insomuch, as the people wonderfully amazed with this fearful news, fled scattering here and there, excepting only a few, who put themselves within the castle of the Capitol, resolved to keep that piece, and abide the extremity of the siege: others who escaped after that unfortunate battle and defeiture, assembled themselves immediately in the city Veii; and chose for their dictator Furius Camillus, a man, whom the people (proud & insolent upon their long prosperity) had before time rejected, and sent away into banishment, condemning him for robbing the common treasure; but then being humbled by his affliction, and brought to a low ebb; called him back again, after that discomfiture; committing and putting into his hands, the absolute power and sovereign authority; but to the end it might not be thought, that it was by the occasion of the iniquity and infortunity of the time, and not according to order of law, that the man excepted of this high magistracy, and that in a desperate state of the city, without all hope that ever it should rise again, he was elected by the tumultuary suffrages of a broken army, dispersed and wandering here and there: his will was, that the senators of Rome who had retired themselves within the Capitol aforesaid, should be made acquainted and advertised thereof, and that by their uniform consent, they might approve and confirm that election of him, which the soldiers and men of war had decreed. Now among the others, there was one named Caius Pontius, a valiant and hardy man, who undertook, and promised in his own person to go and carry the news of that which had been determined, unto those who abode within the Capitol: and verily he enterprised a thing exceeding dangerous, for that he was to pass through the mids of the enemies, who then invested the Capitol with trenches, and a strong corps-de-guard: when he was come to the river side by night, he fastened just under his breast certain broad pieces of plates of cork, and so committing his body to the lightness of such a barge, he bore himself thereupon, and hulled with the course of the water, which was so good and favourable unto him, that it carried him over, and set him gently upon the bank on the other side of the river, without any danger at all; where he was no sooner landed, but he went directly toward that place which he saw was without all light, conjecturing by the darkness and silence withal, that he should not light upon any of the watch or ward there: thus he began to climb up the steep rock, whereas he could find any way to set sure footing upon the stones that stuck out, or wheresoever he found a place to yield better access and ascent than another; so fetching a compass, and catching hold with his hand upon the rough crags, and bearing himself as well as possibly he could, he made such shift, that in the end he crawled up to the top thereof; and there those Romans that kept watch and ward, and were foremost of the corps-de-guard, having espied him, helped to pull him up: then declared he unto those within the place, what had been set down and agreed upon by them who were without, from whom he had no sooner received their assent and approbation of the foresaid ordinance concluded, but the very same night he made his return the way that he came, unto Camillus: the next morning, one of the barbarous enemies, as he walked about that place, thinking of no such thing, perceiving by very chance, partly the print of a man's tiptoes, together with the marks of unsteady footing, and partly the grass and weeds crushed and broken, which grew here and there in such places, where they had some little earth to maintain them; as also the tracts and traces where he had leaned and wrestled with his body, either in clambering up, or striving overthwart; went strait ways and related unto his fellow-souldiors what he had seen; who taking it thus, that the enemies themselves showed them the way, and trod it out before them, 〈◊〉 presently to do the like, and to gain the top of the rock. In the night time therefore having observed where the place was most solitary, and void of watchmen, they mounted up, without being descried and discovered, not only by the men who were in guard and sentinel, but not so much as by the dogs, which were set a front before, for to assist the watch, so sleepy they were all, both the one and the other. Howbeit, the good Fortune of Rome wanted no voice to bewray so imminent a danger, and to give warning thereof; for there were within the Capitol certain geese consecrated unto the goddess Juno, kept at the cities charges, in the honour of her, close under her temple: now is this creature of all others by nature very timorous, and at every little noise that is made, ready to be affrighted; and at that time especially, by reason that there was within the place great scarcity of victuals, they were neglected, and for that they were kept somewhat hungry, slept not so sound as they were wont to do; by reason whereof, at the first, being aware of the enemies coming, even so soon as they had gotten over the battlements of the walls, they came full but upon them, & being affrighted beside to see their bright armour, set up such a gaggling note after their manner, that all the court of the castle rung with their violent and disonant noise: whereat the Romans were awakened, and suspecting deeply what the matter was, ran incontinently to the wall, gave the enemies the repulse, and turned them down with their heads forward: in memorial of which accidents and occurrents, Fortune goeth as it were in triumph even at this day. For at Rome they are wont upon a certain set day of the year in a solemn procession, to have a dog carried in a show, crucified; and a goose borne in a gorgeous litter upon a rich cushion, most sumptuously dight and set out: which spectacle representeth and showeth unto us the puissance of Fortune, and the great means that she hath to effect all those things with ease and facility, which in man's reason seem impossible; considering that she giveth a kind of witty perceivance and understanding, to brute beasts, otherwise foolish and void of reason; yea and infuseth bold courage and strength to those which by nature are fearful, weak, and cowardly. For what man is there, unless he be altogether deprived of natural sense and affection, who would not be astonished and ravished again with a wonderful admiration, to consider and discourse after a sort with himself, comparing the heavy cheer and mournful condition of this city in those days, with the felicity and stately port thereof at this present; to look up (I say) to the Capitol, and behold the riches there, the sumptuosity and magnificence of the monuments and oblations there to be seen; the excellent pieces of work, wrought by most cunning artificers, striving who might do best; the presents of cities, contending who should be most bounteous and liberal; the crowns sent by kings and princes, and what precious things soever the earth, the sea, the islands, the firm lands of the continent, the rivers, trees, beasts, champain fields, mountains and metall-mines do afford; and in one word, the first fruits and choice parcels of all things in the world, which seem all to strive one with another, to embellish, grace, adorn, every and beautify this only place? and withal, to look back unto those times past, and consider how it went within a very little, that all this should never have been, or at leastwise not extant at this day; seeing that all being within the power of merciless fire, fearful darkness of the mirke night, cruel and barbarous swords, and most bloody minds and inhuman hearts of these Gauls; the poor contemptible beasts, foolish, reasonless and timorous, made the overture to save all, and were the principal instruments of preservation; also, how those brave gallants, valorous knights, and great captains and commanders, the Manliis, the Servii, the Posthumii and Papyrii, the ancestors and progenitors of so many noble houses afterwards, were very near and at the point to have been undone for ever, and come to nothing; had not these silly geese awakened and started up to fight for their country, and to defend the god, patron, and protector of the city. And if it be true that Polybius writeth in the second book of his history, as touching those Gauls, who at that time surprised the city, and were lords of Rome: That when news came suddenly unto them, how certain of their barbarous neighbous near at hand, were entered in arms within their own country, and won all before them as they went; they had returned in haste back, and made peace with Camillus, certes, without all doubt, Fortune even then had been the cause also of the city's safety, in distracting the enemies, or rather in withdrawing them another way contrary to all hope and expectation of man. But what need we to stand thus upon these old histories, wherein there is no certainty to build upon delivered; considering that the state of Rome was then ruinate, and all their annals, records, registers and memorials either perished or confounded, according as Livy himself hath left in writing; seeing that the affairs of the Romans which happened afterward, and carry more light and perspicuity with them, declare and testify sufficiently the love and indulgence of Fortune? For mine own part, I count this for one singular favour of hers, to wit, the death of Alexander the Great, a prince of incomparable courage, and spirit invincible, who being lifted up by many great prosperities, glorious conquests and happy victories, lanced himself in manner of a star volant in the air, leaping out of the East into the West, and beginning not to shoot the flaming beams and flashing rays of his armour as far as into Italy; having for a pretence and colourable cause of this enterprise and expedition of his, the death of his kinsman Alexander the Milossian, who together with his army, was by the Brutians and Lucanians (near unto the city Pandaesia) put to the sword and cut in pieces: although (in truth) that which carried him thus against all nations, was nothing else but a desire of glory and sovereignty, having proposed this unto himself upon a spirit of zeal and emulation, to surpass the acts of Bacchus and Hercules, and to go with his army beyond the bounds of their voyages and expeditions. Moreover, he had heard say, that he should find the force and valour of the Romans, to be as it were a gad of steel, to give edge unto the sword of Italy; and he knew well enough (by the general voice and report abroad in the world, which was brought unto him) that famous warriors they were, and of greatest renown, as being exercised and hardened like stout champions in wars and combats innumerable, 
And verily, as I do ween.  
A bloody fight there would have been,  if the undaunted and unconquered hearts of the Romans, had encountered in the field with the invincible armies of the Macedonians: for surely the citizens of Rome were no fewer at that time in number, by just computation, than a hundred and thirty thousand fight men, able all to bear arms, and hardy withal: 
Who expert were on horseback for to fight,  
And when they saw their time, on foot to light.   
The rest of this discourse is lost, wherein we miss the reasons and arguments that Virtue allegeth for herself in her plea.    

THE MORALS OR MISCELLANE WORKS OF PLUTARCH. The second Tome.  

THE SYMPOSIAQVES OR TABLE-QUESTIONS. The first Book.  

The Summarie.  
1 WHether we may discourse of learning or philosophy at the table.  
2 Whether the master of the feast aught himself to place his guests, or suffer them to sit and take their places at their own discretion.  
3 What is the cause that the place at the board, called Consular, is held to be most honourable.  
4 What manner of person the Symposiarchor master of the feast ought to be.  
5 What is meant by this usual speech: Love teacheth us poetry or music.  
6 Whether Alexander the Great were a great drinker.  
7 How it is, that old folk commonly love to drink mere wine undelaied.  
8 What is the cause, that elder persons read better afarre-off than hard-by.  
9 What might the reason be that clothes are washed better in fresh & potable water than in sea water.  
10 Why at Athens, the dance of the tribe or lineage Aeantis, is never adjudged to the last place.   

THE SYMPOSIAQUES OR Table-questions.  

THE FIRST QUESTION.  
Whether we may discourse of learning and philosophy at the table.  
SOme there be (sir Sossius Senerio) who say that this ancient proverb in Greek, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
At banquet, wine, or any fest,  
I hate a well remembering guest.  was meant of 
* Some were called in Latin, Reges & 〈◊〉.  hosteliers or rulers at feasts, who ordinarily are odious, troublesome, uncivil, saucy, and imperious at the table. For the Dorians who in old time inhabited Italy (as it should seem) were wont to call such an one, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Others again, be of opinion, that this proverb admonisheth and teacheth us to forget all that hath been done and said at the board, and among our cups, when we have been merry together. Hereupon it is, that in our country, men commonly say: That both oblivion and also the palmar, or the plant Ferula, that is to say, Fenel-giant, be consecrated unto Bacchus; which giveth us to understand, that the errors and faults which pass at the table, are either not to be remembered at all, or else deserve to be chastised gently as children are. But seeing you also are of the same mind that Euripides was, namely: That howsoever 
Bad things and filthy to forget,  
Indeed, is counted wisdom great,  yet the oblivion generally of all that is spoken at the board and when we drink wine, is not only repugnant to this vulgar saying: That the table makes many a friend; but also hath diverse of the most renowned and excellent philosophers to bear witness to the contrary, to wit, Plato, Xenophon, Aristotle, Speusippus, Epicurus, Prytanis, Hieronymus and Dion the Academic, who all have thought and reputed it a thing worth their travel, to put down in writing, the talk that had been held at meat & drink in their presence. And for that you have thought it meet, that I also should collect and gather together the principal and most memorable points of learned discourses, which have passed sundry times and in diverse places, both here and there; I mean aswell at Rome among you, as also with us in Greece, when we were eating and drinking together among our friends; I settled myself unto it willingly; and having sent unto you three books heretofore, containing every one of them ten questions, I will shortly send you the rest, if I may perceive that these which you have already, were not altogether thought unlearned, impertinent, and without good grace.  
The first question then, which I have set abroad, is this: Whether it be a seemly and decent thing, to philosophize, that is to say: To speak and treat of matters of learning at the table? for you may remember very well, that this question being moved upon a time at Athens after supper: Whether it were befitting those who are come to make good cheer, for to enter into speech, or maintain discourse, as touching philosophical matters or no? and if it were: How farforth it might be allowed, and within what bounds it ought to be limited? Ariston, one of the company there present: What (quoth he) and are there any persons indeed (tell me for the love of God) who deny philosophers and learned men a room at the board? Yea mary are there (my good friend, quoth I again) who not only do so, but also in good earnest and great gravity (after their ironical manner) give out and say: That philosophy, which is (as it were) the mistress of the house, ought not to be heard speaking at the board, where men are met to make merry; who commend also the manner of the Persians for good and wise, who never would seem to drink wine merrily, and until they were drunk, nor yet to dance with their wedded wives, but in the company of their concubines: for semblably, they would have us at our feasts and banquets, to bring in music, dances, plays, masks and counterfeit pleasures, but in no wise meddle with philosophy; as if she were never meet for mirth and play, nor we at such a time fit and disposed for serious study. For even so the orator Isocrates (say they) could never be brought to make any other answer to those that earnestly entreated him, and were very urgent, that he should make some good speech before them, when he and they were drinking wine, but this: The time fitteth not now for those matters which I profess, and have skill in; and of such things as this present time requireth, I am altogether unskilful. Then Crato crying out with a loud voice: Now so god Bacchus help me (quoth he) I con the man thank, and commend him highly, for refusing and (as it were) forswearing talk at table, in case he meant those long clauses and tedious trains or periods of sentences of his, wherewith he should have driven away all the Graces from the feast. But, in my conceit, it is not all one, to bavish from the board an affected speech or rhetorical language; & to chase away a philosophical discourse; for certainly, philosophy is a far different thing, which being the art professing to teach us how we are to live, there is no reason to shut the doors against her, at any game, sport, or pleasant pastime for our recreation whatsoever: for she ought to stand by, and be present at all, for to instruct us what time, what measure and mean we should observe: unless by the same rule, we will say, that we must not admit to our feasts, either Justice or Temperance, or other virtues, as scorning and scoffing (forsooth) their venerable gravity. Now, if we were to eat and drink some where in a solemn judicial hall or public place of justice, as the manner is of those who feasted Orestes, and entertained him with all silence; somewhat it were, and peradventure it might serve for some pretence or excuse (though the same were but an untoward and unhappy precedent) to colour and cloak our ignorance and incivility: but in case, Bacchus be by right surnamed Lysius or Lydius, that is to say, the Deliverer and Setter-free of all things, and principally of the tongue, from which it taketh away the bit and bridle, giving all liberty to the voice; I suppose it were mere folly and sottishness indeed, to deprive that time (which commonly is most talkative and fullest of words) of the best speeches and most fruitful discourses: It were absurd (I say) to dispute in school, what duties are to be observed at a feast; what is the office of a guest; how a man should be have himself at the table; & in what sort he ought to drink wine; and then afterwards wholly bereave all banquets and feasts of philosophy, as if she were not able to confirm that by deed, which she prescribeth and teacheth in word. And when thereupon, you inferred and said: That it was unmeet and bootless to go about for to contradict Crato in these points, but it behoved rather to study what limits to appoint, and what prescript form to set down of philosophical discourses at the table, to avoid that jest (which usually and not unpleasantly is cast forth at them, who are given litigiously to cavil, argue and dispute, when they should eat) taken out of this verse of Homer: 
For this time now to supper go ye,  
That soon twixt us a combat may be.  and with all exhorted and animated me to speak mine advice, I entered into speech and said. That first and foremost I thought it a point especially to be considered, what manner of persons are meet at a feast, and what the company is? for if there be more in number of learned men than of others at the board, such as the table was of Agathon, of Socrates, of Phaedrus, Pausanias, Eryximachus, Calhias Charmidas, Antisthenes, Hermogenes and others like unto them, suffer them we will to have philosophical talk, tempering and mixing Bacchus, (that is to say wine) no less with the muses than with the Nymphs, (that is to saywaters;) for that, as these make him to enter and go down into the body mild and gentle; so the other may cause him to be as kind, courteous, and acceptable to the mind. For if so be there are some few ignorant and unlettered persons, among many learned and skilful clerks, yet will they like unto mute letters, and consonants between vowels, participate with them in a kind of voice, not altogether inarticulate and unsignificant, yea, and learn somewhat by those means, of their skill and knowledge: but say there be a sort of rude guests, such as can abide to hear either the crowing and singing of any bird whatsoever, or the sound of any string or piece of wood, it skills not what it be, rather than the tongue of a philosopher: then were it good to practise that which Pisistratus did; who being at some debate and difference with his own children, and perceiving that his enemies were well enough contented therewith, and laughed thereat in their sleeves; called a solemn assembly, wherein he delivered this speech unto the people: That desirous he had been indeed to have drawn his children to his own opinion, but since it would not be, and seeing how obstinate they were bend, he meant to be ruled by them, and to follow their mind; even so a learned man and a philosopher being matched with other guests, that have no list at all to give ear unto his sage saws and wise words, will range himself to their side, and change his own conceit, he will I say, dance after their pipe, and take pleasure in their pastimes, so long as they exceed not the bounds of honesty and civility; as knowing thus much: That men cannot show and exercise their eloquence but in speaking, but they may declare and practise their philosophy even in silence and saying nothing; yea, and indisporting themselves with others, giving and taking pretty scoffs interchangeably. For it is not only a point (as Plato saith,) of extreme injustice, when a man is unjust, to make a semblance and show of justice, but also a kind of sovereign & principal wisdom to philosophy, & yet to seem no philosopher, & by way of game & mirth, to do the serious offices of those that are in good earnest, studious: for like as the frantic women in Euripides called Bacchaes, without arms or any weapon of iron and steel, only smiting with their little javelits or ferula-stems, wounded those that set upon them; even so the pleasant words of true philosophers indeed, cast out by way of jest, yea, and the very laughters of wise men are able to move and correct in some sort, such as are not altogether incorrigible, nor so hard as nothing will pierce and enter into them. Moreover, I suppose there be certain narrations fit to be related at a feast where men are assembled, whereof some be drawn out of written histories, others, present occasions and occurrences do daily yield, and those contain examples to incite and provoke men partly to the study of philosophy, and in part to piety, religion & devotion toward the gods: some induce us to imitate generous & magnanimous acts, others engender a fervent zeal to perform the works of bounty and humanity: which precedents, he that can closely and with dexterity use as documents and instructions to those that be drinking with them, so as they perceive him not, shall discharge the time which they drink, of many vices, and those not the least, which are imputed unto it: some there be, who put leaves of borage into their wine, others besprinkle the floors and pavements of parlours and dining-chambers with water, wherein they have infused or steeped the herbs vervain & maidenhair; having an opinion, that these devices procure some joy and mirth in the hearts of those who are at a feast; and all to imitate lady Helen, who, as Homer reporteth, with certain spices and drougues that she had medicined and charmed (as it were) the wine that her guests should drink; but they do not perceive, that this tale being fetched from as far as Egypt, after a great way and and long circuit, endeth at the last in honest discourses, fitted and accommodated to time and place: for that the said Helen recounteth unto them as they drunk with her at the table, the travels of noble Ulysses, and namely, 
What things this valiant knight had done, and what he had endured;  
What wrongs also he wrought himself, to which he was enured;  For this was that Nepenthes (if I be not deceived) a medicine which discusseth and charmeth all sorrow and pain, even a discreet speech, framed aptly and in season to the affections and occasions which are presented: but men considerate, well advised, and of good judgement, howsoever they may seem to deal in philosophy, yet they carry their words, and place them so, that they are effectual, rather by a gentle way of persuasion, than by force and violence of demonstration. For thus you see how Plato also (in the treatise called, His banquet; where he discourseth of the final end of human actions, of the sovereign good of man, and in one word, treateth of God and heavenly matters, like a divine and theologian) doth not enforce and stretch the proof of his demonstration, nor bestrew and powder as it were with dust his adversary, according to his wont manner, otherwise to take surer hold, that he might not possibly struggle out of his hands; but induceth and draweth on the hearers his guests, by a weaker kind of arguments and suppositions, by pretty examples, and pleasant sictions. Moreover, the very questions and mats at such a time and place propounded, & not only their reasons, aught to be somewhat easy, the problems and propsitions plain and familiar; the interrogations also and demands probable, and carrying a resemblance of truth, and nothing dark or intricate; lest they do perstringe and dazzle their eyes, who are not quick sighted, suffocate such as are but weak spirited, and in one word, turn them clean away, who are but shallow witted and of a mean conceit. For like as there is a custom allowable, to remove and stir (when a man will) the guests at a feast, by urging them either to dance alone, or in a ring; but he that should force them to rise from the table, for to put on armour and fight in complete harness, or to fling the bar, or cast a sledge, doth not only make the feast unpleasant and nothing acceptable to his guests, but also hurtful unto them; even so, easy and light questions, exercise men's spirits handsomely, and with great fruit and commodity; but we must reject and banish all disputations of matters litigious, intricate, and snarled (as Democritus saith) to wit, knotty questions & hard to be undone, such as both busy themselves, who propose them, and trouble those that hear them. For thus it ought to be, that as the wine is all one and common throughout the table; so the questions propounded at a feast or banquet, to be talked of, should be intelligible unto all, for otherwise, they who broach matters so dark and mystical, were as unreasonable, and should have as little regard of the common benefit of their company, as the crane, and fox in Aesop's fables, had one of the others good. For the fox having invited the crane to dinner, set before her a good mess of fatty broth, of beans and pease, which he had powered upon a broad shallow stone vessel, in such sort, as the poor crane was made a fool and laughingstock by this means, for that with her long and small bill she could get none of it up, but it went still beside, it was so thin and glibbe withal: the crane again, because she would be quit and meet with the fox, bade him to dinner, and presented unto him good victuals within a bottle, that had a long and narrow neck, at which she herself could easily convey & thrust her bill to the very bottom; but Reinardwas not able to take out his part with her; even so, when learned men at a table plunge and drown themselves (as it were) in subtle problems and questions interlaced with logic, which the vulgar sort are not able for their lives to comprehend and conceive; whiles they also again for their part come in with their foolish songs, and vain ballads, of Robin-hood and little John, telling tales of a tub, or of a roasted horse and such like; enter into talk of their traffic and merchandise, of their markers and such mechanical matters; certes all the fruit and end of such an assembly at a east is utterly lost, and were injury done to god Bacchus: for like as when Phrynicus & Aeschylus first brought a tragedy (which at the beginning was a solemn song, in the honour of Bacchus) to fables and narrations pathetical, arose this proverb: And what is all this I pray you to Bacchus? even so it comes many times into my mind to say thus unto one that draweth by head and shoulders into a feast, that sophistical and masterfull syllogism called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 My good friend, what is this to Bacchus? Haply there is some one who singeth certain of these ordinary songs at feasts, called 
* Some think they were so called, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, by the 〈◊〉: for that they were plain and easy.  Scotia, as a man would say oblique or crooked, when the great standing cup of wine is set in the mids of the table before all the company, and the chaplets of flowers divided & dealt among the guests, which that god Bacchus putteth upon our heads, to signify, that he giveth us all liberty: but surely this is neither good nor honest, ne yet beseeming that freedom which should be at feasts, howsoever some say, that those sonners are not darkly composed, as the word Scotia seemeth to imply, which signifieth crooked; but that they took the name, because in old time the guests, at first sung altogether with one voice and accord, one song in the praise of Bacchus, and afterwards every one in his turn chanted another apart; giving one to another in order from hand to hand, a branch or garland of a myrtle tree; which I suppose they called 
* Or rather 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Asaron; for that he who took the said branch was to sing in his course: and to the same purpose, a lute there was, or an harp that went round about the table; and look who could skill to play upon it, took it in hand and sung thereto in measures; but those who had no knowledge at all in music, and refused the said instrument, gave occasion of the name Scotion, because such manner of singing was not common or easy unto all: others there be who say: That the said branch of myrtle went not round about to all the guests in order, but passed from table to table, or from bed to bed; for when he that sat for most at the first table, had sung, he sent it to the principal or first man of the second, and he to the chief person of the third; and so consequently, the second did by the second; by reason whereof, and in regard of this cross and overthwart variety in the oblique revolution thereof, the song was called Scotion.   

THE SECOND QUESTION.  
Whether the master of the feast aught himself to assign unto every guest his place, or suffer them to sit as they will themselves?  
MY brother Timon having upon a time invited many persons to a feast, willed every one of them as he entered in, to take his place, and sit where he thought good himself, for that there were among them, strangers, citizens, neighbours, familiars, friends, and kinsfolk, and in one word, all that were bidden were not one man's children, but a medley and mixed number of all sorts and conditions. Now, when as they were for the most part, come already, and had taken their places, a certain stranger well appointed, like an amorous gallant in some comedy, all in his purple, excessive otherwise in curious and costly apparel, attended besided, with a train of lackeys and pages following at his heels; and in one word, better guarded than regarded, came to the door of the hall or dining-chamber, who after he had cast his eye round about, and viewed all the company how they sat at the table, would not enter in, but flung away immediately, and stayed not. Many there were who ran after him, requesting him to return and bear them company; but in no wise would he, saying. That he saw never a place left, worthy his person; which when they who were set already, understood, (and many of them had taken their drink well, and had in manner their full load) they being right glad, took up a great laughter, and with this note: 
Now farewell he, since needs he will be gone,  
Better his room, than company (quoth each one.)  but after that supper was done, my father addressing his speech unto me who sat a great way off: Timon and I (quoth he) have chosen thee for a judge, to decide a matter of some question and difference between us: for I blamed and reproved him a pretty while since, about this stranger; for if at the first, he had ordered the matter well, according as I would have had him, and bestowed every man in his own place, we should not have been condemned for our oversight and disorder in this behalf, especially by such a person who hath the skill 
Horsemen to range in comely battellray,  
And targatiers on foot, to lead the way.  For it is reported that Paulus Aemilius (him I mean, that defaited Perseus' king of Macedon, after that glorious victory) made many great and magnificent feasts; wherein (besides the wonderful furniture and provision that he ordained) he observed in all points a singular order & dispose, saying: That to one & the same man belonged the knowledge, aswell how to set out a most friendly and merry feast, as to range a most terrible battle; for both the one and the other required great discretion and good order: which was the reason that Homer the poet was wont (when he spoke of right valiant warrious and most royal personages, deserving best the highest place of command) to term them 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the disposers and setters of the people in order. Yea, and you that are philosophers, doubt not to say and affirm: That the great God of heaven (in making and creating the world) did nothing but change disorder into good order, without putting to or taking away aught that was before, by disposing and setting every thing in place, meet and convenient; and so, by giving a most beautiful form to that confused mass or Chaos in nature, which had no form at all, wrought this admirable piece of work, which we call the World. As for these great & high points indeed of doctrine, we learn them of you; but we ourselves be able to see and observe thus much; that how sumptuous soever a feast be otherwise, yet if it want good order, there is no grace or pleasure at all in it. A very ridiculous thing it is therefore, and a mere mockery, that cooks, clerks of the kitchen, and sewers, should be so careful what dishes ought to be served first, second, in the middle, or in the last place; yea, and (believe me) to look unto it very diligently, that there be a convenient place ordained for perfumes and sweet odours, when they are to be brought in; for chaplets also, and garlands, that are to be distributed & dealt about; and last of all, for a minstrel wench (if any be there) to sing & play, where she may be best heard; & in the mean while the master of the feast, suffer those who are bidden to all this, for to sit pellmell at the table at a venture, as if they came only to fill and cram their bellies, without giving (either to age, or to dignity, or to any matter of like quality) that rank and order which is fit, decent, & meet for every one: in the keeping of which discretion, the best man in the place hath his due honour in sitting highest; he that is second & inferior, is by use and custom acquainted and well contented to sit accordingly; and the usher, who hath the ordering of the matter, is well exercised, to distinguish and judge that, which is befitting every one according to his estate and degree. For it can not stand with any reason, that in the Counsel-house there should be a place known, either of sitting or standing, more or less honourable, according to the quality and dignity of the person; and that for setting men at the table, there should be the like order observed. And is it meet, that the host or master of the feast should drink to one before another, and yet have no regard at the first, in placing of his guests? putting no difference nor observing any distinction at all? making of a feast, even in the very beginning, one myconos (as they say in the common proverb) which is as much as a mish-mash and confused mingle-mangle of all. And thus much of the reasons and allegations of my father, for his plea. But Timon my brother, on the contrary side, answered: That he was not wiser than sage Bias; and considering, that he refused always to be arbitrator or umpire between two of his own friends, though they requested him; why should himself become a judge at once, among so many kinsfolk and friends, yea, and other persons beside? especially, where the question is not about money and goods, but as touching pre-eminence and superiority; as if he had sent for them all, not to be merry and make good cheer, but to disquiet them, and set them out one with another, who were good friends before? For if (quoth he) Menelaus in old time, committed one great absurdity, insomuch as there grew upon it, a proverb and byword, in that he intruded himself unsent for, into the counsel of Agamemnon? far greater reason there is, that he should be thought more absurd, who constituteth and maketh himself, of a courteous host and civil master of a feast, an austere judge and precise censurer of those that require no such matter, nor willingly desire, that one should determine and judge of them, who is the better man or the worse; seeing they are not cited peremptorily to a judicial court for trial of a controversy, but invited friendly to a good supper, for to make merry? Over and beside, no easy matter it is, to make distinction aright; for that some go before in age, others, in degree of kindred and lineage; and therefore, he that should take such a task or charge in hand, ought evermore to be studying upon the degrees of comparison, or else of the argument in logic, A comparatis, that is to say, drawn from comparison; and to have always in his hand, either the Topiques of Aristotle, or else the Precedences of Thrasymachus, a book which he entitleth Hyperbollontes, wherein a man should do no good at all; but chose much harm, by transferring the vainglory about higher place, from judicial courts, common halls and theatres, to sitting at feasts; and when he hath endeavoured to abate and repress other passions of the soul by good fellowship and company keeping, now stir up and set on foot, pride and arrogance; of which in mine advice, we ought to study more for to cleanse out souls, than to wash and scour away the dirt and silth from our feet: to the end that we may converse familiarly and fellowlike at the table, with all mirth and singleness of heart. But now, when we go about and do what we can with one hand, to take away from our guests all rancour and enmity, bred either upon anger, or some worldly affairs that they have had together, in making them eat at one table, and drink one to another, we do as much as lies in us, with the other hand to fret an old sore, and kindle a new fire of grudge and malice by ambition, in debasing one, and exalting another: but if withal, according to the preference which we have made in the placing of them, we take the cup also and drink oftener, or set better meat and daintier dishes to some than to others; if I say we make more of this man than of that, cheer one up, and speak unto him after a more familiar manner than to another; surely, in stead of a feast of friends and familiars, it will be a stately assembly altogether of lords and potentates. But if in all things else we are careful and precise in our feasts, to observe and maintain equality of persons; why begin we not at the first, in the placing of our guests, to accustom and acquaint them for to range themselves, and take their seats simply and familiarly one with another? considering at the first entrance into the hall or great chamber, they see that they were nor summoned aristocratically to a senate house of lords and great States, but invited democratically and after a popular manner to supper, where the poorest may take his place with the richest, like as in the state of a city and commonwealth, called Democraty. After these opposite reasons were alleged, and that all the company there present demanded my sentence, I said: That taking myself chosen as an arbitrator, and not as a judge, I would deal indifferently, and with an equal hand in the middle between both: As for those (quoth I) who feast young men their equals, all friends and of familiar acquaintance, they ought to accustom them (as Timon saith) to carry themselves so void of pride and arrogance, that they may take contentment in any place whatsoever that falleth out unto them; and to think this facility & singleness of heart, to be a singular means and provision for the feeding and nourishing of amity: but in case the question be of entertaining strangers, or worshipful personages of high calling & great place in commonweal, or of elder persons; I fear me, that as we shut out at one door in the forefront pride and arrogance, so we let it in at another back-gate behind, by our indifference and making no distinction. Herein therefore we ought to give somewhat unto use and custom, or else we must altogether forbear all manner of cheering up, drinking to, and saluting of our guests, which fashions we use not without judgement and discretion hand over head, to such as we meet with or see first; but with as great regard and respect as we can, honouring them according to their worth and quality: 
With highest place, with viands of the best,  
With most cups full, and those not of the least.  as said Agamemnon that great king of the Greeks, putting as you see the seat in the first and chief place of honour. We commend also king Alcinous, for that he placed the stranger who came in, next unto himself, 
And caused his son Laodama, a gallant, for that guest  
To rise, who close to father sat, and whom he loved best.  For to displace a best beloved son, and in his room to set an humble suppliant, was a singugular example of rare courtesy, and humanity. And verily the gods themselves do observe this distinction of place, and of sitting: for Neptune although he came last into the assembly of the gods in counsel, 
Yet took his own place for all that,  
And in the mids of them he sat.  as being the seat which of right appertained unto him. And Minerva seemeth always to challenge as proper and peculiar to her above all others, the very next place to Jupiter: which the poet Homer doth after a sort covertly insinuate unto us, speaking of dame Thetis in this manner: 
By Jupiter she sat, of special grace  
And favour; For Minerva gave her place.   
But Pindarus signifieth as much in express terms when he saith: 
To lightning next that flasheth fire  
Sat Pallas, close unto her sire.   
Howbeit, Timon said: That we ought not to take from others, for to gratify and pleasure one; and take he doth away, who maketh that vulgar and common, which by right is proper; & proper there is nothing, more than that which is meet and be fitting the dignity of each person: moreover, in giving that superiority and pre-eminence to running fast, and making most haste, which is done unto virtue, kindred, magistracy, and such other qualities, in seeming to avoid the opinion of being odious or offensive, to his bidden guests, he draweth upon himself, so much more trouble and heartburning of others; for he offendeth them in depriving every one of that honour which he deserveth, or is wont to have. For mine own part, I do not think if so hard a piece of work to make this distinction, as he would have it to be: for first and foremost, it is not ordinary nor often seen, that many men of like degree and dignity, are bidden to one and the same feast; beside, being as there are, many honourable places, a man of judgement and discretion, hath good means to dispose of them accordingly, among many, if there be occasion: for one of them he may content in setting him highest and above the rest; another he may please with a place in the midst; to one he may do the favour, as to set him next unto himself; another he may gratify by placing him close to some friend or familiar of his, or else fast by his master and teacher: in this order, I say, he may satisfy many of them who seem to be of better reputation, in distributing the places also which are of more respect among them; as for the rest, I leave them means also for their contentment; namely certain gifts, savours, courtesies, and kindnesses, which may in some sort make amends for the want of some honourable place. But say, that their deserts and dignities be hard to be distinguished, or the persons themselves not easy to be pleased; mark what a device I have in such a case to serve the turn: My father (if he be present) I take by the hand, and set him in the most honourable place of all; if not, I do the same by my grandsire, my wife's father, or mine uncle by the father's side, or my colleague and companion in office, or else my fellow-senatour and brother-alderman, or some one of those who hath some special and inward prerogative above others of honour and account, with the master of the feast himself, that biddeth the guests; taking this for a rule in the cases borrowed out of the books of Homer, which are precedents of duties, and show what is beseeming every man to do; and namely, in that place where Achilles seeing Menelaus and Antilochus debating the matter very hotly, about the second prize for horserunning, and doubting how farforth their anger and contention might proceed, would needs give the said prize in question, to a third man; pretending in word, that he took pity of Eumelus, and that he was minded to do him some honour; but indeed and truth, it was to take away the occasion of difference and quarrel between the other two. As I was thus speaking, Lamprias, who was set close in an odd corner of the chamber, upon a low pallet, thundering out his words after his wont manner, demanded of the assistance or company, in this wise: My masters, pleaseth it you to give me leave for to reprove and rebuke a little, this sottish judge here? and when every one made answer, saying: Good leave have you, speak your mind freely, & spare him not: And who can (quoth he) forbear that philosopher, who setteth out and disposeth of the places at a feast, like as he would do in some theatre, namely, according to birth and parentage, wealth and rilches, estate and authority in common wealth? yea, and as if he ordained the seats and sitting places, for to opine or give voice in that solemn assembly of the States of Greece, called Amphictyones? to the end, that even at the very table, where as we are met to drink wine and be merry, we should not be rid of ambition, nor shake off the foolish desire of glory: for surely, the places at a feast ought not to be distributed so, as respective to honour, but rather to the ease and pleasure of the guests that are to sit in them; neither is the dignity of each one by himself in his degree to be regarded, but rather, the affection, disposition and habitude of the mind one to another, how they can sort and frame together; like as our manner is to do in some other things which are to meet in one common conjunction: for a good architect or mason will not (I trow) lay his first work or forefront of the house, with Attic or Lacedaemonian marble, before the Barbarian stone, because the same is in some sort of a noble kind, and coming from the worthier place; neither will a cunning painter dispose his richest and most costly colour in the principal place of his picture; nor the carpenter or shipwright, employ before all other timber in the stem of his ship, either the pine three wood of Pathmos in Peloponnesus, or the cypress of Candie: but so they order and distribute, their stone, their colours and their timber, that being 〈◊〉 and sitted well together one with another, the common work arising of them all, may be more firm and strong, fair and beautiful, good and commodious. And thus you see, God himself, whom our poet Pindarus calleth the best workman and principal artisan, doth not place the fire always aloft, nor the earth below, but according as the use of bodies compounded doth require; like as Empedocles testifieth in these verses: 
The oysters, murets of the sea, and shellfish every one,  
With massy coat, the tortoise eke with crust as hard as stone,  
And vaulted back, which arch-wise he aloft doth hollow rear,  
Show all, that heavy earth they do above their bodies bear.  not in that place which nature ordained for it in the first constitution and framing of the universal world, but in that which the composition of a new work requireth: for disorder and confusion is bad enough in all things; but when it cometh among men, especially when they are drinking and eating together, it showeth her badness most of all, by insolency, outrasges and other enormities that can not be numbered; which to foresee and remedy, is the part of a man industruous, well seen in policy, good order and harmony. And that is well said of you (answered we) but why envy you to this company that science of order, proportion and harmony, and do not communicate it unto us? Surely there is no envy at all (quoth he) in the way, in case ye will believe me and be ruled by me, in that which I do change and alter in the order of the feast, like as you would be directed by Epaminondas, if he should range a battle in good order, which before was in disarray. We all agreed and gave him leave so to do: then he voiding first out of hall or dining-place all the boys and lackeys, cast his eye upon every one of us in the face, and said: Harken and give ear, how I mean to range and sort you one with another; for I would advertise you of it beforehand, because I am of this mind, that the Theban Pammenes, justly and upon good reason reproved Homer, saying that he had no skill at all in 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  love-matters, for that he ranged together in battle those who were of one and the same nation, and mingled such as were of the same race, lineage and blood; whereas he should have joined the lover, and the beloved, to the end that the whole battle might be incited by one spirit, and draw in the same line, as linked by a lively bond. Semblably, will I do in this feast of ours, not coupling at the table, one man with another; nor matching a young man with a young man; ne yet setting a magistrate or a ruler just by another; no, nor two friends together: for surely such an ordering as this, hath no life in it, no vigour and power at all, either to breed and imprint, or to nourish and augment the heat of mutual benevolence and affection of one to another; but framing and applying to that which hath need, the thing that is sit and proper thereto, I would have a student to sit next unto a learned man; a mild and gentle person, unto one that is hard to be pleased; to an old prating fellow who loves to hear himself speak, a youth who is desirous to hear, I would place a boasting and glorious bragger, with a dry child and soothing companion; with a testy and clerike man, one who is silent or of few words: if I see a rich or mighty parsonage, and withal, bountiful and free of gift, I will fetch out of one corner or other, some poor honest body to be his next-neighbour, to the end that from him (as out of a full cup) there might overflow some goodness, into another which is void and empty: but I will be very wary and circumspect, that I do not sort two orators or professed rhetoricians together, nor match one poet with another; for according to the proverbial verse: 
Abegger can no beggar well abide,  
And chanter one by another is envied.  Howsoever these two here Sosicles and Modesus, confirming in alternative course the speeches one of another: 
Blow not the coals that ready are to die,  
But just accord together most friendly.  I sever also a sunder busy and trouble some persons, such as take one another by the throat, injurious folk, testy and choleric men; interposing always some mild and modest nature between, as a emollisive of their hardness, for fear they should crush and bruise one another: chose, I bring together, such as love wrestling and other exercises of the body, hunters also, and those that profess husbandry: for of similitudes and resemblances, two sorts there be; the one quarrelous and given to fight, as that of cocks; the other loving and amiable, as that of jays or daws. Also those that be good companions, and can drink well, I use to set and match close together; yea and amorous folk: 
Not only those who feel hot fanfies prick  
To boys, and of love masculine are sick.  As Sophocles saith, but such also as are pinched with the love of wives and maidens; for that being heat and enchaufed with the same fire, they will catch and take hold the sooner one of another; like as pieces of iron that cleave and be united together, when they be red hot; provided always, that their love do not settle in one place, whether it be male of semale.   

THE THIRD QUESTION.  
What is the reason, that the place at the table named Consular, is held honourable?  
AFter this, there arose a question as touching the places of sitting at a table; for that some are reputed honourable in one country, and some in another. Among the Persians, the middle place is accounted best; for therein sitteth the king: In Greece the first is held chief and principal: and the Romans make most regard of the last in the middle pallet or table; and this commonly is called the Consular place; whereas chose, certain Greeks that inhabit the country about Pontus, & namely those of Heraclea, reckon the first of the said middle pallet, the highest place of honour: but we made most doubt of the the said place called Consular: for the same was in our time also counted honourable; but not in regard, that it was either the foremost or the mids; and beside, of the accidental qualites observed therein, some were not proper and peculiar to it alone, and others seemed to be of no importance at all: howbeit, three reasons alleged there were, which seemed somewhat to move and induce us above the rest: the first was this: That the consuls having deposed and expelled the kings of Rome, and changed all into a more popular estate, withdrew themselves from the royal place in the mids, to a lower room, to the end, that by quitting and foregoing the place which to them appertained, they might avoid all occasions of making their power and authority odious unto those that conversed with them. Secondly, that seeing the two first tables or pallets being destined and appointed for the guests invited, the third, and namely the first place thereof, belonged properly to him who made the feast; for there sitteth he most commodiously, in manner of a coachman in a chariot, or pilot in a ship; to see the whole order of the service: neither is he far from other tables, but that he may cheer up & welcome all the company: for, of the places near unto him, that underneath is appointed usually for his wife or children; and that above, ordinarily and by good right, was allowed for the most honourable parsonage of all them that were bidden, to the end, that he might sit near unto the master of the feast. Thirdly, this place seemed to have this property by itself, that it was thought commodious for such as were employed and had any affairs in hand. For the Roman consul was nothing like unto Archias sometime the captain general of the Thebans; who if there had been brought unto him any letters, news, or advertisement of importance, in the mids of supper time; or if there fell out any serious occasions, would cry out aloud and say: To morrow morning will we think of earnest matters; the packet of letters he laid aside, and in stead thereof, took a bowl of wine in hand: the Roman consul (I say) was not such an one, but even at these times especially he is most vigilant, and looketh circumspectly about him, for not only according to the common proverb in Aeschylas: 
The night always even to a pilot wise  
Breeds woe, for fear lest tempest; should arise.  But also amid all pleasures, feasts, and pastimes, is is requisite in a wise captain, and man of government, that he always stand upon his guard, and carry a watchful eye about him; to the end therefore that he might evermore be ready to understand all occurrents, to command also, direct, sign., or subscribe if need required: this place was allotted unto him of purpose above the rest: wherein, by reason that the second table stood close joined to the first, the corner within the turning, leaveth a space open, or void distance, giveth room and means very handsomely for a secretary, a notary, a sergeant, or apparitar, a pencioner, or one of the guard, yea & to any messenger or pursuivant coming from the camp, to approach near unto the consul, to declare his message, to ask any question, or to commune & confer with him, & that without troubling any body, or being molested by any person there met at the feast or banquet: for both his hand is his own and at command, and also his voice at liberty, to say and do whatsoever he would.   

THE FOURTH QUESTION.  
What manner of man he ought to be, who is chosen master of the feast?  
CRato my son in law, and Theon our familiar friend, being with us at a certain feast; where there began some misrule and disorder, upon large drinking of wine, which notwithstanding was soon appeased, took occasion thereby, to speak of the mastery and presidency of such feasts observed in old time, being of this opinion, and saying (withal to me) That I ought to wear a chaplet of flowers on my head, and not suffer the ancient custom of creating a king or governor of the feast, who is to give order in all things, and to see there be no misrule, by disuse and discontinuance to be utterly neglected and abolished; but rather that I ought to bring that laudable order up again, and put it in practice. Of the same mind was the whole company, and liked very well of the motion; insomuch as they all with a loud voice and one accord, requested me to take the thing upon me: Seeing then (quoth I) that you be all of this mind, I am content to choose myself precedent, and master of this feast: and here to begin withal, I give commandment to all the rest, that for this present they drink at their own discretion, and as it pleaseth themselves: as for Crato and Theon, who were the first that set this matter on foot, I will by virtue of my office and place, enjoin them summarily and in few words, to declare here before us, what manner of person ought to be chosen for the precedent, and master of such a feast, and what he must aim at, when he is elected; as also how he is to carry himself towards those who have made choice of him; and this charge I lay upon them two, permitting them to divide it between them, and to handle it according to their good discretion. At the first, they made some semblance of refusal, praying me to hold them excused: howbeit when they saw the whole company crying upon them for to obey the precedent; Crato began first & said: That as the captain of the guard or watch, ought himself especially to be a most diligent & vigilant warder, according to the saying of Plato; even so should he who hath the command of guests met together for to make merry, be himself of all other a right good fellow, and a cheerful companion; and such an one he shall be, in case he be neither one that will quickly be cupshotten, and overseen with wine; nor yet untoward and unwilling to drink liberally; much like as Cyrus wrote sometime unto the Lacedæmonians: That as in all other points he was more worthy to be a king than his brother; so in this respect especially, that he would take his wine in greater measure, and bear the same better than he: for he that will be soon drunk, groweth insolent, unseemly, and outrageous in his drunkenness: and he again, who is too too sober, and abstinent altogether, becometh unpleasant and unsociable, meeter indeed to be a schoolmaster, and to have the bringing up of boys, than a precedent of a feast, to order guests. Pericles, so oft as he was chosen captain general of the Athenians; no sooner put on his mantle of estate, and was ready to set forward, but before any thing else, used thus to say unto himself, as it were to refresh his memory by way of admonition: Look about thee now Pericles; thou hast the command of free men; thou commandest now the Greeks; nay thou art commander of the Athenians; even so should our master of a feast reason thus within himself: Thou hast the rule now of friends; to the end that he neither permit them to do any unseemly or dishonest thing; nor bereave them of their delights and pleasures; for as he ought to be friendly affected unto them in their serious occasious, so he must be no enemy to their sports and pastimes, but framed indifferently, and as it were well tempered for the one and the other; & yet by his natural disposition, he should, like good wine, be somewhat more inclined unto a kind of hardness or austerity: for by this means the wine which he drinketh, will reduce his manners and behaviour to a mean or mediocrity, by moistening as it were and softening it, that it may be more gentle and pliable: for as Xenephon said: That the sad cheer, heavy and rustical severity otherwise of Clearchus, seemed to be more lightsome and pleasant in battle and conflict, by reason of his resolute confidence; even so, he who is by nature not bitter nor crabbed, but only grave and severe, by drinking, becometh more remiss, and not so strait laced; and by that means more lovely and amiable also. And thus much of his own person.  
Moreover, he ought above all things, to know by experience, every one of the guests: what alteration there is wrought in them by drinking? into what accidents or passions they be ready to fall; and how they can bear strong wine? for we are not to think, but if there be a proper temperature and several mixture with water fit for every sort of wine; which kings tasters, and cupbearers know well enough, and in that regard can discern and distinguish, when they are to use more or less water to the delaying of wines; there is more reason that there should be a temperature likewise of man and wine, which our master or precedent of a feast ought to know, and when he knoweth it, to observe; that like an expert musician, by stretching as it were & setting up one, a note higher, in making him to drink largely, and letting down another by causing him as much to spare, he may bring and reduce different natures unto an uniform equality & consonance, not measuring the same by weight & measure, pints or quarts, not by so many cups or glasses, but going by a certain rule of time and age, as also by the shength of the body, giving to each one that which is meet and convenient. Now if peradventure this seem an hard piece of work, namely, to know all these particularities; yet meet it is at least wise that he should be skilful in generality, as touching several complexions & ages: as for example; that old folk are sooner and more easily made drunk than young persons; those that be stirring and continual motion, rather than such as be in repose and rest; sad, heavy, pensive, and melancholic men, more than those who are jocund and merry; lastly, those who are chaste, or use women modestly, much more than such as be dissolute or excessively given that way. He that is thus far forth acquainted with these circumstances, may be a meeter and fitter person a great deal to maintain decency, order, and agreement at a feast, than he who is ignorant therein. Furthermore, what is he who knoweth not very well, that the master of a feast ought to be well affected, and to carry a loving mind unto all those who are invited to a feast; to carry neither open malice, nor secret grudge to any one of them: for otherwise, if he commandeth aught, it will not be well taken; if he distribute and deal amongst them, he shall not be thought equal and indifferent; last of all, if he be disposed to mirth and jollity, he shall hardly escape a rebuke and blame. Lo, Theon, what manner of precedent and master (quoth Crato) I have framed unto you by words, as if he were wrought out of wax, and him I deliver into your hands. Then answered Theon: And I receive him from you so much the rather, as one shaped and fashioned indeed for a right governor of a feast, and a good companion beside: but whether I shall ever use him or no, or whether in so doing I shall shame my self; I wot not: howbeit, this I am assured of, that if he be such an one as you have described, he will know how to order & govern a feast, & not suffer that one while it seem a solemn assembly of a city, another while a school of rhetoric, now a knot of diceplaiers or cheaters met together, and anon a scaffold forsooth for dancers and singers, or a stage for players and commedians: this I say, for that you see ordinarily some making orations, and pleading at the table, as it were in the court, or at the bar before judges; others exercising themselves how to speak in public, or else rehearsing and reading certain of their own compositions; and others again taking upon them like judges of dancers and stage players, who do best for to win the prize; and yet this is not the worst: for Alcibiades and Theodorus made of Politions feast, a very place of divine mysteries, representing there the solemn carrying of torches and other ceremonies, at the showing of some sacred relics; which I would not have a good master and precedent of a feast to be so careless as to abide; but to allow place and time for such talk, such spectacles, sights, plays, and pastimes only, which tend to that end for which feasts be made; that is to say, to breed and augment amity between them that are present, by the means of the delight they take in eating together; for that in truth, a feast is nothing else but a pleasant recreation at the table, aiming at this mark, to contract friendship by the intercourse of mutual drinking one to the other.  
But for as much as in all things, variety is very pleasing, and nature joieth in nothing more than in diversity and change; but chose, a simple uniformity always, one and the same, is hurtful, and bringeth tediousness with it incontinently; whereas the mixture of diverse things applied in time and place with measure, taketh that away which is offensive to pleasure, and hurtful to profit: therefore the master of a feast must devise for his guests, and exhibit unto them some mixed sport to pass away the time whiles they be drinking. I have heard many men say, that to walk by the sea side, as also to sail along the shore, is most pleasant; and even so a man must join always sport with serious affairs, and profit with pleasure, to the end that those who play, may in some sort be in good earnest; and likewise, when they be busy in serious matters, find some recreation; like as those who are seasick, and ready ever & anon to cast up their stomach, recover their spirits and are revived, when they see how they be near the land; even so a man may profit in mirth and laughter; he may likewise laugh and be merry in profit, and make his serious affairs pleasant enough; for as the old proverb goeth: 
With calthrop thistles, and among the pricky restharrow,  
The violets and soft walflowers are always wont to grow.  But as for all other sports & plays, which without any profit at all, leap impudently into feasts, he shall command his guests expressly, to forbear, lest ere they be aware, they become outrageous and furious, like as those who have taken the juice of henbane: they also abuse their power, & go too far in their commandments, (for so they be called at the wine) who enjoin stutters, stammerers and mafflers to sing, or baldpates to comb their heads, or lame cripples to go upright on their feet without halting. Thus upon a time at a certain merry meeting and feast, where Agamesor the Academic philosopher was, who had a withered leg, and nothing left thereof but skin and bone, all the company (by way of mockery) insulted upon him, and made a law among themselves, that they should stand all upon their right leg, and every one drink his bowl of wine, or else pay a certain piece of money, as a forfeiture: now when it came to Agamesors turn, by right to command, he charged them all to drink in that sort and manner, as they saw him to drink: then called he for an empty earthen pitcher with a narrow mouth, to be brought into the place; into which when he had thrust his poor consumed leg aforesaid, he drunk up his cup of wine; and when all the rest had assayed, and found they could not do as he did, were all forced to pay the forfeit. Herein was Agamesor to be commended: for after his manner, the master of a feast ought to be revenged, in a kind of mirth and gentle sort; also to accustom himself to such commandments, as tend to pleasure and profit both, charging each one to do those things which be proper, possible and easy for him, and yet may commend the doer: as for example, to impose upon them who have good voices, and be professed musicians, to sing; orators and rhetoricians, to declaim; philosophers, to assoil dark questions, and clear ambiguities; and poets, to pronounce some of their verses; for every one of these, joieth and taketh pleasure, to be put to that 
Wherein he knoerd he can do well,  
And other men far doth excel.   
There was some a king of the Assyrians, who by voice of heralds, and sound of trumpet, proclaimed a great prize and reward to him that could devise a new kind of pleasure: but the king and governor of a feast, should do very well, to propose an honourable reward unto him, that could invent an honest game or pastime, wherein were no insolency, some delight or disport profitable, and procure laughter not accompanied with wanton reproof and scornful reproach, but such as carrieth a grace and pleasure with it: for this is it wherein most part of feasts suffer shipwreck, namely, when they are misgoverned, or not ordered as they ought to be. But the part it is of a wise and prudent man, to know how to avoid enmity and anger in the marketplace, gotten by avarice; in the public halls of bodily exercises, by contention and emulation; in bearing offices and suing for them, by ambition and vainglory; and last of all, in feasts and banquets, by such plays and pastimes.   

THE FIFTH QUESTION.  
What is meant by this common proverb: Love teacheth music and poetry.  
THe question was moved one day in Sossius Sesnerius house, after certain verses of Sapph were chanted, how this saying of Euripides should be understood: 
Love teacheth music, mark when you will,  
Tough one before, thereof had no skill.  considering that the poet Philoxenus reporteth, how Cyclops Polyphemus the giant, cured his love by the sweet tongued muses? Whereupon it was alleged, that Love is of great power to move a man for to be bold, hardy and adventurous, yea, and ministereth a readiness to attempt all novelties, according as Plato named it, the enterpriser of all things; for it maketh him talkative and full of words, who before was silent; it causeth the bashful and modest person, to court it, and put himself forward in all manner of service; it is the means that an idle careless lubber, and a negligent, becometh diligent and industrious; and that which a man would most marvel at, a miching hard-head and mechanical penifather, if he fall once to love, doth relent and wax soft as iron in the fire, and so proveth more liberal, courteous and kind, than ever before: so that this pleasant and merry proverb, seemeth not to be altogether ridiculous & impertinent, namely: that Love's purse is tied & knit up with a leek or porret blade. Moreover, it was there spoken: That Love resembled drunkenness, for that the one aswell as the other, doth set folk in a heat; it maketh them cheerful, merry and jocund; and when as men be come once to that, they fall soon to sing, to rhyme, and make verses. And it is said, that the poet Aeschylus composed his tragedies, when he had well drunken, and was heat with wine. I had a grandfather also myself, named Lamprias, who seemed always more learned, witty, and fuller of inventions, yea, and to surpass himself in that kind, when he had taken his cups liberally; and he was wont to say: That at such a time he was like unto incense, which being set on fire, rendereth the sweet odour that it hath. Moreover, they that take exceeding great pleasure to see their loves, are no less affected with joy when they do praise them, than in looking upon them: for love, as it is in every thing a great prattler, and full of words; so especially and most of all, in praises: insomuch, as lovers would willingly persuade others to that, wherein they are themselves persuaded first; namely, that they love nothing but that which is perfect in goodness and beauty; and others they would have to be witnesses with them of it. This was it, that induced the Lydian king Candaules, to draw and train Gyges' into his bedchamber, for to see the beauty of his wife naked: for why? such are willing to have the testimony of others. Lo, what the reason is, that if they write the praises of that which they love, they embellish and adorn the same with verses, songs and meeter, like as images with gold; to the end that the said praises might be heard more willingly, and remembered better by more people: for if they bestow a fighting-cocke, an horse, or any other thing whatsoever, upon those whom they love, their mind is principally, that this their present should be fair and beautiful in itself; afterwards, that it be most gallantly and in best manner set out; but above all, in case they be disposed to flatter them in words or writings, their chief care is, that the same run roundly and pleasantly, that they be also glorious and beautified with fine figures, such as is ordinarily the style of poets. Then Sossius approving well of these reasons, said moreover: That it were well, if some would take in hand to draw and gather arguments out of that which Theophrastus left in writing, as touching music: For long it is not (quoth he) since I read over that book; wherein he delivereth thus much after a divine manner: That three principal causes or roots there be of music, to wit, pain or grief, pleasure or joy, and the ravishment of the spirit; of which three, every one doth bend and turn the voice a little out of the ordinary tune: for griefs and sorrows, usually bring with them, moans and plaints, which quickly run into song; which is the reason that we see orators in the perorations or conclusions of their speeches, the actors also in tragedies, when they come to make their doleful lamentations, bring their voices down gently to a kind of melody, and by little and little tune them (as it were) thereto. Also the great and vehement joys of the mind do lift up all the body, of them especially, who are any thing lightsome by nature, yea, and provoke the same to leap, skip, and clap their hands, observing a kind of motion according to number and measure, if they can not dance: 
And otherwise in furious sort,  
Like frantic folk they do disport;  
They shake, they wag, they set out throat,  
And send out many a foolish note.  according as Pindarus saith. But in case they be somewhat more grave and stayed, than others, when they find themselves moved with such a passion of joy, they let their voice only go at liberty, speaking aloud and singing sonnets. But above all, the ravishment of the spirit, or that divine inspiration, which is called Enthusiasmus, casteth body, mind, voice and all, far beyond the ordinary habit; which is the cause, that the furious and raging priests of Bacchus, called Bacchaes, use rhyme & meeter; those also, who by a prophetical spirit, give answers by oracle, deliver the same in verse; and few persons shall a man see stark mad, but among their raving speeches, they sing and say some verses. This being so, if you would now display love, and view it well, being unfolded and laid open abroad, hardly shall you meet with another passion, which hath either sharper dolours, or joys more violent or greater exstasies and ravishments of the spirit, lying (as it were) in a trance; so that a man may discover in amorous persons, a soul much like unto that city which Sophocles describeth: 
Full of songs and incense sweet,  
Of sighs and groans in every street.  No marvel is it therefore, nor a strange thing; if love (containing & comprehending in itself all those primitive causes of music, to wit, dolour, joy, and ravishment of spirit, be likewise in all other things diligent, industrious, talkative, and namely, inclined to making of verses and chanting songs as much or rather more, than any other passion which can enter into the heart of man.   

THE six QUESTION.  
Whether king Alexander of Macedon were a great drinker.  
THere was some speech upon a time, as touching king Alexander the Great, to this effect: That he drank not so much, as sat long at his meat, and passed the time away, in devising and talking with his friends: but Philinus showed by certain scrolls, papers, and day-books of the said king's house, that they who held that opinion, knew not well what they said; for that this particular instance was ordinarily and usually found in those records: That such a day the king slept all day long, upon his liberal drinking of wine; yea, and otherwhiles it appeareth, that he slept the morrow after likewise; which is the reason, that he was not so forward in venerous matters, nor given much to women, though otherwise he was hasty, quick and courageous; great arguments of an inward heat of body: and it is to be seen upon record: That his flesh yielded from it, and breathed a passing sweet smell; insomuch as his shirts and other clothes were full of an aromatical sent and savour, as if they had been perfumed; which seemeth also to be an argument and sign of heat. For we see, that those be the hottest & driest countries, which bring forth cinnamon and frankincense, according as Theophrastus saith: That a sweet odour proceedeth of perfect concoction and digestion of humours; namely, when by natural heat, all superfluous moisture is quite chased and expelled. And by all likelihood, this was the principal cause, that calisthenes grew into disgrace, and lost the king's favour; for that he was unwilling to sup with him, in regard that he would impose upon him to drink so much. For it is reported, that upon a time, the great bowl or goblet, surnamed, Alexander's bowl, having passed round about the table throughout, until it came to calisthenes, he refused it, and put it back; saying withal: I will not drink in Alexander, for to have need of Aesculapius. And thus much was said then concerning king Alexander's much wine-bibbing.  
Moreover, king Mithridates, he who warred against the Romans, among other games of prize which he exhibited, ordained one for those who could drink best and eat most; and by men's saying, himself performed them both so well, that he won the prize in the one and the other: for he could eat and drink more than any man living in his time: by occasion whereof, he was commonly surnamed Dionysus, that is to say, Bacchus. But as touching the reason of this surname, we say it is an opinion rashly received: for when he was a very infant lying in the cradle, the lightning caught the swaddling clothes, and set them on fire, but never touched or hurt his body, save only that there remained a little mark of the fire upon his forehead, which notwithstanding the hair did cover that it was not greatly seen, so long as he was a child: again, when he was a man grown, it chanced that the lightning pierced into the bed chamber where he lay asleep; and for his own person it was not so much as singed therewith; but it blasted a quiver of arrows that hung at his bedside, went through it, and burned the arrows within; which (as the soothsayers and wise men out of their learning did intepret) signified, that one day he should be puissant in archers and light armed men. But most men affirm, that he got his surname of Bacchus, or Dionysus, in regard of the resemblance and likeness of such accidents of lightning, and blasting, as many times befall.  
After these words passed, they entered into a speech as touching great drinkers; among whom was reckoned also one Heraclides, a famous wrestler, or champion, whom the men of Alexandria in our father's days, pleasantly called little Hercules. This good fellow when he could not meet with a companion able to set foot to his, and drink with him continually; used to invite some to break their fast with him in a morning; others to bear him company at dinner; some he would bid to supper; and entreat others last of all to sit with him at his collation or banquet after supper: now when the first were gone, came in the second immediately; than you should have the third succeed them in place; and no sooner were they departed, but in steps the fourth crew, without any interruption; and he himself sat it out still, and making no intermission, was able to hold out with all, and bear those four repasts and refections, one after another. Among those who were familiarly acquainted with Drusus, son to the emperor Tibetius, a physician there was, who in drinking would challenge and defy all the world: but observed it was by some that spied and looked near unto him: That to prevent drunkenness, he used to take always five or six bitter almonds before every cup that he drunk: and when he was once debarred of them, and not suffered so to do, he was not able to bear his drink nor resist the least headiness and strength thereof. And verily some there be who say, that these almonds have an abstersive property to bite, to cleanse and scour the flesh, in such sort, as that they will take away the spots and freckles of the visage; by reason of which quality, when they be taken afore drink, with their bitterness they fret the pores of the skin, and leave the impression of a certain biting behind them, by means whereof, there ensueth a certain revulsion downward from the head of those vapours which fly up thither, and so evaporate away through the said pores. But for mine own part, I am of this opinion rather, that their bitterness hath a virtue to dry up and spend humours: which is the reason that of all vapours, the bitter is most unpleasant and disagreeable to the taste: for that indeed as Plato saith, consuming moisture (as it doth) by means of the dryness which it hath, it doth unnaturally bind and draw in, the little veins of the tongue, which of themselves be soft, and spungeous: after the same manner men use to restrain such wounds or ulcers which be moist, with medicines, or salves composed of bitter drougues, according as the poet Homer testisieth in these verses: 
A bitter root he bruised with hands, and laid upon the sore,  
To take the anguish clean away, that it might ache no more:  
And so, applied when it was, all pains were soon allayed,  
The running ulcer dried anon, and flux of blood was stayed.  He said well and truly, of that which is in taste bitter: That it hath a virtue & property to dry. And it should seem also, that the powders which women strew upon their bodies for to repress diaphoneticall and extraordinary sweets, be by nature bitter and astringent; so forcible is their bitterness to bind and restrain; which being so, great reason there is, (I say) that bitter almonds should have power to withstand the strength of mere wine, considering they dry the body within, and will not permit the veins to be full, upon the tention and commotion whereof (they say) drunkenness doth proceed: and for evident proof of this, there may be a good argument gathered from that which befalleth foxes; who having eaten bitter almonds, is they drink not presently upon them, die therewith, by reason that all their humours suddenly are spent and consumed.   

THE SEVENTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause that old folk take greater delight in pure and strong wine, than others.  
THere arose a question about old persons, what the reason might be, that they loved better to drink wine without water, or at the leastwise delayed but a little? Some alleged the habit of their bodies, being cold, and hard to be set into an heat: in regard whereof, the strength of wine was meet and agreeable to their temperature: a reason very common and ready at hand; but surely, neither sufficient for to be the cause of such an effect, nor yet simply true; for the same hapueth to their other senses, as being hard to be moved and affected; yea and nothing easy to be stirred, for to apprehend the qualities thereto belonging, unless the same be passing strong and vehement; whereof the true cause indeed is this: that their temperature being weak, dull, and feeble, loveth to be put in mind by knocking upon; and this is the cause, that for their taste they delight in such sapours as be biting; their smelling likewise standeth even so to odours that be strong, for affected it is with more pleasure in such as be not tempered nor delayed: as for the sense of touching, they feel no great pain of ulcers and sores; and if it happen that they be wounded, their hurt and harm is not so great: the same befalleth to their hearing, for their ears be in manner deaf: and hereupon it is that musicians as they grow in years and wax aged, strain and raise their voice in singing so much the higher and louder, as if they stirred up the organs of hearing by the vehement force of the sound; for look what is steel to the edge and temper of iron for cutting; the same is spirit to the body, for sense and feeling: and when it begins once to slack, fail, and decay, the sense likewise and the instruments thereof become dull, heavy and earthly, having need of some such quick thing to prick it in good earnest as strong wine is.   

THE EIGHTH QUESTION.  
How it comes to pass, that old folk read better afar off than near at hand.  
AGainst those reasons which we devised and alleged upon the subject matter and point in hand, it seemed that there might be opposed the eyesight; for that elder persons, for to read any thing the better, remove the letters farther from their eyes; and in truth can not well read near at hand: which the poet Aeschylus seemeth covertly to imply, and show unto us in these verses: 
Know him thou canst not, if near he stand to thee,  
A good old scribe thou mayst much sooner be.  And Sophocles more plainly testifieth as much, when he writeth of old folk in this wise: 
The voice to them arrives not readily,  
And hardly thorough their ears the way can find,  
Their eyes do see far off confusedly,  
But near at hand, they all be very blind.  If then it be so, that the senses of aged persons, and the instruments serving thereto, are not willingly obeisant to their proper objects, unless the same be strong and vehement; what should the cause be, that in reading, they can not endure the reverberation of the light from letters, if they be near? but setting the book farther off from their eyes, they do by that means enfeeble (as it were) that light, for that it is spread and dissipate in the air, like as the strength of wine when it is tempered with water? To this problem, some answered thus: That they remove books and letters far from their eyesight, not because they would make the said light more mild or less radiant; but chose, for that they are desirous to catch and gather more splendour, and to fill the mean interval (which is between the eye and the letter) with lightsome and shining air. Others accorded with those, who hold, that the eyes do send out of them, certain rays; for by reason that aswell from the one eye as the other, a pyramidal beam doth issue, the point whereof is in the sight of the eye, and the basis doth comprehend the object that is seen; probable it is, that both these pyramids go forward apart one from the other a good space and distance, but after they be a great way off, and come to encounter one another, and be confounded together, they make but one entire light: and this is the reason, that albeit the eyes are twain, yet every thing that we see, appeareth one, and not two; for that (in truth) the meeting and shining together of those two pyramids in common, do make of two sights, but one. This being presupposed and set down, old men approaching near to letters, comprehend the same more feebly, in regard that the pyramidal beams of their eyes are not yet joined and met together, but each of them reach to the objects apart; but if they be farther off, so that the said pyramids may be intermingled, they see more perfectly; much like to them, who with both hands can clasp and hold that, which they are not able to do with one alone.  
Then my brother Lamprias opposed himself against all this; and as one who had not read the book of Hieronymus, but even upon the pregnancy and quickness of his wit, seemed to render another reason; namely: That we see by the means of certain images arising from the objects or visible things, which at the first be big, and for that cause trouble the sight of old folk, when they regard them near and hard-by, being indeed but hard and slow of motion: but when the said images be advanced and spread farther into the air, and have gained some good distance, the gross and terrestrial parts of them break and fall down; but the more subtle portions reach as far as to the eyes, without any pain or offence unto them, and do insinuate and accommodate themselves equally and smoothly into their concavities: so that the eyes being less troubled, apprehend and receive them better. And even so it is with the odours of flowers, which are very sweet to smell unto a good way off; whereas if a man come over-neere unto them, they yield nothing so kind and pleasant a scent: the reason is, because that together with the savour, there goeth from the flower, much earthly matter, gross and thick, which corrupteth and marreth the fragrant sweetness of the odour, if it be smelled to very near; but in case the same be a pretty way off, that terrestrial vaparation is dispersed round about, and so falleth away, but the pure and hot part thereof, continueth behind, and pierceth forward still, by reason of the subtlety that it hath, until it be presented unto the nostrils. But we, receiving and admitting the principle of Plato, affirm & hold: That there passeth from the eyes an illuminate spirit, which intermingleth itself with the clearness and light that is about the bodies of visible objects; by which means there ariseth an united composition from them twain, according in every point one with another, but concorporate they be by measure and proportion; for neither the one nor the orher, aught to perish, as being surmounted by his fellow, but of twain contempered together in just proportion, there is made one puissance and mean faculty between. Seeing then, that the thing which passeth thorough the eyesight of those persons who be far stepped in years, be it some fluxion, lightsome spirit, or bright beam, (call it what you will) is in them, weak and feeble, there can not be a mixture and composition of it, with the shining air abroad, but rather an extinction and suffocation, unless they remove the letters a pretty way off from their eyes, and by that means temper and resolve the exceeding brightness of the light, so as the same hit not upon their sight, so long as it is too radiant and resplendent, but measured and proportioned to the feebleness of their eyes. This also is the cause of that which befalleth to those living creatures which see best in the dark, and feed themselves by night; for their eye sight being naturally weak, is offuscate and darkened by the great light of the day; for that such weak rays proceeding from so tender a source or fountain, will not well sort & agree with so strong and forcible light; but their eyes do send forth beams sufficient and proportionable, to be mingled with a light more dim and duskish, like as the light of a star in the night season appeareth best: and thus being incorporate with it, it is cooperative to the performance of sense.   

THE NINTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause that clothes be better washed in fresh water than that of the sea?  
THeon the grammarian, upon a time when we were feasted by Metrius Florus, demanded of Themistocles the philosopher, how it came to pass that Chrysippus' having made mention in many places of strange positions and paradoxes, which seemed to go against all reason;) as for example: That salt fish, or powdered flesh, if it be watered or washed in sea water, becometh more sweet: also fleeces of wool are less pliable, if they be plucked forcibly, than if they be gently handled, toosed and drawn in sunder. Item, that they who have fasted long, chew their meat, and eat more slowly at first, than after they have eaten a little;) rendereth no reason of the one nor the other: Unto whom Themistocles answered: That Chrysippus proposed them by the way only, and as it were for example sake to advertise and admonish us; for that we are ever ready to believe, even without all reason, any thing that carrieth with it some small likelihood and probability, and chose to discredit that which at the first sight seemeth unlikely: But what reason I pray you (quoth he) my good friend have you to search & inquire into these matters? For if you be so contemplative and inquisitive in finding out the causes of natural things, you need not to go far from that which belongeth to your profession: but tell me why Homer bringeth in Nausicaa, washing her clothes in the river, & not in the sea which was so near unto her; notwithstanding that salted sea water being hotter, more transparent, & abstersive than fresh water of the river, seemeth by all appearance better for to wash withal? As touching this problem (quoth Theon) long since hath Aristotle resolved it, referring all to the terrestrity of the sea; for that in sea water there is mingled much earthly substance, which causeth it to be so salt, by reason whereof, it beareth them up better who swim therein; also it carrieth a greater and heavier burden than fresh water, the which yieldeth and giveth way, as it is more subtle, lighter, and feebler, as being more simple and pure: in which regard it pierceth sooner, and by this penetrative faculty, it scoureth and cleanseth away all stains and spots better than sea water: and think you not that this reason of Aristotle carrieth great appearance of truth? Yes verily (quoth I) there is appearance and probability indeed thereof, but no truth at all: for this I see ordinarily that the manner is to incrassate fresh water with ashes or gravel stones; or if there be none to be had, even with very dust, as if the roughness of terrestrial substance were more meet and apt, to cleanse all filthiness, which simple and clear water cannot do so well, by reason of the thin subtlety thereof, and because it is very weak: and therefore it is not well and truly said, that the thickness of the sea water hindereth his effect. But the true cause is, for that it is penetrant and piercing; for this acrimony doth unbind and open the small pores, and so draweth forth the ordure outwardly; whereas chose, that which is gross and thick, is never good and meet for to wash withal, but rather it maketh spots & steines: now is the sea fatty and oileous, which may be a principal cause why it is not good to wash withal: and, that sea water is uncteous, Aristotle himself beareth witness; for even salt itself hath a certain fattiness and unctuosity in it; by reason whereof, it causeth those lamps to burn more clear wherein it is put: yea and sea water if it be sprinkled or dropped upon the flame, will likewise be of a light fire and burn withal; neither is there any water that burneth so much as that of the sea; and in this regard I am of opinion, that it is of all other water hottest: howbeit there may be another reason yielded: for considering that the end and consummation of washing, is to dry; those things we hold most neat and clean which are driest; and therefore the moisture that doth wash, must go away together with the ordure; like as the root of Ellebore is sent out of the body with the melancholic humour: as for the humidity which is sweet and fresh by reason of the lightness thereof, the sun draweth it up very quickly; whereas the saltness of sea water sticketh fast to the small pores, & by reason of the asperity thereof is hard to be dried. Then Theon: This (that you say quoth he) is nothing, but very false; for Aristotle in the same book affirmeth, that those who wash in the sea, are sooner dry than they that wash in fresh water, if they stand in the sun. He saith so indeed (quoth I) but I thought that you would sooner believe Homer, who holdeth the contrary. For Ulysses after he had suffered shipwreck met with lady Nausicaa: 
All terrible and fearful to be seen  
For that in sea all plunged she had been.  Yea and himself said unto her women and waiting maidens: 
Retire a side and stand you far from me,  
Fair damosels, until such time you see,  
That I have washed from off my shoulders twain  
The filth of sea, that now my skin doth stain.  And when he had thus said, he went down into the river, 
And there anon, he scoured clean away,  
The salt sea-fome, upon his head that lay.  In which place, the poet hath marvellous well observed and expressed that which ordinarily happeneth in such a case: for that, when they who come forth of the sea stand drying them in the sun; his heat doth presently dissipate the most subtle and lightest substance of the humidity, and then, that which is most foul and filthy, remaining behind, sticketh to, is baked and felted to the skin, in manner of a fault crust, until it be washed off with fresh and potable water.   

THE TENTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause that at Athens they never judged nor pronounced the dance of the tribe Aeantis to be the last?  
AT the solemn feast which Serapion made for the victory of the dance, which the tribe or lineage Aeantis obtained, by his leading and conduct: to which feast we were bidden, as being of that tribe; for that the people had endued us with the privilege and right of bourgeosie in the same; much talk there was occasioned by the great emulation and strife which had been for the honour of that present dance: and indeed followed it was with much zeal and heat of affection, by reason that king Philopappus himself in person, was a most honourable and magnificent precedent thereof, having defrayed the charges belonging to the dances of every tribe; who being present also with us, invited guests to this stately supper (as he was a prince no less courteous and full of humanity, than studious and desirous and desirous of knowledge) had both the proposing and also the hearing of many antiquities. Now there was propounded and put to discourse, such a matter as this, by Marcus the Grammarian, namely: that Neanthes the Cyzicene wrote in his fabulous narrations of this city, that the tribe Aeantis had by especial honour, this special privilege above the rest, that their dance was never adjudged to the last place. That writer (quoth the king) is not sufficient to authorize an history; but supposing that this were true, let us make it the subject-matter of our discourse at this present, and search the cause thereof. But admit (quoth our friend Milo) that this were a false tale. What then? (quoth king Philopappus) there were no great matter in it, if the like befall unto us for love of learning, as sometime did to the wise philosopher Democritus; who feeding one day (as it should seem) upon a cucumber, when he perceived the juice and liquor thereof to be very sweet, and to taste of honey; demanded of his maid-servant who attended upon him, where she bought it: who named a certain garden: whereupon he rose from the board, and would needs have her to bring him thither, and to show him the very place where it grew: but the wench wondering at her master, and ask him the reason what he meant to be gone in such haste: Why (quoth he) I must needs find out the cause of this extraordinary sweetness, and find it I shall, when I have well viewed and considered the place: hereat the maiden smiling: Sat you still, good sir (quoth she) and let this thing trouble your head no farther; for the truth is this I chanced before I was aware, to put this cucumber into a vessel that had honey in it. Then Democritus seeming to be offended and displeased with her: Thou anger'st me to the heart with thy prittle-prattle, I will (I tell thee) go forward in this my intended purpose, and search into the cause hereof, as if this sweetness were natural and came of the cucumber itself; and even so we will not pretend this readiness and facility of Neanthes in delivering some matters incredible, as an evasion or excuse, to avoid this present disputation: for if none other good will come of our discourse, yet I am sure it will serve well to whet and exercise our wits the while. Then all the company at once with one accord, fell to praise the said tribe Aeantis, relating and collecting what commendable acts soever and glorious feats of arms had been performed by that tribe. And here they failed not to rehearse the famous battle of Marathon, which is a State belonging to the tribe Aeantis. They forgot not to allege likewise, how Harmodius and Aristogtton were Aeantides, borne in Aphidne, a town of that tribe. Also Glaucias the orator affirmed, that the right wing or point of that battle of Marathon, was assigned to them of that tribe, proving the same by the Elegies or verses which the poet Aeschylus had composed in the praise of their good service, having himself in person fought valiantly in the said conflict. Moreover, he showed that Callimachus the high marshal of the field, being one of that lineage, both bare himself right bravely that day, and was one of the principal authors (after captain Miltiades) of that fought field, gave his voice with him, and persuaded to strike this battle. Unto this allegation of Glaucias, I myself added moreover, and said: That the decree or commission, by virtue whereof Miltiades led forth the Athenian army with banner displayed, into the field, was concluded at what time as the tribe Aeantis was precedent of the counsel at Athens; as also that the same tribe in the battle of Platea, carried away the praise and prize for their brave service above the rest: and hereupon it is, that this tribe of Aeantis solemnizeth every year a stately sacrifice, for that victory, as being commanded and appointed so to do by the oracle of Apollo, upon the mount Cithaeron, and the same performed by nymphs or maidens 
* Sacrisicers.  Sphagitides: for the celebration of which solemnity, the city furnisheth them with beasts and other things needful for the same sacrifice. But yet you see (quoth I) that all the rest of the tribes may as well allege for themselves many valiant act by them achieved; and namely, Leontis; from which myself am descended, which in glorious renown, giveth place to none whatsoever. Consider therefore my masters, whether it be not very like and more probable, that this was attributed unto it, for to appease and comfort that worthy person who gave the name unto this tribe; I mean Ajax the son of Telamonius, who had not the patience to endure the overthrow in judgement, and loss of Achilles' armour, but was so far inflamed with envy, emulation, and wrath, that he spared nothing, nor cared for the ruin of all: to the end therefore that he might not fall into another fit of fury, and be implacable; thought good it was to ease him of the thing which might of all things offend and vex him most, in that disfavour and disgrace, to wit: That the tribe which beareth his name, should never be thrust down into the lowest and last place.     

THE SECOND BOOK OF THE SYMPOSIAQUES.  

The Summarie, or several Chapters thereof.  
1 WHat be those things which Xenophon saith, that men are better contented to be asked of at the table, yea, and to be scoffed at for, than otherwise no.  
2 What is the reason that we have better stomachs to our meat, and eat more in Autumn, than in any other season of the year.  
3 Whether the hen was before the egg, or the egg before the hen.  
4 Whether wrestling was of all the sacred exercises and games of prize, most ancient.  
5 Why Homer among all the combats of prize, putteth evermore in the first place, the fight at buffets; next to it, wrestling; and last of all, running the race.  
6 What is the cause that the pine, sapin or pitch tree, and other like, yielding rosin, can not be graffed by way of inoculation or the scutisian.  
7 Of the stay-ship fish Remora.  
8 How it cometh to pass, that the horses Lycospades are said to be more courageous and better spirited, than any others.  
9 How is it, that the sheep worried by wolves, yield flesh more sweet and tender, but wool more subject to breed lice than others.  
10 Whether our ancestors did better in old time, to eat every man his own part divided by himself at the board, or the men now living, who feed in common, of viands set before them all together.   

THE SECOND BOOK OF the Symposiaques.  

THE FIRST QUESTION.  
What be the things whereof Xenophon saith: That men love better to be asked and to be scoffed at for when they sit at the board, than otherwise no?  
OF those things (o Soissus Senecio) which are provided to furnish 
The Preface,  and set out feasts and banquets, some are to be ranged as altogether necessary; namely, bread, wine, viands, meats, both flesh and fish, benches, stools, forms, and tables; others be but accessaries and may be spared, devised only for pleasure, and not upon any urgent necessity; as plays, shows, and pastimes brought in, either to be heard or seen; some pleasant buffoon also or merry jester to make folk laugh, such an one as Philip in Kallais his house, which disports men are delighted in otherwhiles, if they be presented, and if they be not, they are not greatly miss, nor much cared for, neither is the feast thought defectuous for want thereof. The same may be said of table talk: for one kind there is which modest and civil men do embrace and entertain, in regard of their proper use fitting and agreeable for meals and meat indeed; another sort they admit, and allowas containing some gentle speculation, and the same beseemeth rather the time employed in hearing music, of flute, hautboys, lute and vial. And of both these, our first book contained certain miscellane examples one with another; as namely, of the first sort were these questions: Whether it be good and commendable, to treat and dispute of philosophical matters at the table or no? Also, whether it be better, that the master of the feast himself place his guests, at the board, or permit them to sit at their own discretion? Of the second kind be these; whereupon arose this common saying: That love teacheth music or poetry? as also the question concerning the tribe Aeantes and such like. For mine own part, I would call the former Sympotica, as properly belonging to a feast; the other by the general name Symposiaca, as beseeming rather a banquet after the feast is done: howbeit set down they are by me pellmell, and not distinctly, but according as every one of them came into my mind and remembrance: neither must the readers marvel if I collect and gather certain speeches for to dedicate unto you, which have been haply held heretofore by others, or by your own self: for albeit our learning is not always a calling to remembrance, yet oftentimes it falleth out, that to remember and to learn, concur and meet together in one subject matter. Moreover, having digested in every book ten questions, the first of this second is one, that Xenophon a disciple of Socrates, hath in some sort proposed unto us, when he writeth: That Gobryas being upon a time at supper with Cyrus, as he praised many other fashions of the Persians, so he commended them especially in this: That they demanded one of another such questions, wherewith they stood better pleased, than if they had not been asked at all; and between while, let fly such pleasant scoffs and jests, as that the parties so scoffed at, liked thereof better, than otherwise if they had been let alone. For if it be so, that other men, even with their praises many times offend us, why should we not greatly admire the seemly grace and witty conceit of those, whose scoffs and jests yield pleasure and contentment to those who seem to be mocked therewith? This is the reason why Sopater having one day invited us to a feast at Patrae, moved this talk and said: Gladly would I know what kind of questions and interrogatories they were? of what nature, and what the manner of them was? For no small part it is (quoth he) of our intercourse and mutual communication one with another, to have the dexterity and skill, both to know and also to observe the decency and congruity in such pleasant demands and facete jests. Nay, (quoth I again) a great matter it is; but mark, if Xenophon himself as well in the Symposium or banquet of Socrates, as in those of the Persians, giveth not us to understand what was the order thereof: and if you think good that we enter into this discourse, and that I should add somewhat of mine own. First and foremost this is mine opinion: That men are well enough pleased to be asked those questions, to which they are able easily to answer, and namely of such things as they have best skill and experience of: for if one should demand of them, matters that they know not, either they be offended and grieved if they can say nothing unto them (like as those who are called upon to pay debts which they are not able to discharge) or if they bring out cross, impertinent, and untoward reasons, they are much troubled, dismayed, and perplexed: whereas if their answers be not only ready and easy, but also witty and exquisite, so much the more pleasant and agreeable it is to the answerers: now those I count witty and exquisite, which carry somewhat with them, that the common multitude knoweth not, or which few men have heard of; such as be the points of astrology or logic, especially if they be well seen therein, and have as it were the habit of them: for every man is well pleased and appaied, not only in practising and spending his time, as Euripides saith: 
Whereby he may quit him so well,  
That even himself he may excel.  but also in reasoning and discoursing of that wherein he hath best skill and knowledge. For men take great contentment when they be asked questions of that which they have an insight in, and knowing so much by themselves as they do, loath they be to have their cunning hidden, and to be thought of others ignorant therein: therefore those who have been great travelers, and sailed in many voyages, cannot be better pleased, than when others inquire of them as touching far countries, strange seas, the manners, fashions, and customs of barbarous nations; and you bring them to bed (as they say) when you put them to discourse of such matters; as being most willing to describe and draw upon a table the coasts, places, straigths, and gulfs by which, and through which they have passed, reputing it to be no small fruit of all their travels, and an easement of the pains which they have endured: in one word, look whatsoever we of ourselves are wont, without the demand and entreaty of others to recount and relate willingly; the same are we desirous that men should ask us questions of, and howsoever we seem to do pleasure unto the company, yet indeed we have much ado to hold, and with great pain forbear to utter the same. This is a very malady incident to sailors and seamen above all other. As for those that be of a more modest and civil nature, they are desirous to be asked those things, which they are willing enough to utter, but that they be abashed, and in reverend regard of them that be present, pass over in silence those exploits which they have performed happily and with great honour: and therefore good old Nestor in Homer did very wisely, who knowing well the ambitious humour and desire of glory which was in Ulysses, spoke unto him: 
Ulysses, flower of noble chivalry,  
Renowned knight, and all the Greeks glory,  
To tell us now, I pray (good sir) begin,  
How ye both twain did those great horses win.  For unwilling men are to hear those who praise themselves or recount their own worthy acts, if there be not one or other of the company that is urgent with them so to do, or unless they be in manner forced unto it; and therefore they are glad, when they be asked concerning the ambassages wherein they have been employed; of their acts during the time of their government of State, especially, if they have performed some great and honourable service therein; and withal, perceive that it is not for envy nor malice, that such demands be made: for otherwise, such as be envious or malicious, weep at those reports, and be ready to put them by, not willing to give place unto any narrations, nor to minister occasion or matter of talk, that may turn to the honour and commendation of him that delivereth the same. Moreover, this is another means to gratify those who are to answer; namely, to move question of such things as they wot well enough, that their enemies and ill-willers are loath to hear. And verily, Ulysses said to Alcinous in this wise: 
A mind you have, to hear me tell my woeful misery;  
That I might still sigh, groan and wail for my hard destiny.  Even so Oedipus in Sophocles answered thus to the company of the Chorus: 
Awoe it is (my friend) to raise and wake  
A grief that long hath slept and rest doth take.  But chose, Euripides wrote after this sort: 
How sweet is it to one for to remember  
The pain now past, which sometime he did suffer!  True it is, but not to those who still wander, and (being tossed in troublesome seas) do yet meet with new misfortunes and calamities. But to return again to our former purpose; we ought to beware how we demand ill news: for men are grieved at the heart, to make report either how they have been cast & condemned in any suit, or that that they have buried their children, as also, how infortunate they have been in their traffic either by sea or land: chose, they are well pleased to rehearse and repeat often times (if they be asked the question) how they have had good audience given them from the public place of making orations, and obtained whatsoever they there demanded; how they have been saluted and honourably entreated by some king and potentate; and how, when other passengers and travelers with them, have been plunged into dangers of tempest or thieves, they only escaped the peril: and for that in the bare relation, they seem (as it were) to enjoy the thing itself, they can not be satisfied with the discourse and remembrance thereof. Also men rejoice and take delight, when they be asked as touching their friends, who are fortunate and do prosper in the world, or of their own children that profit well in learning and good literature, or have sped well in pleading causes, or otherwise are of credit in the court and with princes: semblably, they be very well content and pleased, to be moved for to relate, and so are more willing to make report of the losses or shameful disgraces of their enemies and ill-willers, whom either they have overthrown at the bar and caused to be condemned, or who otherwise are fallen into any disastrous calamity; for of themselves, loath they are, unless they be required thereto, to recount such things, lest they might be reputed malicious, and glad to hear of other men's harms. A hunter loveth very well, to have speech and question moved unto him as touching hounds; so doth a champion, and one that delighteth in bodily exercises, to be trained to talk of gymnasticall pastimes and seats of activity, like as an amorous lover, of such persons as be fair and beautiful; a devout and religious man discourseth ordinarily of dreams and visions that he seeth, and what good success he hath had in his affairs, by observing the direction of oracles, the presages of augury and osses, by doing sacrifice, and generally, by the grace and especial favour of the gods: and such be well pleased for to be asked questions as concerning these matters. As for old folk, you shall do them a high pleasure, if you put them to it, for to make any discourse whatsoever; for although the narration concern them nothing at all, nor be to any purpose, yet if one ask them questions, he tickleth them in the right vein, and scratcheth them (as they say) where it itcheth. This appeareth by these verses out of Homer: 
O Nestor, son of Neleus, tell me in verity,  
How Agamemnon, elder son of Atreus, did die?  
Where was his younger brother then, sir Menelaus height?  
Lives he or no, in Achaea, at Argos city bright?  Here you see Telemachus asketh him many questions at once, giving him occasion and matter of much speech, not as some do, who restraining old folk to answer to the point only which is necessary, and driving them within a narrow compass, bereave them of that which is their greatest pleasure. In sum, they that would rather please and delight, than displease and trouble, propose such questions, the answers whereunto, draw with them, not the blame and reproof, but the praise and commendation; not the hatred and spite, but the amity and good will of the hearers. And thus much may serve for interrogatories and demands.  
As touching scoffs and merry jests, he that knoweth not how to use and handle them with dexterity, good discretion and skill, according to time and place convenient, I would advise him altogether to forbear them. For like as if men be in a slippery or ticklish ground, they that touch them never so little in running by, are able to overturn and lay them along; even so at the table, when we are drinking, in danger we be upon every small occasion in the world offered (by a word not well placed, or untowardly delivered) to fall into choler; yea, and many times, more moved we are with a scoff or pleasant gibe, than with a reproachful taunt or mere slander; for that ordinarily it is seen; that a reproachful word proceedeth from a violent fit and sudden passion of anger, even against his will that giveth it; but we take more to the heart, a mock or scornful flout, as coming from a prepensed malice, and a voluntary mind set upon mischief, without any necessity at all enforcing thereto; and to be brief, we are in general more offended with those that can give a dry frump in good sadness, than such as cast forth words at random. And this we hold for certain, that every one of such frumps biteth sore, and seemeth to be an artificial kind of reproach devised and thought upon of purpose beforehand: as for example, if one call another salt-fish-monger, by that word he gives him openly a plain reproach; but if he say, we remember well, that you are wont to wipe or snuff your nose upon your sleeve, he mocks him covertly, and calls him as much by craft. The like frump it was, that Cicero used to one Octavius, who supposed to be an African borne: for when he seemed to excuse himself that he heard not what Cicero spoke: And that is a great wonder (quoth Cicero again) considering that you have an hole bored through your ear. And Melanthius being flouted and made a mocking stock by a comedy maker: You have (quoth he) given me a reward that I never deserved, and paid me that which you owed me not: such gibes therefore and mocks as these, do prick worse, and much like to arrows with barded heads, stick longer by them who are thus flouted; and for their wittiness more delight those who are present, than for any other pleasure else, seem to win credit unto him that useth them. For to speak a truth, a scoff or mock is nothing else but a covert and dissimuled reproach for some fault, according to Theophrastus: so as he that standeth by and heareth it, can make construction thereof, and guess how to add more unto it, as knowing and believing all the rest behind to be true. For no doubt he that laugheth heartily as if he were tickled, when he heareth the answer of Theocritus to one, who being named for a common stripper of men out of their garments, as they went late in the streets, asked him if he went forth to supper? Yes mary do I (quoth he) but I mean to lie there all night: such an one (I say) seemeth to confirm the opinion of the foresaid crime, for which the party was suspected; insomuch as he that mocketh and scoffeth impertinently and without grace, possesseth the standers by and hearers with malice, as if they insulted over the party mocked, and were abetters themselves, as being glad that he is thus derided or reproached. But in that noble city Lacedaemon, among other good disciplines in times passed there taught, men learned also to jest at others without biting, and not to count themselves nipped, when themselves were jested with: and if peradventure a man showed himself discontented with some broad jest, and could not bear it well, the other party presently gave over and was quiet. How then can it choose but be an hard matter, to find that kind of scoff or taunt which may content and please the party mocked? considering that it is a point of no small at, nor mean experience and dexterity to be able for to discern and judge, what it is that in the feat of mockery which is not offensive. Howbeit to open a little the means thereto: First and foremost it seemeth, that as these jests touch and sting them most who know themselves to be guilty of those vices for which they be mocked: so the same frumps if they note men for such faults of which they be most clear, must needs in some sort be pleasant and acceptable unto them upon whom they be discharged. Thus Xenophon jesting pleasantly with that foul and ill-favoured fellow above all others, all hairy, and as rough as a bear; said: He was the minion and love of Sambaulas. You may call to mind also Quintus a good friend of ours, who when he lay sick in bed, complained that his hands were cold: But you brought them warm enough not long since (quoth Aufidius Modestus,) when you returned out of the province: which quip being banded upon him, an honest and upright praetor, ministered occasion of mirth, contentment, and laughter; the same if it had light upon a proconsul that had used extortion or oppression, would have been a girding and nipping reproach. This is the reason that when Socrates challenged Critobulus the fairest young man then living, to compare their beauties, jested merrily with him, but scorned and derided him not. And Alcibiades himself was pleasantly disposed with Socrates, when he said: That jealous he was of fair Agathon. And even kings and great princes verily otherwhiles joy and take pleasure when they be spoken of, as if they were poor or private persons; like as one of these pleasants or parasitical jesters, when king Philip seemed to gird and scoff at him, returned upon him again this word: What sir, know you not who I am, do not I keep & maintain you? For in reproaching such persons with vices and defects, as which are not in them, they do after an oblique manner give them to understand, and do make known the virtues and perfections which they have. But here we must take heed and be sure in any wise, that such good parts they be endued withal indeed, and without all doubt; otherwise that which is spoken to the contrary, buzzeth in their heads, and breedeth a doubtful suspicion in themselves: for he that saith unto a rich and great moneyed man, that he will be his broker, and help him to some usurers of whom he may take up money at interest; or unto a sober person, who drinketh nothing but water, that he is a drunkard, or hath taken his wine too liberally; or he that calleth a liberal man, well known to spend magnificently, and ready to pleasure all men, a base mechanical kumbix, and a pinching peni-father; or he who threateneth a famous advocate or counsellor at the bar, who hath a great name for law and eloquence in all courts of plea, and beside for policy and government is in high authority, that he will bring him to a non-sute, or overthrow him judicially, he (I say) ministereth matter of good spirit and laughter unto the party whom he seemeth so to challenge or menace. After this manner king Cyrus became very lovely and gracious, by his singular courtesy, in that he would seem to provoke his familiars for to perform those feats, wherein he knew himself inferior to them: and when Ismenias the famous musician played one day upon his flute, during the time of sacrifice, but so, as for all his music there appeared no good prognostics and signs, in the beast sacrificed, testifying that the gods were propice and well pleased; another mercenary minstrel, taking the instruments in his hand, kept a foolish and ridiculous tooting, full untowardly; and when all the company there in place reproved him for it: To sound an instrument (quoth he) to the contentment of the gods, is an heavenly gift: whereat Ismenias laughed a good, and made this answer: You take the matter amiss (quoth he) and clean contrary, for whiles I played, the gods took so great pleasure in my music, that they intended it only, & had no while to accept of the sacrifice; but when thou begannest to meddle with the pipes, they received it immediately, and made haste to be rid and delivered of thy absurd piping. Moreover, they who call such things as be simply good, by odious and opprobrious names, and that in mirth, if they do the same with a good grace; please more than those who directly praise the same; like as they do nip and bite more shrewdly, who give reproaches under fair and lovely terms, as for example: such as call wicked persons, Aristides, or base cowards, Achilles: after the manner of Oedipus in Sophocles, when he said: 
Creon who had been always kind  
And even at first her faithful friend.  Another kind there seems to be of ironical praise, opposite unto the former; namely, when semblant is made of blame and reproof: which manner of praise, Socrates often used; as for ex-example, when he called the industrious means that Antisthenes practised to reconcile men and make them friends, as also to gain good will and favour, broakage, bauds-craft, enticement and allurement: as also, for that the philosopher Crates, had a good grace with him wheresoever he went, and because he was ever welcome, honourably received, and kindly entertained into what house soever he came, he was commonly named Thyrepanoecles, as one would say; The door opener. Furthermore, that mockery is pleasing, which goeth in manner of a complaint, and yet carrieth with it a kind of gratitude and thankfulness. Thus Diogenes speaking of his master and teacher Antisthenes, 
Who clad me in a cloak threadbare,  
And made me ragged clothes to wear;  
Who forced me to beg my food,  
And houselesse for to walk abroad.  For nothing so good a grace it would have had, in case he had used these words: He who made me wise, contented, and happy. Also a certain Laconian, who making a show, that he blamed the warden of the public stouphes and halls of exercises, for giving him wood so dry, that it would not so much as smoke, said thus of him: here is one, by whose means we can not be suffered to shed a tear. Semblably, if a man should call him who kept a bountiful table, and feasted him every day, a tyrant and taker of men perforce, saying withal, that he would not suffer him to eat his meals at home, nor to see so much as once his own table in so many years space: like as if one should complain of the king, for making him, of a poor man, rich and wealthy, in these terms: That he had laid wait for him to do him a shrewd turn, in taking from him his repose and leisure, and bereaving him of his sleep and natural rest: or as if some man having gathered plenty of good wine, turning again upon the gods Cabeiri in Aeschilus', should accuse them, for that they had caused him to have scant of vinegar in his house, as they themselves in board and mirth had menaced to do. For these kinds of covert, secret and dissimuled praises, enter farther, carrying with them a greater grace and more effectual by far, in such sort, as they who in this wise perceive themselves to be commended, are nothing offended thereat, nor take it in ill part.  
Over and beside, it behoveth him who would give a frump or scoff with a grace and dexterity, to know also the difference of a defect and imperfection, from studies and recreations whereto men are given: as namely, to distinguish between avarice or a contentious humour, and the love of music or of hunting: for as men can not abide to be twit by those, so they are very well contented to be scoffed at for these; as Demosthenes the Mitylenaean played in this kind pleasantly upon a time: for when he went to visit a familiar friend of his, who loved music passing well, and was much addicted to play upon the harp; after that he had knocked at the door, and the other hearing that it was he, willed him to come in: But first (quoth he) I would have you tie up your harp. But the parasitical bassau of king Lysunachus, chose rejoined in this sort as rudely and uncivilly; for when the king had thrown a counterfeit scorpion made of wood, upon his coat, whereat he first started and was afraid; but when he perceived once that the king was merrily disposed, and did but make sport, came upon him again: And I will fright you, sir king, aswell (quoth he;) come on, and give me a talon from you. The like regard ought to be had, and the same difference made, as touching the defects or imperfections of the body, at leastwise in many of them: for if men be jested at, for that they be longnosed and hawked, or otherwise have short snut-noses, they will but laugh thereat. Thus one of the minions of Cassander, was nothing offended with Theophrastus, when he said: I wonder at your eyes, that they fall not a singing, and make good music, considering your nose is set and hidden within them: meaning, that he had a nose so flat and sunk 〈◊〉 his head. And Cyrus seeing one with a long nose and hawked withal, willed him to marry a wife with a short and flat nose: For then (quoth he) you would match well, and make a good medley between you. But in case we jest and make game at those whose nostrils stink, or who have a strong and unfavory breath, they take it not well at our hands, but are displeased. On the other side, if they be played upon for their baldpates, they can abide it well enough, and put it up; but say a man mock them for having but one eye; or being blind, they will not endure it. In deed king Antigonus would jest pleasantle with himself for the loss of one eye; as namely, when there was presented unto him a supplication written in great capital letters: Why (quoth he) a man may see this, if he were stark blind, and had never an eye in his head: but Theocritus of Chios his prisoner, he put to death, for that, when one to comfort him, came and said: That if the king's eyes once had a sight of him, he should be pardoned, and save his life: Why then (quoth he) God have mercy upon me; for impossible it is for me to escape death: which he said, because king Antigonus had but one eye. Leo the Bizantine, when Pasiades objected unto him his bleered eyes, saying: Mine eyes before with looking upon yours: Go to (quoth he) you twit and reproach me, for a bodily infirmity that I have, and never look yourself upon a son of your own, who carrieth the vengeance of God upon his shoulders: now this Pasiades had a son, who was crumpt-shouldred and bunch-backed. Likewise Archippus, who in his time bore a great sway in Athens, as being one of the orators who led the people, and ruled the State, was very angry with Melanthius, who alluding to his bunch back, and scoffing thereat, used these terms: That he did not stand manfully upright in the defence of the city, but 
* Graid, medium  stooped and bended forward, as if he had suffered it likewise to lean, reel, and sink downward. And yet some there be, who can carry these broad jests patienly, and with good moderation; as one of the minions of king Antigonus, who having craved of him a talon in free gift, and seeing that he was denied it, required at the king's hands, that he would allow him a good strong guard to accompany him: For fear (quoth he) that I be forlaied by the way, and rifled by him, who enjoined me to carry a talon of silver at my back. See, how men are diversely affected in these external things, by reason of the inequality of their maims, some after one sort, and some after another. Epaminondas sitting at a feast with his companions and colleagues in government, drank wine as sharp as vinegar, and when they asked him why he did so, and whether it made for his health? I know not that (quoth he) but well I wot this, that good it is to put me in mind of my home diet. And therefore in casting out of jests and pleasant taunts, regard would be had of men's natures and dispositions, for that some have broader backs to bear scoffs than others: and endeavour we must, so to converse with men both in board and in earnest, that we offend no person, but be acceptable unto all.  
As for love, a passion very diverse it is, and passing variable, as in all other things, so in jests and gibes especially: for that some will take offence and be soon angry, others will be merry and laugh it out, if they be touched in that point; and therefore above all things the opportunity of the time would be well observed: for like as when a fire is newly kindled and but weak at the first, the wind will put it quite out, but when it hath gotten strength and burneth forth, it maintaineth, feedeth, and augmenteth the flame; even so love, when it is a breeding, and whiles it lieth secret, and showeth not itself, quickly taketh displeasure and offence against those that discover it; but when it is once broken forth, and is made apparent and known to all, then nourished it is, and taketh delight to be blown (as it were) and inflamed more with scoffs and merry jests: and that which pleaseth lovers best is this, when they be jested with, in the presence of those whom they love, and namely in love matters, otherwise not; and if the case stand so, that they be wonderfully enamoured upon their own wedded wives, or young lads by the way of honest and virtuous love, than they joy exceedingly, they glory and take a pride, in being scoffed at for the love of them. Hereupon Arcesilaus being upon a time in his school; when one of these professed lovers and amorous persons, chanced in communication, to give him these words: Methinks this that you have said toucheth none of this company, replied thus and said: No more than you are touched and moved; and withal, showed him a fair and well favoured youth in the prime of his years sitting by him. Furthermore, good regard and consideration would be had, who they be that are present and in place, for otherwhiles, men are disposed to take up a laughter at merry words which they hear among friends and familiars, who would not take it well, but be offended thereat, if the same were delivered before wife, father, or schoolmaster, unless it were some thing that agreed very well with their humour: as for example, if one should mock a companion of his before a philosopher, for going barefooted, or sitting up at his book all night long, studying and writing; or in the presence of his father for being thirsty, and spending little; or in the hearing of his own wife, that he cannot skill of courting and loving other dames, but is altogether devoted and serviceable unto her alone: thus Tigranes in Xenophon, was mocked by Cyrus, in these terms: What and if your wife, should hear say that you made a page of yourself, and carried your bedding and other stuff upon your own neck? She shall not (quoth he) hear it, but be an eye witness thereof, and see it in her presence. Furthermore, when they who give out such merry taunts as these, be partakers therein, and in some sort do include themselves withal; less blamewoorthy they are, and nothing so much to be reproved; as for example: when a poor man glanceth against poverty, or a new upstart and gentleman of the first head, against mean parentage, or an amorous person girdeth at the wantonness of another lover; for it may seem thereby, that there was no meaning and intent to offend or offer wrong, but that all was merrily spoken, seeing they participate in the like defects, for otherwise it might nip very much, and go too near to the quick. Thus one of the affranchised or freed men of the emperor, grown up on a sudden to be exceeding rich, bore himself very proud, and disdainful to certain philosophers, who sat at the table and supped together with him, insulting very insolently over them, and in the end coming out with this foolish question: How it came to pass that the broth or pottage made of beans, whether they were black or white, looked green alike? Aridices one of the philosophers there in place, asked him presently again, what the reason was, that the wales or marks of stripes and lashes, were all red indifferently, whether the whips were made of white or black leather thongs? at which reply, the other was so dashed, and disquieted, that he rose from the board in a pelting chafe, and would not tarry. But Amphias of Tarsis (supposed to be no better than a gardiner's son) having by way of scorn scoffed at one of the familiar friends of the lord deputy there, for his mean birth, taking himself immediately with the manner: But why say I so? for we (quoth he) are come of no better seeds; made the party and all the company to laugh heartily. Semblably, there was a minstrel or professed musician, who kindly and with a very good grace, repressed the presumptuous curiosity and unskilfulness of king Philip, who forgot himself so much, that he would needs read a lecture as it were unto the said minstrel, how he should finger and strike; finding fault with him in certain accords of music: Ah, God forbid, (quoth he) my good liege lord that it should go so heard with your grace, as to be more skiful in this art than myself; for thus whiles he seemed to mock himself, he told the king of his fault without offence: and this seemeth to be a device that comical poets otherwhiles practise, to allay the bitter gall of their quips & taunts, namely, to scoff at themselves, as Aristophanes used to make sport with his own bald pate: and Cratinus noted himself, that he loved wine so well, in that comedy which he entitled Pytine, that is to say, a bottle or flagon of wine: but above all, this regard and consideration would be had, that all such scoffs and merry jests, come from a man extempore, and readily, either by way of answer to a present demand, or occasioned upon some other sudden scoff, and in no wise to seem far fetched, as a thing premeditate & studied on before: for like as men bear and endure with more patience, the anger and debates among themselves, arising now and then at the table, whiles they be in the mids of their cups; but if another stranger should come in place, and offer abuse to any of the guests, and so trouble the company, he should be reputed an enemy, and for very hatred they would thrust him out of the doors by head & shoulders; even so, we can find in our hearts, easily to pardon a scoff, a frump, or broad jest, if it proceed from some matter, at the present delivery, or seem to come naturally, unforced, and without all art; but in case it be not occasioned presently, nor respective to the purpose, but drawn (as one would say) violently by the hair of the head from elsewhere; than it resembleth some ambush forelaied afar off, for to wrong and do injury to one person or other; like to that jest of Timagenes, which he discharged upon the husband of a woman, who was wont ordinarily to cast up her gorge, in this manner: 
With music bade you do begin,  
Thus 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which soundeth all one with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that hath a fair disserent sense: read according to the former, it signifieth music: after the later, it betokeneth vomiting. This equivocation in Greek, carrieth that grace with it, which I can not so aptly express in English.  vomiting to bring her in.  As also the demand proposed unto the philosopher Athenodorus, whether the love of parents to their children, be 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, natural. How ever it be, you must understand it of wanton love, which is neither natural nor harmonical. For this Athencdorus was noted for incest with one of his daughters.  musical. For surely, such unseasonable cuts and taunts as these, not accommodate to time and place, nor fitted to the present occasion, do bewray a malicious mind, and a deliberate purpose, to offer wrong and abuse: and therefore such persons as delight in these biting girds, many times for a word, which is the lightest thing in the world, as Plato saith, have paid a most heavy and grievous price; whereas chose, they that know how to place their words in due time, in meet place, and aptly to the purpose, do verify the testimony of the same Plato, who saith: That it is an assured sign of a man's good bringing up, and the point of liberal nurture and instruction, to know how to jest with a decent grace, and without the offence of any person.   

THE SECOND QUESTION.  
Why men be more hungry, and eat better in Autumn, than in any other quarter of the year?  
IN the borough Eleusine, after the ceremonies of sacred mysteries were performed, when as the solemnity (celebrated with so frequent concourse of people) was at the highest, we were feasted by Glaucias the orator in his house; where when others had made an end of supper, Xenocles his brother, began after his manner, to cavil and scoff at my brother Lamprias, twitting him with his large feeding, and indeed hitting in his teeth and reproaching him with the voracity of the Boeotians, who are taken to be good trencher-men: whereupon I (in the defence of my brother, and to be revenged of Xenocles) took occasion out of the doctrine of Epicurus, and said unto him: What (good fir) all men do not define and determine the utmost point and perfection of pleasure, to be indolence or the privation of pain, as your good master Epicurus doth: and beside, my brother Lamprias, who honoureth and esteemeth more the walking galleries of the Peripatetics, and the school of the Stoics, called Lyceum, than he doth the garden of Epicurus, must of necessity and in effect, bear witness to Aristotle, who affirmeth: That there is no man, but he eateth more in Autumn, than in any other season of the year: and a reason he giveth thereof, although it be now out of my head. So much the better (quoth Glaucias) for we ourselves will see if we can find it out after supper is done. Now when the tables were taken away, Glaucias and Xenocles both, imputed the cause thereof to the sundry fruits of that season, and that after a diverse sort. For one said, that new fruits do make the belly soluble, and so by evacuation of the body, engender always fresh appetites to meat. The other, to wit, Xenocles, affirmed, that these fruits (for the most part) carry with them a certain piercing and mordicant quality, yet pleasant withal, whereby they provoke and quicken the stomach to appetite, more than any viands or sauces whatsoever; insomuch as those who be sickly, and have lost their stomachs, recover the same many times, by eating some of those fruits new gathered. But Lamprias alleged, that our familiar and natural heat, by which we are nourished in Summer time, is dispersed, and becometh more feeble and resolved: but chose, upon the entrance of Autumn, it gathereth itself together inwardly again, and is fortified by the means of the cold ambient air, which knitteth, constraineth, and closeth up the pores of the body. Then I (because it should not be thought that I would be one to participate in this conference without contributing somewhat of mine own, when my course came to speak) declared, that in Summer time, by reason of the excessive heat of the weather, we are more thirsty, and in regard of the same heat and drought, take in more moisture and liquid nourishment: Now therefore, nature (quoth I) by reason of the change of the air and the season, seeking (as her manner is) for the contrary, causeth us to be more hungry in Autumn, than at other times, and for the temperature of the body, tendereth unto it as much dry food, as it had taken moisture in Summer time: and yet a man can not well say, that the cause of this effect dependeth nothing at all of the viands which we eat, consisting much of new and fresh fruits, not only thick gruels and pottage, but also of pulset wheat-bread, and flesh, reared the same year, which being more savoury than those of the years past, do by consequence provoke those that use to fee upon them, for to eat better.   

THE THIRD QUESTION.  
Whether was before, The hen or the egg?  
THis long time I abstained from eating eggs, by reason of a certain dream which I had, being desirous to make that experience in an egg, which is made in an heart, by occasion of a vision which hath evidently appeared unto me many times in my sleep. And hereupon, when I was one day at a feast which Sossius Senecio made unto us, the company conceived an opinion or suspicion of me, that there were entered into my head, the fantasies and superstitions of Orpheus & Pythagoras, and that I abhorred to eat an egg, like as many do forbear the heart and the brain of a living creature; for that I believed it to be the principle and fountain of generation: insomuch as Alexander the Epicurean, by way of a jest, and to move laughter, alleged these verses: 
I count all one, to make of * beans, our meat,  
As if the heads of parents we did eat.  As who would say, that the Epicureans by this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, beans, meant aemgmatically and covertly, eggs, because that the breeding of young, or conception, in Greek, is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as if there were no difference at all, but they thought it all one to eat eggs and the living creatures which lay them. Now if I had alleged my dream unto them, for my defence, as the very cause of mine abstinence, certes, mine answer would have seemed more absurd and ridiculous, than the dream itself, especially, to this Epicurean: and therefore I stood not greatly upon excusing myself unto the said Alexander, playing upon me so merrily, but suffered him to feed and maintain that opinion conceived of me: for surely, a pleasant man he was, honest, civil, and well learned. Howbeit, he took occasion hereupon, to set on foot that doubtful question of the egg and the bird, which had busied and amused the heads so much of great naturalists, and searchers into the causes of natural works, and namely to know, whether of the twain was before? Whereat Sylla our familiar friend said: That with this little question of the hen and the egg, as with a small lever, screw, or such like engine, we shaked the great frame and weighty fabric of the generation of the whole world, and therefore willed him to surcease and proceed no farther, to speak thereof. But when Alexander laughed at it, and made no more reckoning of it, than of a ridiculous question of no importance, nor consequence at all depending thereof; my son in law Firmus began in this wise: I must here borrow (quoth he) the indivisible elements of Epicurus, and make use of those motes or attomis of his; for it be true which he supposeth and layeth for a ground: That small principles should assoord beginning to great bodies; it soundeth by all likelihood to great reason, that the egg was before the hen: for as far forth as by our senses we are able to judge, it is more simple, whereas the hen is a body mixed and compounded; and to speak in generality, the principle or element is ever first: the seed is a principle, and the egg full of seed, and less, than the chick or living creature that is hatched of it: for like as the progress and proceeding unto virtue is of a middle nature, between the first disposition and the final habit and perfection thereof; even so it should seem, that the egg is a certain process and advancement forward of nature, tending to make a living creature of the seed disposed thereto: moreover, as in a beast or such a living creature it is commonly said and received, that the arteries and veins be form first; semblably, good reason there is to hold, that the egg was before the bird, as the continent before the thing contained within: for so it is with very arts, which make the first draft of their works grossly without form & fashion; but afterwards give distinct figure and shape to every part thereof, according to that which Polycletus the famous imager was wont to say: That their workmanship in pottery was then most difficult and hard, when the clay and the finger nail met together: that is to say, when the work was at the point to be finished: and therefore it standeth well to good reason, that the matter yielding and obeying but slowly unto nature at the beginning, when she moveth and frameth by little and little, produceth at the first, rude lumps and masses, not as yet brought into shape and fashion, such as eggs be; but as the same grow to receive the impression of some form, there is afterwards wrought out and framed a living creature within: for like as there is engendered first a grub, which in time growing hard by reason of dryness, cleaveth and openeth in the end, and putteth forth another little winged fly, which we call Nympha, before it is a perfect be; after the same manner, the egg here is the first subsistent matter of generation; for necessary it is, that in every change and transmutation, that must precede and have a being first, which is to be altered and turned into another: see you not how cankers or caterpillars are bred in trees, and worms in wood, either by the putrefaction, or concoction of humidity? and will any man deny that the said moisture went before; and that by order of nature, that which engendereth is more ancient than that which is engendered? for as Plato saith: The matter in all things that breed, serveth in stead of mother & nurse; and that is to be counted the matter, whereof the thing is composed, & consisteth which is bred. And now for that which remaineth (quoth he, and therewith he laughed) I will sing unto those that be skilful and of understanding, one holy and sacred sentence, taken out of the deep secrets of Orpheus, which not only importeth thus much, that the egg was before the hen, but also attributeth and adjudgeth unto it, the right of eldership and prioriry of all things in the world: as for the rest, let them remain unspoken of in silence (as Herodotus saith) for that they be exceeding divine and mystical; this only will I speak by the way: That the world containing as it doth, so many sorts and sundry kinds of living creatures, there is not in manner one I dare well say, exempt from being engendered of an egg, for the egg bringeth forth birds and fowls that fly; fishes an infinite number that swim; land creatures, as lizards; such as live both on land & water, as crocodiles; those that be two footed, as the bird; such as are footlesse, as the serpent; and last of all, them which have many feet, as the unwinged locust. Not without great reason therefore is it consecrated to the sacred ceremonies and mysteries of Bacchus, as representing that nature which produceth and comprehendeth in itself all things.  
When Firmus had discoursed in this wise, Senecio opposed himself and said: That the last similitude and comparison which he brought, was that, which first and principally made against him: For you mark not o Firmus (quoth he) how ere you were aware, you opened the world like a gate, as the proverb saith, even upon yourself; for that the world was before all other things, as being most perfect, and reason would, that whatsoever is perfect, should precede the unperfect; the entire and sound go before that which is wanting and defectious; and the whole before the part, for that there can be no parcel, but the whole thereof went before: for no man useth to speak thus: The seedsman, or the eggs hen; but contrariwise we say: The man's seed, and the hens egg, as if both generative seed and egg did succeed and follow them, taking their own generation in them first, and afterwards paying again (as it were a debt unto nature) a successive generation from them: for need they have of that which is proper and familiar unto them, and thereupon are endued with a natural desire and inclination, to produce such another thing as that was from whence they came: and hereupon it is, that seed is thus defined, to be a geniture or thing bred, having need and desire of new generation. Now there is nothing that either standeth in need or hath an appetite to that which is not, or hath no being: and we may plainly see, that eggs have their total essence and substance, from that compact knot and composition which is gathered within the body of a living creature, and faileth herein only, that it hath not such organs, instruments, and vessels as they have; which is the reason that you shall never find written in any history, that an egg was engendered immediately of the earth; for even the poets themselves do say: That the egg out of which sprang Castor and Pollux, fell from heaven; whereas the earth even at this day produceth many complete and perfect creatures; as for example, mice in Egypt, and in many other places, serpents, frogs, and grasshoppers, by reason that the principle and puissance generative, is infused and inserted into it from without. In Sicily during the time of the Servile war, much carnage there was, and a great quantity of blood shed and spilled upon the earth, many dead bodies corrupted and putrefied above ground, lying unburied; by occasion whereof, an infinite number of locusts were engendered, which being spread over the face of the whole island, spoiled and destroyed all the come in the country: all these creatures therefore are bred and fed of the earth; and of their nourishment they yield a general superfluity, apt to engender the same kind, and that is called, seed; and for to be discharged thereof, by means of a certain mutual pleasure, the male and the female match and couple together; and so some according to their nature, breed and lay eggs; others bring forth young ones alive; whereby it is evidently seen, that the primitive generation came first and immediately from the earth, but afterwards, by a certain conjunction of one with another; in a second sort, they breed their young. In sum, to say that the egg was before the hen, is as much as if the matrice were before the woman; for look what relation there is between the said matrice and the egg, the semblable hath the egg unto the chicken that is engendered and hatched within it. So that, to demand how birds were made when there were eggs, is all one, as to ask how men and women were created, before the natural parts and genetall members of the one sex and the other were made? And verily the members for the most part, have their subsistence and being together with the whole; but the powers and faculties come after those members; the functions succeed the faculties, and consequently, the effects or compliments follow upon the said functions and operation: now the accomplished work or perfection of that generative faculty in the natural parts, is the seed or the egg: so that we must of necessity confess, that they be, after the generation of the whole. Consider moreover, that, as it is not possible that there should be concoction of meats or any nourishment, before the living creature be fully made and complete, no more can there be any seed or egg; for that both the one and the other, is made by certain concoctions and alterations: neither is it seen, how before the full perfection of a living creature, there should be any thing that hath the nature of the superfluity or excrement of nutrition; and yet I must needs say, that natural seed otherwise, in some sort, may go for the principle and beginning of life; whereas the egg in no proportion answereth to such a principle, for that it hath not a subsistence first, nor any reason or nature of the whole, because it is imperfect. And hereupon it is, that we never say, that a living creature had any being or subsistence, without an elementary beginning: but we affirm, that there was a principle of generation, to wit, the power or faculty generative, by which the matter was transmuted, and wherein there was imprinted a general temperature; and that the egg afterwards, is as it were a certain supergeneration, much like unto the blood & milk of a living creature, after nourishment & concoction: for never shall you see an egg engendered of mud; for that an egg hath the generation and concretion within the body only of a living creature; whereas there be an innumerable sort of creatures procreated & bred of mud and within mud. And to seek no further for allegation of other examples to prove this, there be taken every day an infinite number of eels, and yet never saw any man one eel, either milter or spawner, or that had any row in it. And more than that, if one let out all the water forth out of the pool, and cleanse it from all mud and mire, yet after the water is returned thither again into the place, there will be eels soon engendered. And therefore we may conclude necessarily, that whatsoever in generation hath need of another, can not choose but be after it; and that which otherwise may be of itself, and without the other, must of necessity precede and go before in generation: for this is that priority whereof I speak. To prove this, mark how birds do build and make their nests before they lay eggs; women also provide cradles, clouts, beds, and swadling-clothes for their little babes, before they cry out, or be delivered; and yet you will not say (I trow) that either the nest was before the egg, or the swaddling clothes before the infant. For (as Plato saith) the earth doth not imitate a woman, but a woman the earth; and consequently, all other females. And very like it is, that the first procreation out of the earth, was performed entire, and accomplished by the absolute virtue and perfection of the Creator, without need of such instruments, vessels, or secondines, which nature deviseth now, and frameth in parents, by reason of their imbecility and weakness.   

THE FOURTH QUESTION.  
Whether wrestling were of all the exercises and games of prize, most ancient or no?  
WE made a feast in the honour of Sosicles the Coronean, for joy of the victory which he obtained at the Pythicke games, over all other poets. And when the time drew near at hand, wherein the Gymnicke masteries and feats of activity, were to be performed; the greatest talk was at table, as touching the wrestlers; for that many of them resorted thither, and those the most renowned champions of all Greece. In our company was Lysimachus, one of the agents or procurators of the high commissioners, called Amphictyones, who moved speech, and said, how not long before, he heard a Grammarian say: That wrestling was the most ancient combat of all those exercises that were named Gymnicke, for that they were performed by men naked; and he added moreover: That the very name thereof in Greek, imported no less; for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 alludeth near unto 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which is as much as [of old] or [in times past.] And it may seem (quoth he) that ordinarily, the things that be modern and newly devised, borrow the names imposed upon those that be of more antiquity: for so we say that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the fluit or hautboys, is turned, borrowing the term of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which is a psaltery or stringed instrument: and we call even at this day, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 i. the playing upon the pipe or hautboys, by the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, striking with the fingers, which no doubt is a term fetched from the harp or lute. And even so, the very place where they do exercise, who perform all feats of activity naked, is named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, wrestling; which (no doubt) was a denomination given to it at the first, and time out of mind, howsoever it be retained still, and extendeth to other exercises invented since, & taken up long after. Then began I, and said: That this argument and testimony, was not sufficient to conclude thereupon: For admit (quoth I) that Palaestra was derived of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which signifieth wrestling, yet it was not because of all others it was most ancient, but for that it is the only exercise that requireth clay, called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 dust also and ceroma, which is a composition of oil and wax, wherewith wrestlers be anointed. For surely, in these places, called Palaestrae, there is practised neither running a race, nor fist-fight or combat with buffets, but only wrestling, called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and Pancration, wherein they go to it with hand and foot, yea, and by the very teeth and all: for that in these two exercises, the champions lie along otherwhiles, and wallow in the dust and mire, named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 And evident it is, that Pancration is a mixed exercise of wrestling and fist-fight. Again: What likelihood or reason is there (quoth I) that wrestling, which of all combats is most witty and artificial, should likewise be of greatest antiquity? for need and necessity produceth that first, which is simple, plain, and without art; performed rather by fine force and main violence, than by rule and method. When I had thus delivered my conceit, Sosicles seconding my words: True it is (quoth he) that you say, and the better to confirm your opinion; it seemeth unto me, that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is derived of the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to overthrow or lay one along by craft and deceit. Nay rather (quoth Philinus) it took the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the flat palm of the hand, because this part especially of both the hands is most employed by them that wrestle; like as those, who go to buffets, use their two fists or hands clutched together; whereupon, that manner of fight is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that signifieth, a fist; and the other, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the broad palm of the hand. Howbeit, forasmuch as the poets use this verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, to strew and sprinkle dust, which we see wrestlers for to practise more than any other champions, it may be very well, that the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 was derived from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Consider yet moreover (quoth he) how the curriers or runners in a race, do all that lies in them, to leave their concurrents a great way behind, and be as far before them as possibly they can; those also that fight at buffets, though otherwhiles they be very desirous to buckle and close together, yet the wardens and judges of the games will not permit them once to catch hold: but we see that wrestlers only do clasp about, and embrace one another with their arms; and the most part of their striving one against another, whether it be performed by taking hold either directly or indirectly, by tripping, by coping and tugging, do all bring them together, and interlace them: so that it is not unlike, that by reason they approach so as they do, and be nearest one to another, their wrestling was first called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which signifieth near at hand.   

THE FIFTH QUESTION.  
What is the reason that Homer among the combats of prize, setteth always in the first place: The fight at buffets; in the second, wrestling; and last of all, running the race?  
WHen these words had passed to and fro, and after that we had commended Philinus, Lyssmachus began again, saying: And which of all the games of prize should a man say was first performed? The race or career, as at the Olympic solemnities: for here at the Pythique games, the manner is to bring in certain champions at every several game or play: first boys to wrestle, and after them, men-wrestlers also; then those that perform fist-fight, one after another; and likewise the champions called Pancratiastae: but there, after that children have achieved all their combats, the men grown were called in: Mary, this I would have you to consider well (quoth he) whether Homer hath not done very expressly, to show the order which was observed in his time? for always in his poëmes the fight with fist among all the Gymnick combats, standeth first; wrestling second; and the running of a course last: hereat Crates the Thessalian, wondering (as if he had been amazed) O Hercules (quoth he) what a number of things are we ignorant of! but I beseech you, that if you have readily under your hand any of his verses, you would not think much to call them to our remembrance, and recite them: Why (quoth Tunon then) it is well known in manner to all the world, and none there is but his ears resound again with this; that in the honourable funerals of Patroclus, the same order of combats was precisely observed; and the poet keeping the same order still, and never missing it, hath brought in Achilles speaking unto good Nestor in this manner: 
here father old, I give to thee,  
This gift of mere gratuitee:  
For now with fist thou mayst not fight:  
To wrestle still thou hast no might:  
Thou canst no more the javelin lance,  
Nor in the race thyself advance.  And anon he inferreth the aged greybeard, answering with along train of words, as the manner is of these old folk, after this sort: 
The time was when at buffet fight, the prize I won in field,  
And with my first made Clitomede sir Oenops son, to yield:  
Ancaeus the Pleuronien in wrestling gave me place,  
And Iphiclus by foot-manship, I overranne in race.  Afterwards in another place he speaketh of Ulysses, challenging the Phaeocians to combat in this wise: 
At buffets dry with good hard clutched fist,  
At wrestling, or at running, if you list.  But of Alcinous making a kind of excuse, and in sort condemning himself, in these words: 
At buffets hard we fight not well,  
Ne yet in wrestling do excel:  
But swift of foot, and light we are,  
And run a course with you we dare.   
Thus you may see his order, he changeth not upon any occasion or occurrence presented, neither rashly, and as it came into his head, now in one sort, and then in another; but following from point to point, as it were by a certain rule and prescript, what was the use in those days, and what was done then; he keepeth himself to the same method, according as they likewise observe still in the said ancient order. After that my brother had finished his speech, I said: That in mine advice he had spoken very well and truly to the point; but yet for all that, I could not conceive the reason of the said order: and some other were there present, who thought it unlikely, and were not persuaded, that in case of combat and achieving feats of activity for victory, either fight with fists, or wrestling, should go before running: and therefore they requested me to search farther into the matter, and to fetch the reason thereof from the very original: whereupon I set in hand presently and extempore, spoke to this effect: That I thought all these combats to be the very representations and exercise of warfare; for proof whereof, the custom was and is at this day, after that these combats be performed, to bring into the place a footman in complete harness, and armed at all pieces, as it were to witness, that this is the end whereunto tend all these exercises of the body, the contentions also and aemulations, for to gain the prize, and the privilege granted unto the victors when they returned with triumph to those cities where they were borne; namely, to make some breach in the walls, and to throw down some part thereof: the mystery and meaning whereof is thus much; that the walls of a city serve in small stead, if there be no men in it who are able to fight, and know how to win the victory. In Lacedaemon they that once had gained the prize at these sacred and crowned games; by a special privilege of honour, were allowed a certain place in the battle, to be ranged near unto the king's person, and there to fight: and of all living creatures, there is none but the horse only that can obtain the crown in such games; for that he alone of all beasts, is by nature framed, and by discipline trained to accompany men in battles, and with them to fight: now if this be true, and to the purpose: We observe moreover (quoth I) that the first and principal work of those who fight in the field, is to strike the enemy, and to ward his blows; the second is, when they be come to close and to grapple with handgripes, to thrust and assay how to overturn and lay one another underfoot: which by report was the vantage, that our countrymen being well practised in the feat of wrestling, had over the Spartans', at the battle of Leuctres, whereby they overthrew them, & bore them to the ground: this also was the causethat Aeschylus the poet in one place, speaking of a valiant warrior, nameth him: 
A wrestler stout, and tried in field,  
To fight it out with sword and shield.  And Sophocles in one of his tragedies speaking likewise of the trojans, reporteth thus much of them in these terms: 
They love great horses for to sit, as valiant men at arms;  
Bows borned at both ends they bend, and draw with strength of arms;  
They fight so close, they catch such hold, and gripe fast with hands twain,  
That in their wresiling, all their shields resound and ring again.  The third is this, when all is done, either to fly and run away apace, if they be vanquished, or else to follow hard in chase, if they be conquerors. By good right therefore, the fight with fists goeth first; wrestling followeth in the second place; and running cometh in the last; for that buffeting representeth the charging of the enemy, and the avoiding of his recharge; wrestling may be compared with the violent buckling and conflict pelmell in the medley; and by running, they learn how to pursue, or to escape by good footmanship.   

THE six QUESTION.  
Why the pine, sapine, or pitch tree, and such other as yeela rosin, will not abide to be grass in the scutcheon, or by way of inoculation.  
SOclarus feasting us upon a time within his orchards, which were well watered, and environed all about with the river Cephisus, showed unto us trees carrying arms and branches of sundry sorts, after a very strange manner, and all by the means of a kind of grassing in the bud, called inoculation: for there saw we olive boughs growing out of lentisk or mastic trees; pomegranates out of myrtles; oaks there were which put forth fair pirries or peartrees; and planetrees that admitted and adopted apple trees; figge-trees also which were grafted with mulberry imps and coins; other mixtures there were beside of wild plants, so ramed and made gentle, that they bare fruit: whereupon some other of the guests began to jest and be merry with Soclarus, saying: That he nourished certain kinds of beasts, more monstrous than the fabulous Sphinxes or Chimaeraes of the poets. But Craton proposed this question: What the cause might be, that those trees only which be oileous and full of rosin, admit not any such mixtures and compositions? For never shall you see pine tree that beareth the nuts, cypress tree, pitch tree or sapine, to maintain or feed the graff of a tree different in kind. Then Philo, there is (quoth he) one maxim or principle held among the learned, and the same confirmed by the experience of husbandmen: That oil is an enemy to all plants; and there is not a readier way to kill what tree soever a man will, than to rub or besmear it with oil; like as bees also by that means are soon destroyed: so it is therefore, that all those trees which have been named, are of a fatty substance, and have a soft and uncteous nature, insomuch as there distilleth and droppeth from them pitch and rosin; and if a man make a gash or incision in any of them, they yield from within, a certain bloody liquor or gum, yea, and there issueth from the torch staves made of them, an oileous humour, which shineth again, because they are so fatty & unguinous: This is the reason why they will not join and be concorporate with other trees, no more than oil itself be mingled with other liquors. When Philo had done with his speech, Crato added thus much moreover: That in his opinion, the nature of their rind or bark, made somewhat for the said matter; for the same being thin and dry withal, yieldeth neither a sure seat & socket as it were to the imps or buds (which there dies) to rest in, nor means to get sap and nutriment for to incorporate them; like as all those plants which have barks very tender, moist, and soft, whereby the graffs may be clasped, united, and soddered with those parts that be under the said bark. Then Soclarus himself said: That whosoever made these reasons, was in the right, and not deceived in his opinion; to think it necessary, that the thing which is to receive another nature, should be pliable and easy to follow every way; to the end, that suffering itself to be tamed and overcome, it might become of like nature, and turn the own proper nutriment, into that which is set and graffed in it. Thus you see, how before we sow or plant, we ear and turn the earth, making it gentle, soft, and supple, that being in this manner wrought to our hand, and made tractable, it may be more willing to apply itself, for to embrace in her bosom whatsoever is either sown or planted; for chose, a ground which is rough, stubborn, and tough, hardly will admit alteration: these trees therefore consisting of a light kind of wood, because they are unapt to be changed and overcome, will admit no concorporation with others: And moreover (quoth he) evident it is, that the stock in respect of that which is set and graffed into it, aught to have the nature of a ground which is tilled; now it is well known, that the earth must be of a female constitution, apt to conceive and bear; which is the cause that we make choice of those trees for our stocks to graff upon, which are most fruitful; like as we choose good milk women that have plenty of milk in their breasts, to be nurses for other children besides their own, who we put unto them: but we see plainly, that the cypress tree, the sapin, and all such like, be either barren altogether, or else bear very little fruit: and like as men and women both who are exceeding corpulent, gross and fat, are for the most part unable either to get or bear children; for spending all their nourishment as they do in feeding the body, they convert no superfluity thereof into genetal seed; even so, these trees employing all the substance of their nouriture to fatten as it were themselves, grow indeed to be very thick and great; but either they bear no fruit at all, or if they do, the same is very small, and long ere it come to maturity and perfection: no marvel therefore that a stranger will not breed or grow there, whereas the own natural issue thriveth but badly.   

THE SEVENTH QUESTION.  
Of the stay-ship fish, Echeneis.  
CHaeremonianus the Trallien, upon a time when diverse and sundry small fishes of all sorts were set before us, showed unto us one with a long head, and the same sharp pointed, and told us that it resembled very much the stay-ship fish, called thereupon in Greek Echeneis, and he reported moreover, that he had seen the said fish, as he sailed upon the Sicilian sea, and marveled not a little at the natural force and property that it had, so sensibly in some sort to stay and hinder the course of a ship under sail, until such time as the mariner who had the government of the prow or foredecke, espied it sticking close to the outside of the ship. upon the relation of this strange occurrent, some there were in place at that time, who laughed at Chaeremonianus; for that this tale and fiction, devised for the nonce to make folk merry, and which was incredible, went currant with him, and was taken for good payment: again, others there were, who spoke very much in the defence of the hidden properties, and secret antipathies or contrarieties in nature. There you should have heard many other strange passions and accidents; to wit, that an elephant being enraged and stark mad, becometh appeased immediately, upon the sight of a ram; also, that if a man hold a branch or twig of a beech tree close unto a viper, and touch her therewith never so little, she will presently stay and stir no farther; likewise, that a wild bull, how wood and furious soever he be, will stand gently and be quiet, in case he be tied to a figtree; semblably, that amber doth remove and draw unto it all things that be dry and light withal, save only the herb basil, and whatsoever is besmeered with oil; Item, that the Magnet or Loadstone, will no more draw iron, when it is rubbed over with garlic: the proof and experience of which effects, is well known, but the causes thereof difficult, if not impossible to be found out. But I for my part, said: That this was rather a shift and evasion, to avoid a direct answer unto the question propounded, than the allegation of a true cause pertinent thereto: for we daily see that there be many events and accidents concurring, reputed for causes, and yet be none; as for example, if one should say or believe, that the blowming of the withie called Chast-tree, causeth grapes to ripen, because there is a common word in every man's mouth. 
Lo how the chast-trees now do flower,  
And grapes wax ripe even at one hour.  or that by reason of the fungous' matter seen to gather about the candle-snuffs or lamp-weeks, the air is troubled, and the sky overcast; or that the hooking inwardly of the nails upon the fingers, is the cause, and not an accident, of the ulcer of the lungs or some noble part within, which breedeth a consumption. Like as therefore, every one of these particulars alleged, is a consequent of diverse accidents, proceeding all from the same causes; even so I am of this mind (quoth I) that one and the same cause, stayeth the ship, and draweth the little fish Echeneis to stick unto the side thereof; for so long as the ship is dry, or not overcharged with moisture soaking into it, it with great reason, that the keel glideth more smoothly away, by reason of the lightness thereof, and cutteth merrily thorough the waves, which yield and give way willingly unto it, all the while it is clean and void of filth; but after once (by being long drenched and soaked in the water, it hath gotten about the keel a deal of moss, reits, kilpe, and tangle, wherewith it is overgrowen and furred; then the wood of the said keel or bottom, becometh more dull, and not able to cut the waves so easily; and the water beating upon the moss and filth there engendered, resteth there still, and passeth not so easily away. The mariners therefore, seeing this, use to cleanse the sides of the ship, and to scrape off this moss, reits, and such like baggage, from the planks and ribs thereof, unto which it is like that the said fish willingly cleaveth, as being a matter soft and tender: so that we may very well think, that by reason of it, as the principal cause the ship is stayed, and that it is not a consequent or accessory of that which causeth the slowness thereof.   

THE EIGHTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause that the horses named Lycospades, be more courageous, and fuller of slomacke, than others?  
SOme are of opinion, that these horses Lycospades took their denomination of certain rough and hard bits, called in Greek, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 by means whereof, being so stomakefull otherwise, and hard to be ruled, they were wont to be tamed and restrained: but my father, who was not a man so prompt and ready of speech as others be, and given to speak rashly and without advisement, howbeit, one who had not the least skill in horsemanship, and loved always to keep the best horses that might be come by, said: That those horses (which being but colts) were set upon and assaulted by wolves, and yet were rescued, escaped the danger of them, proved good metal, and swift of pace; and there upon were named Lycospades. And for that many approved this reason of his, and gave testimony with him that he spoke a truth, occasion was ministered thereby, to search into the cause thereof; and namely, how and by what reason such an accident as this might make horses more generous and better spirited; and verily, the most part of the company there present, were of opinion, that the said occurrent bred cowardice in horses, rather than stomach and generosity; and so, by reason that they became timorous thereby, and apt to be frighted upon every occasion, therefore their motions were more quick and lively; like as other wild beasts also, when they chance to be entangled within net and toil: but I myself inferred, and said: That it would be well and thoroughly considered, whether it were not clean contrary to that which appeared at the first sight, and which they opined; for colts become not more swift and fleet of foot for avoiding the peril of being worried and devoured by wolves that set upon them, but rather, if they had not been nimble and full of courage before, naturally, they could never have gotten away clear, as they did, from the wolf; no more than Ulysses proved a wise man, because he avoided the danger of that giant Cyclops Polyphemus; but for that he was by nature prudent and wise, he found means to save himself.   

THE NINTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause that the flesh of those sheep which have been wolfe-bitten, is tenderer, but their wool more subject to breedlice and vermin, than others?  
Upon the former discourse of horses, inferred there was a speech also, concerning sheep that had been bitten by the wolf; for that it is a received opinion, that this biting of theirs maketh their flesh more delicate in the eating, but their wool apt to engender louse. As for the reason that my son in law Patrocles yielded, as touching the sweetness of their flesh, it seemed to be true; for thus he argued: That this beast by means of his biting, caused the flesh to eat more short and tender, for that his breath is so ardent and fierie-hot, that it is able to resolve and digest within his stomach, the hardest bones that be; which is the reason (quoth he) that such flesh as the wolf hath bitten, is sooner mortified, and doth putrify more quickly than others: mary, for the wool we were not so well resolved, as supposing that the same did not breed louse, but rather draw them forth, and let them out to be seen, by a certain incisive or abstersive faculty that it hath; as also through the heat thereof, whereby it openeth the pores of the skin; which property is infused into the wool of a sheep, by means of the tooth and breath of the wolf, which altereth not only the flesh, but even the very wool and shag-hair of the beast which he hath worried and killed. And this reason is confirmed by experience and example; for it is well known unto us all, that hunters, butchers, and cooks, sometimes with one blow knock down their beasts, and lay them along soon dead and breathless in a moment; others again, hardly and with much ado are able to kill them, after many a stroke; and that which yet is more wonderful than so, some of them infuse together with the axe or knife of iron, wherewith with the beast is slain, such a quality that the same putrefieth presently, and will not last sweet one day to an end: others again, though they be not longer about the kill of a beast than the other, yet the flesh of beasts so slain, doth not so soon corrupt, but continueth sound and sweet a good while after. And that true it is, that the variety & alteration occasioned by the sundry sorts of death, and killing of beasts, passeth and extendeth as far as to their very skin, their hair, nails, houses and clees; Homer himself doth testify, who of their hides and skins is wont thus expressly to write: 
The hide it was of stur dyox.  
Sticked with knife, or brained by knocks.  For the skin of those beasts which die not for age, nor of long malady, but are killed violently, is more sirme, fast, and tough: and true it is, that of those tame-living creatures, which have been bitten by wild beasts, the houfes, clees, and nails turn black, the hair sheddeth, and the skins become riveled, soon tear and fall a pieces.   

THE TENTH QUESTION.  
Whether our ancestors did better, who when they were at supper, fed every man by himself, and knew his own part, than we in these days who eat our victuals all together, and feed in common?  
THat year wherein I was head magistrate in my country, and bore that provostship whereof the year took name, most of the suppers were private repasts of sacrifices, where every man had his part and portion set out; where with some were wonderfully well pleased; but others blamed the manner thereof, as uncivil, unsociable, and illiberal, saying: That so soon as the garland or coronet of the beast sacrificed was taken off his head, and laid down, we ought to reduce our tables to the ancient order and old accustomed fashion again: For it is not I suppose (quoth Agias) for to eat and drink simply, that we invite one another, but for to eat and drink together for company and good-fellowship; whereas this parting and division of flesh and other viands into portions, doth abolish all communication & society, making indeed many several suppers, and many men to sit at supper apart, but not one supping with another, or fellow-guest in one mess; when every man takes as it were from the butchers stall his own joint of meat, or a piece of flesh by just weight, or at a certain size, & so sets his part before him. For is not all one I pray you, and what difference is there I would feign know, to allow each one of the guests at table his own cup by himself, & to fill every man his Congious or gallon of wine, yea, and to allow him his table apart from others? like as by report the lineage of Demophon sometime served Orestes, and so to bid them drink without any regard or heed of others? what diversity (I say) is in this, and the manner of these our days; namely, to set before every man his loaf of bread, and piece of flesh, for to feed by himself, as it were at his own manger? Surely all the odds is, that we have no commandment to keep silence and say never a word when we are at our meat, as those had who entertained and feasted Orestes, and verily even this haply aught to provoke and bring us that are met, to the communion & participation of all things at a feast or banquet; namely: that we talk there one to another, that we be partakers together of one song of a minstrel wenches music delighting us all, and one as well as another, with her playing upon a psaltery or pipe, & singing thereto. Moreover, that standing cup of amity and good-felowship, which is set in the very mids of the company, for to drink out of it, one to another, and that without any limitation or restraint to certain bounds, standeth as it were a source and lively fountain of love and good will, and hath no other stint and measure, but the thirst and disposition of every one, to drink at his pleasure: not like to this most unjust distribution of bread and flesh to every one, which masketh itself with a false colour of equality among those who are unequal; for even that, as even and equal as it seemeth and in manner all one, is too much for him that needs but a little, and too little for him, who hath need of much. Like as therefore (my good friend) he is a ridiculous and foolish leech, who to many and sundry patients, sick of divers and different diseases, exhibiteth and giveth medicines just of one weight, and exactly of the same measure; even so were the master of a feast worthy to be laughed at, who having invited to his table sundry persons who are not hungry or thirsty alike, would entertain and serve them all indifferently after one order, measuring the equality of his distribution, by proportion arithmetical and not geometrical. True it is (I confess) that we go or send all of us to the tavern for to buy our wine, by one & the same measure just, which is allowed and set down by the public State; but to the table, every man brings his own stomach, the which is filled not with an equal quantity of meat or drink, to all others, but with that which sufficeth each one. As touching those 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  banquets that Homer speaketh of, wherein every man had his part cut out; to what purpose should we bring them hither from military discipline, and the custom of a camp, to the manner and fashion of these days? but more reason it is that we resolve and propose unto ourselves, for to imitate herein the humanity & courtesy of those in old time, who highly honoured, not only those who lodged ordinarily, and made their abode with them under one roof, but also such as drunk of the same cup, eat of the same meat, and fed out of one dish with them, insomuch as they entertained and reverenced their society in all things. Away therefore (I pray you) with those short meals and slender pittances of Homer; which in my conceit are somewhat too scantand pinching, and as a man would say, over hungry and thirsty; as having kings and princes for the masters and makers of them, who be more sparing of their purses, and looking more nearly to their expenses, than those good hosts and keepers of ordinaries in Italy; as who being in arms and arranged in battle ray, and ready to join in conflict with the enemy, could remember precisely, how many times each one of their guests who dined or supped with them, took the cup and drank. Yet commend me to those banquets and feasts which Pindarus writeth of, for surely they are much better; in which, as he saith: 
Full oft a prince, and person honourable,  
Among them all, sat at some stately table.  For why? such feasts had the communication of all things together: and verily this was the fellowship and knot indeed of true friends, whereas the other was a distraction and separation of persons, who made semblance to be the greatest friends, and yet could not agree and communicate together, so much as in the feeding of one dish of meat. Agias had good audience given him, and was well commended for the reasons which he alleged; and then we set one of the company to come upon him in this manner, saying: That Agias thought it very strange and was offended that he should have an equal portion which others allowed him, carrying as he did before him such a grand-paunch; and in truth, a great eater he was, and given exceeding much to belly cheer: For a common 
* That is to say, if a fish be eaten in common, it is not known how much one hath eaten of it more than his sellowes, by the bones lying upon his trencher.  fish (as Democritus was wont to say) hath no bone. And yet this is that (quoth I) which especially and above all induceth us to the use of these portions, and not without good reason, considering that we acknowledge fatal necessity by the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for according as the old lady Jocasta said in Euripides: 
That which uniteth cities and great States,  
And knits in league confederates.  is nothing else but equality: and nothing in the world hath so much need thereof, as the society and communion at the table; which is grounded upon nature, and law of necessity, nothing so much; the usage whereof, is not newly taken up, nor drawn in, as needful, by opinion of others, but right necessary in itself. For at an ordinary or common repast, where folk feed together of one dish; if one eat more than his fellows, certes, he that can not ply his teeth so fast, and cometh short of him, doth malign and repine at him for it; like as that galley which maketh way, and skuddeth before others, is spighted by those that come dragging behind. For me thinks it is not an auspicate beginning of a feast, nor agreeable to amity and good fellowship, to snatch or lurch one from another, to have many hands in a dish at once, to cross one another with the elbow, and to be with hand or arm 〈◊〉 his fellows way, striving a vie who should be more nimble with his fingers; but surely, all these fashions are absurd, unseemly, and (as I may say) doglike, ending many times in snarling, jarring, bitter taunts, revile, and choleric brawls, not only of the guests one with another, but also against those that furnished the board, and the masters of the feast, But so long as these wise fairies, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, portion and partition, had the ordering of suppers, dinners and great feasts, dispensing and setting out an equality for to maintain the society there, a man should never see any 〈◊〉 or mechanical disorder: for in those days, suppers were called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 guests at the table, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the carvers serving at the table, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for that they divided, cut our, and gave to every one their due portions. And verily, the Lacedæmonians had among them certain distributers of flesh, whom they called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and those were no mean men of the vulgar sort, but principal persons of the State, insomuch as Lysander himself was by king Agesilaus ordained and created 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Asia, that is to say, an officer for the distribution flesh-meat in the camp there. But down went these distributions and divisions, when superfluities and costly cates crept into feasts, and were served up to the table; for they could not then (as I suppose) so handsomely cut into even portions, their pie-meats, pasties, tarts, marchpanes, and such devices of pastry; they might not so well divide their flawnes, custards, egge-pies, florentines, and dainty puddings, going under the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ne yet their blamangers, jellies, chawdres and a number of exquisite sauces, and delicate junkets of all sorts, sent up and brought to the board: but being overcome with the pleasure of such lickorous viands, they took to them, an abandoning of all equal distribution of parts and portion. A good argument and sufficient proof hereof, a man may gather by that which we see yet at this day; namely, that the feasts at sacrifices, and some public banquets, are made after the antic manner, and served up by even portions, to show the simplicity and pure feeding that was in old time: so that I suppose, whosoever would bring up again that distribution, should withal revive the ancient frugality. But some man haply, will say: That where private propriety is in place, public community is turned out of doors. True indeed, in case that propriety retain not equality: for it is not the possession of a man's own, and of a thing in proper; but the usurping of another man's right, or the covetous encroaching upon the common, that hath brought injustice, debate and trouble into the world; which enormities, the laws do repress, by the bounds, limits and measure of that which a man holdeth as proper & his own, and thereupon they be called in Greek, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of the power and authority which they have to part equally unto every one, that which was common among all. For otherwise, if you admit not this distribution, you have no more reason to allow that the master of the feast should deal among his guests, to every one his coronet or chaplet of flowers, nor his own place to sit at the board. Nay, if any one peradventure, bring with him his shee-friend and sweetheart, or a minstrel wench to play and sing, they must be common to him and his friends, that all our goods may be huddled pellmell, and made 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, one, according as Anaxagoras would have all. But if it be so, that the challenge in propriety of this or that, is no trouble nor hindrance of society and communion, considering, that other matters of principal regard and greatest importance, are allowed for to be common, (I mean conference in talk, courtesies and kindnesses of drinking one to another, and mutual invitings) let us surcease and give over, thus to despise, discredit and condemn this laudable manner of portions, and the lottery in partage, which (as Euripides saith) is the daughter of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 some 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, the sold: others 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, silence.  Fortune, which giveth not the prerogative and pre-eminence, either to riches, or credit and nobility; but going (as it happeneth) aswell one way as another, cheereth up the heart of a poor and abject person, and depriveth no sort and condition whatsoever, of liberty; but by acquainting the great, wealthy and mighty person with an equality, so as he repine not and grudge thereat, reclaimeth him unto temperance and moderation.     

THE THIRD BOOK OF SYMPOSIAQUES OR BANQUET-QUESTIONS.  

The Contents, or Chapters thereof.  
1 WHether it be commendable to wear chapless of flowers upon the head, at a table.  
2 Of the Ivy, whether it be hot or cold by nature.  
3 What the reason is that women be hardly made drunk, but old men very soon.  
4 Whether women by their natural constitution and complexion, be hotter or colder than men.  
5 Whether wine of the own nature and operation be cold.  
6 Of the meet time and season to company with a woman.  
7 What is the cause that Must or new wine, doth not easily overturn the brain, or make one drunk.  
8 How it cometh to pass, that those who be thorough drunk indeed, are less troubled in the brain, than such as are but in the way unto it, and as it were half drunk.  
9 What is the meaning of this old proverb: Drink five or three, but never four.  
10 Why fleshmeats corrupt and putrife sooner in the moon shine, than in the sun.   

THE THIRD BOOK OF Symposiaques or banquet-questions.  

The Preamble or Proëme.  
SImonides the poet, o Sossius Senecio, seeing upon a time a stranger at the table, sitting still, and saying never a word, when others were merry, and drank liberally, said unto him: My friend, if you be a fool, you do wisely; but if you be a wise man, you do as foolishly: for it is a great deal better for a man (as Heraclitus was wont to say) to hide his own folly and ignorance, than to discover the same; and that iwis is a very hard matter to do; when we are set upon a merry pin, and drinking wine lustily: for as the poet Homer said very well: 
Wine makes a man, were he both wise and grave,  
One while to sing, and other while to rave:  
To sport, to play, and laughfull wanton  
To leap, to dance, and foot it daintily:  
Words to let fall, and secrets to reveal  
Which better were to hold in and conceal.  In which verses, the poet if I be not deceived, doth covertly and by the way imply a difference between liberal drinking of wine, or being somewhat cupshotten, and drunkenness indeed: for to sing, to laugh, and to dance, be ordinary matters, incident to those who have taken their liquor well, and be heat with wine, but to prate like a fool, and 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as the Latin 〈◊〉 seemeth to read.  blurt out that, which better had been kept in, be the effects and acts of such as have powered in too much, and be stark drunken; and herefore Plato said: That the affections and conditions of the vulgar sort of men, be discovered far better in drinking than otherwise. And when Homer saith: 
They had not yet by wine and words,  
Known one another at their boards.  it is evident that he wist well enough of what power and force wine was; namely, to engender and multiply many words: for surely, we come not to the knowledge of men and their manners, by eating and drinking, in case they eat and drink and say nothing. but for that drink induceth and draweth on folk to speak much; and much speech detecteth and layeth open many things, which otherwise would have lain hidden; therefore by good consequence, drinking together giveth a great light and knowledge one of another: and therefore we may by good right reprove Aesop in this wise: What mean you good sir, to seek for those windows, through which one man might look into another, and see into his neighbour's heart? for wine setteth the doors wide enough open unto us, and bewrayeth what we have within; not suffering us to be still and silent, but taking from us the mask and viso of all dissimulation, and showing what we are in our colours, as if we stood in no fear at all of law, but were a great way out of the sight of our tutors and schoolmasters that kept us in awe. Wine then is enough for Aesop, for Plato, and for all those who search after means to discover the secrets of men's hearts: but such as desire not in this wise to try and sift one another; but rather be willing to converse together with mirth and recreation, these men (I say) are wont to propose questions, and entertain such discourses when they meet; whereby the ill parts and imperfections of the soul, if they have any, may be concealed and hidden; but the best gifts thereof, and that which savoureth most of civility and erudition, may appear and gather more strength, as being conducted and trained by the guidance of learning and good literature, to the fair meadows and pleasant pastures wherein she taketh delight to walk and feed; in which regard, I have for your sake compiled this third Decade of banquet-questions and table discourses; whereof the first concerneth chaplets of flowers:   

THE FIRST QUESTION.  
Whether it be commendable to we are upon the head, flower-garlands at the table.  
THere was a solemn feast or banquet one day at Athens, which Eraton the professor in music made, having sacrificed before unto the muses: and to this feast he invited many; among that fair company, certain questions were moved, and much good talk passed as touching chaplets of flowers: for by occasion that after supper was done, many such coronets of all sorts went about, and were dealt round among the guests; Ammonius began to scosse and laugh at us; who in stead of laurel chaplets, did set upon our heads rose-garlands: For that (quoth he) these chaplets of flowers be girlish gauds, and more meet indeed for plaifull maidens and young women, than the assemblies of philosophers and learned men: And I wonder much at this Eraton, that reproving and detesting as he doth the flower-works, (as it were in song and music, and blaming fair Agathon; who by report first brought up the Chromaticke music; and when he set out the tragedy of the Mysians, inserted it within other plain music) should himself as you see, heap upon us at this feast a number of wreaths, garlands, and chaplets of flowers, filling the whole place with sweet smells and pleasant favours; and when he shutteth up the door of our ears, against the delights and pleasures of music; should in the mean while set open the windows of our eyes and nostrils, giving entrance thus another way unto them, for to pierce unto the soul, making a coronet and garland to serve for pleasure and looseness; which should be a matter of religion and devotion: and yet I must needs say, that these oils and perfumes yield a sweeter savour, and more exquisite pleasant odour, than these chaplets of flowers, that fade and wither in the hands of the garland makers: howbeit, for all that, they are allowed no place in banquets and assemblies of philosophers; being an idle pleasure, not accompanied with any profit whatsoever, nor arising from any source of natural necessity or appetite: for like as those who come as shadows to a feast, being brought thither by some friends, who are themselves bidden guests, according to the ordinary custom of courtesy, find who themselves no less welcome and well entreated than the rest, as Aristodemus was, whom Socrates brought with him to a feast, which Agathon made; but if one go of himself presumptuously, not invited nor brought thither by a friend; he is well worthy to have the door shut upon him; even so the pleasures of eating and drinking, which necessity hath invited, and do accompany the natural appetite, are admitted and have place among wise men: but as for others which come before they be bidden or sent for, and press to get in without any reason, only upon a disordinate lust, are to be kept out and excluded.  
At these words of Ammonius, certain young men who were not as yet acquainted with his fashions, being dismayed and abashed; began gently, and without more a do to pluck off and pull in sunder their coronets. But I (who knew well enough that he moved this talk only by way of exercise, and because he would draw us on to debate the matter) addressed my speech unto Tryphon the physician in this wise: Of all loves Tryphon, be so good as lay down as well as we, this goodly chaplet which you have upon your head, so fragrant & flagrant, both of most beautiful red roses; or else declare presently as you are wont to do emany times among us, the profit and commodity that this flower garland doth confer unto our drinking of wine so freely. But here Eraton interposing himself: How is it ordained (quoth he) that we receive no pleasure free, but it bringeth always one salary or other with it; & ever as we solace ourselves and be merry, we are displeased and discontented, in case we enjoy not our delights with some hire or reward to cheer the same: as for sweet smells or costly oils, and compound perfumes, there is some reason peradventure why we should be somewhat ashamed of them; as also for the rich purple colours we may be abashed, in regard of the affected curiosity and superfluous expense thereof; which we are to reject, as being odours deceitful, and fraudulent robes and colours; as sometime said that barbarous Scythian: but colours and odours such as be natural, are simple, pure, and sincere, not differing in that respect from the fruits of trees which nature bringeth forth. Were it not then mere folly to gather the juice and liquor of such fruits, and in the mean time reject and condemn the fairer colours and sweet savours, that the seasons of the year do yield, only for the delightsome aspect and pleasure that floweth (as it were) out of them, if they afford not otherwise some virtue and property which is good and profitable? It seemeth rather yet, that we should do the contrary; namely, if it be true as you philosophers say, that nature doth nothing in vain and for no purpose, that she hath created and produced these things, for the pleasure only of man, as serving to no other purpose, but only for to cheer up our spirits, and content our outward senses. Mark this moreover and beside, how unto trees and plants that prosper and grow, nature hath given leaves, to save and defend their fruits; as also that under their covert, themselves (one while warmed and another while cooled and refreshed) might be able the better to endure the injuries of the air, and change of seasons. As for flowers, they yield no commodity at all, by their tarrying upon the plant, unless it be this, that we have delight in smelling, and pleasure in beholding them for a time, in that there exhale and breath from them, wonderful sweet savours; and they discover unto us an infinite sort of tinctures and colours, by no art of man imitable. And therefore, when we strip trees of their leaves, they seem displeased and grieved thereat; they feel (as it were) the smart and pain of a wound; and there is left (by that means) a hurt and sore like an ulcer; and being thus despoiled of their natural beauty and heart, they are ill-favoured to see to, and desormed: so that we ought not only (as Empedocles saith) 
The leaves of laurel wholly to forbear,  
And to abstain her branches for to tear.  but also we are to spare the leaves and boughs of all other trees, and not by their deformity to adorn ourselves, robbing and spoiling them perforce and against nature; whereas, if we gather and crop their flowers, we do them no hurt nor wrong at all. For this manner of dealing with them, resembleth vintage and gathering grapes from the vine; and if they be not plucked in due time, they shed of their own accord, all faded and withered. Like as therefore, they be barbarous people, who clad themselves with the fells and skins of sheep, in stead of making cloth of their wool, to apparel their bodies; even so me thinks, that they who twist and plait their chaplets, of leaves, rather than flowers, do not use plants so well as they ought to do. Thus much I thought good to deliver unto you, in defence of those that make and sell flower garlands; for Grammarian I am not, nor much read in poets, to allege testimonies out of their poems; wherein it is to be found, that in old time, the victors who won the prize of the sacred games, were crowned all with chaplets of flowers; howbeit, thus much I will be bold to avouch out of them: That the rosegarland was peculiarly destined and appropriate to the muses; for so I remember, I have read in one place of Sapph the poetresse, where speaking of a great rich woman, yet altogether ignorant, unlettered, and a mere stranger to the muses, she writeth thus: 
All dead thou shalt entombed lie,  
And leave no name nor memory:  
For roses none thou couldst come by,  
That flower on mountain Pierie.   
But now it is time to hear what testimony Tryphon will allege out of his physic. Then Tryphon taking in hand the matter in question: Our ancients (quoth he) in alder time, were not ignorant of all these points; neither forgot they to treat thereof, as having exceeding great use of plants in the practice of physic. For proof whereof, there remain at this day, most evident arguments; for the Tyrians offer unto Agemonides, and the Magnesians unto Chiron (who were the first that professed and practised physic in those parts) the primices and first gatherings of those herbs and roots wherewith they were wont to cure and heal their patients; and prince Bacchus, not only for the invention of wine (a most puissant medicine, I may say to you, and a pleasant) was esteemed a sufficient physician; but also for that he taught those who were surprised and ravished with Bacchanal fury, to crown their heads with ivy, and brought that plant into honour and reputation by that means; for that it hath a property in nature repugnant and contrary unto the quality of wine, repressing and quenching the coldness which it hath, the predominant heat thereof, that men might take less harm thereby, and so withstand drunkenness. And verily, the names of certain plants, do plainly show the great industry and careful diligence of our forefathers in this behalf. For the walnut-tree they called in Greek 
* Of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the head, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 drowfinesse.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for that it sendeth from it a certain heavy and somniferous vapour, which hurteth the head of those who lie under the shade and boughts thereof, whereby it causeth them to be drowsy. The daffodil likewise, seemeth to have taken the name 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 benumbedness.  Narcissus, because it benumbeth the sinews, and engendereth a heavy sleepiness or stupefaction: which is the reason that Sophocles termed it the ancient coronet of the great gods, meaning thereby the gods terrestrial. Moreover, it is said that the herb Rue had the denomination in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of the virtue which it hath; by reason that with the dryness wherewith it is endued, and the same occasioned by excessive heat, it is so astringent, that it 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  knitteth, bindeth and hardeneth the natural seed of man, and is a great enemy to conception and women with child. As for the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 wine.  Amethyst, aswell the herb as the stone of that name, they who think that both the one and the other is so called, because they withstand 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  drunkenness, miscount themselves, and are deceived; for in truth, both are named so of the colour: and as for the leaf of the herb, it hath no fresh and lively hue, but resembleth a 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  winelesse weak wine, as one may say, that either drinketh flat and hath lost the colour, or else is much delayed with water. Many other plants may be alleged to this purpose, whose properties and natural virtues have imposed their names: but these examples may suffice to show the studious industry and great experience of our ancestors; in regard whereof, they used to wear chaplets of leaves and flowers upon their heads, whiles they sat drinking wine; for strong wine and pure of itself, having begun to assail the head, and to enervate or enfeeble the whole body, by seizing upon the original fountain of the nerves and senses, to wit, the brain, doth mightily trouble and disquiet a man: for the remedy of which inconvenience, the sent and smell, breathing from flowers, serveth marvelous well, for that the same doth defend and fortify as with a rampar, the castle and citadel (as it were) of the head, against the assaults and impressions of drunkenness. For these flowers, if they be hot, gently unstop and open the pores, and in so doing, make way and give vent for the heady wine to evaporate and breath out all fumosities; and chose, if they be temperately cold, by closing gently the said pores, keep down and drive back the vapours steaming up into the brain. And of this virtue are the garlands of violets and roses, which by their smell and comfortable sent, repress and stay both ache and heaviness of head. As for the flower of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as the French translation.  Privet, Saffron and Baccaris, that is to say, Our Lady's gloves, or Nard Rustic, bring them sweetly to sleep, who have drunk freely: for these send from them a mild air, breathing after a smooth and uniform manner; the which doth softly comprise and lay even, the unequal distemperatures, the troublesome acrimonies and disorderly asperities, arising in the bodies of those who have overdrunk themselves; whereupon there ensueth a calm, and thereby the strength of the heady wine is either dulled, or else rebated. Other sorts of flowers there be, the odours whereof being spread and dispersed about the brain, purge mildly the pores and passages of the senses and their organs, subtiliat and discuss gently, without trouble and offence, with their moderate heat, the humours and all moist vapours, by way of rarefaction, and warm the brain comfortably, which by nature is of a cold temperature: and for this cause especially those petty garlands or poesies of flowers which they hung in old time about their necks, they called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as if one would say suffumigations, and they anointed all their brest-parts with the oils that were expelled or extracted from them. Alcyus also testifieth as much, where he willeth to power sweet oil upon his head that had suffered much pain, and upon his breast all grey; for even so such odours are directed up as far as to the brain, being drawn by the sense of smelling. So it was not because they thought that the soul, which the Greeks call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 was seated and kept residence within the heart, that they called these wreaths and garlands about their necks 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as some would have it, for then more reason it had been to have termed them 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 but it was as I said before, of the exhalation or evaporation upward from the region of the breast, against which they were worn pendant: neither are we to wonder, that the exhalations of flowers should have so great force; for we find it written in records, that the shadow of 
* The Yewgh tree as I take it.  Smilax especially when it is in the flower, killeth them that lie a sleep under it; also from the Poppy there ariseth a certain spirit, when the juice is drawn out of it, which they call Opium, and if they take no better heed, who draw the same, it causeth them to swoone and fall to the ground: there is an herb called Alysson, which whosever hold in their hands, or do but look upon it, shall presently be rid of the yexe or painful hickot; and they say, it is very good also for sheep and goats, to keep them from all diseases, if the same be planted along their coats and folds: the Rose, also named in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 was so called, for that it casteth from it an 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  odoriferous smell, which is the reason that it quickly fadeth, and the beauty passeth soon away; cold it is in operation, although it carry the colour of fire, and not without good cause; for that the little heat that it hath, flieth up to the superficies of it, as being driven outwardly from within, by the native coldness that it hath.   

THE SECOND QUESTION.  
Whether Ivy of the own nature be cold or hot.  
THis speech of Tryphon we greatly praised: but Amonius smiling: It were not meet (quoth he) to kick and spurn again, nor to overthrow so beautiful and gay a discourse as this was, embellished and adorned with as great variety as the garlands whereof it treated, and which he undertook to defend and maintain: but that I cannot tell how it is come to pass that the Ivy is interlaced in the chaplet of flowers, and said by the natural coldness that it is to have a virtue and property to extinguish and quench the forcible heat of new wine: for chose, it seemeth to be hot and ardent, and the fruit which it beareth being put into wine, and infused therein, giveth it power to inebriat and make drunk, yea, and to trouble and disquiet the body by the inflammation that it causeth: by reason of which excessive heat, the very body thereof groweth natural crooked, after the manner of wood that curbeth and warpeth with the fire; also the snow which oftentimes continueth and lieth many days upon other trees, flieth in great haste from the Ivy tree; or to speak more properly, is presently gone, thawed and melted, if it chance to settle upon it, & that by reason of the heat; and that which more is, (as Theophrastus hath left in writing) Harpalus the lieutenant general under Alexander the Great, in the province of Babylon, by express order and direction from the king his master; endeavoured and did what he might to set in the king's orchard there, certain trees and plants which came out of Greece, and such especially as yielded a goodly shade, carried large leaves, and were by nature cold; for that the country about Babylon is exceeding hot and scorched with the burning heat of the sun; but the ground would never entertain nor abide the Ivy only; notwithstanding that Harpalus took great pains, and employed most careful diligence about it: for plant it as often as he would, it dried and died immediately; and why? hot it is of the own nature, and was planted in a mould far hotter than itself, which hindered it for taking root; for this is a general and perpetual rule: that all excessive enormities, of any object, destroy the force and powers of the subject: in which regard, they desire rather their contraries; in such sort, as that a plant of cold temperature requireth an hot place to grow in; and that which is hot demandeth likewise a cold ground: and this is the reason, that high mountain countries, windy, and covered with snow; bear ordinarily trees that yield torch-wood and pitch, as pines, cone trees, and such like: And were it not so, my good friend Tryphon, yet this is certain; that trees which by nature are i'll and cold, shed their leaves every year; for that the small heat which they have, for very penury retireth inwardly, and leaveth the outward parts naked and destitute: whereas chose, heat and uncteous fattiness, which appeareth in the olive, laurel and cypress trees, keep themselves always green, and hold their leaves, like as the Ivy also doth for her part. And therefore good father Bacchus hath not brought into use and request the Ivy, as a preservative and present help against the encounter of drunkenness, nor as an enemy to wine, who directly calleth wine 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and surnameth himself 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 thereupon: but in mine opinion, like as they who love wine, if they cannot meet with the liquor of the grape, use a counterfeit wine or barley broth, called beer & ale, or else a certain drink made of apples, named cydres or else date-wines; even so, he that gladly would in winter season wear a chaplet of vine branches, seeing it altogether naked and bare of leaves, is glad of the Ivy that resembleth it; for the body or wood thereof is likewise writhed and crooked, and never groweth upright, but shutteth out here and there, to and fro at a venture; the soft fatty leaves also after the same manner grow dispersed about the branches without all order; & besides all this, the very berries of the Ivy growing thick & clustered together like unto green grapes, when they begin to turn, do represent the native form of the vine: and yet albeit the same yieldeth some help and remedy against drunkenness; we say, it is by occasion of heat, in opening the pores and small passages in the body, for to let out the fumes of wine, and suffer them to evaporate and breath forth, or rather by her heat helpeth to concoct and digest it, that for your sake (good Tryphon) Bacchus may still continue a physician. At these words, Tryphon stayed a while, and made no answer, as thinking with himself, and studying how to reply upon him. But Eraton calling earnestly upon every one of us that were of the younger sort, spurned us forward to aid and assist Tryphon our advocate, and the patton of our flower-chaplets, or else to pluck them from our heads, and wear them no longer. And Ammonius assured us (for his part) that if any one of us would take upon him to answer, he would not recharge again, nor come upon him with a rejoinder. Then Tryphon himself moved us to say somewhat to the question. WHereupon I began to speak and said: That it belonged not to me, but rather unto Tryphon, for to prove that Ivy was cold, considering that he used it much in physic to cool and bind, as being an astringent medicine: but as touching that which erewhile was alleged; namely, that the Ivy berry doth inebriat, if it be steeped in wine; it is no found to be true; and the accident which it worketh in those who drink it in that manner, can not well be called drunkenness, but rather an alienation of the mind and trouble of the spirit; like to that effect which henbane worketh, & many other plants, which mightily disquiet the brain, and transport our senses and understanding. As for the tortuositie of the body and branches, it maketh nothing to the purpose and point in hand; for the works and effects against nature, can not 〈◊〉 from faculties and powers natural; and pieces of wood do twine and bend crooked, because fire (being near unto them) draweth and drieth up forcibly, all the native and kindly humour; where as the inward and natural heat, would rather ferment, entertain and augment it. But consider better upon the matter and mark rather, whether this writhed-bunching form of the Ivy wood (as it groweth) and the baseness, bearing still downward and tending to the ground, be not an argument rather of weakness, and bewray the coldness of the body, being glad (as it were) to make many rests and stays; like unto a pilgrim or wayfaring traveller, who for weariness and faintness sitteth him down and reposeth himself many times in his way, and ever and anon riseth again and beginneth to set forward: in regard of which feebleness, the Ivy hath always need of some prop or other to stay itself by, to take hold of, to clasp about and to cling unto, being not able of her own power to rise, for want of natural heat, whose nature is to mount aloft. As touching Snow, that it thaweth and passeth away so soon, the cause is, the moisture and softness of the Ivy leaf; for so we see that water dispatcheth and dissolveth presently, the laxity and spongeous rarity thereof, being (as it is) nothing else but a gathering and heaping of a number of small bubbles couched & thrust together: and hereof it cometh, that in over-moist places, sobbed and soaked with water, snow melteth assoon as in places exposed to the sun. Now for that it hath leaves always upon it, and the same (as Empedocles saith) firm and fast, this proceedeth not of heat, no more than the fall and shedding of leaves every year, is occasioned by cold. And this appeareth by the myrtle tree and the herb Adiantum, that is to say, Maidenhair, which being not hot plants, but cold, are always leaved and green withal: and therefore some are of opinion, that the holding of the leaves, is to be ascribed to an equality of temperature: but Empedocles (over and beside) attributeth it to a certain proportion of the pores, thorough which the sap and nourishment doth pass and pierce qually into the leaves; in such fort, as it runneth sufficiently for to maintain them: which is not so in those trees which lose their leaves, by reason of the laxity or largeness of the said pores and holes above, and the straightness of them beneath; whereby, as these do not send any nourishment at all, so the other can hold and retain none, but that little which they received, they let go all at once: like as we may observe in certain canals or trenches, devised for to water gardens and orchards, if they be not proportionable and equal; for where they be well watered and have continual nourishment, and the same in competent proportion, there the trees hold their own, and remain firm, always green, and never die. But the Ivy tree, planted in Babylon, would never grow, and refused there to live. Certes, it was well done of her, and she showed great generosity, that being (as she was) a devoted vassal to the god of Boeotia, and living (as it were) at his table, she would not go out of her own country, to dwell among those Barbarians; she followed not the steps of king Alexander, who entered alliance, and made his abode with those strange and foreign nations, but avoided their acquaintance all that ever she could, and withstood that transmigration from her native place: but the cause thereof, was not heat, but cold rather; because she could not endure the temperature of the air, so contrary to her own: for that which is semblable and familiar, never killeth any thing, but receiveth, nourisheth and beareth it, like as dry ground, the herb thyme, how hot soever the soil be. Now for the province about Babylon, they say, the air in all that tract is so soultrie hot, so stuffing, so gross, and apt to stifle and stop the breath, that many inhabitants of the wealthier sort, cause certain bits or bags of leather to be filled with water, upon which, as upon featherbeds, they lie to sleep and cool their bodies.   

THE THIRD QUESTION.  
What the cause is, that women hardly are made drunk, but old men, very soon?  
FLorus one day seemed to marvel, that Aristotle having in his treatise of drunkenness, set down this position: That old men are soon surprised and overseen with wine, but chose, women, hardly and very seldom; rendered no reason thereof, considering that his manner otherwise, is not to propose any such difficulties, but he doth decide and clear the same. And when he had made this overture, he moved the company to inquire into the cause thereof, and a supper it was, where familiar friends were met together. Then Sylla said: That the one was declared by the other: for if we comprehend the cause aright, as touching women, it were no hard matter to find our a reason for old men; considering that their natures and constitutions be most opposite and contrary, in regard of moisture and dryness, roughness and smoothness, softness and hardness: for first and foremost, suppose this of women undoubtedly, that their natural temperature is very moist, which causeth their flesh to be so tender, soft, smooth, slieke and shining; to say nothing of their natural purgations every month: when as therefore wine meeteth with so great humidity, being overcome by the predominancy thereof, it loseth the edge and tincture (as it were) together with the force that it had, so as it becometh dull, every way discoloured and waterish. And verily to this purpose, somewhat may be gathered out of the words of Aristotle; for he saith: That those who make no long draft when they take their wine, nor drink leisurely, but power it down at once (which manner of drinking they called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) are not so subject to drunkenness as others; for that the wine maketh no long stay within their bodies, but being forcibly thrust forth, soon passeth thorough: and ordinarily we may observe, that women drink in this manner; and very probable it is, that their bodies by reason of continual attraction of humours downward, to the neither parts for their monthly terms, is full of many conduits and passages, as if they were divided into channels, pipes, and trenches, to draw forth the said humours; into which the wine no sooner falleth, but away it passeth apace, that it cannot settle nor rest upon the noble and principal parts, which if they be once troubled and possessed, drunkenness doth soon ensue. chose, that old men want natural humidity, their very name in Greek seemeth to imply sufficiently, for called they are 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 not because they are 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, inclining and stooping downward to the earth, but because they are already in their habitude of body 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, earthly: Moreover, their stiffness and unpliable disposition, the roughness also of their skin, argueth their dry nature and complexion: it standeth therefore to good reason, that when they liberally take their wine, their bodies which are rare and spongious within, by occasion of that dryness, quickly catcheth and sucketh up the same, and then by long staying there, it worketh up into the head, causeth the brain to beat, and breedeth heaviness there; & like as land-flouds gently glide over those fields which be solid & hard, washing them only aloft, and making no mire & dirt; but if the ground be light and hollow they enter and soak farther in; even so wine being soon caught, and drawn by the dryness of old men's bodies, stayeth there the longer time: and were not this so, yet we may observe that the very nature of old men admitteth the same symptoms and accidents which drunkenness maketh. Now these accidents occasioned by drunkenness, are very apparent, to wit, the trembling and shaking of their limbs, faltering in their tongue, and speaking double, immoderate and lavish speech, pettishness and aptness to choler, forgetfulness and alienation of the mind and understanding; the most part whereof being incident to old men, even when they are best in health and in most sober, a little thing God wot will set them clean out, and any small agitation whatsoever will do the deed: so that drunkenness in an old man engendereth not new accidents, but setteth on foot and augmenteth those which be already common and ordinary with them. To conclude, there is not a more evident argument to prove and consirme the same than this; that nothing in the world resembleth an old man more, than a young man when he is drunk.   

THE FOURTH QUESTION.  
Whether women by their natural complexion be colder or hotter than men?  
WHen Sylla had delivered his mind to that effect; Apollonides an expert professor and well seen in ranging a battle in array, seemed by his words to approve well of that which had been alleged as touching old men; but he thought, that in the discourse of women, the only course was left out and overslipped, to wit, the coldness of their constitution, by means whereof, the hottest wine is quenched, and foregoeth that fiery flame which flieth up to the head, and troubleth the brains: and this was received as a very probable and sufficient reason, by all the company there in place. But Athryilatus the physician, a Thasian borne, interjected some stay of farther searching into this cause: For that (quoth he) some are of opinion that women are not cold, but hotter than men; yea, and others there be, (and that is a greater matter) who hold, that wine is not hot at all but cold. Florus wondering, and amazed hereat: This discourse and disputation (quoth he) as touching wine I reser to him there; and with that pointed at me; for that not many days before we had disputed together about that argument: But as for women (quoth Athryilatus) that they be rather hot than cold, they argue thus: First and foremost, they are smooth, and not hairy on their face and body, which testifieth their heat, which spendeth and consumeth the excrement and so, erfluitie that engendereth hair. Secondly, they prove it by their abundance of blood, which seemeth to be the fountain of heat in the body; and of blood women have such store, that they are ready to be inflamed, yea, to srie and burn withal, if they have not many purgations, and those quickly returning in their course to discharge and deliver them thereof. Thirdly, they bring in the experience observed at funerals, which showeth evidently, that women's bodies be far hotter than men's; for they that have the charge of burning and enterring of dead corpses, do ordinarily put into the funeral fire one dead body of a woman to ten of men: For that one corpse (say they) helpeth to burn and consume the rest; by reason that a woman's flesh containeth in it I wot not what unctuositie or oileous matter, which quickly taketh fire, and will burn as light as a torch, so that it serveth in stead of dry sticks to kindle the sire, and set all a burning. Moreover, if this be admitted for a truth, that whatsoever is more fruitful and apt for generation, is also more hot: certain it is, that young maidens be ripe betimes, readier for marriage, yea and their flesh pricketh sooner to the act of generation, than boys of their age; neither is this a small and feeble argument of their heat; but for a greater and more pregnant proof thereof, mark how they endure very well any chilling cold, and the injury of winter season, for the most part of them less quake for cold than men do, and generally need not so many clothes to wear.  
hereat Florus began to argue against him and said: In my conceit, these very arguments will serve well to confute the said opinion; for to begin with the last first, the reason why they withstand cold better than men, is because every thing is less offended with the like: beside, their seed is not apt for generation, in regard of their coldness, but serveth in stead of matter only, and yieldeth nourishment unto the natural seed of man. Moreover, women sooner give over to conceive, and cease childbearing, than men to beget children: and as for the burning of their dead bodies, they catch fire sooner I confess, but that is by reason that commonly they be fatter than men; and who knoweth not, that fat and grease is the coldest part of the body; which is the cause that yoongmen and those that use much bodily exercise, are least fat of all others: neither is their monthly sickness & avoidance of blood, a sign of the great quantity and abundance, but rather of the corrupt quality and badness thereof; for the crude and unconcocted part of their blood being superfluous, and finding no place to settle and rest, nor to gather consistence within the body by reason of weakness, passeth away, as being heavy and troubled, altogether for default and imbecility of heat to overcome it: and this appeareth manisestly by this, that ordinarily when their monthly sickness is upon them, they are very i'll, & shake for cold, for that the blood which then is stirred and in motion, ready to be discharged out of the body, is so raw and cold. To come now unto the smoothness of their skin, and that it is not hairy; who would ever say that this were an effect of heat? considering that we see the hottest parts of man's body to be covered with hair? for surely all superfluities and excrements are sent out by heat, which also maketh way, boring as it were holes through the skin, and opening the passages in the superficies thereof. But chose we may reason, that the sliecknesse of women's skin is occasioned by coldness, whilch doth constipate and close the pores thereof. Now that women's skin is more fast and close than men's; you may learn and understand by them (friend Athryilatus) who use to lie in bed with women, that anoint their bodies with sweet oils, or odoriferous compositions; for even with sleeping in the same bed with them, although they came not so near as to touch the women, they find themselves all perfumed, by reason that their own bodies which be hot, rare, and open, do draw the said ointments or oils into them: Well, by this means (quoth he) this question as touching women hath been debated pro & contrà, by opposite arguments right manfully.   

THE FIFTH QUESTION.  
Whether wine be naturally cold of operation?  
But I would now gladly know, (quoth Florus still) whereupon your conjecture and suspicion should arise, that wine is cold of nature? why? And do you think (quoth I) that this in an opinion of mine? Whose then (quoth the other?) I remember (quoth I) that not of late, but long ago, I light upon a discourse of Aristotle as touching this problem: and Epicurus himself in his Symposium or banquet, hath discussed the question at large, the sum of which disputation (as I take it) is thus much: For (he saith) that wine is not simply of itself hot, but that it containeth in it certain atomies or indivisible motes causing heat, and others likewise that engender cold; of which some it casteth off and loseth when it is entered into the body, others it taketh unto it, from the very body itself wherein it is; according as the same petty bodies be of nature and temperature, fitted and agreeable unto us; in such sort, as some when they be drunk with wine, are well heat; others again chose, be as cold. These reasons (replied Florus) directly bring us by Protagoras into the camp of Pyrrho, where we shall meet with nothing but incertitude, and be still to seek, and as wise as we were before: for plain it is, that in speaking of oil, milk, honey, and likewise of all other things, we shall never grow to any particular resolution of them, what nature they be of, but still have some evasion or other, saying: That they become such, according as each of them is mixed and tempered one with another: But what be the arguments that yourself allege, to prove that wine is cold? Thus I see well (quoth I) that there be two of you at once, who press and urge me to deliver my mind extempore, and of a sudden: the first reason then that cometh into my head is this, which I see ordinarily practised by physicians upon those who have weak stomachs: for when they are to corroborate and sortifie that part, they perscribe not any thing that is hot; but if they give them wine, they have present ease and help thereby; semblably, they repress fluxes of the belly, yea, and when the body runneth all to diaphoretical sweats, which they effect by the means of wine, no less, nay much more than by applying snow, confirming and strengthening thereby the habit of the body, which otherwise was ready to melt away and resolve: now if it had a nature and faculty to heat, it were all one to apply unto the region of the heart, as fire unto snow: furthermore, most physicians do hold, that sleep is procured by cooling; and the most part of soporiferous medicines which provoke sleep, be cold; as for example, Mandragoras and poppy Juice: but these I must needs confess, with great force and violence do compress, and (as it were) congeal the brain to work that effect; whereas wine cooling the same gently, with ease and pleasure represeth and stayeth the motion thereof; so that the difference only between it and the other, is but in degree, according to more and less. Over and beside, whatsoever is hot, is also generative and apt to engender seed; for howsoever humidity giveth it an aptitude to run and flow, it is spirit, by the means of heat, that endueth it with vigour & strength, yea, and an appetite to generation: now they that drink much wine, especially, if it be pure of itself, and not delayed, are more dull and slow to the act of generation, and the seed which they sow, is not effectual, nor of any force and vigour to engender, their meddling also and conjunction with women, is vain, and doth no good at all, by reason that their seed is cold and feeble: furthermore, all the accidents and passions which cold worketh, do befall unto those that be drunk; for they tremble and shake, they are heavy and dull of motion, and look pale; the spirit in their joints and members, is unquiet, and moveth disorderly; their tongues falter, stut and be double; last of all, their sinews in the extremities of the body, are drawn up in manner of a cramp, and benumbed; yea, and in many, drunkennesso endeth in a dead palsy or general resolution of all parts; namely, after that the wine hath utterly extinguished and mortified their natural heat. Physicians also are wont to cure these symptones and inconveniences procured by excessive drink and surset, by laying the patients presently in bed, and covering them well with clothes, for to bring them to an heat; the next morrow they put them into the bane or hothouse, and rub them well with oil; they nourish them with meats which do not trouble the mass of the body; and thus by this cherrishing, they gently fetch again and recover the heat which wine had dissipated and driven out of the body. And forasmuch as (quoth I) in things apparent and evident to the eye, we search for the like faculties which lie hidden and secret, how can we doubt what drunkenness is, and with what it may be compared? for according as I have before said, drunken folk resemble (for all the world) old men: and therefore it is, that great drunkards soon wax old, many of them become bald before their time, and grow to be grey and hoary ere they be aged; all which accidents seem to surprise a man for defect of heat.  
Moreover, vinegar (in some sort) resembleth the nature and property of wine: now of all things that are powerful to quench, there is none so repugnant and contrary to fire, as vinegar is; and nothing so much as it, by the excessive coldness that it hath, overcometh and represseth a flame. Again, we see how physicians use those fruits to cool withal, which of all others be most vinous, or represent the liquor of wine; as for example, pomegranates and other orchard apples. As for honey, do they not mix the substance thereof with rainwater and snow, for to make thereof a kind of wine, by reason that the cold doth convert the sweetness for the affinity that is between them, into austerity, when it is predominant and more puissant? what should I say more? have not our ancients in old time, among serpents, dedicated the dragon? and of all plants, consecrated Ivy to Bacchus, for this cause, that they be both of a certain cold and congealing nature? Now if any do object for proof, that wine is hot; how for them that have drunk the juice of hemlock, the sovereign remedy and counterpoise of all other, is to take a great draft of strong wine upon it; I will reply to the contrary, and turn the same argument upon them; namely, that wine and the juice of hemlock mingled together, is a poison incurable, & presently killeth those who drink it, remediless. So that there is no more reason to prove it hot, for resisting hemlock, than cold, for helping the operation of it; or else we must say, that it is not coldness whereby hemlock killeth those that drink it so presently, but rather some other hidden quality and property that it hath.   

THE six QUESTION.  
Of the convenient time for a man to know his wife carnally.  
Certain young men, who were new students, and had lately tasted of the learning contained in ancient books, were ready to tear Epicurus in pieces, and inveighed mightily against him as an impudent person; for proposing and moving speech which was neither seemly nor necessary, in his symposium or banquet, as touching the time of meddling with a woman: for that an ancient man, well stepped in years as he was, should make mention & begin talk of venerous matters, and namely, at a banquet, where many young men were in place, to particularise and make question in this sort: Whether it were better for a man to have the use of his wife, before supper or after; seemed to proceed from a lascivious mind, and incontinent in the highest degree. Against which, some there were, who alleged the example of 
* Sec 〈◊〉 in the end of his Symposium or banquet.  Xenophon, who after his supper or banquet, brought his guests (not on foot, but on horseback, riding a gallop away home) to lie with their wives. But Zopyrus the physician, who was very well seen and conversant in the books of Epicurus, said: That they had not read diligently and with advisement, his book called Symposium, that is to say, The banquet: For he took not this question (quoth he) to treat of at the beginning, as a theme or subject matter expressly chosen and of purpose, whereto all their talk should be directed, and in nothing else to be determined and ended: but having caused those young men to rise from the table for to walk after supper, he entered into a discourse, for to induce them to continence and temperance, and to withdraw them from dissolute lust of the flesh, as being at all times, a thing dangerous, and ready to plunge a man into mischief, but yet more hurtful unto those who use it upon a full stomach, after they have eat and drunk well, and made good cheer at some great feast. And if (quoth Zopyrus) he had taken for the principal subject, the discourse of this point, is it pertinent and beseeming a philosopher, not to treat and consider at all of the time and hour proper and meet for men to embrace their espoused wives? or much better so to do, in due season and with discretion? and is it (I pray you) not discommendable, to dispute thereof elsewhere and at other times? and altogether dishonest, to handle that question at the table or at a feast? for mine own part, I think clean contrary; namely, that we may with good reason reprove and blame a philosopher, who openly in the day time, should dispute in public schools, of this matter, before all comers, and in the hearing of all sorts of people; but at the table, where there is a standing cup set before familiars and friends, and where otherwhiles it is expedient to vary and change our talk, which otherwise would be but lewke warm or stark cold for all the wine, how can it be unseemly or dishonest, either to speak or hear aught that is wholesome and good for men, as touching the lawful company with their wives in the secret of marriage? for mine own part, I protest unto you, I could wish with all my heart, that those Partitions of Zeno, had been couched in some book entitled, Abanquet or pleasant treatise, rather than bestowed (as they are) in a composition so grave and serious, as are the books of policy and government of State. The young men at these words, were cut over the thumbs; and being abashed, held their tongues, and sat them down quietly. Now when others of the company requested Zopyrus to rehearse the words and reasons of Epicurus, as touching this point. I am not able (quoth he) in particular, to decipher, and precisely to set them down as he delivered them; but I suppose the philosopher feared those violent concussions and motions, which are felt in the time of that conjunction; for that our bodies by that means, be wonderfully stirred and disquieted, in regard especially of the wine, which being of itself stirring and causing much turbulent agitation, it setteth the body ordinarily out of quiet repose: if then the full mass thereof, being in such an agitation, meet not with a settled calm and rest, by sleep, but runneth on still headlong to other troublesome motions, caused by the sports of Venus, so that the cords and ligaments, which are wont to hold our bodies entire, and maintain them firm and strong, be slacked and loosed, great danger there is, that the foundation being thus shaken, the whole edifice will fall to the ground; for surely at such a time, the very genital seed is not so apt and ready to pass away with ease, being so penned and constipate (as it is) by reason of repletion; so that it must be fetched away perforce, all troubled and confused. In which regard (quoth Epicurus) a man is to go about this business, when the body is at quiet and well settled; namely, after that the concoction and digestion both, of our food, is perfectly finished, which all that time runneth to and fro, and willingly avoideth all such disquietness; until (I say) the body have need of new nourishment. And for to confirm this opinion of Epicurus, a man may adjoin a reason out of physic; namely: That the opportunity of the morrow-morning, when the concoction is thoroughly performed, is most safe and sure; whereas to struggle or meddle with a woman immediately after supper, is never without danger: for who can tell (before the meat be well concocted) whether after the panting agitation by the act of Venus, there will not ensue another crudity and indigestion, so as a double inconvenience and surfeit upon surfeit may follow thereupon? Then Olympicus taking his turn to speak and opine: As for me, I am (quoth he) infinitely well pleased with that sentence of Climas the Pythagorean; who being demanded the question, when the best time was to embrace a woman? Marry (quoth he) when thou art minded to do thyself most harm: for that which Zopyrus said even now of the fit time, carrieth some reason with it: and as for the other, it hath (I see well) many and sundry difficulties and inconveniences, and is altogether unseasonable for this purpose. Like as therefore, Thales the wife, being importuned by his mother (who pressed hard upon him) to marry; prettily put her off, shifting and avoiding her cunningly, with words: for at the first time, when she was in hand with him, he said unto her: Mother, it is too soon, and it is not yet time: afterwards, when he had passed the flower of his age, and that she set upon him the second time, and was very instant: Alas mother, it is now too late, and the time is past; even so, it were good for every man to carry and govern himself in these amatorious games of Venus, that when he goes to bed at night, he say to himself: It is not yet time; and when he riseth in the morning: Now there is no time left. Hereupon Soclarus: These be indeed (quoth he) Olympicus, the parts of champions, and require such as would enter combat for to win a prize at the sacred games: these matters (I say) altogether, are for those to perform, who can drink wine freely, and make a game of it, yea, and eat flesh as lustily: but surely, this speech of yours, little befitteth this time and place; for here are a sort of fresh and lusty young men newly married, 
By whom, wot well, the works, in some degree,  
Of love and Venus, must performed be.  Neither is dame Venus as yet, retired and fled altogether from us; for we still in chanting hymns unto the gods, pray devoutly otherwhiles unto her, in this wise: 
O Venus, lady dear and goddess fair,  
Hold back old age, keep from us hoary hair.  But let us consider now (if you think it good) whether Epicurus hath done well and decently, as he ought to do, in taking away Venus from the night season; or whether he hath not rather offended against all right and reason in so doing; considering that Menander, a man well seen in love-matters, saith: That she is acquainted with her above all other gods and goddesses: for in mine opinion, well ordained was this vail and shade of darkness, to cover those that are minded to perform these acts, and in some sort to hide the pleasure from them, and not to come unto this game by daylight, thereby to chase from out of their eyesight all shame and to give means unto laseivious wantonness, for to be bold and confident; and finally, to imprint the memory of the act so lively, that it may remain long after in the mind, for to kindle and revive still, new lusts and fleshly desires: For the eyesight (as Plato saith) passeth most swiftly thorough the fleshly affections of the body into us, that is to say, into our soul, and evermore awakeneth and raiseth fresh and new concupiscence, representing with great force and vehemency, the images of pleasure, and putting us in mind to pursue the same; whereas chose, the night taking away the greatest part of such acts as be most furious, lulleth nature asleep, and bringeth her (as it were) to bed, in such sort, as it doth not exorbitate or break forth by means of the sight, into lascivious looseness. But over and beside all this, what reason or sense is there in this, that a married man, returning all jolly, fresh and merry, from a festival supper, and peradventure with a gay chaplet of flowers upon his head, yea, and perfumed with sweet and odoriferous oils, should come home, go to bed, turn his back unto his wife, pull the clothes about him round, and so lie to sleep all night; and the morrow after, in broad daylight and in the mids of household occasions and other affairs, send for his wife out of the nursery or women's room, for to come unto him about such a matter; or in the morning, turn unto her and embrace her in his arms, at such a time as the cock treads his hens? for the even tide (my good friend Olympicus) is the end and repose of all out day-labours past, and the morning is the beginning of new travels. Of the evening, god Bacchus is the superintendant and precedent, who is surnamed Lysius or Liber, for that he freeth us from all pains-taking; and accompanied he is in this presidency of his, with the muses, to wit, fair Terpsichore, who loveth dances, and pleasant Thalia, who delighteth in feasts and banquets; whereas the morning riseth betimes by the break of day, to do service unto Mynerva, surnamed Ergane, the workmistresse or patroness of artisans; to Mercury likewise, the master of merchants and occupiers: and therefore upon the evening, attend songs, music, minstrelsy, plays, dances, weddings, 
Masques mommeries, feasts and banquets,  
Noise of hauthoys, flutes, and cornets.  In the morning a man shall hear nothing but the thumping sounds of the smiths hammer and sledges, beating and knocking upon the anvil; the grashing noise of saws; the morowwatch of Publicans, Customers and Toll-gatherers, crying after those that come in or go forth; the ajournements of sergeant and criers, calling for appearance in the court before the judges; publications of edicts and proclamations; summons to attend and be ready to make court, and to do duty unto some prince, great lord or governor of State; at which time, all pleasures be gone and out of the way. 
Of Venus then there is no talk,  
The slaves of Bacchus do not walk  
With Ivy dight: the gamesome sport  
Of gallant youths, is all-a-mort:  
For why? as day grows on apace,  
Cares and troubles come in place.   
Moreover, you shall never read, that the poet Homer reporteth of any worthy prince and demigod, that in the daytime he lay either with wife or concubine; only he saith, that Paris, when he fled out of the battle, went and couched himself in the bosom and lap of his Helena; giving us thereby to understand, that it is not the part of an honest minded husband, but the act of a furious and wanton-given adulterer, to follow such pleasures in the daytime. Neither doth it follow (as Epicurus saith) that the body takes more harm by performing this duty of marriage after supper, than in the morning, unless a man be so drunk or overcharged with meats, that his belly is ready to crack; for certainly, in such a case it were very hurtful and dangerous indeed: but if one have taken his meat and drink sufficiently, be well in health, and in some measure cheerful; if his body be apt and able, his mind well disposed thereto; if he interpose some reasonable time between, and then fall to clip and embrace his wife; he shall not thereby incur any great agitation that night, nor fear the heavy load and repletion of meat; neither will this action work him any damage, or cool him too much, ne yet disquiet and remove out of their place, the atomies (as Epicurus saith); but if he compose himself afterwards to sleep and repose, he shall soon supply again that which was voided, and replenish the vessels with a new afflux of spirits, which were emptied by the said evacuation. But of all things, especial heed would be taken, not to play at this game of Venus in the day time; for fear lest the body and mind both, being troubled already with the cares and travels of sundry affairs, be by this means more exasperate and inflamed, considering that nature hath not a sufficient and competent time between, to repose and refresh herself: for all men (my good friend) have not that great leisure which Epicurus had, neither are they provided for their whole lifetime, of that rest and tranquillity, which he said, that he got by good letters and the study of philosophy: nay, there is not one in manner, but every day he finds himself amused and employed about many affairs and businesses of this life, which hold him occupied; to which, it were neither good nor expedient for a man to expose his body, so resolved, enfeebled and weakened with the furious exploit of concupiscence. Leaving him therefore to his foolish opinion of the gods, that being immortal and happy, they have no care of our affairs, nor busy themselves therewith, let us obey the laws, manners and customs of our own country, as every honest man ought to do; namely, to be sure in the morning to go into the temple, and to lay our hands upon the sacrifice, if haply a little before, we have done such a deed. For in truth, well it were, that interposing the night and our sleep between, after a sufficient time and competent space, we should come to present ourselves pure and clean, as if we were risen new men with the new day, and purposing to lead a new life, as Democritus was wont to say.   

THE SEVENTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause that Must or new wine doth not inebriate or make folk drunk?  
THe manner was in Athens, to give the assay, and to taste new wines the eleventh day of the month [February] which day they named Pithaegia: and verily in old time, they observed this ceremony, to power out the first drawing thereof unto the gods, before they drank of it, making their prayers devoutly, that the use of this medicinable drink might be wholesome and healthful, not noisome nor hurtful unto them. But in our country this month is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the sixth day of which month, the manner was to pierce their vessel first, and taste new wines, after they had sacrificed to good Fortune, and good Daemon, and that the western wind Zephyrus had done blowing; for of all winds, this is it that most troubleth, disquieteth, and turneth wine: and look what wine may escape this season, great hope there is that it will hold and continue good all the year after: according to which custom my father upon a time sacrificed as his manner was; and after supper finding that his wine was good & commendable, he proposed this question unto certain young men that were students with me in philosophy: How it came to pass that new wine would not make a man drunk: the thing seemed at the first unto many a very strange and incredible paradox: But Agias said: That this new sweet wine was every way offensive unto the stomach, and quickly glutted it; by reason whereof a man could hardly drink so much of Must, as were sufficient to overturn his brains: for that the appetite is quickly dulled and wearied, for the small pleasure that it taketh, so soon as it feeleth no more thirst. Now that there is a difference between sweet and pleasant, the poet Homer knew well enough and gave us so much to understand when he said: 
With cheese and honey that is sweet:  
With pleasant wine, a drink most meet.  For in truth wine at the first is to be counted sweet, but in the end it becometh pleasant, namely, after it hath age, and by the means of working, ebullition and concoction, passed to a certain harshness and austerity. But Aristaenetus of Nica said: That he well remembered how he had read in a certain place in some books: That Must mingled with wine stayeth & represseth drunkenness; he added moreover and said: That there were physicians who ordained for them that had overdrunke themselves; to take when they went to bed, a piece of bread dipped in honey and to eat it? If then it be so, that sweet things do mitigate and dull the force of wine: good reason it is, that new wine should not inebriate, until the sweetness thereof be turned into pleasantness. We approved greatly the discourse of these two young men, for that they fell not upon trivial and common reason, but had devised new: for these be they that are alleged by every man, and ready at hand, to wit; the heaviness of Mu or new wine, as Aristotle saith, which maketh the belly soluble, and so it breaketh thorough the quantity of flatilent and muddy spirits that abide therein, together with the watery substance, of which the ventosities directly get forth, as expelled by force; but the aquosity by the own nature enfeebleth the strength of the wine: like as chose age augmenteth the power thereof, for that the watery substance is now gone; by reason whereof, as the quantity of the wine is diminished, so the quality and virtue is increased.   

THE EIGHT QUESTION.  
What the reason is, that they who be thoroughly drunk, are less brainsick than those who are but in the way of drunkenness.  
SEeing then (quoth my father) that we have begun already to disquiet the ghost of Aristotle. it shall not be amiss to try what we can say of ourselves, as touching those whom we call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, who are well heat with wine, but not yet stark drunk: for howsoever Aristotle was ordinarily very quick and subtle in resolving such questions, yet in mine opinion he hath not sufficiently and exactly delivered the reason thereof; for as far as I can gather out of his words (he saith) That the discourse of reason in a man who is sober, judgeth aright and according to the truth of things as they be: chose, his sense and understanding who is clean gone, & as they say dead drunk, is done and oppressed altogether: as for the apprehension and imagination of him who hath taken his wine well, and is but half drunk, is yet sound, mary his reason and judgement is troubled already and cracked: and therefore such judge indeed, but they judge amiss, for that they follow their fantasies only: but what think you of this? For mine own part (quoth I) when I consider with myself his reason, it seemeth sufficiently to have rendered a cause of this effect; but if you would have us to search farther into the thing, and devise some special new matter? mark first, whether this difference which he maketh between them, ought not to be referred to the body: for in these that have well drunk, there is nothing but the discourse of reason only troubled; because the body being not yet thoroughly drenched and drowned in wine, is able to do service unto the will and appetite; but if it be once off the hooks, (as they say) or utterly oppressed, it forsaketh and betrayeth the appetites, and breaketh day with the affections, being so far shaken and out of joint, that it can serve no more, nor execute the will: whereas the other having the body still at command, and ready to exorbitate together with the will, and to sin with it for company, are more seen and discovered, not for that they be more foolish, and have less use of reason, but because they have greater means to show their folly. But if we should reason from another principle, and go another way to work (quoth I) he that will consider well the force of wine, shall find no let, but that in regard of the quantity, it altereth and becometh diverse, much like unto the fire, which if it be moderate, hardeneth and baketh the tile or pot of clay; but in case it be very strong, & the heat excessive, it meltethe & dissolveth the same: and on the otherside; the spring or summer season at the beginning breedeth fevers and setteth them on fire, which in the progress and mids thereof being grown to their heights, decline and cease altogether. What should hinder then, but the mind and understanding which naturally is disquieted and troubled with wine, after it is once off the wheels, and clean overturned by the excessive quantity thereof should come into order 
*  again, and be setlet as it was before? Much like therefore as Ellebore beginneth his operation to purge, by overturning the stomach, and disquieting the whole mass of the body; and if it be given in a less dose or quantity than it should be; well it may trouble, but purge it will not: also as we see some, who take medicines for to provoke sleep, under the just and full quantity which is prescribed, in stead of sleep and repose, find themselves more vexed and tormented than before; and others again, if they take more, sleep sound; even so it standeth to good reason, that the brainsicknesse of him who is half drunk, after it is grown once to the highest strength and vigour, doth diminish and decay; to which purpose now wine serveth very well, and helpeth much: for being powered into the body with great abundance, it burneth and consumeth that spice of madness which troubleth the mind and use of reason; much after the manner of that doleful song, together with the heavy sound of hautboys in the funerals of dead folk, at the first moveth compassion, and setteth the eyes a weeping, but after it hath drawn the soul so to pity and compassion, it proceedeth farther, and by little and little it spendeth and riddeth away all sense of dolour and sorrow; semblably a man shall observe, that after the wine hath mightily troubled, disquieted the vigorous & courageous part of the soul, men quickly come to themselves, & their minds be settled in such sort as they become quiet, and take their repose when wine and drunkenness hath passed as far as it can.   

THE NINTH QUESTION.  
What is the meaning of the common proverb: Drink either five, or three, but not four?  
WHen I had thus said; Ariston crying out aloud as his manner was: I see well now (quoth he) that there is opened a reentrance, and return again of measures into feasts and banquets, by virtue of a most just and popular decree: which measures by means of (I wot not what) sober season, as by a tyrant have been this long time banished from thence: for like as they who profess a canonical harmony in sounding of the harp, do hold and say: That the proportion Hemiolios or Sesquialterall, produceth the symphony or musical accord Diapenta, of the duple proportion ariseth that Dia pason: but as for the muchlike or accord called Diatessaron, which of all others is most obscure and dull, it consisteth in the proportion Epitritos; even so, they that make profession of skill in the harmonies of Bacchus, have observed, that three symphonies or accords there are, between wine & water, namely, Diapenta, Diatrion, & Diatessaron, singing and saying after this manner: Drink five, or three, and not four; for the fifth standeth upon the proportion Hemiolios, or Sesquialterall to wit, when three parts or measures of water be mingled with two of wine; and the third contain the duple proportion; namely when two parts of water be put to one of wine; but the fourth answereth to the proportion of three parts of water powered into one of wine; and verily this measure or proportion Epitritoes, may fit some grave and wise senators sitting in parliament; or the Archoures in the counsel chamber Prytaneum for to dispatch weighty affairs of great consequence: and it may beseem well enough some logicians that pull up their brows, when they are busy in reducing, unfolding, and altering their Syllogisms; for surely it is a mixture or temperature sober and weak enough: as for the other twain, that medley which carrieth the proportion of two for one, bringeth in that turbulent tone of the Acrothoraces' before said; to wit, of such as are somewhat cupshotten and half drunk: 
Which stirs the strings and cords of secret hart,  
That moved should not be, but rest apart.  For it neither suffereth a man to be fully sober, nor yet to drench himself so deep in wine, that he be altogether witless and past his sense: but the other standing upon the proportion of two to three, is of all others the most musical accord, causing a man to sleep peaceably, and to forget all cares, resembling that good and fertile cornfield which Hesiodus speaketh of, 
That doth from man all ears and curses drive,  
And children cause to rest, to feed and thrive.  It appeaseth and stilleth all proud, violent, and disordered passions within our heart, inducing in the stead of them a peaceable calm and tranquility. These speeches of Ariston no man there, would cross or contradict; for that it was well known he spoke merrily: but I willed him to take the cup in hand, and as if he held the harp or lute, to tune and set the same, to that accord and consonance which he so highly praised, and thought so good. Then came a boy close unto him, and powered out strong wine; which he refused, saying, (and that with a laughter) That his music consisted in reason and speculation, and not in the practice of the instrument. But my father added thus much to that which had been said: That as he thought, the ancient poets also had to great reason feigned; that whereas Jupiter had two nurses, to wit, Ida and Adrastia; Juno one, namely, Euboea; Apollo likewise twain, that is to say, Alethia, and Corythalia; Bacchus had many more; for that he was suckled and nursed by many nymphs, because this god forsooth had need of more measures of water, signified by the nymphs to make him more tame, gentle, witty, and wise.   

THE TENTH QUESTION.  
What is the reason that any killed flesh will be nought and corrupt sooner under the rays of the moon, than in the sun?  
Enthydemus of Sunium, feasted us upon a time at his house, and set before us a wild boar, of such bigness, that all we at the table wondered thereat; but he told us that there was another brought unto him far greater; marry nought it was, and corrupted in the carriage, by the beams of the moonshine: whereof he made great doubt and question, how it should come to pass; for that he could not conceive, nor see any reason, but that the sun should rather corrupt flesh, being as it was, far hotter than the moon. Then Satyrus: This is not the thing (quoth he) whereat a man should marvel much in this case; but rather at that which hunters practise; for when they have strucken down either a wild boar, or a stag, and are to send it far into the city, they use to drive a spike or great nail of brass into the body, as a preservative against putrefaction. Now when supper was done, Enthydemus calling to mind his former question, was in hand withal again, and set it now on foot: And then Moschion the physician showed unto them, that the putrefaction of flesh was a kind of eliquation and running all to moisture; for that corruption bringeth it unto a certain humidity, so as whatsoever is sappy corrupted, becometh more moist than it was before: Now it is well known (quoth he) that all heat which is mild and gentle, doth stir, dilate, and spread the humours in the flesh: but chose, if the same be ardent, fiery, and burning, it doth attenuate and restrain them: by which appeareth evidently the cause of that which is in question; for the moon gently warming bodies, doth by consequence moisten the same; whereas the sun by his extreme heat catcheth up and consumeth rather that humidity which was in them: unto which Archilocus the poet alludeth like a natural philosopher when he said: 
I hope, the dog star Sirius,  
In fiery heat so furious  
With rays most ardent will them smite,  
And numbers of them dry up quite.  And Homer more plainly spoke of Hector, over whose body lying along dead: Apollo (quoth he) displayed and spread a dark and shadowy cloud: 
For fear lest that the scorching beams, of sun aloft in sky,  
Should on his corpse have power, the flesh andnerves to parch and dry.  chose, that the moon casteth weaker and more feebler rays; the poet 〈◊〉 showeth, saying: 
The grapes do find no help by thee, to ripen on the vine,  
And never change their colour black, that they might make good wine.  These words thus passed: And then all the rest (quoth I) is very well said, & I approve thereof; but that all the matter should lie in the quantity of heat, more or less considering the season, I see not how it should stand; for this we find, that the sun doth heat less in winter, & corrupteth more in summer: whereas we should see contrary effects, if putrefactions were occasioned by the imbecility of heat; but now it is far otherwise, for the more that the sun's heat is augmented, the sooner doth it putrify & corrupt any flesh killed: and therefore we may as well infer, that it is not for default of heat, nor by any imbecility thereof; that the moon causeth dead bodies to putrify, but we are to refer that effect to some secret property of the influence proceeding from her: for that all kinds of heat have but one quality, and the same differing only in degree, according to more or less: that the very fire also hath many diverse faculties, and those not resembling one another, appeareth by daily & ordinary experiences: for goldsmiths melt and work their gold with the flame of light straw and chaff: physicians do gently warm (as it were) in Balneo those drougues, and medicines which they are to boil together most all with a fire made of vine cuttings; for the melting, working, blowing, and forming of glass, it seemeth that a fire made of Tamarix is more meet than of any other matter whatsoever; the heat caused by olive-tree wood, serveth well in dry stouphs or hot houses, and disposeth men's bodies to sweat; but the same is most hurtful to baines and baths; for if it be burned under a furnace, it hurteth the boord-floores and ceilings; it marreth also the very foundations and groundworks: whereupon it cometh, that Aediles for the State, such as have any skill and understanding, when they let to ferme the public baines unto Publicans and farmers, except ordinarily olive-tree wood, forbidding expressly, those that rend them at their hands, not to use the same; as also not to cast into the furnace or fire with which they give an heat unto them, the seed of Darnell; for that the smokes and fumes which ariseth from such matters, engender headache and heaviness of the brain, together with a dizziness and swimming in the head, in as many as wash or bathe in them. And therefore, no marvel it is, that there should be such a difference between the heat of the sun and of the moon, considerig that the one by his influence doth dry, and the other by her power dissolveth humours, and in somebodies (by that means) causeth rheums: and therefore discreet and careful nurses take great heed how they expose their sucking babes against the rays of the moon, for that such infants (being full of moisture, like to sappy-greene wood) will (as it were) warp, twine, and cast at-one side by that means. And an ordinary thing it is to be seen, that whosoever sleep in the moonshine, be hardly awakened, as if their senses were stupefied, benumbed, and astonished: for surely, the humours (being dissolved and dilated by the influence of the moon) do make bodies heavy. Moreover, it is said, that the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 as some interpret it.  full-moon (by relaxing and resolving humours in this wise) helpeth women in travel of childbearing, to easy deliverance. Whereupon, in my judgement, Diana, which is nothing else but the very moon, is called Lochia or Ilithyia, as having a special hand in the birth of children; which Timotheus directly testifieth in these verses: 
Thorough azure sky, with stars beset, by moon that giveth speed  
Of childbirth, and doth ease the pain of women, in their need.  Moreover, the moon showeth her power most evidently even in those bodies, which have neither sense nor lively breath; for carpenters reject the timber of trees fallen in the full-moon, as being soft and tender, subject also to the worm and putrefaction, and that quickly, by reason of excessive moisture; husbandmen likewise, make haste to gather up their wheat and other grain from the threshing-floor, in the wane of the moon, and toward the end of the month, that being hardened thus with dryness, the heap in the garner may keep the better from being fusty, and continue the longer; whereas corn which is inned and laid up at the full of the moon, by reason of the softness and overmuch moisture, of all other, doth most crack and burst. It is commonly said also, that if a leaven be laid in the full-moon, the paste will rise and take leaven better; for although it have but a little leaven, & less in quantity than ordinary, yet it faileth not by the sharpness thereof (by means of rarefaction) to make the whole mass and lump of dough to swell and be leavened.  
To return now unto flesh that is caught, and beginneth to putrify, it is occasioned by nothing else but this, that the spirit which maintaineth and knitteth the same fast, turneth into moisture, and so by that means, it becometh overtender, loose, and apt to run to water: an accident, which we may observe in the very air, which resolveth more in the full of the moon, than at any other time, yea, and yieldeth greater store of dews: which the poet Alcman signifieth enigmatically and covertly unto us, when he saith in one place, that dew is the daughter of the air and the moon; for these be his words: 
What things on earth, the dew as nurse doth feed,  
Whom Jupiter and moon betwixt them breed.  Thus evident testimonies we have from all parts, that the light of the moon is waterish, and hath a certain property to liquisie, and by consequence, to corrupt and putrify.  
As for the brazen spike or nail above mentioned, if it be true (as some hold and say) that being driven into the body, it preserveth the flesh for a time from rottenhead and putrefaction: it seemeth to work this effect, by a certain astrictive quality and virtue that it hath; for the flower of brass, called Verdegris, physicians do use in their astringent medicines: and by report, those that frequent mines, out of which brasse-ore is digged, find much help thereby for bleered and rheumatic eyes; yea, and some thereby have recovered the hair of their eyelids, after they were shed and fallen off: for the small scales or fine powder in manner of flower, which cometh and falleth from the brasse-stone 〈◊〉, getting closely into the eyelids, stayeth the rheum, and represseth the flux of weeping and watery eyes: and thereupon it is said, that the poet Homer hath given these attributes and epithets unto brass, calling it 
* I suppose Homer used the words in a far other sense, by Moschions leave be it spoken, who was a better physician, than a grammarian, as it should seem.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Besides, Aristotle saith, that the wounds inflicted by spears and lances with brazen heads, by swords also made of brass, are less painful, and be sooner healed, than those which are given by the same weapons of iron and steel; for that brass hath a kind of medicinable virtue in it, which the said weapons do leave behind them immediately in the wounds. Moreover, that astringent things be contrary unto those that putrify; and that preservatives or healing matters, have an opposite faculty to such as cause corruption, it is very plain and evident; so that the reason is manifest of the said operation: unless haply some one will allege, that the brazen spike or nail in piercing thorough the flesh, draweth unto it the humours thereof, considering that there is evermore a flux in that part which is hurt and wronged. Over and beside, it is said, that there appeareth always some mark or spot, black and blue, about that very place of the flesh, bewraying (as it were) some mortification; a probable argument, that all the rest remaineth sound and entire, when the corruption runneth and floweth thither as it doth.     

THE FOURTH BOOK OF SYMPOSIAQUES OR BANQUET-QUESTIONS.  

The Contents or Summarie.  
1 WHether the food consisting of many and sundry viands, is easier of digestion, than the simple.  
2 Why it is thought that muhrooms are engendered by thunder; wherein also the question is made, wherefore it is a necessary opinion, that those who lie asleep, are not smitten with lightning.  
3 What is the reason that to a wedding supper, many guests were invited.  
4 Whether the viands which the sea affordeth, be more delicate than those of the land.  
5 Whether the Jews in a religious reverence that they have of swine, or upon an abomination and abhorring of them, forbear to eat their flesh.  
6 What god the Jews worship.  
7 Why the days of the week, bearing the names of the seven planets, are not disposed and reckoned according to the order of the said planets, but rather clean contrary; where, by the way, there is a discourse as touching the order of nails.  
8 What is the cause that rings and signets were worn especially upon the fourth finger, or that, next from the middle.  
9 Whether we ought to carry in our seale-rings, the images of the gods engraven, or of wise personages.  
10 What is the reason that women never eat the middle part of a Lectuce.   

THE FOURTH BOOK OF Symposiaques or banquet-questions.  

The Proëme.  
POlybius in times past (o Sossius Senecio) gave unto Scipio Africanus this good advertisement: Never to depart out of the market or common place, where citizens daily assembled about their affairs, until he had gotten one new friend or other, more than he had before. Where you must understand this name of friend, not precisely as the Stoics do, nor after the subtle acceptation of the word, according to curious Sophister's; namely, for him that continueth firm, fast for ever and immutable; but after a civil and vulgar manner, for a well willer, as Dicaearchus meant, when he said: That we ought to make all men our well-willers, but honest men only our friends: for surely, this true friendship and amity can not be gotten and purchased, but in long time, and by virtue; whereas that goodwill of civil persons, may be gained by affairs and dealings one with another, by conference and conversing and otherwhiles, by playing and gaming together; namely, when opportunity of time and place meeteth therewith, which helpeth not a little to the winning of human affection and favour among men. But consider now, whether that lesson and precept of Polybius may be fitted, not only to the market and common place aforesaid, but also to a feast or banquet; namely, That a man ought never to rise from the table, nor to depart from the company met at a feast, before he know, that he hath acquired the love and good affection of some one of those there assembled; and so much the rather, because men repair ordinary to the public place of the city about other negotiations and business; but to a feast, wise and discreet persons come as much to get new friends, as to do pleasure unto those whom they have already: and therefore (as it were) a base, absurd and illiberal part, to seem to carry away from a feast or banquet any thing whatsoever; so to go from thence with more friends than he brought thither at his entrance, is a delectable, honest and honourable thing: like as on the contrary side, he that is negligent and careless in this behalf, maketh that meeting and fellowship unpleasant and unprofitable unto himself, and so he goes his way as one that had supped with his belly, and not with his mind and spirit; for he that cometh as a guest to supper among others, cometh not only to take his part with them, of bread, wine, meats and junkets, but to communicate also in their discourses in their learning, yea, and their pleasant courtesy, tending all in the end, to good will and amity. For wrestlers to catch and take fast hold one of another, had need of dust strewed upon their hands; but wine at the table, especially when it is accompanied with good talk, is that which giveth means to lay hold upon friends, and to knit them together. For 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 rather 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 wine.  speech doth transfuse and derive by discourse and communication, as it were, by conduits and pipes, courtesy and humanity, from the body to the mind; for otherwise, dispersed it is, and wandereth all over the body, and doth no other good at all, but only fill and satisfy the same. And like as marble taketh from iron red-hot, the fluxible moisture, by cooling it, and maketh that softness to become hard and stiff, whereby it is more apt to retain the impression of any form received; even so honest discourse and talk at the table, suffereth not the guests that are eating and drinking together, to run endlong still, and be carried away with the strength of wine; but stayeth them, and causeth their mirth and jollity (proceeding from their liberal drinking) to be well tempered, lovely, well beseeming, yea, and apt to be sealed (as it were) with the signet of amity and friendship, if a man know with dexterity, how to handle and manage men, when they are thus made soft and tender, yea, and capable of any impression, through kind heat, by the means of wine and good cheer.   

THE FIRST QUESTION.  
Whether the food consisting of sundry sorts of viands, be easier of digestion, than the simple?  
THe first question then, of this fourth Decade of Table discourses, shall be concerning diversity of meats: for by occasion of the solemn feast 
* That is to say, The 〈◊〉 killing.  Elaphebolia, for the celebration whereof we went to the city Hyampolis. Philon the physician invited us, who (as it should seem) had made great preparation of good cheer, to entertain us magnificently; and seeing with Philinus a young lad his son, feeding heartily upon dry bread without calling for any other meat to it, took occasion to break out into this admiration: O Hercules, now surely here is the common proverb verified indeed! 
They fought in place all full of stone,  
But from the earth could lift up none.  and therewith he leapt forth, and ran into the kitchen to fetch some good victuals for them: and after he had stayed a pretty while away, he came again and brought nothing with him, but a few dry figs and some cheese; which when I saw: This is (quoth I) the ordinary fashion of those, who having made provision of rare and exquisite things, which also be costly and sumptuous, do neglect 〈◊〉 which be good and necessary, whereof afterwards, they find a miss and want. I never remembered (quoth Philon) that our Philinus here, seemeth to feed after the manner of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  Sostratus, who never (by report) did eat or drink any thing, all his life time, but only milk: but as for him, very like it is, that upon some change of mind, he began this manner of diet, and that he had not always lived so; but this Philinus here, like another Chiron, feedeth his son (like as Achilles was brought up from his very infancy) with such meats as have no blood in them, that is to say, of the fruits of the earth. And think you not, that by this certain demonstration, he verifieth that which is written of the grasshoppers; namely, that they live of the air and dew? I never thought upon a supper (quoth Philinus) or a feast of an hundred beasts killed for sacrifice, as they were when Aristomenes feasted his friends; for otherwise, I would have come from home well provided beforehand of simple viands, which be wholesome and healthful, as preservatives hanging about our necks, against these sumptuous, surfetous & feaverous feasts; for that I have heard many times physicians say: That simple viands are easier of digestion, than variety of meats, like as they be also readier at hand, and sooner provided. Then Martion directing his speech unto Philo: This Philinus here (quoth he) mars all your provision of good cheer, frighting as he doth your guests, and (what lies in him) withdrawing them from eating thereof: but if you will request me, I shall answer in your behalf, I will pawn myself also and be their warrant, yea and prove unto them afterwards, that the diversity of meats is more easy to be concocted and digested, than their simplicity and uniformity, to the end that they may in the mean time be the bolder and better assured to fall unto their victuals, & make merry with that plentiful fare that you have ordained for us: Then Philo entreated Martion so to do.  
Now after that we had supped, we called upon Philinus to set in hand with the accusation of this multiplicity of sundry and diverse viands: Why (quoth he again) I am not the author of this position; neither is it I that have said so; but this good host of ours Philo here, who evermore telleth us: First and foremost, that those beasts which feed upon a simple kind of meat, and the same always one, live more healthy than men; whereas they that be kept up and crammed in coupes, cages, mews, & bartons, or otherwise franke-sed & fatted, are in greater danger to fall into diseases, & more subject to crudities, for that their meat is set before them mingled, compounded, and in some sort delicately condited. Secondly, there was never yet any physician so bold and venturous in making new experiments, who durst offer unto his patient sick of an ague, any meat or nourishment so compounded of diverse sorts; but ordained there is for them always the simplest that can be had, & least smelling of the kitchen and cooks craft; as that which is most easy to be concocted in the stomach: for in truth our meats should suffer alteration, and be wrought by the natural faculties within us: and like as the colours which are most simple do strike the deepest dye, and give the best tincture; and among oils that which hath no sent at all, taketh best the aromatical drougues and odours of the perfumes, and sooner turneth or changeth than any other; even so the simplest nourishment is that, which most easily is altered and concocted by the virtue digestive: whereas if there be many and sundry qualities, and those of a contrary operation, they corrupt soon; for that they fight and run one against the other, and so hinder concoction; much like as in a city, the confused multitude of many nations huddled together from all parts, hardly will ever grow to any agreement, & consistence well united and accordant; for that each party leaneth to their own rites, striveth to draw all to their own commodity, and followeth their private affections against others, hardly or never agreeing and framing well with strangers. Moreover, we may have a most evident and infallible argument of this by the familiar example of wine, for nothing there is that so doth inebriate, as variety and change of wines; and it seemeth that drunkenness is nothing else but the indigestion of wine: and therefore our great professed drinkers avoid all that ever they can, mixed and brewed wines; yea & they that are the brewers and minglers thereof, do it as secretly as it is possible; like to those that lie in ambush: for surely every change brings with it inequality, and a kind of ecstasy, putting all out of frame; which is the cause likewise that musicians are very wary how they stir or strike many strings together, & yet there is no other harm at all to be suspected but the mixture and variety. This I dare be bold to affirm, that a man will sooner believe & consent to a thing where contrary reasons be alleged, than make good concoction, and digestion of diverse and sundry faculties: but because I would not be thought to speak in jest, leaving these proves, I will come to the reasons of Philo: for we have heard him oftentimes say: That it is the quality of the meat that causeth difficulty of digestion, and that the mixture of many things is pernicious, and engendereth strange accidents: and therefore we ought to take knowledge by experience, what is friendly and agreeable to nature, that we may use the same, and rest contented therein; and if peradventure there be nothing of the own nature hard to be concocted, but that it is the quantity alone that troubleth and hurteth our stomach, and there corrupteth, so much the rather in mine advice we ought to forbear diverse sorts of viands, wherewith Philoes' cook exercising his art clean contrary to his masters, hath even now empoisoned and bewitched us, by diversifying our appetite and by novelties and change, not suffering it to be weary, and to refuse any thing, feeding it still with one thing after another, and causing it by this variety to pass the bonds of contentment in reason; much like unto the foster-father of lady Hypsipyle: 
Who being set in meadow gay,  
Flower after flower did crop away:  
And yet his mind so childish was,  
And in desire so far did pass,  
That booty none would him content,  
Until the flowers most part off went.  In this case therefore it were good withal to remember the wise instruction of Socrates, who giveth us counsel to take heed and beware of those viands which draw men on to eat, when they are not hungry, wherein his meaning was this and none other; that we should avoid and fear the diversity and plurality of meats: for this is it that causeth us to exceed the bounds of suffisance, farther than needful is, and retaineth our pleasure in things that content the eye and the ear, in venereous matters, in plays, games, and all kinds of sport, being continually refreshed and renewed still with a singularity and superfluity that hath many heads: whereas in simple and uniform pleasures, the attractive delight never exceedeth the necessity of nature. To be short, of this mind I am: That a man would better endure a musician, who commended a confusion of many strings discordant; or a master of wrestlers who praised the anointing of bodies for exercise, with sweet oils and perfumed ointments; than a physician who recommended this multiplicity and variety of viands; for surely such alterations and changes from one dish to another, must needs force and drive us out of the right way to health.  
After that Philinus had thus said: I am of this mind (quoth Martion) that not only they who disjoin and sever profit from honesty, incur the malediction of Socrates, but also those who distinguish pleasure and health a sunder, as if pleasure forsooth were repugnant, or an enemy unto it, and not rather a friend and companion thereof: for seldom and even against our wills (quoth he) do we make any use of pain, as being an instrument too boisterous and violent, whereas no man, would he never so feign, can chase pleasures away, and banish them, but they will present themselves always in our feeding, in sleeping, in washing, bathing, sweeting, and anointing our bodies; they entertain, foster, and cherish him that is over-travailed and weary, putting away quite by a certain familiar property, agreeable unto nature, whatsoever is strange and offensive: for what manner of pain, what want, what poison is there how strong soever it be, that riddeth or dispatcheth a malady so soon or so presently, as the bath in due time; or wine given to those that have need, and when their heart doth faint? Our meat going down into the stomach merrily, and with pleasure, dissolveth incontinently all wambles, reducing and restoring nature again into her own estate; as if fair weather and a calm season were come again; whereas on the contrary side, the succours and remedies which are procured by dolorous and painful means, by little and little, hardly & with much ado are brought about and effected, even with wrong and injury offered unto nature: let not Philinus therefore set himself in opposition against us, in case we do not hoist up and spread all our sails, to fly away from pleasures: but endeavour and study we rather to draw delight and health together, for to make a marriage between them, for which we have more reason than some philosophers, to match pleasure with honesty. For first and foremost (Philinus) me thinks in the very entrance of your discourse, that you are greatly deceived; setting down this supposal for a ground: That brute beasts feed more simply than men, and in that regard live more healthfully; for neither the one nor the other is true: and as for the former, disproved plainly it is by the testimony of the goats, of whom the poet Eupolis writeth, who highly commend and praise their pasture, as being mingled, and consisting of the variety of all plants and herbs; who sing and say in this manner: 
We feed in plenty every where  
Upon the plants which earth doth bear;  
The stately Fir we bark and bruise  
The Holm likewise with mighty boughs;  
The tender crops of Arbute tree  
Which bears a fruit like Strawberry;  
Do yield us food, and many more  
Which both on hills and dales do grow;  
As namely sweet tree Trifolie  
On which we love to eat daily;  
The Juniper with fragrant smell,  
The Yewghlay-greene and leaved as well;  
Wild Olives and fruitful Lentisk,  
Which yields the wholesome gum Mastic,  
Ash, Figtree, Okes that high do grow,  
Ivy, ling which creeps as low;  
Whins, Tamarix, Gorse and Broome,  
Chastetree, Brambles, all and some,  
Mollein, Longwoort, asphodel,  
Ladan shrub that sweet doth smell:  
Beechtrees, with triangled Mast,  
Thyme and Savoury, be our repast,  For even these trees, shrubs, and herbs, here reckoned up, have no doubt infinite differences in taste, juice, savour, sent, & virtue; and yet there be a number more besides these left out unnamed. And as for the second point, Homer refuteth it by an evident experience, showing that murrens and pestilent contagions, seized first upon brute beasts: beside, their short life witnesseth sufficiently how diseased they be, and subject to many accidents and infirmities; for there is not one of them to speak of, that liveth long, unless haply some man will give instance of the raven and the crow, which we know and see to eat much, and to feed of all sorts of victuals. Moreover, me thinks that reasoning from the diet of sicke-people, you have not gone by a right rule to discern the meats which be of easy or heavy digestion; for labour and exercise, yea and to cut and chew the meat well, serve much for concoction; but for all that they agree not to those who are in a fever: furthermore, I suppose, that you fear without just occasion, the repugnance and contrariety of diverse and sundry meats: for set the case that either nature doth out of different and dislike meats, choose and take that which is agreeable unto it; the diverse nourishment transmitting many and sundry qualities, into the mass and bulk of the body, distributeth unto every part that which is meet and fit for it: so as that cometh to pass which Empedocles delivered in these verses: 
Sweet will to sweet, and therewith loves to join;  
The bitter runs to that which bitter is;  
Look what is sharp with sharp doth well combine,  
With saltish parts salt sorteth not amiss.  This goeth one way, and that another, each one to that which is suitable thereto, after that the mixture by the he at which is seated in the spirits is dilated and spread abroad, the like always follow their own kind: for a body mingled and compounded of so many things assembled together as ours is, by all reason doth contract, entertain and accomplish the temperature thereof by variety of matter, rather than by a simple uniformity thereof; or if it were not so, but that the conconction so called, be it which hath force to alter and change our viands; yet the same will both sooner and also better be performed in sundry and diverse meats, than in that which is one and simple: for never will the like receive any passion or alteration by the like; but contrariety and repugnancy is that, which sooner turneth and changeth the qualities being enfeebled by the mixture of their contrary: and if you resolve once (o Philinus) to condemn all that which is mixed and compounded; do not reprove and revile this Philo here, for entertaining only his friends at the table with so costly fare and variety of dainty dishes? but also, yea and so much the rather, whensoever he compoundeth and mixeth those royal confections, and those cordial electuaries that be counterpoisons, which Erasistratus was wont to call: The very hands of the gods; condemn them (I say) of vanity, curiosity, and absurdity, who confound and mix together minerals, herbs, theriacal trochists, made of the parts of venomous serpents, for the composition of their treacles; yea and in one word, whatsoever land or sea affordeth: for by your advice, good it were to abandon all these mixtures, and reduce all physic to plain ptisans, thin barley water, cucumber seeds, all simple, or at the most to oil and water mingled together: yea, but this plurality and diversity of viands, doth by your saying, ravish, transport, and enchant our appetite as it were, besides itself, insomuch as it hath no more mastery of itself: I answer my good friend: That the same draweth after it purity and neatness; it maketh a good stomach; it causeth a sweet breath; and in one word, procureth cheerfulness in us, and a disposition both to eat more, and to drink better: for otherwise why take we not course bran in stead of the fine flower of meal to thicken our pots? or why dress we not and prepare 
* 〈◊〉  cives and golden thistles, as well as we do the tender crops and heads of garden sparage? why reject we not this odoriferous, fragrant, and delicate wine of ours, to drink some savage and hedge drink; as cider made of apples, even out of the tub which resounds with the consort and music of gnats and flies round about? for you will say (I am sure) that an healthful diet is not the flying and avoiding of pleasure altogether; but rather a moderation and temperature of pleasures, making use of that appetite which is obedient to profit: for like as pilots and masters of ships have many devices and means to escape a blusterous and violent wind when it is aloft, but when the same is allayed and down, there is no man able to raise and set it up again; even so to withstand the appetite, and to repress the same when it doth exceed, is not so hard and difficult a matter; but to stir up, to provoke, & corrobrate the same when it is lost, & decayed before due time; or to give an edge unto it, being dull, and faint, is a mastery indeed, and a piece of work (my friend, I may say unto you) not so easily done: whereby it appears, that the nouriture of diverse viands, is better than the simple food, and that which by reason is always of one sort, doth soon satisfy and give one enough, by how much more easy it is to stay nature, when she is too speedy and hasty, than to set her forward, being weary and drawing behind: and whereas some haply there be, who say, that repletion and fullness is more to be feared and avoided than inanition and emptiness, that is not true; but rather the contrary: in deed, if repletion and surfeit grow to corruption or to some malady, it is hurtful; but emptiness (if it bring and breed none other harm else) is of itself adverse and contrary to nature. Let these reasons therefore be opposed, as it were, dissonant and sounding of a contrary string, against those which you (Philinus) have phylosophically discoursed: as for others of you here, that for saving money, and to spare cost, stick to salt and 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say beans.  cumin; you are ignorant for want of experience, that variety is more pleasant, and the more delectable that a thing is, the more agreeable it is to the appetite, (provided always that you shun excess and gourmandise) for surely it cleaveth quickly to the body which is desirous of it, going, as one would say before, and ready to meet it halfway for to receive it, having the eyesight to prepare the way: whereas chose, that which is loathsome or not pleasing to the appetite, floateth and wandereth up and down in the body, and findeth no entertainment, in such sort, as either nature rejecteth it quite, or if she receive it, the same goes against her heart, & she doth it for pure need, and want of other sustenance: now when I speak of diversity & variety of viands; note thus much and remember, that I mean not these curious works of pastry; these exquisite sauces, tarts, and cakes, which go under the name of Aburtacae, Canduli, & Carycae; which are but superfluous toys and vanities: for otherwise Plato himself alloweth variety of meats at the table, to these generous and noble-gentlemen his citizens, whom he describeth in his commonwealth, when he setteth before them, bulbs, scallions, olives, salade herbs, cheese, and all manner of dainties that worth would afford; and over & above all these, he would not defraud nor cut feasts short of their junkets & banqueting dishes at the end of al.   

THE SEGOND QUESTION.  
What is the reason of this opinion so generally received, that muhrooms be engendered of thunder? and that those who lie asleep are not thought to be smitten with lightning?  
AT a certain supper, where we were in the city Elis, Agemachus set before us muhrooms of an exceeding bigness; whereat when the company seemed to wonder, one who was there present, smiled and said: Certes, these may beseem well the great thunders that we have lately had within this few days; by which words he seemed pleasantly to scoff at this vulgar opinion: That muhrooms should breed of thunder. Now some were there, who said: That thunder caused the earth to chink and open, using the means of the air, as it were a wedge to cleave it, and withal, that they who seek for muhrooms, by those crevices guess where they are to be found; whereupon arose this common opinion: That they were engendered of thunder, and not showed thereby; as if a man should imagine that a shower of rain breedeth snails, and not rather cause them to creep forth and be seen abroad. But Agemachus seemed then in good earnest to confirm the said received opinion, by experience, praying the company, not to conclude by & by that a thing was incredible, because it was strange and wonderful: For (quoth he) there be many other effects of thunder, lightning, and other meteores or celestial impressions right admirable; whereof it were very hard, if not altogether impossible, to comprehend the causes and the reasons. For this ridiculous round root called the Bulb, which maketh us so good sport, and is grown into a byword, little though it be, escapeth not by that means from thunder, but because it hath a property clean contrary unto it; like as the fig tree also, and the skin of the seal or sea-calf, and of the beast Hyena, with whose skins, mariners and sailors are wont to cloth the ends of their crosse-saile yards, whereupon they hang their sails: gardeners also and good husbandmen, call those showers that fall with thunder, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, good to water their grounds, and so they think them to be. In sum, it were great simplicity and mere folly to wonder hereat, considering that we do see before our eyes, things more admirable than this, and indeed of all other, most incredible; namely, out of moist clouds, fire to flash, and from the same (soft as they be) so great cracks and horrible claps of thunder: Well, I am (quoth he) in these matters somewhat talkative and full of words, because I would solicit and move you to be more willing to search into the cause, for that I mean not to deal hardly otherwise with you, and seem to press you every one to lay down your part toward the payment for these my great muhrooms. Why (quoth I) Agemachus himself seemeth in some sort to have pointed with his very finger to the reason hereof; for I assure you, at this present I can not think of any one, more probable than this; namely, that together with thunder, there falleth down many times a certain genital water, apt to engender; and the cause thereof, is heat mingled among: for, that pure, light, & piercing substance of the fire, being now converted into lightning, is gone and passed away; but the more weighty, gross and flatilent part remaining behind, enwrapped within the cloud, altereth and taketh quite the coldness away, and drinketh up the moisture, making it more flateous and windy, in such sort, as by this means especially, these rains gently and mildly enter & pierce into plants, trees and herbs, upon which they fall, causing them within a while to thrive in bigness, and infusing within them a particular temperature and a peculiar difference of juice. As we may observe otherwise, that the dew maketh the grass to be better seasoned (as it were) and fitter to content the appetite of sheep and other cattle: yea, and those clouds upon which that reflection is made, which we call the rainbow, fill those trees and wood upon which they fall, with a passing sweet and pleasant odor; whereof, the priests of our country be not ignorant, but acnowledge as much, call the same Irisiseepta, as if the rainbow did rest or settele upon them. Much more probable it is, that when these waters and rains together with their ventosities & heats, occasioned by thunders & lightnings, come to pierce deep into the earth, it turneth and rolleth round, and by that means are engendered therein such like nodosities and knobs, soft and apt to crumble, which we call muhrooms; like as in our bodies there breed and arise certain flatuous tumours, named kernels or Glandules, form by occasion of I wot not what bloody humours and heats withal: for a Mushroom seemeth not to be a plant, neither without rain & moisture doth it breed, having no root at all, nor any sprout springing from it; it is wholly entire of self round about, and holding upon nothing, as having the consistence only of the earth which hath been a little altered & changed. And if you think this reason to be but slender, I say unto you more, that the most part of those accidents which follow upon thunder and lightning, are of the like sort; and therefore it is especially, that in these effects there is thought to be a certain divinity. Then Dorotheus the orator who was in the company: Truth it is (quoth he) that you say, for not only the vulgar sort of simple and ignorant people are of that opinion, but some also of the philosophers; and for mine own part I know as much by experience, that the lightning which of late fell upon our house, wrought many strange and wonderful things: for it emptied our sellers of wine, and never did hurt unto the earthen vessel wherein it was; and whereas there lay a man a sleep, it flew over him, yea, and flashed upon him, without any harm at all to his person, or sienging so much as his clothes; but having a certain belt or pouch wherein were certain pieces of brass money, it melted and defaced them all so confusedly, that a man could not know by the form or impression, one from another: the man went thereupon to a certain Pythagorean philosopher, who as hap was so journed there, and demanded of him what the reason might be thereof, and what it did presage? But the philosopher, when he had cleared and assoiled his mind of scrupulous fear and religion, willed him to ponder and consider of the matter apart by himself, and to pray unto the gods. I hear say also, that not long since there was a soldier at Rome, who keeping the Sentinel, upon one of the temples of the city, chanced to have a flash of lightning to fall very near unto him, which did him no hurt in the world in his body, but only burnt the latchets of his shoes: and whereas there were certain small boxes and cruets of silver within wooden cases, the silver within was found all melted into a mass in the bottom, and the wood had no injury at all, but continued still entire and sound. But these things a man may choose whether he will believe or no. Howbeit, this passeth all other miracles, which we all, (I suppose) do know very well; namely, that the dead bodies of those who have been killed by lightning, continue above ground and putrify not: for many there be who will neither burn nor enterre such corpses, but cast a trench or bank about, and so let them lie as within a rampar; so as such dead bodies are to be seen always above ground uncorrupt; convincing Clymene in Eurypides of untruth, who speaking of Phaethon said thus: 
Beloved mine, but see where dead he lies,  
In vale below, and there with putrefies.  And hereupon it is, (as I take it,) that brimstone taketh the name in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for the resemblance of that smell which those things yield that have been smitten with lightning, which no doubt have a fiery and piercing scent: and this may be the reason likewise in my conceit, that dogs and fowls of the air forbear to touch any dead bodies, which in this sort are stricken from heaven. Thus far forth have I laid the first stone for a groundwork of this cause, as also of the Bay-tree: Now let us entreat him here to finish and make out the rest, for that he is well acquainted with muhrooms, lest haply that befall unto us which sometimes to the painter Androcydes did; for when he painted the gulf Scylla, he portrayed more naturally & to the life, the fishes all about, than any thing else beside; whereby men judged that he showed more affection therein, than cunning of his art, for that naturally he loved to feed upon good fishes; and even so some one might say; that we have discoursed so much of muhrooms, the breeding and generation whereof is so doubtful, as you see, for the pleasure and delight that we take in eating of them. Considering now that in these points our discourse seemed to carry some probability, and that every man was persuaded well enough that the cause and reason thereof was clear; and withal myself began to speak and advise, that it was now time as the manner was in comedies, to set up those engines devised for to counterfeit thunder; so to infer a disputation at the table of lightning; to which motion all the company condescended, but passing over all other points, very desirous and earnest they were to hear a discourse as touching this one: What the reason might be that men a sleep be never smitten or blasted with lightning. Now albeit I saw well enough, that I should gain no great praise, in touching a cause, whereof the reason was common, yet I began to set to it and said: That the fire of lightning was fine and subtle, as that which took the original and beginning from a most pure, liquid, and sacred substance, which if there had been in it any moisture or terrestrial grossness mingled among, the celerity of motion is such, that it would have purged and cast it forth: Nothing is smitten with lightning (quoth Democritus) that cannot resist the fire from heaven; and therefore solid bodies, as iron, brasle, silver, and gold, be corrupted and melted therewith, by reason that they hold out, and withstand it: chose, such as be rare, full of holes, spongious, soft, and lux, lightning quickly pierceth through, and doth them no harm; as for example, clothes or garments, and dry wood; for such as is green will burn, because the moisture within maketh resistance, and so catcheth fire withal. If then it be true, that those who lie a sleep be never stricken dead with thunder and lightning, surely we must search here for the cause, and never go farther; for the bodies of men awake, are stronger, more firm and compact, yea, and able to make more resistance, as having all their parts full of spirits, by which ruling, turning, and welding the natural senses and holding them together as it were with an engine, the living creature becometh strong, fast; knit, and uniform: whereas in sleep it is slack, loose, rare, unequal, soft, and as it were all resolved, by reason that the pores be open, for that the spirit hath forsaken and abandoned them; which is the cause likewise that voices, odours, and savours, pass through them, unheard and unsmelled: for why? that which should resist, and in resistance suffer and take impression, meeteth not with those objects, that are presented unto it, and least of all, when they pierce with such swiftness and subtility, as the fire of lightning doth; for that which of itself is less firm & strong for to resist offensive things, nature doth descend, fortify, and furnish with remedies against that which offendeth, by putting before them hard and solid munitions; but look what things be of incomparable force, and invincible, they less offend and hurt that which yieldeth, than that which maketh head and resistance: add moreover hereunto, that they who lie a sleep are less afraid, affrighted, or astonished, by occasion whereof and of nothing else, many have died; only (I say) for fear of death, without any harm at all done unto them: and this is the very cause that shepherds teach their sheep to run and gather round together, into a troop when it thundereth, for that they which are dispersed and scattered a sunder, for very fear take harm, and cast their young ones in time of thunder: yea and an infinite number have been known to lie dead on the ground, by reason of thunder, without any mark or stroke, wound, scorch or burn seen upon them, whose life and soul for very fear hath flown out of their bodies, like a bird out of a cage: for according as Euripides saith: 
The very blast of some great thunderclap,  
Hath many a one struck stone-dead with a flap.  And forasmuch as otherwise the sense of hearing, is of all others most subject to suffer violent passions, and the fearful frights occasioned by sounds and noises, work greatest troubles in the mind: against it, the privation of sense is a sure bulwark and rampar to a man that lieth asleep; where as they who are awake, be many times killed with fear of the thing before it cometh: for a fright (to say a truth) knitting, closing, and compressing the body fast, giveth more strength a great deal to the stroke when it comes, for that it findeth more resistance.   

THE THIRD QUESTION.  
Why at a wedding or bride-supper, men use to invite more guests, than at other times?  
AT the wedding of my son Autobulus (o Sossius Senecio) one who came from Chaeronea, was with us to solemnize the feast; & a great number there were beside of other honourable personages; which gave unto him occasion for to demand this question: What the cause might be, that ordinarily we invite more guests to such a marriage supper, than to any other feast? considering that even those lawgivers who impugned most, the superfluity and riot of feasts, have precisely & expressly set down the number of those persons, whom they would have to be bidden guests to a wedding: For of the ancient philosophers (quoth he) the man that treated of this argument and the cause thereof, to wit, Hecataeus of Abdera, hath written nothing in my judgement worth aught, not to the purpose; for thus he saith: That they who marry wives, bid many persons to their wedding, to the end that many may take knowledge and bear witness, that being free borne and of free condition, they take wives likewise of like free birth and condition. For the comical poets, clean contrary, mock and laugh at those, who make proud and sumptuous feasts at their marriage, setting out the same with great pomp and magnificence, as if that were no sure bond nor link to be trusted unto, wherewith they would seem to knit wedlock; like as Menander said to one, who willed the bridegroom to make a strong rempar all about, of pots, pans and platters; 
When that is done on every side,  
What is all this to your new bride?  But lest we might not seem to find fault with others at our pleasure, for that we have nothing of our own to say, which is the easiest matter in the world; I showed first and foremost, that there was no occasion of feasting, so public nor so much divulged and celebrated, as marriage: for say that we sacrifice unto the gods, or feast a friend for his farewell when he is to go a long voyage, or entertain a traveller and stranger that passeth by our house, or cometh of purpose to visit us, we may do all without the privity of kinsfolk & friends: but a nuptial feast (where the wedding-song and carol of 〈◊〉 is chanted aloud; where the torches are to be seen lightburning; where the hautboys and pipes play merrily and resound; where (as Homer saith) the very women and maidens stand wondering at their doors, to see and hear) is notoriously known and proclaimed to the whole world; in regard whereof, because there is none ignorant of these espousals and festival solemnities, men being ashamed to leave out any, invite generally, all their kinsfolk, familiar friends and acquaintance, as whom in some sort it doth concern, and who have an interest in the thing. When we all had approved this, Theon taking in hand the question: Surely all this (quoth he) may go for currant, for it carrieth great probability therewith; but you may add moreover (if you please) thus much: That these marriage feasts are not only for friends, but also for kinsfolk and allies; for that a whole kindred, race and generation, come to have another new alliance to be incorporated into them: and that which more is, when two houses in this wise be joined together; both he who receiveth the woman, thinketh that he ought to entertain and feast the kindred and friends of him that giveth her; and he who giveth her, likewise taketh himself bound to do as much reciprocally, by the knisefolke and friends of the receiver; whereby the feast and number of them who are bidden, groweth double. Now forasmuch as many marriage compliments, and (to say a truth) the most part in manner all, are performed at weddings by women, surely where the goodwives be, great reason there is, that of necessity their husbands also should be welcome for their sakes, and so thereby the company still doth increase.   

THE FOURTH QUESTION.  
Whether the viands which the sea affordeth, be more delicate than those of the land?  
GAlepsus a town in Euboea, where there be baths naturally of hot waters, is a proper seat and place fitted by nature, for sundry honest pleasures, beautified with many fair houses and lodgings, in such sort, as it is reputed the public hostelry of all Greece: and albeit there be great game there, of hunting and hawking, and wonderful plenty aswell of fowl as other venison, yet is the market no less served from the sea, nor their tables less furnished 〈◊〉 dainty fish; for that indeed along the coast, the sea is very deep, and the water fair, nourishing an infinite number of excellent fishes. This town flourisheth more in the mids of Spring, than at any other season of the year; for much concourse there is thither at that time, who converse familiarly one with another, feasting mutually, and taking the benefit of that great 〈◊〉 of victuals, and abundance of all good things; where having nothing else to do of great importance, they pass the most part of the time in devising and discoursing together of good letters and matters of learning: but whensoever Callistratus the professor of thetoticke is at home, hardly may a man sup any where else but at his house; for, a man so full of courtesy he is and hospitality, that there is no saying of him nay. Now for that willingly he used to bring those together who were learned and professed scholars, his company was so much more pleasant and delectable; for many times he would seem among other ancient persons of old time, to imitate Cimon, making his whole and only pleasure, to feast many in his house, and those from all parts: but most of all, and in manner continually, he followed the example and steps of Celeus, of whom it is written, that he was the first who daily assembled to his house, a number of honourable persons, and of good mark, which assembly he called Prytanium. The speeches ordinarily at these meetings in Callistratus his house, was sorting well and suitable to such company: but one day above the rest, when the table stood furnished with all manner of dishes that a man's heart could wish for, it ministered matter and occasion to inquire as touching viands, whether were better, those of the land or those of the sea? And when all others in manner with one accord and voice, commended them which the land did yield, as being of so diverse and sundry sorts, yea and those innumerable; Polycrates calling Symmachus by name: You sir, (quoth he) who are (as one would say) a water-animall, bred and fed within so many seas, environing round about your sacred city Nicopolis, will not you maintain and defend your tutelar god Neptune? Yes that I will (quoth Symmachus) I heartily pray and beseech you to join with me in this cause, whom I take for mine adjoint and assistant; considering that you enjoy the benefit of the sweetest and most pleasant coast of all the sea. Begin we then (quoth Polycrates) our discourse with our usual custom and manner of speech: For like as among so many poets as there be, we give but one by way of excellency, simply the name of poet; to wit Homer, for that of all others he is the principal; so there being in the world many dainty cates, and exquisite viands, yet use of speech hath carried it so, that fish alone, or especially is named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, meat, for that indeed it is the chief and very best: hereupon it comes, that we call those gluttons that love belly cheer so well, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 not for that they love beef so well as Hercules did: who as the poet saith: 
When that he had fed well of flesh,  
Did eat green new figs gathered fresh.  Neither do we name such an one 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a lover of figs, as Plato was, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, one that loveth grapes as well, like as Arcesilaus did; but such as haunt ordinarily the fish stalls, and have a quick ear, to hear the market bell, or listen to the clock, that giveth warning when the fishmarket is open: And Demosthenes when he objected unto Philocrates: That with the money that he received for betraying his country, he bought whores, & fishes; reproached the man no doubt for his lechery and gluttony: and it is prettily said of Ctesiphon, when as one of these gluttons and bellie-gods, in the court or counsel house cried out: That he should crack and burst in the mids: Do not so (quoth he) my good friend in any case, make us not a bait here, for to be devoured of fishes: and he that made these little verses: 
Thou liv'st of capers as thy meat,  
When as of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 if it were not a stargeon, it was some delicate fish.  Sturgeon thou mayst eat.  What was his meaning think you? or what meaneth this common word of the people, when they speak one to another, for to be merry and make good cheer: Come, shall we to the strand or shore to day? Is it not as much as if they meant; that to sup by the water side had no fellow for pleasure and delight, as in truth it hath not; for surely their purpose is not to go unto the shore for the love that they have to see the billows of the sea, or the gravel stones and sands cast up; why then? because they would eat some good pease pottage there, or make their meals with capers? no forsooth; for who goes thither for that purpose? but it is because they that dwell along the bank by the waterside, are provided always of foison and store of good fish, & the same fresh & sweet. Moreover, sea-fish carrieth an higher price beyond all reason, than other meat that cometh to the market: insomuch as Cato declaiming and inveighing openly before the people against the superfluity and excess in Rome city, broke out into this speech, not hyperbolically and overreaching the truth, but as it was indeed: That a fish at Rome was dearer sold than a fat ox: for they sell a little barrel of fish at such an high price, as an hundred oxen would not cost so much, at a solemn sacrifice, where they go before bores, goats, and other beasts, yea and the strewing of sacred meal. Certes, the best judge of the virtue and strength of medicinable drougues and spices, is the most expert physician; likewise no man is able so well to judge of song and harmonical measures, as the best and most experienced musician; and consequently we may infer, that the meetest judge as touching the goodness and daintiness of meats, is he who loveth them best: for we must not take to arbitrate and determine such a controversy and question as this, Pythagoras or Xenocrates; but rather Antagoras the poet, Philoxenus the son of Eryxis, and Androcydes the painter; who being to make a picture for to represent the gulf Scylla, drew even the fishes about it most emphatically with a kind of affectionate mind unto them; and in one word, more lively and naturally than all the rest, because he loved fish so well, and fed upon them with such contentment. Antagoras the poet was upon a time in the camp of king Antigonus, who finding him very busy all untied & unbuttoned, in seething of congers in a pan, came close unto him, & rounding him in the ear: Sirrah, (quoth he) thinkest thou that Homer thy master, when he described the noble acts of Agamemnon, was busy about boiling of congers: unto whom Antagoras turned again, and replying in this wise presently: And think you sir (quoth he) that when Agamemnon exploited those brave feats of arms, he went up and down in his camp spying, peeping, and prying into every corner so busily as you do, for to see if he could find one feething a conger? Thus much Polycrates: and to conclude and knit up his speech: For mine own part (quoth he) this I thought good to say in the behalf of fishes, induced thereto as well by the proof of testimonies as custom and usual speech.  
But I (quoth Symmachus) will handle this matter soberly, and in good earnest, going more subtly and liker a logician to work, in this manner: For if that be counted dainty and delicate which seasoneth meat, and giveth it the most pleasant taste; we must needs confess, that simply to be the best, which maintaineth the appetite, and giveth an edge to the stomach that continueth longest: like as therefore those philosophers surnamed Elpistiques affirm: That there was nothing that maintained life, and held body and soul longer together than Hope; for that without hope which doth mitigate and allay all travels, it is impossible to live; even so so we must needs grant and yeed, that to keep and preserve appetite best, without which all other viands be loathsome and odious: but nothing shall you find of that property and effect, coming out of the earth; but such a thing the sea affordeth, and that is salt, without which nothing to speak of is savoury, nothing toothsome nor to be eaten: for even our very bread is not pleasing to our taste, if there be no salt within it: which is the reason that Neptune and Ceres be always worshipped together in one temple: In sum, salt is as it were the sauce of sauces, and that which seasoneth all the dainties whatsoever. And hereupon it was that those worthies and demigod princes, who encamped before Troy, and made profession of sparie and simple diet, as religious votaries, and who cut off all curious superfluity and excess, over and above necessary food, insomuch as they did not eat once of fish; notwithstanding they had a standing legier, hard upon the straits of Hellespont, could not endure to beserved at the table without salt; witnessing thereby, that it is the only viand which cannot be rejected or left out: for like as colours of necessity require light; even so all those sapours and juices within meats, have need of salt, to stir up the sense of taste, and to provoke appetite, otherwise they are but flat, unpleasant to the tongue, and loathsome: for dead carrions (as Hercules saith) would be cast forth, rather than dung and ordure: and what is the flesh that we eat, but a dead thing, and part of a dead carcase? but when the strength of salt is put thereto, it is in stead of life, to give a grace and commendable taste unto it: and this is the reason, that before other food, we take those things that be sharp and saltish, and in one word, whatsoever do stand most of salt; for such be allectives of the appetite, which being drawn on, and enticed as with a bait, by the means of these vantcurriers and preparatives, it cometh more fresh, and with a better edge, ready to set upon other meats; whereas, if we should begin with them first, our stomach would quickly be done and gone. I will yet say more than so; namely, that all the kinds of salt, serve not only to give a good relish to our meats, but also draw on our drinks, and cause us to make a quarrel to the cup. As for that oinion which Homer talketh of, and praiseth for a special dainty to commend drink, it was more meet indeed for mariners & rowers at the oar, than kings and and princes: but in truth, those meats that be powdered or corned a little with salt; for that they be savoury in the mouth, give all wines a pleasant verdure to please the taste, and to go down the throat merrily; the same make any water potable and delightsome, having beside, no such rank and strong sent, as the onion leaves behind it. That which more is, such meats do rarefie other viands, and prepare them for concoction and digestion, in such sort, as salt being eaten, imparteth unto the body the delight of a dainty viand, and the might of an wholesome medicine.  
To come now unto other meats, wherewith we are furnished from the sea: beside, that they are passing sweet, they be also of all others most harmless; for albeit they be of a fleshly substance, yet they lie not heavy upon the stomach, they be easily concocted, and soon passed downward: witness hereof, our Zeno here, yea and believe me, Crato, who so soon as men be sick or ill at ease, before all other directions, betake them to fish diet. Furthermore, it soundeth to good reason, that the sea breedeth and feedeth for us, living creatures, more wholesome than any others, by how much they be more exercised, considering that the very air which doth breath and send forth, for the purity and simplicity thereof is most agreeable unto us. Well said of you (quoth Lamprias) and fully to the point; howbeit, somewhat will I add more out of my philosophical learning: My grandfather (I remember) was wont ordinarily to say of the Jews by way of mockery, that they abstained from the eating of that flesh, which of all other deserved most justly to be eaten; even so may we say, that man hath not so great right and reason to feed upon any viands whatsoever, as those that come out of the sea: for, say that there were no other communion and fellowship between us and these land-creatures; yet at leastwise, thus much there is, that many of them eat of the same food with us, draw in the same air, wash and drink as we do, yea, and otherwhiles we are abashed, and take pity of them, when we kill them for our food, making a lamentable cry as they do: and for that we have made some of them familiar unto us, insomuch as they can do many things answerable to the education which they had; whereas the fishes in the sea and rivers, are altogether strangers unto us, as being bred, nourished and living in another world; no voice of theirs, no aspect of countenance, nor service at all which either they have done or can do for us, can exempt them or crave mercy at out hands, for to have their lives saved. For what use should we make of those creatures which we can not keep alive with us? or what charitable affection can we bear toward them? the place where we live, is to them no less than hell; for no sooner come they into it, but dead they are immediately.   

THE FIFTH QUESTION.  
Whether it is upon any reverend and religious opinion of swine, that the Jews abstain from their flesh, or because they detest and abhor them?  
AFter these speeches thus passed, some there were, who prepared and addressed themselves to dispute in opposition against that which had been said: but Callistratus breaking off and putting by all further disputation of this argument: What think you (quoth he) of that by-speech, discharged against the Jews by Lamprias; namely, that they forbear to eat of that flesh which deserveth most justly of all others to be eaten? For my part (quoth Polycrates) I think it passing well spoken; but this moreover and beside, troubleth my head, and maketh me doubt, whether this nation, upon any honour or reverend regard of swine, or for mere abomination and hatred of the beast, doth abstain from their flesh? as for that which themselves allege, it resembleth fables and devised tales; unless haply they have some other serious and secret reasons, which they are loath to deliver before the face of the world. To say what I think (quoth Callistratus) I am verily persuaded, that the swine is in some honour among them: for admit that it be a foul and ill-favoured beast, what then? that it be filthy beside, what of that? I can not see that it is more ugly in shape to see to, or more untoward of nature to be endured, than the bettill, the crocodile, or the cat; which notwithstanding, the Egyptian priests do honour and reverence as most holy creatures, some in one place and some in others: and as for the hog, it is said, that they regard and honour it by way of thanksgiving, as grateful persons, acknowledging a benesit received from that beast, in that it showeth them the manner how to till and ear the ground, breaking up the earth, digging and rooting (as he doth) into it with his snout: and withal, what say you to this, that he hath showed the making of a ploughshare, which some think, thereupon took the name 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as derived of the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a swine. And verily, the Egyptians at this day, such as inhabit the low-country and the flats along the river Nilus, have no need of other plough than the swine's snout; for when the river is returned again within his banks, after he hath watered the plains & champain field sufficiently, the peasants of the country do no more but follow presently with their seed, and put in all their hogs after it, who partly trampling with their feet, and in part turning up the soft earth with their noses, cover the seeds which the husbandmen have cast upon the ground. No marvel therefore, if there be some nations, who in this respect forbear to eat swine's flesh, considering there be other beasts, who for as small matters as these, yea, and some that be mere ridiculous and to be laughed at, have had right great honours done unto them, by barbarous nations: for it is said, that the Egyptians make a god of the silly blind mouse Mygate: and why so? because darkness was before light, and is of greater antiquity: also they have an opinion, that this creature is engendered of mice in the fifth generation, or at the fifth time that they breed, and that in the very change of the moon; also, that the liver of it doth decrease, as the moon is in the wane, and doth decay with her light.  
Moreover, they consecreate the lion unto the sun, for that it is the only four-footed beast having crooked claws, which bringeth forth whelps that can see: also, for that the lion is very wakeful, and sleepeth passing little, and whiles he sleepeth, his eyes do shine again. Moreover, they set lions heads gaping for the spouts of their fountains, because (forsooth) the river Nilus bringeth new waters into their fields, and corne-grounds, when the sun passeth thorough the sign Leo in the Zodiac: and as for the black stork Ibis, which they likewise honour, they say, that when it is first hatched, she weigheth two drams, that is to say; just as much as the heart of a young infant newly borne doth poise; also that of the two legs and the bill stretched forth one from the other, and resting upon the ground, is made the true proportion of a triangle with three equal sides: And why should the Egyptians be blamed and condemned 〈◊〉 so great folly and absurdity, seeing that by report, the very Pythagoreans themselves 〈◊〉 and worshipped a white cock; and among other sea fishes they abstained from the 〈◊〉 and the nettle fish; considering also that the Magicians, who were of the sect of Zoroastres, 〈◊〉 nored above all living creatures upon earth the urchin or hedgehog, but hated water-mices; saying: That he should do best service, and most acceptable to the gods, yea and be right blessed and happy himself, who could kill the greatest number of them.  
This giveth me occasion to think, that if the Jews had held swine hateful, and abominable creatures, they would have killed them, like as the Magicians did the said mice; where as chose they are as well forbidden to kill them, as to eat them: and peradventure there is good reason, that as they honour the ass, for that sometime in a great drought he showed them a place wherein was a fountain of water; even so they reverence the swine, for teaching them how to sow and till the ground. And verily some man haply might say, that this people absterneth likewise from eating the hare, hating and abhorring the same, as an impure and unclean beast: It is not without some cause (quoth Lamprias, taking the word out of his mouth) that they forbear eating of the hare, for the resemblance that it hath to the astle, whom they mystically do worship; for the colour of them both is all one; the ears be long and big withal; their eyes great and shining; in which respects there is a marvelous similitude between them, in such sort, that of a great and small beast, there is not to be found such a resemblance again in any other; unless peradventure among other similitudes, they imitate herein the Egyptians, who esteem the swiftness of this beast divine, yea, and the exquisite perfection of some natural senses, admirable: for the eyes of hares be so vigorous and indefatigable, that they will sleep open eyed, and their hearing so quick, that the Egyptians having them in such admiration therefore, when they would signify in their Hieroglyphic characters, perfect hearing, do paint and pourtrey hares: as for swine's flesh, the Jews have in great abomination, for that barbarous nations do of all other diseases abhor saint Magnus evil, or the white leprosy most, as well for that they suppose, that these maladies may be engendered, by feeding upon their flesh, as also because, look what persons they do assail, them they do ear & consume in the end; and this we do see ordinarily, that a swine under his belly is full of a kind of leprosy, and covered all over with a white scurf, called Psora; which infection seemeth to proceed from some evil habit, and inward corruption within the body, bewraying itself in the outside of the skin: to say nothing of the filthiness of this beast, both in feeding and otherwise, which must needs impart some evil quality to the flesh; for there is not another beast again, that taketh such pleasure in dirt and ordure, loving to wallow and welter in the most miry and stinking places that be, as it doth; unless they be such as breed and be nourished in those places: furthermore, it is said, that the sight of their eyes is so bend and fixed downward, that they can see nothing on high, no, nor once so much as look up to the sky, unless they be cast upon their backs with their feet upward; so that the balls of their eyes by this means be turned quite contrary to the course of nature: and verily this beast howsoever otherwise ordinarily it be given to cry and grunt exceeding much, yet if the feet be turned upward (as is before said) it will be silent and still; so much astonished and amazed it is to see the face of heaven, which it is not wont to do, and so for fear of some greater harm, it is thought that it giveth over crying: Now if we may come in with poetical fables to make up our discourse; it is said, that fair Adonis was killed by a wild boar: and Adonis is thought to be no other than Bacchus himself; which opinion may be confirmed by many ceremonial rites, in sacrisicing both to the one and the other, which are the very same: although some hold that Adonis was the minion whom Bacchus loved, as appeareth by Phanocles the poet, a man well seen in love-matters, in these verses: 
Bacchus who took so great delight  
The hills and forests for to range:  
Of fair Adonis had once a sight,  
And him to ravish made it not strange.   
Symmachus marveling at this last speech of his above the rest: How now (quoth he) will you Lamprias indeed insert and transcribe the tutelar god of your country: 
Bacchus I mean surnamed Evius,  
Who women doth to rage incite:  
And in such service furious,  
And frantic worship takes delight.  among the secret ceremonies of the Hebrews? Or do you not think there is some reason that he is the very same god whom they love. Then Meragenes: Let Lamprus alone (quoth he) as for myself who am an Athenian, I answer & say unto you assuredly, that he and Bacchus are both one: but the most part of the arguments and conjectures which prove it, may not be uttered and taught, but unto those who are professed in the absolute religion and confraternity trietericall, of Bacchus in our country: howbeit, that which we are not forbidden to speak among friends, and namely at the table, amid our cups, and when we take pleasure in the gifts and benefits of this god, (if it pleaseth the company) ready I am to deliver: and when they all willed & requested him so to do: 
* See the blindness and 〈◊〉 of there pagans: who for want of the true light out of holy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 on still in duknesse, carried with the wings only of human wit and 〈◊〉.  First and foremost (quoth he) the season and whole manner of their principal and greatest feast, is altogether proper and convenient unto Bacchus; for that which they call their fast, they celebrate in the very mids and heat of vintage, at what time as they bring tables abroad, and furnish them with all kinds of fruit: they sit under tents or booths, which are made principally of vine branches and ivy, wrought, twisted, & interlaced one within another, and the even or day before it, they call the feast of tabernacles or pavilions: within a few days after, they celebrate another feast, and the same is not under a figure, and covertly, but openly, and directly in the name of Bacchus: there is a third solemnity yet among them, named Cradephoria, of carrying vine branches and Thyrsophoria, ofbearing jevelins dight with ivy, and in that manner enter they into their temple, but what they do within we know not: howbeit very probable it is, that they perform there certain Bacchanales or rites in the honour of Bacchus; for they use little trumpets to invocate upon their god, such as the Argives have in their Bacchanal solemnity; then come others playing upon haps and lutes, whom they call in their language Levites, a denomination haply derived of Lycius, the surname of Bacchus, or rather of Evius: It seemeth also to me, that their feasts of Sabbats is not altogether disagreeable with Bacchus; for there be many places yet in Greece even at this day, where they call the priests Baccht, by the name of Sabbi: who in their Bacchanales and ceremonial sports, eftsoons reiterate these voices, Euoi and Sabboi, as appeareth in the oration of the crown which Demoslhenes made against Aeschines; as also in the poet Menander. And this name, Sabbat, if a man should say, it was imposed upon thus feast of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, of the inordinate motion and turbulent agitation of the priests of Bacchus, it were not altogether absurd and without reason; for even they themselves testify no less: for they solemnize and honour the Sabbat with mutual feasting and inviting one another to drink wine, until they be overseen therewith, unless some great occasion do 〈◊〉 that hindereth them; and even then, they think yet that they must needs, taste strong wine. Howbeit, some man may haply say, that these arguments be but bare conjectures and presumptions, that carry with them some little probablitie: but verily, that which is done among them, is a forcible & necessary proof. First and foremost, their high priest showing himself abroad, and going before with a mitre upon his head, at these feasts, argueth no less, who also is clad in a vesture of Stag's skin, wrought richly with gold; arrayed beside, in a long rob, down to his feet, and wearing buskins; beside, there be many little belles pendant round about the border and skirt of his rob, which jingle and ring as he goeth, like as also among us: this manner of resounding they use still in their sacrifices, and they surname the nurses of their god, Cholcodrytae: and beside, there is a Thyrse or Javelot with tabours to be seen expressly printed aloft, against the walls of their temple; all which ceremonies, certainly can agree to no other god, but unto Bacchus.  
Moreover, in none of all their oblations do they offer honey, for that they think it marreth and corrupteth wine when it is mingled with it; and yet this was the liquor which they used in old time, to serve God withal in their libaments; and whereof they drank until they were drunk, before the vinetree was known: and even at this day, those barbarous nations, who drink no wine, use a certain drink made of honey, correcting the exceeding sweetness thereof with certain tart and austere roots resembling (in some sort) the verdure of wine: these oblations, the Greeks present unto their gods, and those they call Nephalia and Melesponda, as one would say, Sober and confected with honey: for that honey hath a natural property adverse and contrary unto wine. To conclude, that this is the same God which they worship, a man may collect by this one argument, which is of no small force; namely, that among many punishments which they have, this is the most shameful and ignominious, when they are forbidden to drink wine; woe are punished even so long as it pleaseth him to set down, who is the judge, and hath power to impose the penalty; and those who are thus punished, ****  
The end of this discourse is wanting, as also the discussing and deciding of the other five questions proposed in the forefront of this fourth book.     

THE FIFTH BOOK OF SYMPOSIAQUES OR TABLE-QUESTIONS.  

The Contents or Summarie.  
1 WHerefore we willingly hear and see them who sergeant those that be either angry or sorrowful; but such as be wroth or heavy indeed, we love not either to hear or see.  
2 That there was an ancient game of prize, performed in Poetry.  
3 Why the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Pitch-tree is consecrated to Neptune and Bacchus; also that in the beginning, men used to crown with brances of the said tree, those who won the prize at Isthmicke solemnity of sacred games; afterwards, with a garland of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 some take it for parsley.  smallach; and now again, they begin to take up the crowning of them with Pitch-tree.  
4 What is the meaning of these words in Homer: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
5 Of those that invite many to supper.  
6 What is the cause of sitting penned and with straight room at the beginning of supper, but at large afterward, toward the end.  
7 Of those who are said to eie-bite or to bewitch.  
8 What is the reason that the poet called an Appletree, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and why Empedocles named Apples, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
9 What is the reason, that a Figtree being itself in taste most sharp and biting, bringeth forth a fruit exceeding sweet.  
10 Who are they that are said in the common proverb to be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   

THE FIFTH BOOK OF Symposiaques or table-questions.  

The Proëme.  
WHat your opinion is at this present (o Sossius Sinecio) as touching the pleasures of the soul and body, I wot not; 
For that now many a mountain high,  
And shady forest stand between;  
The roaring seas likewise do lie,  
So as to part us, bars they been.  for you seemed not greatly, long ago, to approve and allow their sentence, who hold: That there is nothing properly and particularly delightsome, nothing pleasant unto the soul, nothing at all that it desireth, or joieth in, of itself; but that it liveth only according to the life of the body, laughing (as it were) and sporting with it in the pleasant affections thereof; and chose, mourning at the heavy passions afflicting it: as if the soul were no other thing, but a very matter apt to take the impression of sundry forms, or a mirror to receive the images and resemblances of those objects which are presented unto the flesh and body: for as by many reasons, a man may easily refute the blind and illiberal falsity of this opinion; so, by this especially; that after the table is taken away, and supper done, men of learning and knowledge incontinently fall to discourse and devise together (as it were) at a banquet, delighting and solacing one another with pleasant talk, wherein the body hath no part at all, unless it be very little and a far off: which experience beareth witness, that this is the provision of dainty cates, and delicate pleasures laid up peculiarly for the soul; and that these be the only delights indeed of the mind, whereas those other be but bastards and strangers infected with the society of the body: like as therefore nurses whiles they give paps and panades unto their little babes, have some small pleasure in feeding them, by tasting the same in their own mouths before; but after they have filled their infant's bellies, and brought them a sleep, so as they cry no more, than they go themselves to their own refection, meet for them, they eat and drink and make good cheer; even so the soul doth participate with the desires and appetites of the body, in manner of a nurse attending upon it, serving it, and framing herself in some sort to do it pleasure, and satisfy the necessities thereof: but after that the body is sufficiently served, laid at rest and repose, then being delivered of her obsequious service and business about the body, she betaketh herself from thenceforward unto her own pleasures and delights; making her repast, and taking her solace in discourses of learning, in good letters, in sciences and histories, and in seeking to hear somewhat, and know more still of that which is singular. What should a man say any more of this? considering and seeing as he doth, that even base mechanical and unlettered fellows, after supper, ordinarily withdraw their minds, and employ the same upon other pleasures and recreations, far removed from the body, proposing dark riddles enigmatical questions, and intricate propositions of names comprised under notes of certain numbers, hardly to be assoiled or guessed at? and after all this, come in banquets, which make way unto players, jesters, counterfeit pleasants, giving room to Menander, and the actors of his comedies: all which sports and pastimes are not devised for to ease and take away any pain of the body, ne yet to procure some gentle motion and kind contentment in the flesh; but only for that the speculative and studious part of the mind, which naturally is in every one of us, doth demand & call for some particular pleasure and recreation of her own, when we are once discharged of the business and offices whereabout we are employed for the body.   

THE FIRST QUESTION.  
What is the cause that willingly we hear and see those who counterfeit them that be angry, or sorrowful; but love not to hear or see the parties themselves in those passions?  
OF such matters there passed many discourses, when you were present with us at Athens, at what time as the comedian actor Strato flourished; for he was then in so great name and reputation, that there was no talk but of him. But one time above the rest, we were invited and feasted by Boëthus the Epicurean, and with us there supped many more of that sect: now after supper, the fresh remembrance of the comedy which we had seen acted, gave occasion unto us, being students and lovers of learning, to fall into a discourse and question about the cause, why we cannot abide but are greatly discontented, to hear the voices of those who are angry, sorrowful, timorous, or affrighted? and chose, what the reason is, that they who counterfeit these passions, and represent their words, their jestures and behaviour, do much delight and please us? And verily, all in manner there in place, opined the same, and were in one song; for they gave this reason and said: Inasmuch as he who counterfeiteth those pastimes, is better than he who suffereth them indeed; & in regard that he who is not affected himself, excelleth the other; we knowing so much, take pleasure and are delighted: but I, albeit, that I set foot (as men say) in the dance of another, said thus much: That we being naturally framed for to discourse by reason, and to love things that savour of wit, and be artificially done, affect and esteem those who have a dexterity therein, if a thing succeed accordingly: for like as the Bee delighting in sweetness, flieth from flower to flower, seeking busily where she may find any matter that will afford substance for honey; even so a man by nature ingenious, stitdious also of arts, and elegancy, is wont to cherish, love, and embrace every action, and work, where he knoweth there was wit and understanding employed in the finishing of it: if then one come and present unto a young child, a little loaf of bread indeed, and withal tender unto him a pretty puppy or bulkin, or heighfer made of paste or dough; you shall see that he will run rather to these counterfeit devices, than to the other: and even so it is also in other things; for if one offer him a piece of silver in the mass unwrought; and another tender unto him a little beast or a cup made of silver, he will much sooner make choice of that which he seeth to have some artificial workmanship joined with it, and to savour of wit and cunning: and therefore it is, that children at this age take more delight, both to hear such covert speeches as show one thing and mean another; as also those plays and pastimes which have some witty matters contrived, or ambiguous difficulties interlaced therein: for that which is smoothly polished and curiously wrought, draweth and allureth unto it man's nature of the own accord, as being proper unto it, and familiar, although it be not taught to embrace it. Forasmuch as therefore, he who is angry or grieved in good earnest, showeth nothing else but common and ordinary passions; but in representing and counterfeiting of the same, there is a certain dexterity and subtlety of wit to be seen, especially if it speed well and take effect; therefore we delight to behold the one, and are displeased to see the other. For the proof hereof, mark how we are affected, semblaby in other objects, shows, and sights, presented unto us: for with grief and sorrow of heart we look upon those who are either dying or lie grievously sick: chose, with joy we behold, yea and admire either Philoctetes painted in a table; or queen Jocasta portrayed in brass; upon whose visage it is said; that the workman tempered a little silver with the brass, to the end that this mixture of metals together, might represent naturally, and to the life indeed, the face and colour of one ready to faint, and yield up the ghost: And this (quoth I) my masters, (to you I speak who are Epicureans) is an evident argument on the Cyrenaiques' side against you; to prove that in pastimes and sports, presented to the eye and the ear, the pleasure consisteth not in seeing or hearing, but in the understanding: for an odious and unpleasant thing it is, to hear a hen keep a creaking or cackling, and a crow untowardly and untunably crying; and yet he that can well and naturally counterfeit either the cackling of an hen, or the crying of the crow, pleaseth and contenteth us wonderful well: semblably, to look upon those who are in phthisic or consumption, is but a lovelesse sight; and yet we joy and take delight to see the pictures or images of such persons; for that our understanding is pleased and contented with the imitation & resemblance of them, as a thing proper and peculiar unto it: for otherwise, what joy and contentment have men, or what outward occasion have they so much to admire and wonder at Parmenons' sow? insomuch as it is grown to be a common byword: This Parmenon was by report, one that counterfeited passing well, the grunting of an hog; for which his singular grace and gift therein, his concurrents upon an envious humour, would needs assay to do as much in despite of him: but men being already forestalled with a prejudicated opinion of him, would say thus: Well done; but nothing to Parmenons' hog: and therefore, one of them having gotten a little porket indeed under his arm, made it for to squeak and cry; but the people hearing the noise of a swine indeed: All this (say they) is nothing to Parmenons' hog; whereupon the party let the said live hog run among them all, for to convince them of their corrupt judgement, carried away with an opinion, and not grounded upon truth and reason. Whereby it appeareth evidently, that one and the same motion of the sense, doth not affect the mind alike, when there is not an opinion, that the action was performed wittily and with artificial dexterity.   

THE SECOND QUESTION.  
That there was in old time a game of prize for poets.  
AT the solemnity of the Pythicke games, there was some question and talk upon a time, about the cutting off, and putting down of certain plays and pastimes, foisted in, to the others that were ancient and of the first institution: for whereas at the first, there were but three only that played their prizes; to wit, the Pythian player of flute or pipe, the harper, and the singer to the harp: after they had once admitted the actor of tragedies, no sooner was this gate (as one would say) set open, but they were not able to resist and keep out an infinite number of other plays and sports, that rushed and thrust themselves in after him: by occasion whereof, there was much variety and a frequent concourse at this solemnity, which I must needs say, was no unpleasant sight to behold: but surely it retained not the ancient gravity and dignity beseeming the Muses indeed; for by this means, the judges and umpires were much troubled; beside, there grew many quarrels and enmities, which could not otherwise be; for where there are so many contending for the prize, there can not choose but be a number of mal-contents, that miss the garland. But among all others, it was thought good by the judges, to remove and banish from the solemnity, a number of those who penned orations, and all the sort of poets that came thither to versify for the best game; which they did not (I assure you) for any hatred unto learning and good letters, but for that they who present themselves to these learned combats, be ordinarily the most notable persons of all others; the judges beforesaid, reverenced them, and in some sort, pitied their case, esteeming them all worthy men, and well deserving of good letters, howbeit, not able all to gain the victory. We therefore, being at this council, laboured to dehort those who went about to change and alter settled customs, and who blamed in any of these sacred games, multiplicity and variety, as if they found fault with many strings in an instrument, or a consort of voices in vocal music. Now, in supper time when we were in Petraeus his house, who was the precedent and governor of the said solemnity, and courteously had invited us, the question was revived and set on foot a fresh; and we took upon us to defend the cause of the Muses, showing, that poetry was no modern profession, nor entered but lately among the combats of sacred games, but that of ancient time it had won the victory, and gained the crown. There were in the company, some who thought by these words of mine, that I meant to allege old testimonies, and to cite stale and trivial examples for proof of the cause; to wit, the funerals of Oeolycus the Thessalian, and of Amphidamas the Chalcidian, at which, Homer and Hesiodus made verses one against another for the victory, as stories make mention: but casting by and rejecting all these evidences so much tossed and diunlged already by Grammarians; and namely, the funeral obsequies and honours done to Patroclus in Homer, where they read not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, lancers of darts, but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, makers of orations and eloquent orators, as if Achilles had proposed rewards and prizes for orations; leaving (I say) these matters, I affirmed: That when Acastus celebrated the funerals for his father Pelias, he exhibited a combat of poets for the best game, wherein Sibylla went away with the victory. Hereat many stood up, and opposed themselves against me, demanding a real caution at my hands for to make good that which I had averred, for that it seemed unto them a very strange narration and incredible: but as good hap was, I called to remembrance, that I had read so much in the Chronicle of Lybia, compiled by Acesander, where the story is put down: And this book (quoth I) is not in every man's hand to read; howbeit, I think verily, that the most of you have been careful to peruse those records which Polemon the Athenian, a diligent writer and a learned antiquary, who hath not been idle and sleepy in seeking out the antiquities and singularities of Greece, hath set down in writing, as concerning the treasures of the city Delphos: for there you shall find written, that in the treasury of the Sicyonians, there was a golden book, given and dedicated by Aristomache the poetresse of Erythraea, after she had obtained the victory, & gotten the garland at the solemnity of the Isthmicke games: Neither have you any reason (quoth I) to esteem Olympia, and the games thereof, with such admiration above the rest, as if it were another fatal destiny immutable, and which can not be changed nor admit alteration in the plays there exhibited: as for the Pythian solemnity, three or four extraordinary games it had, respective unto good letters and the Muses, adjoined and admitted to the rest: the Gymnicke exercises and combats performed by men naked, as they were at first ordained, so they continued for the most part still, and hold on at this day; but at the Olympian games, all, save only running in the race, were taken up afterwards, and counted as accessories: likewise, there have been many of them which at first were instituted, since put down and abolished; namely, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, an exercise and feat of activity, when the concurrent mounted on horseback, in the mids of his course leapeth down to the ground, taketh his horse by the bridle, and runneth on foot with him a full gallop: as also another, called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which was a course with a chariot drawn by two mules: moreover, there is taken away now, the coronet ordained for children that achieved the victory in Pentathlus, that is to say, five several feats: to be short, much innovation, change and altering there hath been in this festival solemnity, from the first institution; but I fear me, that you will call upon me again for new pledges and cautions, to prove and justify my words, if I should say, that in old time at Pisae, there were combats of sword-fencers, fight at the sharp to the uttrance, man to man, where they that were vanquished or yielded themselves died for it; and if my memory failed me that I could not bring out mine author, and name him unto you; I doubt, you would laugh and make a game of me, as if I had overdrunke myself, and taken one cup to many.   

THE THIRD QUESTION.  
What is the cause that the pitch-tree is held consecrated unto Neptune and Bacchus: And that 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 take it 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉: and in truth the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to both  in the beginning the victors at the Isthmian games were crowned with a garland of pinetree branches, but afterwards with a chaplet of smallage or parsley, and now of late, with the foresaid pitch-tree?  
THere was a question propounded upon a time: Why the manner was to crown those with pine or pitch-tree branches, who gained the prize at the Isthmick games? For so it was, that during the said festival solemnity, Lucanius the high priest made a supper at Corinth, at his own house, and feasted us: where Praxiteles the geometrician, a great discourser, told us a poetical tale, and namely; that the body of Melicerta was found cast up, & driven upon the body of a pinetree, by the sea at a full tide; for that there was a place not far from Megara, named Cales Dromos, that is to say, the race of the fair lady; whereas the Megarians do report, that dame Ino carrying her young babe within her arms, ran and cast herself headlong into the sea: But it is a common received opinion (quoth he) that the pine is apropriat for the making of coronets, in the honour of Neptune: whereupon when as Lucanius the highpriest added moreover and said: That the said tree being consecrated unto Bacchus, it was no marvel nor absurdity if it were dedicared also to the honour of Melicerta. Occasion was taken to search into the cause; wherefore the ancients in old time held the said tree sacred unto Bacchus and Neptune both? For mine own part I saw no incongruity therein; for that these two gods be the lords and rulers over one genetal principle, or element, to wit, humidity or moisture, considering also that they generally in manner all, sacrifice unto Neptune, under the surname 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as one would say, protector of plants; and unto Bacchus likewise, by the name or addition 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the precedent over trees: and yet it may be said, that the pine more particularly appertaineth not to Neptune; not as Apollodorus is of opinion, because it is a tree that loveth to grow by the seaside, or for that it delighteth in the winds as the sea doth: (for some there be of this mind) but especially in this regard; that it affordeth good timber, and other stuff for building of ships; for both it, and also other trees, which for their affinity may go for her sisters, to wit, pitch-trees, larike-trees, and cone-trees, furnish us with their wood, most proper to float upon the sea, and with their rosin also and pitch, to calk and calfret; without which composition, be the joints never so good and close, they are to no purpose in the sea: as for Bacchus they consecrated the pitch-tree unto him, for that pitch doth give a pleasant seasoning unto wine: for look where these trees do naturally grow, the vine there by report yieldeth pleasant wine; which Theophrastus imputeth to the heat of the soil; for commonly the pitch tree groweth in places of marvel or white clay, which by nature is hot, and so by consequence helpeth the concoction of wine; like as such kind of clay yieldeth water, of all others most light and sweet: beside, if the same be blended with wheat, it maketh the greater heap, for that the heat thereof doth cause it to swell, and become more full and tender: moreover the vine receiveth many commodities and pleasures more from the pitch tree, for that it, with those things which be, is good & necessary, both to commend and also to preserve wines; for it is an ordinary thing with all men, to pitch those vessels into which they put up their wines, yea, and some there be who put rosin even into the wine: as for example, those of Eubaea in Greece, and Italy, the inhabitants by the Po side; and that which more is, from out of Gaul by Vienna, there is brought a certain pitch-wine, called Pissites, which the Romans set much store by, because it giveth it not only a delectable sent, but also a better strength, taking from it in a small time the newness and the watery substance thereof, by the means of a mild and kind heat. This being said, there was an orator there, a man of great reading a singular scholar, and an excellent humanitian, who cried out in this manner: And is it so indeed? as who would say, it were not very lately, and but the other day, that the pine three yielded garlands and chaplets at the 〈◊〉 games? for heretofore the victors there, were crowned with wreaths and coronets made of smalach leaves: and this appeareth by that which we may hear out of a certain comedy, a covetous miser speak in this wise: 
These I shmique games I gladly would part fro,  
For price that smallach wreaths in market go.  And 〈◊〉 the historiographer writeth; that when the Corinthians marched in battle ray under the conduct of Timoleon against the Carthaginians, for the defence of Sicily, they encountered in the way certain folk, who carried bunches of smallach: now when many of the soldiers took this occurrence for an ill presage (because smallach is taken to be an unlucky herb; insomuch as when we see one lie extreme sick, & in danger of death, we say: That he hath need of nothing else but smallach) Timoleon willed them to be of good cheer, and put them in mind of the victorious chaplets of smallach at the Isthmian games, wherewith the Corinthians crowned the winners, Moreover the admiral galley of king Antigonus was called Isthura, for that without any sowing or setting, there grew smallach of itself about the poop thereof: and this obscure & enigmatical epigram under dark and covert words, signifieth plainly, earthen vessels stuffed and stopped with smallach: and in this manner it goeth: 
This Argive earth which ere while was full soft,  
Now baked hard with fire, the blood deepered  
Of Bacchus hides within, but lo aloft,  
It Istmick branches bears in mouth and head.  Certes, they have not read thus much, who vaunt so greatly of the Pitch-tree chaplet, as if it were not a modern stranger and new comer, but the ancient, proper, and natural garland, belonging to the Isthmian games. Which words of his, moved the younger sort not a little, as being delivered by a man who had seen and read much; and Lucanius the highpriest himself, casting his eye upon me, and smiling withal: Now by Neptune (quoth he) I swear, what a deal of learning is here! howbeit, others there were, who bearing themselves (as it should seem) upon mine ignorance and want of reading, were persuaded of the contrary, and avouched, that the Pitch-tree branches were the ancient garlands in the Isthmicke solemnity, as natural unto that country; and on the other side, the coronet of Smallach was a mere stranger, brought from Nemea thither upon an emulation, in regard of Hercules, whereby it had indeed the name, for a time; insomuch as it supplanted the other, and won the credit from it, as being counted a sacred herb, and ordained for this purpose; but afterwards, the Pine-garland flourished again and recovered the ancient reputation, so at this day it is in as great honour, as ever it was. Hereupon I suffered myself to be persuaded, and gave so good care, that many testimonies for confirmation of this opinion I learned, yea, and some of them I bore away and remembered; and namely, that out of them, Euphorion the poet, who spoke of Melicerta, much after this manner: 
The young man dead, they did bewaìle, and then his corpse they laid  
Upone green branches of Pinetree, whereof the crowns were said  
To have been made, those to adorn with honour glorious,  
Who at the sacred Isthmicke games were deemed Victorious:  
For why? as yet the murdering hand, sir Charon hadnot slain,  
The son of Neme, woeful dame, where as with stream amain  
Asopus runs: since when, began the wreath of Smalach green,  
To bind the head of champions, all bravely to be seen.  Also out of Callimachus, who hath expressed this matter more plainly, where he bringeth Hercules in, speaking after this manner: 
And it, though much inferior, and more terrestrial,  
Employ they shall in Isthmicke games, when in memorial  
Of god Aegaeon they with crowns the victors brave do deck,  
According to Neme●●n rites, and thereby give the check  
To chaplets made of Pinetree fair, wherewith the champion  
For victory, sometime was dight at games Corinthian.  Over and beside, if I be not deceived, I have light upon a certain commentary of Procles, writing of the Isthmian solemnity; namely, that at the very first institution thereof, ordained it was: That the victorious coronet should be made of Pitch-tree branches; but afterwards, when these games were accounted sacred, they translated thither from the Namaeam solemnities, the chaplet of Smallach: now this Procles was one of the scholars in the Academy, what time as Xenocrates taught and flourished.   

THE FOURTH QUESTION.  
What is the meaning of these words in Homer: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
SOme of the company where I supped upon a time, thought Achilles ridiculous, in that he willed his friend Patroclus 
* For so he interpreteth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  to fill out purer wine, and less delayed, giving a reason withal, saying: 
For now are come to visit me for love,  
My dearest friends, and whom I best approve.  But Niceratus the Macedonian, a familiar friend of ours, opposed himself directly, and said: That 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in this place of Homer, signifieth not mere wine of itself, without water, but hot wine, as if the primitive word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 were derived 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, vital heat and ebullition: And therefore meet it was (quoth he) that (seeing his good friends were in place) there should be filled out for them, a cup of fresh wine, new drawn, and full of life and sparkling spirits; like as we ourselves use to do, when as we power out and offer unto the gods, our sacred libations: but Sosicles the poet, calling to mind, and alleging a sentence of Empedocles, whose words be these, speaking of the general mutation of the universal world, 
What thing before most simple was and pure,  
Became now 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  mixed by compound temperature.  said: That the philosopher meant by the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as much as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, well tempered: Neither see I (quoth he) any thing to the contrary, but that Achilles might bid Patroclus to prepare and dress a cup of wine, so tempered as it should be drunk: neither must you think it a strange phrase or manner of speech, if he said, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for we are wont likewise, to put 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in stead of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as also 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for received now it is, by ordinary custom, to use the comparatives of some words for the positives. Then Antipater, a friend of ours there present, said: That in old time they were wont to call the year by the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in composition with other words, signifieth as much as the greatness of a thing, so that old wine, that had lain many years in this place, Achilles called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 As for myself, I inferred thus much, and put them in mind: That some think 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signfieth [hotter,] and by hotter, the mean quicker, sooner, or with more speed; for in that sense otherwhiles we bid our servants to bestir themselves more hotly about their work, meaning they should make more haste, and dispatch their business. But in the end, I declared unto them, that their disputation and arguing about this point, was but childish, in case they were afraid to confess, that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 betokened that which was more pure and of itself, without tempering or delaying; as if (forsooth) Achilles had committed here, some incongruity or absurdity, as Zoilus the Amphipolitane would seem to tax him; who considered not first and foremost: that Achilles saw Phoenix and Ulysses, two ancient personages, who took no great pleasure to have much water in their wine, no more than all other old men, who love to drink it mere and pure; in regard of whose age, he gave commandment to delay it less for them: again, having been (as he was) the scholar of Chiron, and learned of him, the regiment of health, as one not ignorant what diet was meet for men's bodies, he thought thus with himself, that those bodies which are at repose and ease, having beforetime been used to travel, required a more remiss, soft and tender temperature, as that which is fitter and meeter for them; for so he caused among other forage and provender, his horses to be served with smallach; for that steeds standing idle in the stable, and doing nothing, will be troubled with the pains in their feet; for which infirmity this smallach is a sovereign remedy: neither should ye find (and read the Ilias throughout) that smallach or any such kind of fodder was given to other horses than to those who stood still, and laboured not. Achilles therefore being well seen in physic, was both careful about his horses to provide for them, as the time required, and also considerate and respective to his own body, for to ordain the lightest diet, (as most wholesome) for himself who took his ease, and was not employed in bodily exercise; whereas he did not in that manner entertain those personages, who all the day had been in the field, and performed martial exploits, and warlike service, but gave order to power out for them, stronger wine and less delayed. Now that Achilles otherwise of himself greatly loved not wine, for that he was by nature sour and implacable, appeareth by these verses of the same poet: 
For gentle nature he had none, he was not soon appeased,  
But ireful, fierce, and violent, and once moved hardly, pleased.   
And in one place, speaking liberally of himself, he said: 
That many nights he slipped no wink,  
Of sundry matters he did so think.  Now who knoweth not, that short sleeps agree not to those that drink mere wine, neither will they serve their turn: also when as he contested with Agamemnon, and reviled him, at the first word he gave him the term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 wine-bibber or drunkard; as if drunkenness and wine-bibbing were the vice which his heart abhorred most: And therefore to conclude, considering all these circumstances, great reason he had, that seeing right honourable personages were come unto him, and those of good years, he should be well advised to take order, not to temper wine for them, as his manner was for himself; because the same had been too small, and not agreeable for their persons.   

THE FIFTH QUESTION.  
Of those who invite many guests to supper.  
Upon my return from Alexandria, all my friends one after another feasted me, for my welcome home, and to bear me company, they invited with me, as many as they thought, in regard of kindred or friendship, were any way toward me; in such sort, as by reason of the multitude of guests, our meetings were ordinarily more tumultuous, and sooner dissolved than they had wont to be: the disorder therefore of sitting at such feasts, gave us occasion to discourse much of that matter. But One sicrates the physician when he feasted me in his turn, as other did; bade not very many, but those only whom he knew to be my special friends, and most familiar with me: whereupon I called to mind a sentence written by Plato, as touching a city, and thought with myself, that it might very well be applied unto a feast: for like as a city which still groweth and augmenteth, in the end becomes no more a city; for that there is a certain bigness prefixed & limited unto it, which it must not outgrow; even so there is a just, proportion in the greatness of a feast, within the which it is still a feast; but if it pass and exceed the same, (I mean) in the number and multitude of guests, so as they cannot salute and speak one to another conveniently, they have no means to cheer up and drink one to another reciprocally, nor exercise their mutual knowledge kindly; surely it is no more to be called a feast: for there should not be at a feast, as in a camp, messengers and curriers between; nor after the manner of a great galley, special servitors, going from one to another, to cheer them up, and bid them be merry; but the guests ought to speak and talk one with another; for that a feast must be disposed after the manner of a dance, so as he who sits lowest may hear him that is highest. After I had thus much said, my grandfather Lamprias began to speak, and that with so loud a voice and so strong, that all the company might hear him: There is then (quoth he) a kind of mean and moderation, whereof we had need, not only in eating and drinking at a feast, but also in the bidding and inviting of guests; for surely there may be an excess in unmeasurable courtesy and humanity, when it cannot omit nor leave out any of those with whom a man heretofore hath feasted or made merry, but draweth all of them, as if the case were to go for to see a play, behold solemn sights, or to hear music: and for mine own part I think that the good man of the house, or master of a feast, is not so much worthy to be blamed or laughed at, for being at a fault of bread or drink for his guests; as when he hath not room enough to place them; of which he ought to make provision with the largest, not only for those who are formally invited, but also for comers in, and such as bid themselves; for strangers also that pass by: moreover, if there chance to be some want of bread or wine, the fault may be laid upon the servants, as if they had made it away, or played the thieves; but if there be no room left, it cannot choose but be imputed to the negligence and indiscretion of him who invited the guests: Hesiodus is wonderfully much commended for writing thus: 
At first no doubt it was so cast,  
That there might be a Chaos vast.  For in the beginning of the world, requisite is was that there should be a void place for to receive and comprehend all those things that were to be created: Not (quoth he) as my son yesterday made a supper, according to that which Anaxagaras said: All things were huddled and jumbled together pellmell, confusedly: and admit that there be place and room enough, yea, and provision of meat sufficient, yet nevertheless, a multitude would be avoided, as a thing that bringeth confusion, and which maketh a society unsociable, and a meeting unmeet and not affable: certes, less harm it were, and more tolerable a great deal, to take from them who are bidden to our table, their wine, than their communication and fellowship of talk; and therefore Theophrastus called (merrily) barbers shops, dry banquets without wine; for the good talk that is between a number of persons sitting there one by another: but they who bring a sort together into one place, thrumbling them one upon another, deprive them of all conference, and discoursing reciprocally, or rather indeed they bring it so to pass, that but very few can commune & converse together; for by that means they sort themselves apart, two by two, or three by three, for to have some talk: as for those who are set farther of, hardly they can not discern, no nor know them, being distant and removed a sunder, as a man would say the length of an horse race: 
Some, where Achilles' tents are pight close for to make their stay:  
And some, where Ajax quarter is, as far another way.  Thus you shall see how some rich men hereby, otherwhiles show their foolish magnificence to no purpose, in building halls, and dining chambers, containing thirty tables a piece in them, yea, and some of greater capacity than so: and verily this manner of preparation for to make suppers and dinners, is for folk that have no amity nor society one with another, when there is more need of some provost of a field to marshal them, than an usher of an hall to see good order among them: but these men may in some sort well be pardoned for doing so; because they think their riches no riches, but that it is blind, deaf, lame also, or shut up, that it cannot get forth, unless it have a number of witnesses, like as a tragedy, many spectators: but as for us, this remedy we have of not assembling so many at once together; namely to bid often, and to make diverse suppers; to invite (I say) our friends and well-willers at sundry times, by few at once, and so by this means we may make amends for all, and bring both ends together: for they that feast but seldom, and as they say 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, by the cart loads, are forced to put in the roll all those that any way belong unto them, either by kindred, friendship or acquaintance whatsoever: whereas they who ordinarily pick out three or sour at a time, and do so oft, make their feasts as it were little barks, to discharge their great hulks, and the same to go light and nimble: moreover, when a man considereth continually with himself the cause why he inviteth his friends; it maketh him to observe a difference and choice in that great multitude of them: for like as for every occasion & business that we have, we assemble not all sorts of people, but such only as be meet for each purpose; for if we should have need of good counsel, we call for those who be wise; if we would have a matter pleaded, we send for eloquent orators; if a voyage or journey performed, we seek for such as will take up with short meals, and who have little else to do, and be best at leisure; even so in our invitations and feasts, we must have regard ever and anon to choose those who are meet, and will sort well together: meet men I call these for example sake: if he be a prince or great potentate whom we invite to supper, the fittest persons to bear him company, be the head officers, the magistrates and principal men of the city, especially if they be friends, or already acquainted: if we make a marriage supper, or a feast for the birth of a child, those would be bidden who are of kindred and affinity; and in one word, as many as are linked together by the bond of Jupiter Homoginos, that is to say, the protector of consanguinity: and in all these feasts and solemnities, we ought evermore to have a careful eye to bring them together who are friends or well willers one to another: for when we sacrifice unto some one god, we make not our prayers to all others, although they be worshipped in the same temples, & upon the same altars; but if there be three cups or bowls brought full unto us, we power libations out of the first to some, the second we offer to others, and the last we bestow likewise upon a third sort: for there is no envy abideth in the choir ordaunce of the gods: semblably, the dance and choir of friends is divine, in some sort, if so be a man know how to distribute and deal his courtesy and kindness decently among them, and as it were to go round about with them all.   

THE six QUESTION.  
What is the cause that guests at the beginning of a supper sit close together at the table, but afterwards more at liberty?  
THese words thus passed, and then immediately a new question was moved; namely. What the cause might be, that men commonly at the beginning of dinner or supper, sit at the table very straight and close, but toward the end more at large; whereas it should seem by all reason, that they should do clean contrary, for that than their bellies be full? Some of the company attributed this unto the form and positure of their bodies, as they sit; for that ordinarily men sit to their meat, directly at their full breadth, grovelling forward, and put their right hands straight forth upon the table; but after they have well supped, they turn themselves more to a side, & sit edge-wise, taking up no place now, according to the superficies of the body, not sitting (as a man would say) by the squire, but rather by the line and the plumb: like as therefore the cockal bones occupy less room when they fall upon one of their sides, than if they be couched 〈◊〉; even so every one of us at the first sitteth bending forward, and fronteth the table with his mouth and eyes directly upon it; but afterwards he changeth that form, from front to flank, and turneth sidelong to the board. Many there were who ascribed the reason of this, to the yielding of the couch or bed, whereon men sit at their meat; for being pressed down with sitting, is stretched broader and wider, like as our shoes with wearing and going in them, grow more slack and easy for us by little and little, until in the end they be so large, that we may turn our feet in them. Then the good old man spoke merrily and said: That one and the same feast had always two precedents and governors different one from another: at the beginning hunger, which cannot skill of keeping any good order; toward the end, Bacchus, and him all men know very well, and confess to have been a very sufficient captain, and an excellent leader of an army: like as therefore Epaminondas (when as other captains by their ignorance and unskilfulness had brought the army of the Thebans into a place so narrow that all was thrust together, and the ranks and files came one upon another, and crushed themselves) took upon him the place of a commander, and not only delivered it out of those straits, but also reduced it into good order of battle; even so god Bacchus surnamed Lyaeus, and Choreus, that is to say, a deliverer, and master of dances, finding us at the beginning of supper thrusting one another, and having no elbow room, by reason of hunger that throumbleth us together like a sort of dogs, bringeth us again into a decent order, whereby we sit at ease and liberty enough like good fellows.   

THE SEVENTH QUESTION.  
Of those who are said to bewitch with their eye.  
THere grew some question upon a time, at the table, as touching those who are reported to be eie-biters, or to bewitch with their eyes; and when others (in manner all) passed it over with laughing, as a frivolous and ridiculous thing: Metrius Florus, who had invited us to his house, took the matter in hand, and said: That the effects or events rather, which daily we do observe, do make marvelous much to the brute and voice that goeth of the thing; but 〈◊〉 want of yielding a good reason thereof, and setting down the true cause, the report many times of such matters wanteth credit: But unjustly (quoth he) and wrongfully in mine opinion; for an infinite number there be of other matters, that have a real essence, and are notoriously known to be so, although we are ignorant of their cause; and in one word, whosoever seeketh in each thing for a probable reason, overthroweth miracles and wonders in all; for where we fail to give reason of a cause, there begin we to doubt & make question, & that is as much to say, as to play the philosophers: so as we may infer consequently: They that discredit things admirable, do in some sort, take away and abolish all philosophy: but we ought (quoth he) in such things as these, to search 
* 〈◊〉.  Why they are so, by reason; and learn 
* 〈◊〉.  That they are so, by history and relation; for histories do report unto us many narrations of like examples. Thus we know, that there be men, who by looking wistly and with fixed eyes upon little infants, do hurt them most of all; for that the habit and temperature of their bodies which is moist, tender, and weak, soon receiveth alteration by them, and changeth to the worse; whereas less subject they be to such accidents, when their bodies are better knit, more strong and 〈◊〉. And yet Philarchus writeth in his history of a certain nation and people inhabiting the realm of Pontus in times past, called Thybiens, who were by that means pestiferous and deadly, not only to young babes, but also to men grown; for look how many either their eye, their breath or their speech could reach unto, they were sure to fall sick, and pine away: and this harm was felt and perceived (as it should seem) by merchants, who resorted into those parts, and brought from thence, slaves to be sold. But as for these, the example peradventure is not so strange and wonderful, because the touching, contagion, and familiar conversing together, may yield a manifest reason and cause of such accidents: and like as the wings of other fowls, if they be laid together with those of the eagle, perish, consume, and come to nothing, for that the plume and down of the feathers fall off and putrify; even so, there is no reason to the contrary, but that the touching of a man should be partly good & profitable, and in part hurtful and prejudicial: mary, that folk should take harm by being seen only, and looked on, is an accident which (as I said before) we know to be; but for that the cause thereof is so difficult & hard to be hunted out, the report of it is incredible: Howbeit (quoth I then) you wind the cause already; you have met (in some sort I say) with the tracts and footing thereof, and are in the very way of finding it out, being come already to those defluxions that pass from bodies; for the sent, the the voice, the speech and breath, be certain defluxions and streams (as it were) flowing from the bodies of living creatures, yea, and certain parcels thereof, which move and affect the senses, when as they suffer by the same, lighting and falling upon them: and much more probable it is, that such defluxions, proceed from the bodies of living creatures, by the means of heat & motion; namely, when they be enchafed and stirred; as also that the vital spirits than do beat strongly, and the pulses work apace, whereby the body being shaken, casteth from it continually, certain defluxions, as is before said; and great likelihood there is also, that the same should pass from the eyes, more than from any other conduit of the body: for the sight being a sense very swift, active and nimble, doth send forth and disperse from it, a wonderful fiery puissance, together with a spirit that carrieth and directeth it; in such sort, that a man by the means of this eyesight, both suffereth and doth many notable effects, yea, and receiveth by the objects which he seeth, no small pleasures or displeasures; for love (one of the greatest and most vehement passions of the mind) hath the source and original beginning at the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  eye; insomuch, as he or she that is surprised therewith, doth even resolve and melt with beholding the beauty of those persons whom they love, as if they would run and enter into them: and therefore, a man may very well marvel at those, who confessing that we suffer and receive hurt by the eye, think it a strange matter to do harm by the same; for the very aspect and regard of such persons as are in the flower of their beauty, and that which passeth from their eyes, whether it be light or flowing of of the spirits, doth liquefie and consume those who be enamoured on them, with a certain pleasure mingled with pain, which they themselves call Bitter-sweet: for nothing so much are they wounded or affected, either by hearing or feeling, as by seeing and being seen, so deep is the penetration, and so strong the inflammation by the eye; which maketh me otherwhiles to think, that no experience and proof they have ever had what love is, who wonder at the Median Naphtha near to Babylon, that it should burn and catch a flame, being a great way off from the sire; for even so, the eyes of fair and beautiful creatures, kindle fire within the very hearts and souls of poor lovers, yea, though they look not upon them but a far off: but we know full well, and have often seen the remedy of those who are troubled with the jaundice; namely, that if they can have a sight of the bird 
* Some take it for the Lariot.  Charadrios, they are presently cured; for this bird hath such a nature and temperature, that it draweth to itself, and receiveth the malady passing from the patient, as it were a fluxion, and that by the conduit of the eyes; which is the reason that these 〈◊〉 are never willing to see a person who hath the jaundice, neither can they endure so to do, but turn aside and avoid it all that ever they can, by closing their eyes together, not envying (as some think) the cure of that disease by them, but fearing to be hurt and wounded themselves: and of all other maladies, it is well known, that they who converse with them whose eyes be inflamed and bleered, are soon and most of all infected therewith, so quick a power and so ready, hath the sight to set upon another, and inflict the contagion of that infirmity. Then Patrocleas': True it is that you say (quoth he) in bodily passion and diseases; but as for those which be more spiritual, and concern the soul, among which I reckon this kind of witching, how can it be, and how is it possible, that the only cast and regard of the eye should transmit any noisance or hurt into the body of another? Why? know you not (quoth I) that the soul (according as it is disposed) doth likewise affect and alter the body? the very congitation of Venus, causeth the flesh to rise; the ardent heat in courageous mastiffs and band-dogges, which are put upon wild beasts for to encounter them when they are baited, dimmeth their eyesight, and oftentimes makes them stark blind; sorrow, avarice, and jealousy, alter the colour and complexion of the face, dry up the habit and constitution of the body; and envy no less sublile than the rest, and piercing directly to the very soul, filleth the body also with an untoward and bad disposition, which painters lively do represent in those tables which contain the picture of envies face: when as therefore they who be infected with envy, do cast their eyes upon others, which because they are seated near unto the soul, do catch and draw unto them very easily this vice, and so shoot their venomous rays, like unto poisoned darts upon them; if such chance to be wounded and hurt thereby, whom they look upon, and wistly behold: I see no strange thing, nor a matter incredible; for verily the biting of dogs is much more hurtful and danderous when they be angry than otherwise; and the sperm or natural seed of men doth sooner take effect, and is more apt for generation, when they meddle with women whom they love; and generally the passions and affections of the soul, do fortify and corroborat the powers, and faculties of the body: and hereupon it is, that those preservatives against witchcraft called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 are then thought to do good against envy, when the eyesight of the envious person is withdrawn and turned away by some filthy and absurd object, that it cannot make so strong an impression upon the patient whom he would hurt: Lo seigneur Florus (quoth I) here is mine escot for our good cheer at this meeting, in ready coin paid down upon the nail head: Well done (quoth Soclarus) but first before you go, we must allow the money for good and currant; for I assure you, there be some pieces that seem counterfeit; for if we suppose that to be a truth, which is commonly reported, as touching those who are thus bewitched and eie-bitten; it is not I am sure unknowen to you, that many are of opinion, that there be of their friends and kinsfolk, yea, and some of their fathers also, who carry about them witching eyes; in such sort as their very wives will not so much as show unto them their own babes, nor suffer such to look upon them any while together: how then should this effect of witchery proceed from envy? Nay what will you say to those (I pray you) who are named for to eie-bite and bewitch their own selves? You have heard I am sure thus much; or at leastwise you have read this Epigram. 
Fair was sometime Eutelidas,  
His face and hair full lovely was;  
But see, one day when needs he would  
(Unhappy man) himself be hold  
In river stream that softly ran,  
His beauty, than be soon began  
So to admire, that for envy  
Bewitched he was by his own eye;  
And fell anon by malady,  
To pine away and so to dv.  For it is reported of this Eutelidas, that looking upon himself in the river water, he was so far in love with his own beauty, and so deeply affected with the sight thereof, that he fell sick, and so both beauty and the good plight of his body went away at once: but see now what shift you can make to salve these absurdities? or what answer you will devise to avoid them? As for that (quoth he) I shall do it at some other time sufficiently: but now drinking thus as you see me, out of so great and large a bowl, I dare be bold to aver, and that confidently, that all perturbations and passions of the mind, if they settle and continue long in the soul, do ingenerate therein evil habitudes; & these, after they have in process of time gotten the strength and become another nature, upon every small occasion, are stirred, and oftentimes drive men perforce, and even against their wills to those familiar and accustomed passions: for do but mark timorous and fearful cowards, how they be affrighted even with such things as be safe, and do preserve them; choleric persons are angry many times, and fall out with their best friends; lascivious wantoness can not contain, but in the end they will offer abuse and villainy to the most holy & sacred bodies that be for: custom hath a wonderful power to conduct & carry the habit unto that vice which is familiar unto it; & look who is apt to take a fall, will stumble at every small hob that lies in his way: and therefore it is not a matter to make a wonder of, if they who have gotten in themselves habit of envy, and bewitching, be incited and moved according to the particular property of their passion, even against those who are most dear unto them; and being once moved and stirred, they do not that which they will themselves, but that whereunto they are so inclined and disposed; for like as a round bowl or ball runneth like itself; and semblably a roller or cylender moveth as a roller or cylender, both of them after the different figure thereof; even so, whosoever they be that have thus contracted an habitude of this eie-biting envy, their disposition moveth and driveth them enviously upon all things; howbeit it carrieth a great likelihood that they should hurt them, who are most familiar unto them, and best beloved than any other: and therefore that good Eutelidas and all other such as he, who are said to charm and bewitch themselves, incur this hard extremity, nor without great appearance of reason: for as Hypocrates saith in his aphotismes: The good habit or plight when it is at the height is dangerous; and bodies when they are come to the highest point, they can not hold and stand so, but presently must incline and bend to the contrary: when as men therefore are grown suddenly all at once, and see themselves in a better state than they hoped for, in somuch as they wonder & behold themselves with admiration, then be sure the body is near unto some change, and then being carried according to their habitude to the worse, they bewitch themselves: and this is wrought the rather, by means of those fluxions which rest upon waters, looking-glasses, or any such mirrors by way of repercussion; for that they rebound back, & breath as it were again upon those who look in them, so, that the hurt & damage which they have done to others, lighteth upon themselves: this haply befalling many times to little children, doth impute (though falsely and unjustly) the cause to these that look upon them. When I had finished my speech, Caius the son in law of Florus, began to speak in this wise: Why then belike the images that Democritus speaketh of are of no reckoning nor account, no more than the idols of Aegina and Megara, as the proverb goes; for this philosopher saith: That there go forth certain images out of the eyes of envious persons, and those not altogether without a kind of sense and inclination, but rather full of their malice and envious witchery who send them forth; with which, when the said images come to little, remain, and rest upon those who are envied, they troubled and offend the body, soul and understanding: for this I take to be the meaning of that great philosopher, and that he hath delivered his opinion to this effect, under those divine and magnificent words: So he doth no doubt (quoth I) but I marvel much, how you perceived not that I have taken nothing from those cefluxions, but only life and will; which I did, for fear lest if now (being far within night, and very late) I had talked of spirits, idols, and apparitions, having sense and understanding, I should have put you into some fright, and scared you with them: and therefore, if you think it so good, let us refer and put off the consideration of these thing until to morrow morning.   

THE EIGHT QUESTION.  
What is the reason that the poet Homer called the Appletree, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, bearing fruit; and Empedocles named Apples, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, flourishing.  
AS we were merry together at a feast one day, in our city Chaeronea, we were served with all sorts of fruits in great abundance; by occasion whereof, it took one of the company in his head to pronounce these verses out of Homer: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  That is to say: 
The sweet Figtrees and appletrees, that bear a fruit so fair,  
The Olive-trees likewise all green—  whereupon arose some question, why the poet gave unto appletrees the attribute of bearing fair fruit? and Tryphon verily the physician, answered: That it might be spoken of the said tree, by way of comparison; which being but small to speak of, and making as little show, bringeth forth so fair, so great, and so goodly fruit. Another said: That compounding (as he did) beauty or goodness, of all parts and in every respect, he could not see the same in any other fruits covered with a rind, but only in this: for to touch and feel, it is as smooth and net as the violet, so as it doth not stain or soil the skin, filling with a sweet sent, him that handleth it; in taste, it is pleasant; to smell unto, most delectable; and to the eye, as lovely; so as contenting thus as it doth, all the senses in a manner, by good right it is so praised and commended. We liked well of this discourse, and said, it was sufficient to solve the question. But whereas Empedocles hath written thus: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Why pomegranates so late do grow,  
And apples bear a lovely show?  I understand well (said I) this epithet 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 given unto 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, pomegranates, because the fruit cometh not to maturity or ripeness, until it be about the end of Autumn, when as now the extreme heats be decayed and gone; for their moisture, so thin, feeble and waterish as it is, the sun will not suffer it to thicken, or grow to any consistence, unless the air begin to change and incline unto coldness; and therefore Theophrastus saith, that it is the only tree that doth ripen and concoct her fruit, best & soon, in the shade. But I doubt in what sense this wise philosophical poet giveth this addition of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 unto apples? considering that the man is not wont to imbelish and adorn the matters and things whereof he treateth, with the gayest and most glorious adjectives, as with fresh and lively colours, to enrich and beautify his style, or to set out his verses; for there is not an epithet that he useth, but serves for to represent and express either the substance or else some faculty and virtue of the thing. Thus he calleth our body environing the soul, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, earth circummortall; the air he termeth, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, gathering clouds; as also, the liver, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, full of blood. When I had thus put this doubt to question, there were certain Grammarians in place, who said: That Empedocles called apples, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in regard of their vigour: for poets by this verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 understand thus much; namely, to be grown apace to the vigour, flower, and full strength. And the poet Antimachus in this sense, termed the city of the Cadmeans, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, flourishing with store of fruits. Semblably, Aratus speaketh of the Canicular-starre, Sirius, in this wise: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  That is to say: 
In some he did confirm their vigour,  
And marred in others all their verdeur.  In which place, he calleth the viridity or greenness, and the very flower or beauty of fruits, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 They added moreover, and said: That among the Greeks, some there were, who sacrifice to Bacchus, surnamed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Forasmuch as therefore, the apple maintaineth itself longest in viridity and vigour, of all other fruits, therefore the philosopher named it, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 But Lamprias my grandfather said: That this adjection or preposition 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifieth not only, much, & greatly, but also, above, or with-out-foorth: for in this acception, the head or lintel of a door, we name 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, above the door; and likewise, an upper-roome, chamber, or fit, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and Homer the poet, meaneth the outward flesh of a beast sacrificed, by the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 like as the inward, by the vocable 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Consider then (quoth he) whether Empedocles had not a respect hereunto, by attributing this said epithet unto an apple; that whereas other fruits are enclosed & covered within a certain bark as it were, which in Greek is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and have without-forth, those that we term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, shells, rinds, cod and pannicles to cover them, that bark or shell (if I may so say) which the apple hath, lieth within; namely, a glutinous and smooth tunicle or coat, which we call the core or the corque, wherein the pippins or seeds lie contained; but the fleshy part or meat thereof for to be eaten, is all without the said core, in which respect, it may by good right be named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   

THE NINTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause that the Figtree, being of all other trees most bitter and sharp in taste, yieldeth a fruit most sweet?  
AFter this, demanded it was, why the fig, so fat and sweet a fruit as it is, groweth upon a tree most bitter? for the very leaf of a figtree by the reason of the asperity and roughness that it hath, is called Thrion, and the wood is full of juice; so that when it burneth, you shall see it cast up a most eager and bitter smoke, and when it is burnt, the ashes make a leie very strong, and marvelous detersive, because of the acrimony and sharpness thereof: yea, and (that which is most admirable) whereas all other trees and plants clad with leaves and bearing fruit, put forth a flower before, only the figtree never showeth blossom: and if it be true which is moreover said; that it is never blasted, or smitten with lightning, a man may attribute and ascribe it to the bitterness and evil habitude of the stock; for it should seem that lightning and thunder never touch any such things, no more than the skin of a sea-calf, or of the beast Hyaena. here the good old man (our grandsire) taking occasion to speak, said: No marvel then, if all the sweetness be found in the fruit, the rest of the tree be harsh and bitter: for like as when the choleric humour is cast into the bag or bladder of the gall, the proper substance of the liver itself remaineth very sweet, even so the figtree having sent all the sweetness and fatness it had into the fruit, remaineth itself disfurnished of it; for that within the trunk of the said tree there is otherwise some sweetness and good juice, though it be but a little; I make an argument from the herb rue; which they say: If it grow under or near a figtree; becometh more pleasant in smell, and in taste more mild, by receiving and enjoying some small sweetness from it; whereby that excessive, strong and odious quality of rue is abated and extinct; unless peradventure a man will reason clean contrary, and say, that the figtree drawing somewhat from rue, for the own nouriture, taketh from that herb some part of the bitterness and acrimony thereof.   

THE TENTH QUESTION.  
Who be they who according to the common proverb, are said, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, about the salt and cumin? and so by the way, why the poet Homer nameth salt divine.  
FLorus asked us one day when we were at supper in his house, who they were whom we termed by an usual byword, to be about the salt and cumin: Apollophanes the grammarian, one of our company, solved the question readily in this manner: They (quoth he) who are such friends and so familiar that they sup together, with salt and cumin, are meant by this common speech. But then we moved a new question, namely: How it came to pass, that salt was so highly honoured? for that Homer directly saith: 
And then anon when this was done,  
He strewed salt divine upon.  And Plato affirmeth, that the body and substance of salt by man's laws, is most sacred and holy: The difficulty of this question he enforced still, and augmented the more; for that the Egyptian priests who live chaste, abstain altogether from salt, insomuch as their very bread which they eat is not seasoned with salt: And if it were (quoth he) so divine and holy, why have they it in so great detestation? Then Florus willed us to let the Egyptians go with their superstitious fashions; and to allege somewhat of the Greeks as touching this subject argument: Whereupon I began and said: That the Egyptians themselves were not herein contrary to the greeks; for the sanctimony and profession of chastity, forbiddeth procreation of children, laughing, wine, and such like things; which otherwise be good, and not to be rejected: and as for salt, haply those who have vowed to live a chaste and pure life, do forbear it, for that by the heat which it hath, (as some think) it provoketh those who use it, unto lechery: and probable it is beside, that such votaries do refuse salt, because of all other meats, it is most delicate; & a man may well say: That it is the viand of viands, & the sauce as it were to season all others: and therefore some there be who attribute unto these salts, the very term of Charites or the Graces; for that they make that which is necessary for our food, to be pleasant & acceptable unto us: Shall we say then (quoth Florus) that salt was called divine in this respect? And if we did so (quoth I) we have no slender reason to induce us thereunto; for men are wont to attribute a kind of divinty unto things which are passing common, and the commodity whereof reacheth far (as for example) to water, light, & the seasons of the year; as for the earth, her above the rest, they repute not only divine, but also to be a goddess: & there is none of all these things rehearsed, that salt giveth place unto, one jot, in regard of use and profit; being as it is a fortification to our meats within the body, and that which commendeth them unto our appetite: but yet consider moreover, if this be not a divine property that it hath, namely, to preserve and keep dead bodies free from putrefaction a long while, and by that means to resist death in some sort, for that it suffereth not a mortal body wholly to perish, and come to nothing: but like as the soul being the most divine part of us, is that which maintaineth all the rest alive, and suffereth not the mass and substance of the body to be dissolved, and suffer colliquation; even so, the nature of salt, taking hold of dead bodies, and imitating herein the action of the soul, preserveth the same, holding and staying them that they run not headlong to corruption, giving unto all the parts an amity, accord & agreement one with the other: and therefore it was elegantly said by some of the Stoics: That the flesh of an hog was even from the beginning no better than a dead carrion, but that life being diffused within it, as if salt were strewed throughout, kept it sweet, and so preserved it for to last long. Moreover you see, that we esteem lightning, or the fire that cometh by thunder, celestial and divine, for that those bodies which have been smitten therewith, are observed by us to continue a great while unputrified and without corruption: What marvel is it then, if our ancients have esteemed salt, divine, having the same virtue and nature, that this divine and celestial fire hath? here I stayed my speech, and kept silence. With that, Philinus followed on and pursued the same argument: And what think you (quoth he) is not that to be held divine, which is generative, and hath power to engender, considering that God is thought to be the original author, creator, and father of all things? I avowed no less, and said it was so: And it is (quoth he) an opinion generally received, that salt availeth not a little in the matter of generation, as you your self touched erewhile, speaking of Egyptian priests: they also, who keep and nourish dogs for the race, when they see them dull to perform that act, and to do their kind, do excite and awaken their lust and virtue generative, that lieth (as it were) asleep, by giving them aswell as other hot meats, salt flesh, and fish both, that have lain in bring & pickle: also, those ships & vessels at sea, which ordinarily are freight with salt, breed commonly an infinite number of mice and rats; for that (as some hold) the females or does of that kind, by licking of salt only, will conceive and be bagged without the company of the males or bucks: but more probable it is, that saltness doth procure a certain itching in the natural parts of living creatures, and by that means provokeht males & females both, to couple together: and peradventure this may be the reason that the beauty of a woman which is not dull and unlovely, but full of favour, attractive, and able to move concupiscence, men use to name 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, saltish or well seasoned: And I suppose that the poets have feigned Venus to have been engendered of the sea, not without some reason; and that this tale, that she should come of salt, was devised for the nonce, to signify and make known under those covert terms, that there is in salt a generative power: certes, this is an ordinary and general thing among those poets, to make all the sea-gods, fathers of many children, and very full of issue. To conclude, you shall not find any land creature, find any land-creature, or flying fowl, for fruitfulness, comparable to any kind of fishes bred in the sea; which no doubt this verse of Empedocles had respect unto: 
Leading a troop, which senseless were and rude,  
Even of sea-fish, a breeding multitude.      

THE six BOOK OF SYMPOSIAQUES OR BANQUET-QUESTIONS.  

The Summarie.  
1 WHat is the reason, that men fasting, be more at hirst than hungry.  
2 Whether it be want of food that causeth hunger and thirst, or the transformation and change of the pores and conduit of the body, be the cause thereof.  
3 How cometh it, that they who be hungry, if they drink, are eased of their hunger; but chose, those who are their sty, if they eat, be more thirstic.  
4 What is the reason that pit-water, when it is drawn, if it be left all night within the same air of the pit, becometh more cold.  
5 What is the cause that little stones, and plates or pellets of lead, if they be cast into water, cause it to be the colder.  
6 Why snow is preserved, by covering it with straw, chaff or garments.  
7 Whether wine is to run throw a strainer.  
8 What is the cause of extraordinary hunger or appetites to meat.  
9 Why the poet Homer, when he spcaketh of other liquors, useth proper epithits, only oil he calleth moist.  
10 What is the cause that the flesh of beasts slain for sacrifiece, if they be hanged upon a figtree, quickly become tender.   

THE six BOOK OF Symposiaques or banquet-questions.  

The poem.  
PLato being minded to draw Timotheus the son of Canon (o Sossius Senecio) from sumptuous feasts and superfluous banquets, which great captains commonly make, invited him one day to a supper in the Academy, which was philosophical indeed and frugal, where the table was not furnished with those viands which might distemper the body with feaverous heats and inflammations, as jonn the poet was wont to say; but such a supper I say, upon which ordinarily there follow kind and quiet sleeps, such fancies also, and imaginations as engender few dreams, and those short; and in one word, where the sleeps do testify a great calmness and tranquility of the body. The morrow after, Timotheus perceiving the difference between these suppers and the other, said: That they who supped with Plato overnight, found the pleasure and comfort thereof the next day; and to say a truth, a great help and ready means to a pleasant and blessed life, is the good temperature of the body, not drenched in wine, nor loaden with viands, but light, nimble, and ready, without any fear or distrust to perform all actions and functions of the daytime. But there was another commodity no less than this, which they had, who supped with Plato, namely, the discussing and handling of good and learned questions, which were held at the table in supper time: for the remembrance of the pleasures in eating and drinking, is illiberal and unbeseeming men of worth, transitory beside, and soon at an end; like unto the odor of a perfume and sweet ointment, or the smell of roast in a kitchen a day after; whereas discourses philosophical, and disputations of learning, when they be remembered afterwards, yield always new pleasure and fresh delight unto those that were at them, yea, and cause them who were absent and left out, in hearing the relation thereof, to have no less part of learning and erudition, than they who were present: for thus we see, that even at this day, students and prosessours of learning, have the fruition, and enjoy the benefit of Socrates his banquets, no less than they themselves who were personally present, and had their real part of them at the time: and verily, if corporal matter, as dainty dishes and exquisite fare, had so greatly affected and delighted their minds with pleasure; Plato and Xenophon should have put down in writing, and left unto us the memorial, not of the discourses there held, nor of the talk which then passed, but rather of the furniture of the table, & have made a note of the delicate viands, pastry works, comfitures and junkets served up in Callias or Agathus houses: whereas now of all such matters there is no mention at all, as if they were of no account, nor worth the naming, notwithstanding very like it is, there was no want of provision, no spare of cost, nor defect of diligence in that behalf: but on the otherside penned they have most exactly, and with great diligence the discourses of good letters and philosophy, which then and there passed merrily; and those they have commended unto posterities, to give us example, that we ought not only to devise and reason together when we are at the board, but also to call to mind afterwards, what good talk had passed and to keep the same in memory.   

THE FIRST QUESTION.  
What is the reason, that those who be fasting are more thirsty than hungry?  
NOw send I unto you Sossius Senecio, this sixth book of banquet discourses; whereof the first question is: Why those who be long fasting, are more thirsty than hungry? for it may seem contrary unto all reason; that thirst rather than hunger should ensue much fasting; for that the want of dry food, would seem by course of nature to require a supply of nutriment by the like. Then began I in this manner to argue, before the company there in place: That of all things within us, and whereof we consist, our natural heat either alone or principally, had need of nouriture and maintenance: for thus verily we do observe in outward elements, that neither air, water, nor earth, desire nutriment; neither do they consume whatsoever is near unto them; but it is fire only that requireth the one, and doth the other; which is the reason that all young folk do eat more than elder persons; for that they be hotter; yea and old men and women can endure to fast better, because their natural heat is already decayed and feeble in them; like as it is in those living creatures which have but little blood: for small need have they of nouriture, for default of natural heat. Moreover, thus much we may observe in every one of ourselves, that our bodily exercises, our loud outcries and such like matters, as by motion do augment heat, make us to take more pleasure in our meat, and to have a better appetite to eat: now the principal, most familiar and natural food of heat, in mine opinion, is moisture, as we may see by daily experience, that burning flames of fire increase by pouring oil thereto; & of all things in the world, ashes are the driest, because the whole humidity is burnt up and consumed; but the terrestrial substance destitute of all liquor, remaineth alone: semblably, the natures of fire is to separate and divide bodies, by taking away the moisture which held them soldered and bound together: when as therefore we fast long, our natural heat draweth forcibly unto it; first, all the humours out of the relics of our nourishment; which done, the inslammation thereof passeth farther, and setteth upon the very radical humour within our flesh, searching every corner for moisture to feed and nourish it; there being caused therefore a wonderful dryness our body, like as in earth or clay that is parched with heat; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 by consequence cometh to stand more in need of drink than of meat, until such time as we have taken a good draft; by means whereof our heat being well refreshed and 〈◊〉, worketh and procureth appetite to solid and dry nourishment.   

THE SECOND QUESTION.  
Whether it be want of food that causeth hunger and thirst, or rather the transformation and change of the conduits and passages within our bodies?  
THis discourse being thus ended, Philo the physician went about to impugn and overthrow the first position; maintaining, that thirst proceeded not from default of any nourishment, but was to be imputed unto the change of the form in certain passages of the body: and for demonstration hereof, he alleged of the one side this experience: That they who be a thirst in the night, if they sleep upon it, lose their thirstiness, although they drink never a drop: on the other side, that they who have the ague, if their fit decline, or be off them, or in case the fever be clean past and gone, presently they are eased of their drought: likewise there be many, who after they have been bathed, yea, and believe me, others when they have vomited, are rid of thirstiness; and yet they get moisture neither by the one nor the other; but they are the pores and petty conduits of the body that suffer mutation, because they be altered and transformed into another state and disposition; and this appeareth more evidently in hunger: for many sick folk there be, who at one time have need of nourishment, and yet want appetite to their meat; some there are again, who let them eat and fill themselves never so much, have never the less appetite to meat, nay, their greedy hunger increaseth the more: semblably, you shall have many of those who loathed their meat, to recover their stomach and appetite quickly, by tasting a few olives or capres, condite with salt pickle: whereby it appeareth plainly; that hunger is not occasioned by default of nourishment, but through the said alteration or passion of the pores and conduits of the body: for surely such meats as those, although they diminish the want of nourishment, by addition of more food, yet nevertheless cause hunger; and even so the poignant acrimony of these salt viands, contenting the taste and pleasant to the mouth, by knitting, binding, and strengthening the stomach; or chose, by relaxing or opening the same, do procure unto it, and breed therein a certain gnawing and a disposition to the liking of their meat, which we call appetite. The reason of these arguments seemed unto me very wittily devised, and framed prettily, for to carry a good show of probability; howbeit, to be contrary unto the principal end of nature, to which the appetite doth lead and conduct every living creature, desirous to supply that which is wanting, to fill that which is empty, and pursuing always that which is meet for it and familiar, but yet defectuous: for to say, that the thing wherein principally a living creature differeth from a lifeless body, was not given unto us for the tuition, maintenance and preservation of our health and safety, even as it were of our eyes that be so proper and familiar to the body, and to fear such occurrents as be adverse thereto; but to think that the same is only a passion, change, and alteration of the pores occasioned according as the same be made either bigger or smaller; is (to speak plainly) the fashion and part of those who make no reckoning at all of nature. Moreover, to confess, that to quake for cold, happeneth unto our body for want of heat familiar and natural unto it, and with one breath to deny, that hunger and thirst proceed not from defect of moisture and nourishment, is very absurd: and yet, more unreasonable and monstrous it were to affirm, that nature desireth evacuation, when she feeleth herself charged with fullness, and withal, hath a desire to repletion; not because she findeth herself over-emptie, but upon some other passion coming I know not how, not which way. Certes, these needs and repletions in the bodies of living creatures, resemble properly the accidents that fall out in agriculture and husbandry; for the earth suffereth many such defects, and requireth as many helps and remedies: against drought, we seek to moisten by watering; for burning with heat, to cool moderately; when things are frozen, to heat them again, and keep them warm, by laying (as it were) many cover over; and look what is not in our power to do, we pray unto the gods for the help and furnish us therewith; namely, sweet and mild dews, pleasant and comfortable winds; so that nature always seeketh supply of that which is defective, for to preserve her state and temperature. And in my conceit, this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which signifieth nourishment, seemeth to import as much as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, preserving nature; & preserved it is in plants verily, & trees insensibly (as Empedocles said) by the air about them, when they are refreshed and watered thereby in convenient manner, as need requireth: but as for us, our appetite causeth us to seek and procure that, for default whereof, we have not our kind temperature. But let us consider better, each one of those reasons by itself, which have been delivered, and how untrue they be; for first and foremost, those viands which have a quick, sharp and pleasing taste, by reason of their acrimony, procure no appetite at all in those parts, which be capable of nouriture, but only a certain biting or gnawing in them, much like unto that itching, when something is applied unto the skin, that doth pluck and fret it: and say, that this passion or affection (whatsoever it is) procureth appetite, it standeth to great reason, that by such sharp and quick viands, those matters which caused fullness, coming to be attenuated and made more subtle, are discussed, dissolved, and so dissipated as they ought to be; by which means, consequently there followeth a want and defect; not for that the pores and passages be altered or changed into another form, but rather, because they be now voided, clear and purged; considering that those juices which be sharp, eager, quick, piercing and saltish, by attenuating and making tender the matter that they meet with and work upon, do discuss, disgregate and scatter the same, in such sort, as they engender and procure a new appetite. To come now unto those who sleep upon their thirstiness, they be not the pores which by their transformation allay thirst, but by reason that they receive humidity from the fleshy parts, and are filled with a vapourous moisture from thence: and as for vomits, in casting up one thing which is adverse to nature, they give her means to enjoy another which is friendly and familiar thereto: for thirst is not a desire so much of an exceeding great quantity of moisture, as of that which is kind and familiar; and therefore, although a man have within him great abundance of that moisture which is unnatural, yet nevertheless, he wanteth still; for that his thirst giveth place to no other humidity, but unto that which is proper and natural, and whereof it is desirous: neither cometh man's body into a good temper again, before such time as that humidity be removed and gone, which was enemy to nature; and then the ways and passages receive willingly that moisture which is friendly and familiar unto her: as to the ague beforesaid, it driveth indeed the moisture inwardly into the centre (as it were) of the body; for when the middle thereof is all on a fire, thither runneth and retireth all the humidity, where it is thrust together and retained; and by reason that there is such store thereof, pressed and penned in, it falleth out often times, that many being sick of the ague, do cast and vomit it up, for to be discharged thereof, and be exceeding thirsty withal, for want of moisture, and for the dryness that is in other parts of the body, which call for humidity: when as then the fever either declineth or hath intermission, so as the ardent heat within, is gone from those interior parts in the centre and middle of the body, the moisture returneth again into the outward habit, it spreadeth (I say) and is dispersed throughout, according to the natural course thereof; so as at once it bringeth ease to the parts within, and withal, causeth the flesh and skin without, to be smooth, soft and moist, whereas before it was rough, hard and dry; yea, and many times it moveth sweats; whereby it cometh to pass, that the want which before caused thirst, now ceaseth and is gone, while the moisture is returned from the place wherein before it was straightly pressed and kept in, unto that which is desirous and hath need of it, and where it is at large and more at liberty: for like as in an orchard or garden, although there be a pit containing plenty of water, unless a man draw some out of it, and therewith water the ground, it can not choose but the herbs, plants and trees will be as one would say, athirst, and at a fault for nourishment; even so it fareth in our bodies; if all the moisture be gotten to one place, no marvel if the rest do want and become exceeding dry, until such time as it run again, and that there be a new diffusion thereof; like as it falleth out with those who are sick of an ague, when the fit is past, or the fever hath left them, and to those who sleep upon thirst; for in these, sleep bringeth back the moisture from the centre and middle of the body, distributing it to all the members and parts thereof, and so maketh an equal distribution and supply throughout.  
But this transformation and change of the pores from which it is said that hunger and thirst doth proceed; what kind of thing is it I would gladly know? For mine own part, none other differences see I, but of more and lese, and according as they be either stopped or opened; when they be obstructed or stopped, receive they cannot either drink or meat; when they be opened and unstopped, they make a void and free place; and surely that is nothing else but the want of that which is proper and natural: For the reason (my good friend Philo) why clothes which are to be died, be dipped first in alum water, is because that such water hath a piercing, scouring, and abstersive virtue, by means whereof, when all the superfluous filth in them is consumed and rid away, the pores being opened, retain more surely the tincture which is given unto the clothes, only because they receive the same better, by reason of the emptiness occasioned by want.   

THE THIRD QUESTION.  
What is the cause that when men be hungry, if they drink, are delivered from their hunger: but chose, when they be athirst, if they eat, are more thirsty than before?  
WHen those discourses were thus passed; he who invited us to supper, began in this wise: It seemeth unto me (my masters) that this reason as touching the avoidance and repletion of pores, carrieth with it a great appearance of truth, and namely in the solution of another question beside, to wit: Why in them who be hungry, if they drink, their hunger ceaseth immediately? and chose, they who are a thirst, if they eat, are still more thirsty? I am of opinion (quoth he) that those who allege and urge these pores and their effects, do render the reason and cause of this accident, very easily, and with exceeding great probability however in many points, they enforce the same not so much as probably: for whereas all bodies have pores, some of one measure, and symmetry, others of another; those which be larger than the rest, receive food solid as well as liquid both together; such as be narrower and more straight admit drink; the avoidance and evacuation of which, causeth thirst, like as of the other, hunger: and therefore if they who be a thirst do eat, they find no succour and benefit thereby, because the pores by reason of their straightness, are not able to receive dry and solid nutriment, but continue still indigent and destitute of that which is their due, and fit for them: whereas they who be hungry, in case they drink, find comfort thereby, for that the liquid nouriture entering into those large pores, and filling those concavities of theirs, do slake and diminish mightily the force of their hunger.  
As touching the event and effect (quoth I) true it is (as I think) but I cannot accord and give my consent to the supposition of the cause pretended: For if (quoth I) a man should hold, that with these pores and conduits (upon which some stand so much, so greatly embrace and maintain so stoutly) the flesh is pierced, and by means thereof full of holes; surely he would make it very loose, quavering, flaggie, and so rotten, that it would not hang together: moreover, to say that the same parts of the body do not receive meat and drink together, but that they do pass and run (as it were) through a streiner or canvas bolter, some one way and some another; me thinks is a very strange position, & a mere devised fiction: for this very mixture of humidity, tempering and making tender the meats received, together with the cooperative help of the inward natural heat, and the spirits, doth cut, subtiliate, and mince the food, with all manner of incisions, shred, and divisions, no tools, no knives, nor instruments in the world so fine and small; insomuch as every part and parcel of the said nourishment is familiar, meet & convenient for each part & member of the body; not applied & fitted as it were to certain vessels and holes to be filled thereby; but united & perfectly concorporate to the whole, and every part thereof: but if this were not so, yet the main point of the question is not assoiled for all that; for they who eat, unless they also drink to it, are so far off from allaying their thirst, that chose they increase the same; and to this point there is not yet a word said. Consider now (said I) whether the positions & reasons which we set down, are not probable & apparent? first we suppose, that moisture being consumed by dryness, is clean perished & gone; & that dryness being tempered & sustained by moisture hath certain diffusions, & exhalations secondly we hold, that neither hunger is a general & universal want of dry food, nor thirst, of moisture, but a certain scantness and defect of the one and the other, when there is not enough and sufficient; for those who altogether do want the same, be neither hungry nor thirsty, but die presently: Let these supposals be laid for grounds, it will not be from henceforth hard, to know the cause of that which is in question: for thirst increaseth upon them that eat, because meats by their dryness do gather together, suck and drink up the humidity dispersed, and which is left but small and feeble, in all the body, causing the same to evaporate away; like as we may observe without our bodies, how dry earth and dust, do quickly snatch, dispatch, and consume quite the liquor or moisture that is mingled therewith: chose, drink necessarily slaketh hunger; for by reason that moisture drenching and soaking that little meat which it findeth dry and hard, raiseth from it certain vapours and moist exhalations, and those it doth elevate and carry up into all the body, applying the same to the parts that stand in need: and therefore Erasistratus not unproperly termed moisture, the waggon of the viands: for being mixed and tempered with such things as otherwise of themselves by reason of their dryness or other evil disposition, be idle, and heavy, it raiseth and lifteth up: and hereupon it cometh, that many men who have been exceeding hungry, only by bathing or washing themselves, without any drink at all, have wonderfully assuaged and allayed their hunger: for the moisture from without, entering into the body, causeth them to be more succulent and in better plight; for that it doth enlarge the parts within, so that it doth mitigate the fell mood, and appease the crhell rage of hunger. To conclude, this is the reason that they who are determined to pine themselves to death by utter abstinence from all solid meats, live and continue a long time if they receive but water only, even until the time that all be quite evaporate, spent and dried up, which might nourish and be united unto the body.   

THE FOURTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause that pit or wellwater being drawn, if it be left all night within the air of the pit, becometh colder than it was?  
WE had a certain guest who lived delicately, and loved to drink cold water; for to please and content whose appetite, our servants drew up a bucket of water out of the pit or well, and so let it hang within the same (so that it touched not the top of the water) all the night long; wherewith he was served the morrow after at his supper, and he found it to be much colder than that which was newly drawn: now this stranger, being a professed scholar and indifferently well learned, told us, that he had found this in Aristotle among other points, grounded upon good reason, which he delivered unto us in this wise: All water (quoth he) which is first hear, becometh afterwards more cold than it was before; like to that which is provided and prepared for kings: first, they set it on the fire until it boil again; which done, they bury the pan or vessel wherein it is, within snow; and by this device it proves exceeding cold: no otherwise than our bodies, after that we have been in the stouph or baines, be cooled much more by that means: for relaxation occasioned by heat, maketh the body more rare, and causeth the pores to open, and so by consequence, it receiveth more air from without, which environeth the body, and bringeth a more sudden and violent change: when as therefore water is first chafed (as it were) and set in an heat by agitation and stirring within the bucket whiles it was in drawing, it groweth to be the colder by the air which environeth the said vessel round about. This stranger and guest of ours, we commended for his confident resolution and perfect memory; but as touching the reason that he alleged, we made some doubt: for if the air in which the vessel hangeth be cold, how doth it inchafe the water? and if it be hot, how cooleth it afterwards? for beside all reason it is, that a thing should be affected or suffer contrarily from one and the same cause, unless some difference come between. And when the other held his peace a good space, and stood musing what to say again: Why (quoth I) there is no doubt to be made of the air; for our very senses teach us, that cold it is, and especially that which is in the bottom of pits; and therefore impossible it is, that water should be heat by the cold air: but the truth is this rather, although this cold air can not alter all the water of the spring in the bottom of the well, yet if a man draw the same in a little quantity, it will do the deed, and be so much predominant as to cool it exceedingly.   

THE FIFTH QUESTION.  
What is the reason that little stones and small plates or pellets of lead, being cast into water, make it colder?  
YOu remember I am sure (do you not, said I) what Aristotle hath written, as touching pebble stones and flints, which if they be cast into water, cause the same to be much colder and more astringent: And you remember (quoth he) aswell, that the philosopher in his Problems hath only said it is so; but let us assay to find out the cause, for it seemeth very difficult to be conceived and imagined: You say true indeed (quoth I); and a marvel it were if we could hit upon it: howbeit, mark and consider what I will say unto it: First to begin withal; do you not think that water is sooner made cold by the air without, if the same may come to enter into it? also, that the air is of more force and efficacy, when it beateth against hard slints, pebbles or wherstones? for they will not suffer it to pass thorough, as vessels either of brass or earth; but by their compact solidity, resisting and standing out against it, they put it by from themselves, and turn it upon the water; whereby the coldness may be the stronger, and the water throughout be fully affected therewith: and this is the reason, that in Winter time, running rivers be much colder than the sea; for that the cold air hath greater power upon them, as being driven back again from the bottom of the water; whereas in the sea it is dissolved, and passeth away, by reason of the great depth thereof encountering there nothing at all, upon which it may strike and bear: but it seemeth there is another reason, that waters, the thinner and clearer they be, suffer the more from the cold air; for sooner they be changed and overcome, so weak and feeble they are: now hard wherstones and little pebbles, do subtiliat and make the water more thin, in drawing to the bottom where they be, all the gross and terrestrial substance that trouble it; in such sort, as the water by that means, being more fine, and consequently weaker, sooner is vanquished and surmounted by the refrigeration of the air. To come now unto lead: cold of nature it is, and if it be soaked in vinegar, and wrought with it, maketh ceruse of all deadly poisons, the coldest. As for the stones a fore said, by reason of their solidity, they have an inward coldness conceived deeply within them; for as every stone is a piece of earth gathered together and congealed (as it were) by exceeding cold, so the more compact and massy that it is, the harder is it congealed, and consequently, so much the colder: no marvel therefore it is, if both plummets of lead and these little hard pebbles aforesaid, by repercussion from themselves, enforce the colduesse of water.   

THE six QUESTION.  
What is the reason that men use to keep snow within chafse, light straw, and clothes?  
Upon these words, that stranger and guest of ours, after he had paused a while: Lovers (quoth he) above all things, are desirous to talk with their paramours; or if they can not so do, yet at leastwise they will be talking of them; and even so it fareth at this time between me and snow; for, because there is none here in place, nor to be had, I will speak of it; and namely, I would gladly know the reason why it is wont to be kept in such things as be very hot; for we use to cover and swaddle it (as it were) with straw and chaff, yea, and to lap it within soft clothes, unshorn rugs, and shaggy freeze; and so preserve it a long time in the own kind, without running to water: A wonderful matter, that the hottest things should preserve those which are extreme cold! And so will I say too (quoth I) if that were true: but it is far otherwise, and we greatly deceive ourselves, in taking that by and by to be hot itself, which doth heat another; and namely, considering that we ourselves use to say, that one and the self same garment in Winter keeps us warm, and in Summer cooleth us; like as that nurse in the tragedy, which gave suck unto Niobes children: 
With mantles course, and little blankets worn,  
She warms and cools her pretty babes, new borne.   
The Almaigns verily put on garments only for to defend their bodies against the rigour of cold: the Aethiopians wear them not, but to save themselves from soultrie heat: we in Greece use them for the one purpose and the other; and therefore why should we count them to be hot, because they warm us, rather than cold, for that they cool us? yet of the twain, if we would be judged by the outward sense, we might repute them rather cold than hot: for when we put on our shirts or inner garments first, our naked skin finds them cold; and so when we go into our beds, we feel the sheets and other clothes of themselves as cold; but afterwards they help to heat us; but how? being themselves full of heat, which cometh from us, they hold in our heat, and withal, keep off the cold air from our bodies. Thus you see how they that be sick of the ague, or otherwise, burn with heat, change continually their linens and other clothes about them, because ever as any fresh thing is laid upon them, they feel it cold and take comfort therein; no sooner is it cast over them, & lain a while, but it becometh hot, by reason of the ardent heat of their bodies: like as therefore a garment being warmed once by us, doth warm us again; even so, if it be made cold by snow, it keepeth it cold reciprocally; but made cold it is by snow, for that there ariseth from it a subtle spirit, or vapour which doth it; & the same so long as it abideth within, holdeth it together concrete and solid in the own nature; chose, when it is gone, snow melteth and turneth to water; then that white fresh colour vanisheth away, which came by the mixture of the said spirit & humidity together, causing a kind of froth: when as snow therefore is lapped within clothes, both the cold is held in thereby, and the outward air kept out, that it cannot enter in, to thaw and melt the substance of the snow thus gathered and congealed together: now to this purpose they use such clothes as have not yet come under the fullers hand, nor been dressed, burled, shorn, and pressed; and that for the length and dryness of the shag hair and flocks, which will not suffer the cloth to lie heavy and press down the snow, and crush it being so spongious and light as it is: and even so the straw and chaff, lying lightly upon it, and softly touching it, breaketh not the congealed substance thereof; and otherwise beside, the same lieth close and fast together, whereby it is a cause that neither the coldness of the snow within, can breathe forth, nor the heat of the air without enter in. To conclude that the excreation and issuing out of that spirit, is the thing that causeth the snow to foregive, to fret, and to melt in the end, is apparent to our outward senses, for that the snow when it thaweth engendereth wind.   

THE SEVENTH QUESTION.  
Whether wine is to run through a streiner before it be drunk?  
NIger one of our citizens left the schools, having conversed but a small while with a most excellent and renowned philosopher; yet so long, as in that time he had not learned any good thing at his hands, but stolen from him ere he was aware, that, whereby he was offensive and odious unto others; and namely, this bad custom he had gotten of his master, boldly to reprove and correct in all things, those who were in his company: when as therefore we were upon a time with Ariston in his house at supper together, he found fault generally with all the provision, as being too sumptuous, curious, and superfluous; and among other things, he flatly denied: That wine ought to pass through a streiner before it be powered forth and filled to the table; but he said: It should be drunk as it came out of the tun, as Hesiodus said, whiles it hath the strength and natural force, and as nature hath given it unto us; for this manner of depuration and clarifying of it by a streiner, first doth enervate and cut as it were the sinews of the vigour and virtue, yea and quench the native heat that it hath; for it cannot choose, but the same will exhale, evaporate, and fly away with the spirit and life thereof being so often filled and powered out of one vessel into another: Again, (quoth he) it bewrayeth a certain curiosity, delicacy, and wasteful wantonness, thus to consume and spend the good and profitable, for that which is pleasant only and delectable: for like as to cut cocks for to make them capons, or to geld sows and make them gualts, that their flesh may be tender, dainty, & (against the nature of it) effeminate, was never surely the invention of men, sound in judgement, and honest behaviour, but of wasteful gluttons, and such as were given over to belly cheer; even so verily they that thus strain wine, do geld it, they cut the spurs and pair the nails thereof; if I may be allowed so to speak by way of Metaphor, yea and do effeminate the same; whiles they are not able either to bear it by reason of their infirmity and weakness, nor drink it in measure, as they should because of their intemperance: but surely this is a sophistical device of theirs, and an artificial trick to help them for to drink more, and excuse them for pouring it down so merrily; for by this means the force of wine they take away, leaving nothing but bare wine; much like unto those who give water boiled unto sick & weak folk, who cannot endure to drink it cold, & yet beyond measure desire it; for the very edge of wine they take off, & look what strength & virtue was in it, the same they rid away and expel quite: that in so doing they mar it, for ever: this may be a sufficient argument, that wine thus misused, will not last nor continue long in the own nature, but turn quickly to be very dregs; it loseth (I say) the verdure thereof presently, as if it were cut by the root, from the own mother, which are the lees thereof. Certes in old time they were wont directly to call wine itself 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, Lees: like as we use to term a man by a diminutive speech, a soul or an head, giving unto him the denomination of those principal parts only; and even at this day we express the gathering of the vine fruit, by the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Also in one place Homer called wine 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and as for wine itself, it was an ordinary thing with him, to call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, blackish and red, not pale and wan, by often straining and cleansing, such as Ariston here serveth us with: here at Ariston laughing at the matter: Not so my good friend (quoth he) not pale, bloodless and discoloured: but that which at the very first sight showeth itself pleasant, mild, and lovely, where as you would have us to ingurgitate and drench ourselves with a wine as black as the night, thick, gross, and duskish, like a dark cloud: the clarifying and purification thereof you condemn, which in truth is nothing else, but the casting up as it were by vomit of all the choler that it had, and the discharging it of that which is heavy, heady in it, able to make men sick and drunken, to the end that being more light, cheerful, and less choleric, it might go into our bodies for to be intermingled with us, even such as Homer saith: those worthies and demigods, at the war of Troy, used to drink: for Homer when he named wine 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 meant not blackish and thick, but transparent, neat and bright; for having before attributed unto brass, these epithets, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, meet for men, & resplendent, he would not have called it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 afterwards, if he had not meant black and duskish by that attribute. Like as therefore, the sage Anacharsis, when he reproved some other fashions among the Greeks, commended yet their charcoals, for that leaving the smoke without doors, they brought the fire into the house; even so you my masters, that are wise men and great scholars, may haply blame us in other respects, if you list: but in case when we have rejected and dispatched away that which was turbulent, choleric and furious in wine, we make it then look clear, and taste pleasant of itself, without any sophistication; if we do not (I say) turn or take off the edge quite, and grind out all the steel (as it were) but rather scouring away rust and canker, fourbish and glaze it, and so present it unto you for to drink; what heinous fault (I pray you) have we committed? but you will say (forsooth) it hath more strength in it when it is not thus clarified with straining: and so (by your leave, good sir) hath a frantic, lunatic, and mad man, when he is in his fits; but after that he is well purged with Ellebor, or by good regiment in diet, brought to be stayed, and reduced into his right mind and senses again, that violent and extraordinary force is gone, but the true natural strength of his own, and his settled temperature remain still in his body, together with his right wits; even so this cleansing and clarifying of wine, by ridding away that headiness which troubleth the brain, and causeth rage, bringeth it to a mild habit and wholesome constitution. Certes, for mine own part, I hold there is a great difference between affected curiosirie, and simple neatness or elegancy: for those women that paint themselves, perfume and besmear their bodies with costly odours, and balms, or otherwise glitter in their ornaments of gold, and go in their rich purple robes, are by good right thought to be curious, costly, and wanton dames; but if a woman use the bath, wash her skin, anoint herself with ordinary oil, yea, and wear the tresses of her own hair, disposed and laid in order decently, no man will find fault with her for it. This distinction in women's dressing and attire, the poet Homer hath elegantly and properly expressed, in the person of Juno, when she dressed and trimmed herself, in this wise: 
With pure Ambrosia first, her corpse immortal, from all soil  
And filth, she cleansed, than it she did anoint with glibber oil.  Thus far forth, there is nothing to be seen in her, but careful diligence and matronlike cleanliness; marry when she comes to carquans, borders, and buttons of gold, when she hangs on herpendant earrings most curiously and artificially wrought, and not staying there, proceeds in the end to take in her hand that enchanting tissue and girdle of Venus; believe me, here was superfluous sumptuosity, here was vanity and wantonness in deed, not beseeming a wife or dame of honour; semblably, they that colour their wine with the sweet wood of aloe or einomon, and otherwise give it a tincture and pleasant aromatization with saffron, do even as much as those who curiously trick up and set out a woman, for to bring her to a banquet, and to prostitute her as a courtesan; whereas they that do no more but purge out of it, the gross filthiness, and that which is good for nothing, make it by that means, pure, wholesome and medicinable: for otherwise, if you admit not this, you may aswell say, that all things that you see here, is nothing but needless superfluity, and affected curiosity, beginning even at the very house and the furniture thereof: for why is it (will you say) thus pargetted and laid over with a coat of plaster? why is it open and built with windows on that side especially, where it may receive the purest air and freshest winds, or where it may enjoy the light of the sun tending Westward toward his setting? why are these pots and drinking cups, every one of them rubbed and scoured on every side, so neat and clean, that they glitter and shine again, so as a man may see himself in them? And ought (good sir) these bowls and goblets to be kept clean without all filth, or sweet without evil sent; and must the wine which we drink out of them, be full of filthy dregs, or otherwise stained with any ordure and corruption? but what need I run thorough all the rest? the very workmanship and painful labour about the wheat whereof our bread here is made, what is it else (I beseech you) but cleansing and purging? see you not what a do there is about it before it be brought to this pass? for there must be not only threshing, fanning, winnowing, riddling, grinding, sifting, sersing and bolting out the bran from the flower, while it is in the nature of come and meal; but also it requireth to be kned and wrought, that no roughness remain behind in the dough; so that being thus untied and concorporate into a lump of paste, it may be made bread fit for our eating: what absurdity then is there in this, if straining and cleansing of wine riddeth it from that feculent and dreggie matter, as if it were coarse brannes' or gross grounds, especially seeing the doing of it, is not any wise chargeable nor laborious?   

THE EIGHTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause of that extraordinary hunger, called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
THere is a solemn sacrifice used among us, received by tradition from our ancestors, which the provost or chief governor of the city for the time being, performeth at public the altar, but other private citizens beside, in their own houses: and this solemnity is called, The banishment of Bulimos, that is to say, of hunger or famine: and the manner is at such a time, for every master of an house, to take one of his slaves, and when he hath swinged him well with weeds of the withie called Chast-tree, to thrust him out of the doors by the head and shoulders, saying withal: Out with 
* That is to say, bunger and famine: it seemeth by that which followeth, that they put poverty also before Bulimos, in opposition to health.  Bulimos, but come in wealth and health. Now that year wherein I was provost, many there were at my sacrifice, invited to the feast; and after we had performed all ceremonies and compliments thereto belonging, and were set at the table, some question there was moved, first, as touching the vocable itself 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what it should signify, and afterwards of the words uttered unto the slave when he is driven out; but most of all, of that malady so called, and of the accidents and circumstances thereof. As for the term Bulimos, every man in manner, was of opinion, that it betokened a great and public famine, but especially we Greeks of Aeolia, who in our dialect use the letter 
* p. for b.  π for β, for we commonly do not say, Bulimos, but Pulimos, as if it were Polylimos or Polilimos, that is to say, a great famine, or a general famine throughout the city: and it seemed unto us, that 〈◊〉 was another thing different from it; and namely, by a sound argument which we had from the Chronicles penned by Metrodorus, as touching the acts of jonia, wherein thus much he writeth: That the Smyrneans who in old time were Aeolians, use to sacrifice unto Bubrostis, a blackebull, as an holocaust or burnt offering, which they cut into pieces with the hide, and so burn it all together. But forasmuch as all manner of hunger resembleth a malady (and principally, this called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) which cometh upon a man when his body is affected with some unkind and unnatural indisposition, it seemeth that by great reason, as they oppose wealth to poverty, so they set health against sickness: & like as the heaving and overturning of the stomach, a disease when as men are said 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 took that name first upon occasion of those who are in a ship, & when they sail or row, fall to be stomach sick, and are apt to cast: but afterwards by custom of speech, whosoever feel the like passion of the stomach, and a disposition to vomit, are said 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to be sea sick; even so the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and the noun 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 taking the beginning as is before said, there is come unto us, and signifieth a dogs-appetite or extraordinary hunger. And to this purpose we all spoke, and made a contribution as it were of all our reasons, to make out a common supper or collation: but when we came to touch the cause of this disease; the first doubt that arose among us was this; that they should most be surprised with this malady, who travel in great snows: like as Brutus did of late days; who when he marched with his army from Dyrrhachium to Apollonia, was in danger of his life, by occasion of this infirmity: it was a time when the snow lay very deep; in which march he went such a pace, that none of those who had the carriage of victuals overtook him, or came near unto him: now when as he fainted so for feebleness of stomach, that he now swooned and was ready to give up the ghost; the soldiers were forced to run in haste unto the walls of the city, and to call for a loaf of bread, unto their very enemies, warding and keeping the watch upon the walls, which when they had presently gotten, therewith they recovered Brutus: whereupon afterwards, when he was master of the town, he grievously entreated all the inhabitants, for the courtesy which he had received from thence. This disease happeneth likewise to horses and asses, especially when they have either figs or apples a load: but that which of all the rest is most wonderful, there is no manner of food or sustenance in the world, that in such a case so soon recovereth the strength, not of men only, but of labouring beasts also, as to give them bread, so that if they eat a morsel thereof, be it never so little, they will presently find their feet, and be able to walk.  
Hereupon ensued silence for a while; and then I (knowing well enough, how much the arguments of ancient writers are able to content and satisfy such as are but dull and slow of conceit; but contrary wise unto those that be studious, ripe of wit and diligent, the same make an overture and give courage and heart to search and inquire further into the truth) called to mind and delivered before them all a sentence out of Aristotle, who affirmeth: That the stronger the cold is without, the more is the heat within our bodies, and so consequently, causeth the greater colliquation of the humours in the interior parts. Now if these humours thus resolved, take a course unto the legs, they cause lassitudes and heaviness; if the rheum fall upon the principal fountains and organs of motion and respiration, it bringeth faintings and feebleness. I had no sooner said, but as it is wont in such cases to fall out, some took in hand to oppugn these reasons; and others again to defend and maintain the same: and Soclarus, for his part: The words (quoth he) in the beginning of your speech were very well placed, and the ground surely laid; for in truth the bodies of those who walk in snow, are evidently cold without, and exceedingly closed fast and knit together; but that the inward heat occasioned thereby, should make such a colliquation of humours, and that the same should possess and seize upon the principal parts and instruments of respiration, is a bold and rash conceit, and I cannot see how it should stand: Yet rather would I think, that the heat being thus kept in, and united together, and so by that means fortified, consumeth all the nourishment; which being spent, it cannot choose, but the said heat also must needs languish even as a fire without fuel; and hereupon it is, that such have an exceeding hunger upon them, and when they have eaten never so little, they come presently to themselves again; for that food is the maintenance of natural heat: Then Cleomenes the physician: This word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, hunger (quoth he) in the compound 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifieth nothing else, but is crept into the composition of it I know not how, without any reason at all; like as in the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which betokeneth to devour, or swallow down solid meat, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to drink, hath no sense or congruity at all; no more than 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to bend downward, or fall grovelling, hath any thing to do in the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that signifieth to rise aloft, or to hold up the head as birds do in drinking; for surely 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 seemeth not unto me to be any hunger, as many have taken it; but it is a passion of the stomach, which concurring indeed with hunger, engendereth a fainting of the heart, and an aptness to swoone: and even as odours and smells do fetch again and help those that be in a swoone; so bread doth remedy and recover those who are feeble and faint, by this Bulimia, not for that such have need of sustenance; (for let it be never so little that they take, they are revived and refreshed thereby) but because it fetcheth the spirits again, and recalleth the power and strength of nature that was going away. Now that this Bulimos or Bulimia, is a faintness of the heart, and no hunger at all, appeareth evidently by an accident that we observe in those draft beasts, whereof we spoke before, subject to this infirmity; for the smell of figs and apples worketh not in them any defect or want of nourishment; but causeth rather a gnawing in the mouth of the maw, a plucking (I say) and contention in the brim of the stomach. As for me, on the otherside, although I thought these reasons indifferently well alleged; yet I was of opinion, that if I went another way to work, and argued from a contrary principle, I could maintain a probability, and uphold, that all this might proceed rather by way of condensation, than rarefaction: for the spirit of breath that passeth from the snow in manner of subtle air, is the most cutting edge, and finest decision or scale, coming from the concretion of that meteor or congealed substance, which I wot not bow, is of so keen and piercing a nature, that it will strike through, not flesh only, but vessels also of silver and brass: for we see that they are not able to contain and hold snow in them, but when it cometh to melt, it consumeth away, and covereth the outside of such vessels, glazed over with a most subtle moisture, as clear as ise, which no doubt the said spirit, breath, air, or edge, (call it what you will) left behind it, when it passed through those insensible pores of the said vessels; this spirit then thus penetrative and quick as a flame, when it smiteth upon their bodies who go in snow, seemeth to scorch and singe the superficial outside of the skin, in cutting and making way through into the flesh in manner of fire; whereupon ensueth a great rarefaction of the body, by means whereof, the inward heat flying forth, meeteth with the cold spirit or air without in the superficies which doth extinguish and quench it quite, and thereby yieldeth a kind of small sweat or dew, standing with drops upon the outside, and so the natural strength of the body is resolved and consumed: now if a man at such a time stir not, but rest still, there is not much natural heat of the body that passeth thus away; but when motion by walking or otherwise doth quickly turn the nutriment of the body into heat, and withal the said heat flieth outward through the skin thus rarefied; how can it otherwise be, but all at once there should ensue a great eclipse (as it were) and general defect of the natural powers? And that true it is, that the same doth not always close, knit, and bind together the body, but otherwise melt and rarefie the same, it appeareth manifestly by this experience; that in sharp and nipping winters, many times plates or plummets of lead are known to sweat and melt: this observation also, that many do fall into this infirmity called Bulimia, who are not hungry, doth argue rather a defluxion and dilatation, than a constipation of the body; which no doubt in Winter is rarefied by that subtlety of the spirit, whereof I spoke, and especially, when travel and stirring, doth sharpen and subtiliat the heat within the body: for being thus made thin, and wearied beside, it flieth forth in great abundance, and so is dispersed throughout the body. As for those figs and apples, it is like, that they do exhale and evaporate such a spirit, as doth subtiliate and dissipate the natural heat of labouring beasts that carry them: for it standeth by good reason in nature, that as some be revived and resreshed with one thing, and some with another; so chose, some things do dissipate the spirits in one, and others in another.   

THE NINTH QUESTION.  
Why the poet Homer to other liquors giveth proper epithets and attributes, and oil only he calleth moist?  
THere was a great question also another time: What might the reason be, that there being so many liquors as there are, the poet Homer is wont to adorn every one of them with their several and proper epithits, and namely, to call milk, white; honey, yellow; and wine, red; but oil alone he ordinarily noteth by an accident common unto them all, and termeth it moist? to which, this answer was made: That as a thing is named, Most sweet, which is altogether sweet; and Most white, which is altogether white; (now you must understand, that a thing is said to be such and such altogether, when there is nothing mixed with it of a contrary nature) even so we are to call that Moist, which hath not one jot of dryness mingled among; and such a quality doth properly agree unto oil: for first and foremost, the polished smoothness that it hath, doth show that the parts thereof be all uniform and even throughout; and feel it wheresoever you will, you shall find it equal in every respect, and one part acordeth with another so, as the whole agreeth to withstand both mixture and cold: beside, to the eye sight it yieldeth a most pure and clear mirror to behold the face in; for why? there is no roughness nor ruggedness in it, to dissipate the reflection of the light; but by reason of the humidity or moisture thereof, all the light (how little soever it be) doth rebound and return again upon the sight: whereas chose, milk alone, of all other liquors, sendeth back none of these images and resemblances, like as a mirror or looking-glass doth, for that it hath a great deal of terrestrial substance in it: moreover, of all liquid matters, oil only maketh the least noise when it is stirred or shaken, for that it is so moist throughout; whereas in other liquors, the parts which be hard and earthy, in running, flowing, and moving, do encounter, smite and hit one another, and so consequently make a noise, by reason of their weight and solidity: and that which more is, it remaineth simple of itself, without admitting any mixture or composition with any other liquor whatsoever, for that it is so firm, compact, or fast; and good reason, for it hath no wandering holes here and there, between terrene and hard parts, which might receive any other substance within: moreover, all the parts of oil, for that they be so like one unto the other in a continued union, do join passing well together, however they will not sort with other liquors; and by reason of this tenuity and continuity, when oil doth froth or foam, it suffereth no wind or spirit to enter in: furthermore, this humidity of oil, is the cause that it feedeth and noutisheth fire, for maintained it is with nothing that is not moist, and this is the only liquor that may be burned, as we may see evidently in the wood which we daily burn; namely, that the airy substance therein, flieth up in smoke; that which is terrestrial, turneth into ashes; and there is nothing but that, which is moist or liquid, that flameth out, burneth light, and is consumed clean: for why? fire hath no other sustenance to feed upon; and therefore, water, wine, and other liquors, stand much upon a feculent, muddy & earthly matter, which is the cause that if a man do cast them upon a fire or flame, by their asperity, they disgregate, and by their weight, choke & quench it; but oil, (for that most properly and sincerely it is moist, and by reason also that it is so subtle) soon receiveth alteration, and being over come by the fire, is quickly inflamed: but the greatest argument to prove the moisture of oil, is this, that a little thereof will spread and go a great way; for neither honey, nor water, nor any other liquid thing whatsoever, in so small a quantity can be dilated and drawn so far as oil, but for the most part, they are spent and gone by occasion of their siccity: and verily, oil being so pliable and ready to be drawn every way, soft also and glib, is apt to run all over the body, when it is anointed, it floweth and spreadeth a great way, by means of the humidity of all parts which are so movable, in such sort, as it continueth a long time, and hardly will be rid away, it sticketh and cleaveth so fast: for a garment, if it be dipped and drenched all over in water, will soon be dry again; but the spots and stains with oil, require no small ado to be scoured out and cleansed, for that it taketh so deep an impression; and all because it is so fine, subtle and exceeding moist: and Aristotle himself saith, that even wine also being delayed with water, if it be gotten into a cloth, is hardly fetched out, for that now it is more subtle than before, and pierceth farther within the pores thereof.   

THE TENTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause, that the flesh of beasts killed for sacrifice, if it be hung upon a figtree, becometh more tender within a while?  
ARiston had a cook commended highly by those who used to sup with his master, for singular skill in his art; and namely, for that among all other viands which he handled and dressed passing well, he served up a cock unto the table before us, newly killed and sacrificed unto Hercules, the flesh whereof did eat as short and tender as if he had hung by the heels a day or two before: and when Ariston said that it was an easy matter so to do; and that there needed no more, but presently when his throat was cut, to hang him upon a figtree, we took occasion thereby to search into the cause of this effect: Certes, that there passeth from the figtree a sharp air and strong spirit, our very eyesight will testify; as also the common speech that goeth of a bull, who if he be tied to a figtree, how wild, savage and fell soever he was before, will soon be meek and quiet, abide to be handled, and in one word, lay down his furious rage, as if it were clean daunred: But the principal cause hereof was attributed to the acrimony and sharp quality of the wood, for the tree is more succulent than any other; insomuch as the very fig itself, the wood also and the leaf, be all full of juice; also whiles it burneth in the fire, there ariseth from it a bitter biting smoke, very hurtful to the eyes; and when it is burnt, there is made of the ashes a strong leie, very detersive and scouring, which be all signs of heat: and moreover, whereas the milky juice of the sig-tree will cause milk to turn and cruddle, (some say,) it is not by the inequality of the figures of milk, which are comprehended and glued as it were therewith, namely, when the united and round parts thereof are cast up to the superficies, but for that the foresaid juice by means of heat, doth resolve the watery substance of the liquor, which is not apt to gather consistence and be thickened: moreover, this is another sign thereof, that notwithstanding the juice be in some sort sweet, yet it is good for nothing, and maketh the worst and most unpleasant drink in the world; for it is not the inequality thereof, that causeth the smooth parts to gather a crud, but the heat which maketh the cold and cruddie parts to coagilate. A good proof of this we have from salt, which serveth to this purpose, because it is hot; but it impeacheth this interlacing and glutinous binding pretended, for that by nature it doth rather dissolve and unbind. To come again therefore unto the question in hand; the figtree sendeth from it a sharp piercing and incisive spirit: and this is it, that doth make tender, and as it were concoct the flesh of the said foul: and as great an effect should one see, if he had put him in a heap of wheat or such corn, or covered him all over with salt nitre; and all by reason of heat: and that this is true that wheat is hot, may be gathered by the vessels full of wine, which are hidden within a heap of wheat; for a man shall soon find that the wine will be all gone.     

THE SVENTH BOOK OF SYMPOSIAQUES OR BANQUET-DISCOURSES.  

The Summarie.  
1 AGainst those who reprove Plato for saying, that our drink passeth through the lungs.  
2 What is that which Plato calleth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and why those seeds which fall upon beeses horns, become hard in concoction?  
3 Why the middle part in wine, the highest in oil, and the bottom of honey is best?  
4 Wherefore the Romans in old time observed this custom; never in any case to take away the table clean, nor to suffer a lamp or candle to go out?  
5 That we ought to take great heed of those pleasures which naughty music yieldeth, and how we should beware of it?  
6 Of those guests who are called shadows, and whether a man may go to a feast unbidden, if he be brought thither by those who were invited? when? and unto whom?  
7 Whither it he lawful and honest to admit she-minstrels at a feast or banquet?  
8 What matters especially it is good to hear discoursed upon at the table?  
9 That to sit in counsel or consult at a table, was in old time the custom of Greeks, as well as of Persians.  
10 Whether they did well that so consulted at their meat?   

THE SEVENTH BOOK OF Symposiaques or banquet-discourses.  

The poem.  
THe Romans have commonly in their mouths, o Sossius Senecio, the speech of a pleasant conceited man and a courteous, whosoever he was, who when he had supped alone at any time, was wont thus to say: Eaten I have this day, but not supped; showing thereby, that meals would never be without mirth and good company, to season the same, and to give a pleasant taste unto the viands. Euenus' verily used to say: That fire was the best sauce in the world: and as for salt, Homer called it divine; and most men gave it the name of the Graces; for that being mingled or otherwise taken with most of our meats, it gives a kind of grace, and commendeth them as pleasant and agreeable to the stomach. But to say a truth, the most divine sauce of a table or a supper, is the presence of a friend, a familiar, and one whom a man knoweth well; not so much for that he eateth and drinketh with us, but rather because as he is partaker of our speeches, so he doth participate his own unto us, especially if in such reciprocal talk there be any good discourses, and those which be profitable, fit, and pertinent to the purpose; for much babbling indeed and lavish speech that many men use at the board, and in their cups, bewrayeth their vain folly, driving them oftentimes into inconsiderate and passionate fits, and to perverse lewdness; and therefore no less requisite it is, and needful, to make choice of speeches, than of friends to be admitted to our table: and in this case we ought both to think, and also to say, contrary unto the ancient Lacedæmonians; who when they received any young man or stranger into their guild-halles, called phiditia, where they used to dine and sup in public together, would show unto them the doors of the place and say: Out at these there never goeth word: but we acquainting ourselves with good words, and pertinent speeches at the table, in our discourses, are willing and content, that the same should go forth all, and be set abroad to all persons whatsoever; for that the matters and arguments of our talk are void of lascivious wantonness, without backbiting, flaundering, malice, and illiberal scurrility, not beseeming men of good education: as a man may well judge by these examples following in the Decade of this seventh book.   

THE FIRST QUESTION.  
Against those who reprove Plato, for saying: That our drink passeth by the lungs.  
IT happened one day in summer time, that one of the company where I was at supper, came out with this verse of Alcaus, which every man hath readily in his mouth, and pronounced it with a loud voice: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  That is to say: 
Now drink and wet thy lungs with wine,  
For why? the hot Dogge-starre doth shine.  No marvel (quoth Nicias) then, (a physician of the city Nicopolis): if a poet as Alcaeus was, were ignorant in that, which Plato a great philosopher knew not: and yet Alcaus in some sort may be borne out in saying so, and relieved in this wise; namely, that the lungs being so near as they are unto the stomach, enjoy the benefit of the liquid drink, and therefore it was not improperly said: That they be wet and soaked therewith: but this famous philosopher by express words hath left in writing, that our drink directly passeth for the most part, thorough the lungs: so that he hath given us no means of any probability in the world, to excuse and defend him, would we never so feign, so gross is his error, and ignorance so palpable: for in the first place, (considering it is necessary, that the dry nourishment should be mingled with the liquid) plain. it is, that there ought to be one common vessel, which is the stomach, for to receive them both together; to the end, that it might transmit and send into the belly and paunch beneath, the meat well soaked and made soft: beside, seeing that the lungs be smooth and every way compact and solid, how is it possible, that if a man drink a supping or gruel, wherein there is a little meal or flower, it should get thorough, and not stay there? for this is the doubt that Erasistratus objected very well against Plato. Moreover, this philosopher having considered most parts of the body, and searched by reason, wherefore they were made; and being desirous to know (as became a man of his profession) for what use nature had framed every one, he might have thought thus much: That the weezle of the throat, otherwise called Epiglottis, was not made for nothing and to no purpose; but ordained for this, that when we swallow any food, it might keep down and close the conduit of the windpipe, for fear that nothing might fall that way upon the lights; which part no doubt, is wonderfully troubled, tormented, and torn (as it were) with the cough, when any little thing is gotten thither, where the breath doth pass to and fro: Now this weezle abovesaid, being placed just in the mids, and indifferent to serve both passages, when we speak, doth shut the mouth of that conduit or weazand that leadeth to the stomach; and as we either eat or drink, falleth likewise upon the windpipe that goeth to the lungs, keeping that passage pure and clear, for the wind and breath to go and come at ease, by way of respiration. Furthermore, thus much we know by experience: That those who take their drink leisurely, letting it go down by little and little, have moister bellies than those who power their liquor down at once; for by this means the drink is carried directly into the bladder, passing away apace and with violence, making no stay; whereas otherwise, it resteth longer with the meat, which it soaketh gently, and is better mingled and incorporate into it: but we should never see the one or the other, if at the first, our drink and meat went apart, and had their several ways by themselves, when we swallow them down; for we conjoin our meat and drink together, sending them both one after another, to the end that the liquor might serve in stead of a wagon, according as Erasistratus was wont to say, for to carry and convey the meat and the nourishment into all parts.  
After that Nicias had made this discourse, Protogenes the Grammarian added moreover, and seconded him in this wise, saying: That the poet Homer, first of all other, saw well enough, and observed, that the stomach was the proper receptacle and vessel to receive our food, as the windpipe, which they called in old time, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to admit the wind and the breath: and hereupon it came, that they used to call those who had big and loud voices, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, wide-throated, meaning by the throat, the windpipe, and not the gullet, weazand or gorge: and therefore when he had said of Achilles, charging Hector with his lance: 
Heran him through his 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  gorge at first,  
A speeding wound and deadly thrust.  A little after he added, and said: 
His 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  windpipe yet he went beside,  
And did not it in twain divide.  He meaneth by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the proper instrument of the voice and conduit of the breath, which he cut not quite in sunder as he did the other, named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the weazand or gullet.  
Upon these words, all was hushed for a time, until Florus took upon him to speak in the behalf of Plato: And shall we thus indeed suffer this philosopher (quoth he) to be condemned, when he is not here in place to answer for himself? No (said I) that we will not; but we will join unto Plato, the poet Homer also, and put them both together; who is so far off from averting and turning away the liquor from the windpipe, that he sendeth both drink and meat together out of it; for these be his words to that effect: 
There gushed out of his 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  wind pipe, wine good store,  
And gobs of mans-flesh, eaten new before.  Unless peradventure some one will dare to say, that this Cyclops Polyphemus, as he had but one eye in his head, so likewise he had no more but one conduit for his meat, drink, and voice; or else maintain that in this place the poet, by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 meaneth the stomach, and not the windpipe or weezle pipe, which hath been named so, by all men generally, aswell ancient as modern writers: and this cite I not for want of testimonies, but as induced thereto for the truth sake: for there be witnesses enough to depose on Plato's side, and those of good credit and authority: for let Eupolis the comical poet go by, if you please, who in his comedy named Colaces, that is to say, Flatterers or Parasites, thus saith: 
For why? this rule and precept straightly gave  
Protagoras: To drink; that men might have  
Their lungs well wet and drenched with liquor clear,  
Ere that in sky the dog-star doth appear.  And passe-by, if you will, that elegant and sweet conceited poet Eratosthenes, whose words be these: 
With good meere-wine do not forget  
The bottom of thy lungs to wet.  Euripides verily, who in express terms writeth thus in one tragedy, 
The wine sought all the conduits round about,  
And so did pass the lung-pipes clean through hout.  showeth evidently, that he was quicker sighted than Eristratus, and saw further into the thing than he did; for well he knew that the lungs have many pipes in them, and be (as it were) bored thorough with many holes, by which the liquor passeth: for our wind or breath had no need of such conduits and small pipes to send it out; but the lungs were made spungeous and full of cavernosities or holes, in manner of a colander or strainer, for liquors, yea, and other matters that go down together with the liquors: neither is it more unmeet (my good Nicias) for the lungs to transmit and give passage unto meal, or any good thick gruel, than for the stomach; for our stomach or gullet is not, as some think, smooth and slippery, but hath a kind of roughness and certain rugged wrinkles, of which by all likelihood, some small crumbs and parcels of our meat do take hold, and sticking thereto, are not at once swallowed down, and carried away: but a man is not able indeed to affirm Categorically, either the one or the other; for nature is so witty and industrious in all her operations, that no eloquence will serve to express the same; neither is it possible to explicate and declare sufficiently the exquisite workmanship and perfection of those principal instruments which she useth, I mean those that serve for the spirit or breath and the heat: howbeit, in the favour of Plato I am willing to cite more witnesses, to wit, Philistion the Locrien, a very ancient writer, and renowned for his excellency in your art of physic; and Hypocrates of Cos: for these men have allowed no other way nor passage for our drink than Plato hath: and as for the weezle that you stand so much upon, and have in such reputation, Dioxippus was not ignorant of it: but he saith, that about it, the humidity or liquor in swallowing is divided and severed, and so glideth or slippeth into the windpipe; but the meat rolleth into the stomach, and within the said windpipe, there falleth no part of the meat; howbeit the stomach receiveth together with the dry food some part also of the drink or liquor mingled among; and this seemeth to stand well with reason: for the weezle is set before the windpipe as a fence or lid, to the end that by little and little, the drink might gently run as by a streiner into it, not suddenly and at once with a violence, for fear that if it were in that manner powered powered in, it would either stop or else sore trouble and impeach the breath; which is the reason that birds have no such flap or weezle, and nature hath ordained none for them, for they neither draw in by gulps, not lap their drink, but dipping their bills let it down softly, and so wet their throat: And thus much may serve for witnesses in the behalf of Plato. To come now unto reason: First and foremost our very sense doth confirm the same that he hath said: for let the said wezill-pipe be wounded, no liquor will go down, but as if a conduit pipe were cut in sunder, we may see all of it to break forth and run out at the wound, notwithstanding the weasand or stomach be sound and whole: moreover we all know by experience, that upon the malady called Peripneumonia, that is to say, the inflammation of the lungs, there followeth a most ardent thirst, by occasion of drought or heat, or else some other cause, which with the said inflammation engendereth also an appetite to drink: furthemore, there is another argument, stronger and more evident than this, namely; that those creatures which have either no lights or very small, have no need of drink, nor desire it; for every part of the body hath a certain natural appetite to do that work or function, unto which it is ordained; and look what creatures so ever have no such parts, neither have they use for them, nor any desire to that operation which is performed by them: In sum, if it were not so as Plato saith; it may seem that the bladder was made in vain; for if the stomach receive drink as well as meat, & send it down into the belly, what needed the superfluity or excrement of the liquid food, that is to say drink, any peculiar receptacle or passage by itself; for sufficient it had been to have had one common, as well for the one as the other, to discharge the excrements of both, by one spout as it were into the same draft: but now it is otherwise: the bladder is by itself, and the guts apart by themselves; for that the one nutriment goeth from the lungs; the other from the stomach, parting immediately, and taking their several ways at the very swallowing. And hereupon it is that in the liquid superfluity which is wine, there appeareth nothing of the dry, resembling it either in colour or sent; and yet natural reason would, that if it were mixed and tempered with it in the belly and the guts, it should be filled with the qualities thereof, and could not possibly be excluded out of the body so pure and void of ordure. 
* Untrue.  Again, it was never known, that a stone hath been engendered in the paunch or guts; and yet good reason it were, that moisture there should congeal or gather to a stone as it doth within the bladder; if true it were that all our drink descended into the belly and the guts, by passing through the stomach only: but it seemeth that the stomach incontinently when we begin to drink, sucketh and draweth out of that liquor which passeth along by it in the weezle pipe, as much only as is needful and requisite for it, to mollify and to convert into a nutritive pap or juice the solid meat; and so it leaveth no liquid excrement at all: whereas the lungs, so soon as they have distributed both spirit and liquor from thence, unto those parts that have need thereof, expel and send out the rest into the bladder: Well, to conclude, more likelihood there is of truth by far, in this, than in the other: and yet peradventure the truth in deed of these matters lieth hidden still and incomprehensible; in regard whereof, it is not meet to proceed so rashly and insolently to pronounce sentence against a man, who as well for his own sufficiency, as the singular opinion of the world, is reputed the prince and chief of all philosophers, especially in so uncerteine a thing as this, and in defence whereof there may be so many reasons collected out of the readings and writings of Plato.   

THE SECOND QUESTION.  
What is meant in Plato by this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and why those seeds which in sowing light upon ox horns, become hard and not easy to be concoted.  
THere hath been always much question and controversy about 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 not who or what is so called (for certain it is, that seeds falling upon ox horns, according to the common opinion, yield fruit, hard and not easily concocted; whereupon by way of Metaphor, a stubborn and stiffnecked person, men use to term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) but as touching the cause, why such grain or seeds hitting against the horns of an ox, should come to be so untoward: And many times refused I have, yea, and denied my friends to search into the thing; the rather for that Theophrastus hath rendered so dark and obscure a reason, ranging it among many other examples which he hath gathered and put down in writing of strange and wonderful effects, whereof the cause is hard to be found; namely: That an hen after that she hath laid an egg, turneth round about, and with a festure or straw seemeth to purify and hallow herself, and the egg also; that the sea-calf or seal 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Some translate this place thus: Swalloweth down her rennet when she is taken: reading the Greek as it should seem, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 I suppose neither of them both, sound, but the original to be corrupt: And whereas others interpret it after this manner, [easteth up her 〈◊〉 when she is taken] then is it not so great a marvel; neither will 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 carry it.  consumeth the pine, and yet swalloweth it not down; semblably, that stags hide their horns within the ground and bury them; likewise, that if one goat hold the herb Eryngium, that is to say, seaholly, in his mouth, all the rest of the flock will stand still: Among these miraculous effects, Theophrastus (I say) hath put down the seeds falling upon the horns of an ox; a thing known for certain to be so, but whereof, the cause is most difficult, if not impossible to be delivered. But at a supper in the city Delphi, as I sat one day, certain of my familiar friends came upon me in this manner, that seeing not only, according to the common saying: 
From belly full best counsel doth arise,  
And surest plots men in that case devise.  but also we are more ready with our questions, and less to seek for answers, when as wine is in our heads, causing us to be forward in the one, and resolute in the other; they would request me therefore to say somewhat unto the foresaid matter in question: howbeit, I held off still, as being well backed with no bad advocates, who took my part, and were ready to defend my cause; and by name, Euthydemus my colleague or companion with me in the sacerdotal dignity, and Patrocleas' my son in law, who brought forth and alleged many such things, observed aswell in agriculture, as by hunters; of which sort is that which is practised by those who take upon them skill in the foresight and prevention of hail; namely, that it may be averted and turned aside, by the blood of a mouldwarpe, or linen rags, stained with the monthly purgations of women: Item, that if a man take the figs of a wild figtree, and tie them to a tame figtree of the orchard, it is a means that the fruit of the said figtree shall not fall, but tarry on, and ripen kindly: also that stags weep salt tears, but wild bores shed sweet drops from their eyes, when they be taken: For if you will set in hand to seek out the cause hereof (quoth Euthydemus) then presently you must render a reason also, of smallach and cumin; of which, the former, if it be trodden under foot and trampled on in the coming up, men have an opinion it will grow and prosper the better; and as for the other, they sow it with curses and all the foulest words that can be devised, and so it will spring and thrive best. Tush (quoth Florus) these be but toys and ridiculous mockeries, to make sport with: but as touching the cause of the other matters above specified, I would not have you to reject the inquisition thereof, as if it were incomprehensible. Well (quoth I) now I have found a medicine and remedy, which if you do use, you shall bring this man with reason to our opinion, that you also yourself may solve some of these questions propounded: It seemeth unto me therefore, that it is cold, that causeth this rebellious hardness aswell in wheat and other corn, as also in pulse; namely, by pressing and driving in, their solid substance, until it be hard again; for heat maketh things soft and easy to be dissolved: and therefore they do not well and truly, in alleging against Homer, this versicle: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
The year, not field,  
Doth bear and yield.  For surely those fields and grounds which are by nature hot, if the air withal afford a kind and seasonable temperature of the weather, bring forth more tender fruits: and therefore such corn or seed which presently and directly from the husbandman's hands, lighteth upon the ground, entering into it, and there covered, find the benefit both of the heat and moisture of the soil, whereby they soon spurt and come up; whereas those which as they be cast, do hit upon the horns of the beasts, they meet not with that direct positure or rectitude called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which Hesiodus commendeth for the best, but falling down (I wot not how) and missing of their right place, seem rather to have been flung at a venture, than orderly sown; & therefore the cold coming upon them, either marreth and killeth them outright, or else lighting upon their naked husks, causeth them to bring fruit that proveth hard and churlish, as dry as chips, and such as will not be made tender & sidow, without they be steeped in some liquor, as having not been covered but with their own bare coats: for this you may observe ordinarily in stones, that those parts and sides which lie covered deeper within the ground, as if they were of the nature of plants, be more frim and tender, as being preserved by heat, than those outward faces which lie ebb or above the earth; and therefore skilful masons dig deeper into the ground for stones which they mean to square, work and cut, as being melowed by the heat of the earth; whereas those which lie bare aloft and exposed to the air, by reason of the cold, prove hard and not easy to be wrought or put to any use in building: semblably, even corn, if it continue long in the open air, and cocked upon the stacks or threshing floors, is more hard and rebellious, than that which is soon taken away and laid up in garners; yea, and oftentimes the very wind which bloweth whiles it is fanned or winnowed, maketh it more tough and stubborn, and all by reason of cold: whereof the experience, by report, is to be seen about Philippi a city in Macedon, where the remedy is, to let corn lie in the chaff: and therefore you must not think it strange, if you hear husbandmen report, that of two lands or ridges, running directly one by the side of another, the one should yield corn tough and hard; the other, soft and tender: and that which more is, beans lying in one cod, some be of one sort, and some of another, according as they have felt (more or less) either of cold or of wind.   

THE THIRD QUESTION.  
What is the cause, that the mids of wine, the top of oil, and the bottom of honey, is best?  
MY wife's father Alexion, one day laughed at Hesiodus, for giving counsel to drink wine lustily, when the vessel is either newly pierced or runneth low; but to forbear, when it is half drawn; his words are these: 
When tierce is full, or when it draweth low;  
Drink hard; but spare, to mids when it doth grow.  For that the wine there, is most excellent: For who knoweth not (quoth he) that wine is best in the middle, oil in the top, and honey in the bottom of the vessel? but Hesiodus (forsooth) adviseth us to let the mids alone, and to stay until it change to the worse and be sour; namely, when it runneth low and little is left in the vessel. Which words being passed, the company there present, bad Hesiodus farewell, and betook themselves into searching out the cause of this difference and diversity in these liquors. And first, as touching the reason of honey, we were not very much troubled about it, because there is none in manner, but knoweth that a thing, the more rare or hollow the substance of it is, the lighter it is said to be; as also, that solid, massy, and compact things, by reason of their weight, do settle downward; in such sort, that although you turn a vessel upsidedowne; yet within a while after, each part returneth into the own place again; the heavy sinks down, the light floats above; and even so, there wanted no arguments, to yield a sound reason for the wine also: for first and foremost, the virtue and strength of wine, which is the heat thereof, by good right gathereth about the mids of the vessel, and keepeth that part of all others best; then the bottom for the vicinity unto the lees is nought: lastly, the upper region, for that it is next to the air, is likewise corrupt; for this we all know, that the wind or the air is most dangerous unto wine, for that it altereth the nature thereof; and therefore we use to set wine vessels within the ground, yea, and to stop and cover them with all care and diligence, that the least air in the world come not to the wine; and that which more is, wine will nothing so soon corrupt when the vessels be full, as when it hath been much drawn and groweth low, for the air entereth in apace proportionably to the place that is void; the wine the taketh wind thereby and so much the sooner changeth; whereas if the vessels be full, the wine is able to maintain itself, not admitting from without much of that which is adverse unto it, or can hurt it greatly.  
But the consideration of oil put us not to a little debate in arguing: One of the company said: That the bottom of oil was the worst, because it was troubled and muddy with the leis or mother thereof: and as for that which is above, he said: It was nothing better than the rest, but seemed only so, because it was farthest removed from that which might hurt it: Others attributed the cause unto the solidity thereof, in which regard, it will not well be mingled or incorporate with any other liquor, unless it be broken or divided by force and violence; for so compact it is, that it will not admit the very air to enter in it, or to be mingled with it, but keepeth itself a part, and rejecteth it by reason of the fine smoothness, and contenuitie of all the parts, so that less altered it is by the air, as being not predominant over it: nevertheless, it seemeth that Aristotle doth contradict and gainsay this reason, who had observed (as he saith himself) that the oil is sweeter, more odoriferous, and in all respects better, which is kept in vessels not filled up to the brim; and afterwards ascribeth the cause of this meliority or betterness unto the air: For that (saith he) there entereth more air into a vessel that is half empty, and hath the more power: Then I wot not well (said I) but what and if in regard of one and the same faculty and power, the air bettereth oil, and impaireth the goodness of wine? for we know that age is hurtful to oil, and good for wine; which age the air taketh from oil, because that which is cooled continueth still young and fresh; chose that which is penned in and stuffed up, as having no air, soon ageth and waxeth old: great appearance there is therefore of truth, that the air approaching near unto oil, and touching the superficies thereof, keepeth it fresh and young still: And this is the reason, that of wine the upmost part is worst, but of oil the best, because that age worketh in that, a very good disposition, but in this, as bad:   

THE FOURTH QUESTION.  
What was the reason that the ancient Romans were very precise, not to suffer the table to be clean voided and all taken away; or the lamp and candle to be put out?  
FLorus a great lover of antiquity, would never abide, that a table should be taken away empty, but always lest some meat or other standing upon it: And I know full well (quoth he) that both my father and my grandfather before him, not only observed this most carefully, but also would not in any case permit the lamp after supper to be put out, because for sparing of oil, and that thereby none should be wasted vainly. But Eustrophus the Athenian being upon a time a time at supper with us, hearing Florus making this relation: And what good got they by this (quoth he) unless they had learned the cunning cast of Epicharmus our fellow-citizen; who as he said himself, having studied long time how he might keep his boys and servants about him, from silching and stealing away his oil, hardly, and with much ado at the last, found this means: for presently after that the lamps were put out, he filled them full again with oil; and then the next morning, he would come and see whether they were still full. This speech made Florus to laugh: But seeing (quoth he) this question is so well solved, let us search I pray you into the reason: Why in old time, as it should seem, our 
* Romans.  ancients were so religious and precise, as touching their tables and lamps: first therefore they began with lamps and lights: And Caesernius his son in law said: That those ancients as he thought, took it to be an ominous matter, and a very abomination indeed; that any fire whatsoever should be put out, for the likeness and kindred that it had with that sacred fire which is always kept inextinguible: for two ways there be (as I take it) whereby fire (like as we men) may die; the one violent, when it is quenched and put out by force, the other natural when it goeth out & dieth of itself: as for that sacred fire, they remedied both the one & the other, in maintaining and looking to it continually with great care and diligence; the other which is common, they neglected and suffered to go out of itself, without any more ado; for so they themselves quenched it not perforce, nor caused it to die, grudging and envying that it should live, as a beast that doth no good, they passed for it no more, nor made any further reckoning. Then Lucius the son of Florus said: That he liked well of all the rest which was said; but as concerning the sacred fire, he supposed, that our 〈◊〉 chose it not to reverence and adore, because they thought it more holy or better than other: but like as among the Egyptians, some worshipped the whole kind of dogs; others, wolves likewise or crocodiles; but they nourished (with any especial respect) but one of every kind; to wit, some, one dog; others, one wolf, and others agine, one crocodile; for that impossible it was to keep them all; even so here in this case, the vigilant care and devotion which they employed in saving and keeping the sacred fire, was a sign and solemn testimonial of the religious observance which they carried respectively to the whole element of fire; the reason was, because there is nothing in the world that more resembleth a living creature, considering that it moveth, stirreth, and feedeth itself; yea and by the shining light that it giveth, (in manner of the soul) layeth all things open, and maketh them to be seem; but most of all it showeth and proveth the power that it hath, not to be without some vital seed, or principle, in the extinguishing and violent death thereof; for when it is either quenched, suffocated, or killed by force, it seemeth to give a cry or scricke, struggling as it were with death, like unto a living creature when the life is taken away by violence. And in uttering these words, casting his eyes upon me: What say you (quoth he) unto me, can you allege any thing better of your own? I cannot (said I) find any fault with you, in all that you have delivered; but I would willingly add thus much moreover; that this fashion and custom of maintaining fire, is a very exercise and discipline training us togreat humanity: for surely I hold it not lawful to spoil our meats and viands after we have eaten thereof sufficiently, no more than I do for to stop or choke up a spring or fountain after we have drunk our fill of the pure water thereof, or to take down and dimolish the marks that guide men in navigation, or wayfaring, upon the land, when we have once served our own turn with them: but these and such like things we ought to leave behind us unto posterity, as means to do them good that shall come after us, & have need of them when we are gone: and therefore I hold it neither seemly nor honest, to put out a lamp for mechanical misery, so soon as a man himself hath done withal; but he ought to maintain & keep it burning still, that what need soever there should be of fire, it may be found there ready, and shining light out; for a blessed thing it were in us, if possibly we so could, to impart the use of our own eyesight, our hearing, yea and of our wisdom, strength and valour unto others for the while, when we are to sleep or otherwise to take our repose: consider moreover, whether our forefathers have not permitted excessive ceremonies and observations in these cases, even for an exercise and studious meditation of thankfulness, as namely; when they reverenced so highly the oaks bearing acorns as they did. Certes the Athenians had one figtree which they honoured by the name of the holy and sacred Figtree; and expressly forbade to cut down the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 haply 〈◊〉 should be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the olive tree, as the French interpreter seemeth to read it.  mulberry tree: for these ceremonies I assure you, do not make men inclined to superstition as some think, but frame & train us to gratitude & sociable humanity one toward another, when as we are thus reverently affected to such things as these, that have no soul nor sense. And therefore Hesiodus did very well, when he would not permit any flesh or meats to be taken out of the pots or cauldrons for to be set upon the table, unless some thing before had gone out of them, for an assay to the gods; but gave order that some portion thereof should be offered as first fruits unto the fire; as it were a reward and satisfaction for the ministry and good service that it hath done: The Romans also did as well, who would not when they had done with their lamps take from them that nourishment which they had once allowed, but suffered them to enjoy the same, still burning and living, by the means thereof. After I had thus said: Now I assureyou (quoth Eustrophus) hath not this speech of yours made the overture and given way to pass forward to a discourse of the table? for that our ancients thought there should be always somewhat left standing upon it after dinner and supper, for their household servants and children; for surely glad they be, not so much to get wherewith to eat, as to have it in this order communicated from us and our table unto them: and therefore the Persian kings by report, were wont always to send from their own board certain dishes, as a liuraison not only to their friends and minions, to their great captains and lieutenants under them, to their chief pensioners also and squires of the body; but they would have their slaves, yea and their very hounds and dogs to be served daily, and have their ordinary allowance set even upon their table: for their will and meaning was, that whosoever did them any service, & were employed in their ministery, should if it were possible be partakers of their table and fire also: for surely the most fell or savage beasts that be, are made tame by such communication and fellowship in their feeding. hereat I could not choose but laugh: And why then do we not (quoth he) my good friend, put in practise the old order, and bring abroad the fish laid up for store, according to the common proverb, as also the Chaenix or measure that Pythagoras so much talketh of, & upon which he forbiddeth a man to sit? giving us thereby a lesson, that we should learn to leave somewhat for the next day, and on the even to remember and think upon the morrow. We Boeotians have this byword amongst us, common in every man's mouth: Leave somewhat for the Medes: since time that the Medes overran and forreied the whole province of Phocis, and wasted the frontiers and marches of Boeotia: but surely we should have evermore ready at hand this saying: Save something always for strangers and guests, that may come in unlooked for: And to speak what I think; for mine own part, I mislike utterly that hungry table that Achilles kept, which evermore was found bate and void: For when as Ajax and Ulysses came embassage unto him, they sound no meat at all stirring, whereupon he was forced even then to kill somewhat, and to dress the same out of hand for their suppers: Another time also being minded to entertain king Priamus friendly, when he came unto his pavilion: 
He than bestirred himself, and caught up soon,  
A good white sheep, whose throat he cut anon.  but about cutting it up, quartering, jointing, seething and roasting, he spent a great part of the night: whereas Eumaeus a wise scholar of as wise a master, was nothing at all troubled at the sudden and unexpected coming of Telemachus, but presently willed him to sit down, made him good cheer, setting before him platters full 
Of good flesh meats, which were of former store,  
All ready roast, and left the night before.  But if you think that to be but a small matter, and lightly to be regarded, yet I am sure confess you will; that this is not a thing of little importance; namely to refrain and and contain the appetite, when as there is enough yet before a man, to provoke and satisfy it; for those who are wont to abstain from that which is present, have less desire to that which is absent: Then Lucius added thus much, that he remembered how he had heard his grandmother say: That the table was a sacred thing: Which if it be so (quoth he) there ought no thing that holy is, to be empty; and for mine own part, I am of this mind: That the table is a representation and figure of the earth; for besides that, it feedeth us, round it is, and standeth firm and sure; in which regard, some have called it properly, Vesta: and like as we would have the earth to bear and bring forth always some thing or other for our profit; so we think, that we should never see the table void, nor left without some viands upon it.   

THE FIFTH QUESTION.  
That we ought especially to beware of the pleasures which we take in naughty music; and how we should take heed thereof.  
AT the solemnity of the Pythicke games, Callistratus the superintendent, deputed by the high commission and council of State, named Amphyctiones, for to oversee and keep good order, put back a certain minstrel, who played upon the flute, though he were a country man of his and a friend, because he came not in time to present himslefe for to be enrolled among those that were to contend for the prize, which he did according to the statutes and laws of those games provided in that behalf: but one evening when he had invited us to supper, he brought him forth into the banquet among us, set out and adorned in his fair robes and chaplets magnificently, as the manner is to be seen at such games of prize, and attended beside with a goodly dance and choir of singers, well and trimly appointed; and I assure you, a brave show it was at the first entry, and a pleasant pastime worth the seeing and hearing: but after that he had tried and sounded the whole company there met, and perceived many of them how they were inclined, and that for their delight and pleasure which they presently took, the would be carried away, and suffer him to do what he list himself; namely, to play lascivious tunes, and in gesture to represent the same accordingly; then he showed himself openly, and gave us an evident proof and demonstration; that music will make those more drunk, and distemper their brains worse (who inconsiderately at all times, and without all measure exceedingly give themselves unto it) than all the wine that they can drink. For now by this time, they could not be content as the were set at they table, to hout and hollo with open throat, and withal, to keep a clapping with their hands one at another; but in the end, the most part of them leapt from the board, and began withal, to dance and to foot it, yea, and otherwise to show dishonest and filthy gestures, far unbeseeming gentlemen, but yet suitable to the tunes he sounded, and the songs that the rest chanted; but afterwards, when they had made an end, and that the banquet (as it were after a fit of furious madness) was come again to itself, and better settled, Lamprias was desirous to have said some what; and rebuked in good earnest, this misrule and disorder of the youth, but that he feared withal, that he should be thought too rigorous, and give offence unto the company; until such time as Callistratus himself gave him his hint, and incited him so to do, by such a speech as this: For mine own part (quoth he) even I also, do acquit them of intemperancy, the simple desire of hearing music, and seeing sports: howbeit, I am not altogether of Aristoxenus' opinion, when he saith, that these be the only pleasures that be worth a whoupe, and at the end whereof, a man should say, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, Oh, well and tirmly done! For surely, men are wont to attribute so much unto certain dainty meats and sweet perfumes and ointments, calling them trim and fine, and giving this praise unto them, that they be well dressed and confected; yea, and it is an ordinary speech to say: That it is well with us, when we have been at a delicate and costly supper. I suppose also, that Aristotle himself allegeth not a sufficient cause, that the solace and pleasure by fair sights and sweet music, and generally, the contentment that we have by the eye and the ear, is to be exempted from the crime of intemperancy, because as he saith, these be the only delights proper unto man; whereas in all others, brute beasts do communicate with us, and have the benefit of them: for I see that there be many creatures which have no use of reason, and yet take pleasure in music; as for example, stags, in flutes and pipes; and at the time when mares are to be covered with stallions, there is a certain sound of the hautboys and a song to it, named thereupon, Hippothoros: and Pindarus saith in one place, that he was moved with the song, 
Like as the dolphin swims apace,  
Directly forward to that place  
Whereas the pleasant hautboys sound,  
And whence their noise doth soon rebound;  
What time, both winds and waves do lie  
At sea, and let no harmony.  And as they dance, they bear up their heads and eyes aloft, as joying in the object which they see of others likewise dancing; for they strive to imitate and counterfeit the same, stirring and wagging their shoulders to and fro: I cannot see therefore, what singularity by itself there is in these pleasures, because they only are respective to the soul, and others belong unto the body, and do seize and rest in the body; whereas tunes, measures, dances, and songs, passing beside, and beyond the sense, do fasten their delight and tickling pleasure, upon the very joy and contentment of the mind; which is the reason that none of these delectations are hidden, nor have need either of darkness to cover them, or of walls to environ, enclose, and keep them in, as women are wont to say by other pleasures; but chose, built there are for these delights of the eye and ear, cirques and races, theatres and shew-places; and the greater company that there is with us to see or hear any of these, the greater joy we take, and the thing itself is more stately: but this is plain, that desirous we are, not of a number of witnesses to testify our intemperance and naughty pleasure, but we care not how many see our honest exercises and civil sports or recreations.  
After that Callistratus had ended his speech, Lamprias perceiving that those favourers and maintainers of such eare-sports, took better heart, and became more audacious by these words; set in hand to speak now in deed as he meant before, in this manner: This is not the cause, good sir Callistratus, the son of Leon; but in mine opinion, our ancient forefathers have not done well, to say that Bacchus was the son of Oblivion; for they should rather have said, that he was his father; considering, that even now by his means you have forgotten, that of those faults and misdemeanours which are committed by occasion of pleasures, some proceed from intemperance; others from ignorance or negligence: for where the hurt and damage is evident, there men (if they sin) do it because their reason is forced and overcome by intemperance; but look where the hire and reward of incontinency and looseness doth not directly ensue, nor presently upon the committing of a fault, there all their delinquency is to be ascribed unto ignorance, for that such lewd acts, they both approve and perpetrate, because they wist not what hurt would follow: and therefore such as do exorbitate and misgoverne themselves in eating or drinking excessively, as also in the immoderate use of women; which enormities be ordinarily accompanied with many maladies, much expense, decay of estate, loss of goods and an ill name beside; we usually call lose, dissolute, and intemperate persons: such an one was that Theodectes, who being diseased in his eyes; when soever he espied his sweet heart whom he kept as his harlot, would salute her in these terms, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
All hail my sweet and lovely light,  
The only joy of mine eyesight.  And such another was Anaxarchus of Abdera: 
Who (by report) knew well what miseries  
He lived in, but yet his nature was  
Inclined so to pleasure, which men wise,  
And sages dread most part; that he alas  
Was thereby drawn and carried unto sin,  
Out of that way which judgement set him in.  But those who hold out manfully, and stand upon their own guards, for fear they be caught and overcome with the gross pleasure of the belly, and the parts under it, of taste and of smelling; and yet nevertheless suffer themselves to be circumvented and surprised by other delights, which secretly forelay them, and lie in ambush, hidden close within their eyes and ears; these men (I say) although they be nothing less passionate, dissolute, and incontinent than the others, yet we term them not so for all that: and why so? because they know not the danger wherein they stand; they run on headlong through ignorance, thinking they shall be masters over their pleasures, yea, though they tarried at the theatre all the long day, from morning to night, to see and hear plays and other pastimes, without bit of bread or drop of drink; as if forsooth an earthen vessel or pitcher should boast itself and stand much upon this, that it is not stirred and taken up by the belly or the bottom, and yet easily removed and carried from place to place by the two ears: and therefore Arcesilaus was wont to say: That it skilled not which way one committed filthiness; for behind and before, was all one: so that we ought to fear that wantonness and pleasure which tickleth us in our ears and eyes both: neither are we to think a city impregnable, which having all other gates fast made with strong locks, fortified also with cross bars, & portculliss, if the enemies may enter in at one other gate; not to take ourselves to be invincible & unconquered by pleasures, for that we be not caught & taken within the temple of Venus; in case we suffer ourselves to be taken in the chapel of the Muses, or else at some theatre: For surely such a passion may overtake and captivate our soul as well here as there, yea, & betake it unto pleasures, for to hale & pull, carry & harry us as they list: and these verily do infuse and power into our spirits, poisons more eager and piercing, yea, and in greater variety; I mean of songs, dances, musical accords and measures, than all those be, which either cooks, confectioners, or perfumers can devise: by the strength whereof, they lead and carry us whither they will, yea, and corrupt us so, as that we cannot choose but convince and condemn ourselves by our own testimony against us: For as Pindarus said very well: 
We cannot charge, nor yet blameworthy think,  
What ever, for our present meat and drink  
The sacred earth to us demanded hath,  
Or sea, with winds, that is so fell and wrath.  And to say a truth, there is no dainty cates, no delicate viands, fish or flesh; no nor this passing good wine which we drink, that for any pleasure & contentment which they yield unto us, causeth us to set up any such noises, like as ere while, the sound and playing of the flutes did, which filled (I say) not this house only, but I believe well, the whole city, with outcries, utas, clapping of hands, and alarms: and therefore we are to stand in great fear and dread of such pleasures as these; for exceeding forcible they be, and most powerful, as those who stay not there, as those do which affect either taste, feeling, or smelling; to wit, in the unreasonable part of the soul, without passing any farther; but they reach unto the very judgement, and discourse of reason: moreover, in other delights and pleasures, although reason should fail and not be able to withstand them, but give over in plain field: yet there be other passions a good many which will resist and impeach them: for say there be some dainty and delicate fish to be bought and sold in the market; nigardise oftentimes holdeth back a glutton's fingers from drawing out his purse-strings, who otherwise would be busy and ready enough to help his dainty tooth: covetousness likewise otherwhiles turneth away a wanton lecher and whoremaster from meddling with a dear costly courtisane, who holds herself at an exceeding high price; like as Menander in one of his comedies bringeth in a pretty pageant of this matter: for when as certain bawd had brought unto a banquet where diverse youths were drinking, and making merry together, a passing fair wench, young withal, and trimly set out in every point, for to entice and allure them, they 
Cast down their heads, and like good merry mates,  
Fell to their junkets hard, and dainty cates.  For when it stands upon this point, that a man must take up money at interest, or else go without his pleasure; certes, it is a shrewd punishment to bridle his lust and incontinence; for we are not always so willing and ready to lay our hand to our purses: now the eyes and ears of such as love musicians and ministrels, and other such gentlemanlike sports, and recreations as we call them, satisfy their furious appetites & affections, in sounding music, plays, & shows, for nothing and without any cost: for why? such pleasures as these, they may be sped with, and enjoy in many places, at the public and sacred games of prize, in theatres, and at feasts, and all at other men's charges; and therefore an easy matter it is to meet with matter enough for to spoil and undo them quite, who have not reason to govern and direct them. hereat he made a pause, and so there was some silence for a while: And what? would you have (quoth Callistratus) this reason, either to do or say for to succour and save us? for she will not fasten round about our ears, those little cases or bolsters to cover our ears with, which Xenocrates speaketh of, neither will she cause us to rise from the table so soon as we hear a musician to tune his lute or prepare his pipe: No in truth (quoth Lamprias) but look how often soever as we fall into the danger of these pleasures, we ought to call upon the muses for to succour us; we must fly into that mountain Helicon of our ancients: for such an one as is enamoured upon a sumptuous and costly strumpet, we cannot tell how to match by and by with a Penelope, nor marry unto Panthea; but if one take pleasure in bawdy ballads, lascivious songs, and wanton dances, we may soon divert him from thence, by setting him to read Euripides, Pindarus, or Menander; and so wash a filthy ear, and furred all over with salt (as Plato saith) with a sweet and potable lotion of good sayings and wise sentences: for like as magicians command those who are possessed or haunted with evil spirits, to rehearse and pronounce apart by themselves Ephesian letters, or words for a countercharm; even so when we are among these vanities, where minstrels play their parts, and moriske dancers their may-games, fetching their frisks and gambols, 
Shaking themselves in furious wise,  
With strange alarms and hideous cries:  
Wagging and flinging every way  
Their necks and heads all while they play.  Let us then call to remembrance the grave, holy and venerable writings of those ancient Sages, and conferring them with these sottish sonnets, ribald rhymes, paltry poems, and ridiculous reasons, we shall not be endangered by them, nor turn side (as they say) and suffer ourselves to be carried away with them down the stream.   

THE six QUESTION.  
Of such guests as be named shadows; and whether he that is called by one, may go unto another to supper; if he may, when, and to whom.  
HOmer in the second book of his Ilias, writeth of Menelaus, how he came of his own accord unbidden, to a feast that his brother Agamemnon made unto the princes and chief commanders of the army: 
For why? he well conceived in his mind,  
That 
* And therefore might forget his own brother.  troubled much, his brother he should find.  And as he would not neglect and oversee thus much, that either the ignorance or forgetfulness in his brother, should be otherwise seen; so he was less willing to discover it himself in failing for to come; as some froward and peevish persons are wont to take hold of such oversights and negligences of their friends, being better content in their hearts thus to be neglected, than honoured, because they would have advantage, and somewhat to complain of. But as touching such as are not invited at all to a feast, nor have no formal bidding (whom now adays, we call shadows) and yet are brought in by those who were invited, there arose one day a question, how this custom first came up and took beginning. Some were of opinion that Socrates began it, who persuaded Aristodemus upon a time, being not bidden to go with him to a feast at Agathons' house, where there fell out a pretty jest and a ridiculous; for Aristodenius took no heed when he thither came, that he had left Socrates by the way behind him, and so himself entered before into the room; which is as much as the shadow before the body, and the light coming after: but afterwards, at the feasting and entertainment of friends that are travelers, and pass by as strangers, especially, if they were princes or great governors, because men knew not who were in their train, and whom they deigned this honour, for to sit at their own table, and to eat and drink with them; the custom was to request themselves, for to bring with them whom they would, but withal, to set down a determinate number; for fear lest they should be so served as one was, who invited to a supper, Philip king of Macedon, into the country: for he came unto his hosts house with a great retinue after him, who had not provided a supper for many guests: Philip perceiving that his friend was hereupon in great perplexity, and knew not what to do, sent unto every one of his friends that he brought with him, a servitor of purpose to round them secretly in the ear, that they should so eat of the viands before them, as that they reserved a piece of their stomach for a dainty tart or cate that was to come in: by which means, whiles they looked evermore when the said dish should come to the table, and did eat more sparily in hope of it, of those meats which stood before them, there was sufficient for them all. But whiles I seemed thus to play upon the point before the company there present, Florus thought good that this question ought to be handled in good earnest, and more seriously; namely, as touching those shadows abovesaid: Whether it might stand with honesty and good manners, to follow or go with them who were bidden? As for Cesernius his son in law, he utterly condemned that fashion: For a man ought (quoth he) to obey the counsel of Hesiodus, who writeth thus: 
Above all others, to thy feast,  
Invite thy friend who loves thee best.  If not so yet be sure at leastwise to bid thy familiars and those of thine acquaintance, for to participate with thee in thy sacred libations and thanks givings to the gods at the table, in discourses there held, in the courtesies passing to and fro; and namely, in drinking one to another: but now a days it is with men that make feasts, as with those who keep ferrie-barges or barks to transport passengers; for when they take in men aboard, they permit them to cast into the vessel what fardels or baggage they have beside; for even so, we making a feast for some especial persons, give them leave to fill the place with whomsoever they please; whether they be honest men & of worth or no, it makes no matter. And I would marvel much, if a man of quality, and one that knoweth good manners, would come thus bidden (as it were) at the second hand, which is all one as unbidden, being such an one, as many times the master of the feast himself knoweth not; and if he be one of his acquaintance and knowledge, and yet unbidden, surely it were more shame now to go unto his house, as it it were, to upbraid him and cast in his teeth, as if he came unto his feast without his good will, and yet would take his part thereof, even by violence and strong hand. Moreover, to go before or tarry after him, who would seem to bid one to another man's table, carrieth some shame with it, and would make a modest and honest man dismayed and blank: neither is it a decent thing to have need of witnesses, and a warrant (as it were) between him and the master of the house, to insinuate thus much, that he is come indeed, not as one formally bidden to supper, but as the shadow of such and such a man: beside, to dance attendance upon another, and observe when he hath been in the stouph, is anointed and washed, waiting the hour when he will go, sooner or later; this in my simple judgement is a very base and mechanical thing, savouring strongly of the bonfon or parasit Gnatho, if ever there were such a smell-feast as Gnatho, who haunted men's tables where it cost him nought: furthermore, if there be no time or place, where in a man's tongue may be better permitted to say thus: 
Art thou disposed to boast, to crack and brave  
In measure? speak out hardly; good leave have.  than at a banquet, where commonly there is most liberty allowed and intermingled in all that is done and said, and every thing is well taken, as in mirth; how should a man behave and govern himself at such a place, who is not a lawful and natural bidden guest indeed; but as a man would say, a bastard and subreptitious crept in, and intruded I wot not how into a feast, without all order of inviting? for say that he do speak freely at the board, or say he do not, lie open he shall both for the one and the other, to the calumniations of them there present: neither is it a small inconvenience to be made, a mark for scurrile terms, and a mere laughing stock, namely; when a man putteth up, and endureth the base name of a shadow, and will be content to answer thereunto? for I assure you, to make small account of unseemly words, is the next way to lead men unto undecent and dishonest deeds, and to acquaint them therewith by little and little: wherefore when I invite others to a feast or supper unto mine own house, I allow them otherwhiles to bring their shadows with them (for the custom of a city is much, and may not well be broken) but surely, when I have myself been called upon, to go with others to a place where I am not bidden, I have ever yet denied, and could not for any thing be brought unto it. Upon which words ensued silence for a time, until Florus began again in this wise: Certes this second point is more difficult and doubtful than the other; for when we are to entertain strangers that be travelers (as hath been said before) we must of necessity invite them in this order: the reason is, because it were incivility and discourtesy, to part them and their friends in a strange place, whom they were wont to have about them; and again, it is no easy matter to know, whom a man hath in his company. See then (quoth I) whether they who have given liberty unto them that make a feast, thus to invite guests, that they may take others unto them (as you say) permit not them also whom they would bring, as their shadows, to obey, and so to come unto a feast; for it standeth not with honesty, to grant and give that, which is not meet for to demand or give; not in one word to solicit or exhort one to that, whereunto he would not willingly be solicited, either to do or give his consent: but as for great States and rulers, or strangers traveling by the way, there is no such inviting or choice to be made; for entertained they must be whom soever they bring with them: but otherwise, when one friend feasteth another, it were a more friendly and courteous part, for himself to bid the familiars or kinsfolk of his said friend, knowing them so well as he doth; for by this means greater honour he doth unto his friend, yea, and winneth more thanks at his hands again, when the party invited shall know that he loveth them best, that most willingly he desireth to have their company, as taking pleasure that they be honoured and entreated to come as well, for his sake; and yet for all this, it would otherwhiles be wholly referred unto his discretion that is bidden: like as those who sacrifice unto some one god, do honour likewise and make vows unto those who are partakers of the same temple and altar in common, although they name them not severally by themselves, ** For there is neither wine, dainty viands, nor sweet perfumes, that give such contentment and pleasure at a feast, as doth a man whom one loveth and liketh well of, sitting by his side or near unto him at the table: moreover, to ask and demand of the man himself, whom one would feast, what viands or what banqueting dishes or pastry works he loveth best; as also to seek and inquire of the diversity of wines and pleasant odours he delighted in, were a very uncivil and absurd part: but when a man hath many friends, many kinsfolks & familiars, to request such an one to bring with him those especially whose company he liketh best, & in whom he taketh greatest pleasure, is no absurdity at all, nor a thing that can be offensive: for neither to sail in one ship, nor to dwell in the same house, ne yet to plead in the same cause, with those whom we are not affected well unto, is so displeasant & odious, as to sit at a supper with them against whom our heart doth rise; and the contrary is as acceptable: for surely the table is a very communion and society of mirth and earnest, of words and deeds; and therefore if men would be merry there, and make good cheer, I see no need, that all manner of persons indifferently should meet, but those only who have some inward friendship, and private familiarity one with another: as for our meats and sauces that come up to the board, cooks I confess do make them of all manner of sapours, different as they be, mixing them together, and tempering, harsh, sour, mild, sweet, sharp, subtle, and biting, one with another: but a supper or feast, is nothing acceptable and contenting, unless it be composed of guests who are of the same humour and disposition: and for that, as the Peripatetic philosophers do affirm, that there is one Primum mobile, above, or principal mover in nature, which moveth only, and is not moved; and another thing beneath, and in the lowest place, which is moved only, and moveth not; but between these two extremities, there is a middle nature, that moveth one and is moved by another; even so, (say I) there is the same proportion among three sorts of men; the first of those who invite another; the second of such as are invited only; and the third of them that do invite others, and are invited themselves: and now because we have spoken already of the first and principal feastmaker, who inviteth, it were not a miss to say somewhat now of the other two folks: He then who is bidden, and yet hath leave to bid others; aught in great reason (as I think) to be careful and take heed, that he forbear to bring with him a great number or multitude, lest he should seem to make spoil of his friend's house, as of an enemy's territory, and as it were to forage there for all those that belong unto him; or to do as those who come to occupy and inhabit a new country, that is to say, by bringing with him so many of his own friends, disease, or at leastwise exclude and put by his guests, who invited him, and so by that means the masters of the feasts might be served as they are, who set forth suppers unto Hecate or Proserpina, and to those averruncan gods, or apotropaei, whom men call upon, not to do good, but to avert evil, for they themselves nor any of their house lick their lips with any jot of all that cheer; only they have their part of all the smoke and troubles belonging thereto: for otherwise they that allege unto us this common saying: 
At Delphi when one hath done sacrifice,  
Must buy his own viands, if he be wise.  speak it but merrily and by way of jest; but certainly it befalleth even so in good truth and earnest unto those who entertain either strangers or friends so rude and uncivil, who with a number of shadows, as if there were so many harpies or cormorants and greedy gulls, consumed and devoured all their provision: secondly, a friend that is himself solemnly invited, must be careful, that he take not with him, for to go unto another man's house, those that he first meeteth or that come next hand, but such especially, as he knoweth to be friends, and familiar acquaintance with the feastmaker, as if he strove a vie to prevent him in bidding of them; if not so, to have those with him, of his own friends, whom the master of the feast himself could have wished and made choice of, to have bidden; as for example, if he be a modest man and a civil, to sort him with modest and civil persons; if studious and learned, to furnish his table with students & good scholars; if he have been beforetime in authority, to fit him now with personages of power & authority; and in one word, to acquaint him with those, whom he knoweth he would be willing to salute, and entertain with speech and communication; for this is a wise kind of courtesy and great civility, to give unto such a parsonage occasion and means, to salute, embrace, and make much of them: whereas he who cometh to a feast with such about him as have no conformity at all unto the feastmaker, but seem mere aliens and strangers; as namely, with great drunkards, to a sober man's house; to a man that is a good husband, wary, and thrifty in his expenses, with a sort of dissolute ruffians and swaggering companions; or unto a young gentleman, that loveth to drink heartily, to laugh, to jest, and to be merry, with grim sires, and severe ancients, such as in their talk are grave, and by their long beards, may be taken for sages and profound clerks; such an one (I say) is a very absurd fellow, thus to requite the hospital courtesy of his friend, with such impertinent incongruity: for he that is invited, must be as careful to please the first inviter, as the feastmaker, his guest; and then acceptable shall he be and welcome indeed, if not himself only, but those also who come with him or for the love of him, be of good carriage and lovely behaviour. As for the third person, who remaineth to be spoken of, to wit, who is bidden and brought in by another; if he take pepper in the nose, and can not abide to be called a shadow; certainly he is afraid of his own shadow: but in this case, there would be very great circumspection had; for it is no point of honesty and good manners, to be soon entreated, and ready to follow every one indifferently at his call; considered it would be, and that not slightly, what he is who moveth thee to go with him to such a feast; for if he be not a very familiar friend, but one of these rich magnificoes and portly personages, who would (as it were upon a scaffold) make a show unto the world of a number of favourites and followers to guard and attend him at his heels; or such an one as would seem to do much for thee, or to grace and honour thee greatly by taking thee in this order with him, thou oughtest flatly to deny him, and refuse such courtesy: well, say that he be a friend and familiar person, yet must not thou by and by for all that, be ready and obey, but then only, when there is some necessary occasion for to commune or speak with the master of the feast or with the other party, and that otherwise thou cannest meet with no good opportunity for to do it; or if he be newly returned from some long voyage, when he hath been a great time away, or else about to depart, and so seem (for very good will) desirous of thy company at supper; or if it appear that he meaneth not to take with him many, nor those strangers and unknowen, but either thyself alone, or others some few others of his familiars; or after all these considerations, if thou mayest perceive, that by this occasion and opportunity of thy company, he doth practise to contract some beginning of farther acquaintance, friendship and amity, and namely, if he be reputed an honest man, and worthy to be loved and regarded, who thus is desirous of thy company, and earnest with thee to go with him; for wicked and lewd persons, the more they seem to clasp and take hold, and hang upon us, the more we ought to shake them off as burrs, or else to leap over them as briars and brambles: nay, admit that they be honest enough, who would have our company, and bring us to a man that is is not honest, we ought not to go with them, lest we chance to take poison with honey, that is to say, get the acquaintance of a naughty man, by the means of an honest minded friend: moreover, absurd it is, to go unto a man's house whom we know not at all, or with whom we never had any manner of dealing and acquaintance, unless he be a parsonage of great mark for singular virtue, as we have before said, or that this occasion may serve as a foundation or groundwork of some farther love and amity; for than it were not amiss to be easily entreated, and to go willingly without any ceremonial complement unto him, under the wing and shadow of another. As for those who be already our familiars, unto such above all others we may be bold to go at the motion of another; for by that means we give reciprocal liberty and leave unto them for to repair likewise unto us at the request of others. There was one Philip indeed, a buffoon and scurrile jester, who was wont to say: That to go unto a feast, formally invited, was simply more ridiculous, than to come as a shadow by the bidding of another: but in truth, more honourable and pleasant it is for honest men and good friends, to resort unto their friends, who be likewise honest and virtuous, in seasonable time (without being invited or expected) with other friends; for thereby they both rejoice the heart of those that entertain them, and do honour unto such as bring them: but above all, most undecent it is, to go unto princes, rulers, rich men and great States, when we are not invited by themselves, but brought by others; for in any case avoid we must, the imputation and note not undeserved, of impudency, incivility, want of good manners, or ambitious insolence.   

THE SEVENTH QUESTION.  
Whether it be a lawful and decent thing, to admit minstrell-wenches to a feast, for to play and sing?  
IN our city Chaeronea, there was held a great discourse one day at the table, where Diogenianus the Pergamian was present, as touching the eare-sports which were to be admitted at a banquet; and much ado we had to defend ourselves, and to confute a long bearded philosopher that was there, one of the Stocicks sect forsooth, who alleged against us, Plato, blaming and condemning those who brought into their feasts, minstrell-wenches, to pipe and sing, and to be heard, as if they were not able themselves to entertain good speeches one with another; and yet present there was, a scholar, out of the same school, Philip a Prusian, who said: That such personages were not to be named in this question, who are brought in as speakers at Agathons' board, for that their speeches sounded more sweetly and melodiously, than all the flutes and cithrons in the world: no marvel it was therefore, that these minstrels had no audience at such a feast, but rather, that the guests sitting there at the table, forgot not altogether to eat and drink, for the great pleasure and contentment which they took in hearing such discourses. And yet Xenophon was not ashamed to endure in the presence of Socrates, Antisthenes, and other such personages, a pleasant conceited jester named Philippus; no more than Homer to teach men: That an onion was a good fauce to draw on wine: And Plato having inserted in manner of an interlude or comedy within his Banquet, the speech of Aristophanes as touching love: at the last setting as it were the back doors of the hall wide open, brings in a pageant, fuller of variety and vanity than all the rest, to wit, Alcibiades little better than drunk, crowned with chaplets and garlands of flowers, and marching in a mask or mummery: then follow the altercations and debates with Socrates as touching Agathon, and that encomiasticall praise of Socrates (o blessed saint Charites!) that even Apollo himself (were it lawful so to say) if he had entered in place with his harp ready strung and tuned for to play, the company would have requested him to stay his hand, until the foresaid speech had been finished and brought to an end: And did these personages indeed (quoth he) notwithstanding they had so great grace in their discourses, use nevertheless these pleasant sports and pastimes between, garnishing their feasts therewith, and all to make the company to laugh and be merry? And shall we being intermingled with persons managing affairs of State, with merchants, occupiers, and with many (it may so fall out) altogether unlettered, and some what rustical, banish out of our feasts and banquets this amiable delight and pastime; or else rise from the table and be gone, as if we would fly from such sirens as soon as ever we see them coming? It was thought a strange and wonderful matter in Clitomachus the campion and professor of performing games of prize; that so soon as ever there was any talk begun of love matters, he would leave the company and depart: and when a grave philosopher avoideth the sound of the flute, and goeth out of the feast, and as if he were afraid of a minstrel wench, preparing herself to sound and sing, 
* For they sat upon pallets and beds at meat, and did off their shoes for the time.  putteth on his shoes, and calleth incontinently to his page for to light his torch; shall he not in so doing be thought worthy to be hissed at, and laughed of every one, for taking offence, and abhorring these harmless pleasures; like as these bettils which fly from perfumes and sweet odours? For if there be any time or place allowed for these disports, it is at feasts and banquets principally: Then (I say) and there are we to give our minds to such delights; all while we sacrifice unto Bacchus: For mine own part Euripides, howsoever otherwise he pleaseth me very well, doth not satisfy me herein, when he ordaineth as touching music, that transferred it should be from feasts and banquets, unto sorrows and pensive sadness: for in these cases, there would be some good, sober and wise remonstrance at hand (like as a physician with sick folk) to help all: but otherwise we are to mingle these delights of music with the gifts of Bacchus, in manner of a sport and recreation: Certes a pretty speech it was of a Lacedaemonian, who being at Athens one time, when new tragedies were to be acted, and the authors of them to contend for the best game; seeing the sumptuous furniture and provision of those who were the masters of the revils, and such pastimes, together with the painful labour in teaching and prompting of parts, and what ado there was in ordering of the dances and shows thereto belonging: whiles one strove to go beyond another: Oh, what a foolish city is this (quoth he) to employ so much travel and serious study in idle plays and disports! For to say a truth, when we are at our plays, we must do nothing else but play, and not to buy so dear (with such cost and dispenses, yea, and with the loss of time, which were better bestowed about other good affairs) an idle sport: marry at the table, when our spirit is sequestered from other business, we may taste a little of such delights, and in the mean while, consider withal, what profit such solace may afford.   

THE EIGHTH QUESTION.  
What Acroames or Ear-sports, are especially to be used at supper time?  
WHen these words had passed, the sophister abovesaid, would gladly have replied again: but I for to interrupt and stay his speech, began first and said: Nay rather Diogenianus, I think it better to consider upon this point; that seeing there be many eare-delights to content our hearing, which of them is most meet and fit? and if you think so good, let us refer the matter to this wise man here in place, and request him to give his judgement: for being as he is, inflexible, and a man subject to no passions, we shall never need to fear that he will so much trip, as to prefer a thing that is more pleasant, before that which is better. Then he at the request and exhortation of Diogenianus and us, without any delay: As for other pastimes (quoth he) at theatres, exhibited upon the stage and scaffold of players and dancers, I reject and banish them all; only I admit one kind of sport to delight the ear, which not long since came to be taken up at Rome, in feasts and banquets, and it is not yet divulged abroad in every place: For you know well (quoth he) that among the dialogues of Plato, some there be which contain a continued narration, of a thing done or said, others again consist of certain devised personages, talking and discoursing together: of these personal dialogues, those that be easiest; children use to learn, and con them without book, together with expressing the gestures agreeable to the quality, manners, and nature of the persons, who are feigned and brought in; a confirmation also and framing of the voice, yea, and a countenance and disposition every way answerable to the words that they pronounce: this manner of pastime hath been wonderfully well accepted among grave persons, and men of honour; but such as be effeminate or have dainty & delicate ears, by reason that they are rude, illiterate, and ignorant what is good and honest; and who, as Aristoxenus was wont to say, will be ready to cast up their gorge, and vomit yellow choler, when they hear any good harmony, mislike them and would not abide the hearing: and I would not marvel verily, if they reject and condemn them utterly, being so possessed with womanish daintiness. Philip then perceiving some there in place, not to take these words well: Stay there (quoth he) my good friend, and forbear in this wise to rail upon us, for we were the first, who were offended with this manner and fashion, when it began at Rome, yea, & we reproved those who would have Plato serve the turn, for to make folk merry at the board; and laboured all they could, that Plato's dialogues forsooth should be rehearsed and heard, amid tarts, marchpanes, comfitures, and sweet perfumes: considering, that if some verses of Sapph, or Anacreon's odes should be rehearsed: Methinks I ought for very shame and reverence, set the cup down out of my hand, if I were about to drink: many more things to this effect I have in my head, which I am afraid to utter for fear I might be thought of purpose to make head, and to dispute against you: and therefore to this friend here of ours, together with the cup as you see, I give the charge, for to wash a saltish ear (as they say) with potable liquor of pleasant speech: then Diogenianus receiving the cup at his hand: But (quoth he) I hear no other yet but all good sober speeches; so that it seemeth that the wine doth not work in our heads, nor overcome our brains; and I fear me, that I myself shall be capitulated and articled against; howbeit, if I must speak my mind, I am of opinion, that many of these matters which are presented unto our ears, for to tickle and please them, aught to be cut off; and namely, tragedies above all others, as being a thing (iwis) not very well befitting a feast, for that it speaketh in too grave and base a voice, representing beside, such arguments and acts, as move the hearers to pity and compassion. I reject also, out of our dances, that which is called Pyladion, as being overstately, and too full of pomp, exceeding pathetical beside, and requiring many persons and actors: but if we may admit any of those country kinds, which Socrates recounteth, when he speaks of dances, I receive that which is called Bathyllion, which of itself beareth a lower port, and soundeth much like to the rustic dance, called Cordax, or resembling Echo Pan, or some Satire dancing amorously and wanton with Cupid: as for the comedy, that which was called Vetus, that is to say, the ancient kind first used, it sorteth not well with the table, nor would be acted before men when they be drinking and merry, in regard of the inequality thereof: for that earnestness and liberty of speech, used in those glancing digressions, called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is too free and over vehement; also, the facility and readiness to scoff, flout and jibe, is too rise and common, over-broad and plain beside, full of undecent and unhonest verbs, and as full of filthy and lascivious nouns. Moreover, like as at the feasts of great princes and potentates, there standeth always waiting by every one of them that sit at the board, a cuppe-bearer, to give him drink when he calleth for it; even so there had need to be some Grammarian or other at band continually, for to expound ever and anon, the meaning of diverse terms used in these comedies, to wit, what signifieth in Eupolis the poet, this word Laesmodias; also, what the poet Plato means by Cinesias, in his comedies; and what is meant by Lampon, in Cratinus; likewise one or other for the purpose, to give the hearers to understand, who they be whom the actors let fly their scurrile scoffs at: so that by this means, our feast must be like a Grammar school, or else all the frumps and mocks that be flung and discharged, will light in vain, and lose their grace, for want of being understood. But to come unto the new comedy, what should a man say any thing of it but this, that it is so incorporate in feasts and banquets, that a man may better make a supper without wine, that without Menander? for why? the phrase or manner of speech in these comedies is sweet, pleasant, and familiar, the matter such, as neither can be despised of the sober, nor offensive to the drunken; beside, the virtuous and sententious sayings therein, delivered in simple and plain terms, run so smooth, that they are able to soften and make pliable every way, the 〈◊〉 and hardest natures that be, by the means of wine, like as bars of iron in the fire, and to reduce them to humanity. To be short, the temperature throughout of mirth and gravity together, is such, as it seemeth that this comedy was devised first for nothing else, but both to pleasure and profit those who had taken their wine liberally, and were now well disposed to mirth: moreover, even the amatorious objects therein presented, are not without a singular use and benefit, for those who being already set in an heat with wine, are within a while after to go to bed and sleep with their wedded wives: neither shall you find among all his comedies, as many as he hath written, any filthy love of a young fair boy; and as for the deflowering of young 〈◊〉 and virgins, about which there is such ado in his comedies, they ordinarily do end in marriages and all parties be pleased. As touching the love of harlots and professed courtesans, if they be proud, disdainful and presumptuous queans, certainly our wanton affection that way, is well cooled and daunted, by certain chastisements or repentances of young men, who are represented in these comedies, to come again unto themselves, and acknowledge their follies; but as for those kind harlots, which are of good natures, and for their parts do answer again in true love, either you shall have in the end their own fathers found, who may provide them husbands, or else there is some measure of time set out for to gauge their love, which at the last, after a certain revolution and course run, turneth unto civil and bashful behaviour. I know well, that all these matters and observations, unto those who are otherwise occupied and busied in affairs, be of no importance; but at a table, where men are set of very purpose to be merry and to solace themselves, I would wonder, if their dexterity, delight, and good grace, doth not bring with it some amendment and ornament into the minds and conditions of those who take heed unto them, yea, and imprint a certain zeal and emulation, to frame and conform themselves unto those that be honest and of the better sort.  
At these words, Diogenianus paused a while, were it for that he had made an end of his speech, or to take his wind, and breath himself a little: and when the sophister began to reply and came upon him again, saying, that in his opinion there should have been some places and verses recited out of Aristophanes. Philip speaking unto me by name: This man (quoth he) hath his desire satisfied, now that he hath so well recommended his friend Menander, in whom he taketh so great delight, and in comparison of whom, he seemeth to have no care nor regard at all of any other: but there remain yet, many other matters, which we are wont to hear for our pleasure, which hitherto have not been examined; and yet very willing I am, to hear some discourse of them: as for the pretty works of imagers, who cut out & grave small living creatures, if it please this stranger here & Diogenianus, we will put over the controversy & the decision thereof until to morrow morning, when we are more sober. Then began I to speak, and said: There be yet, other kind of sports and plays, named Mimi, of which, some they call Hypotheses, as it were moralities and representations of histories; others, Paegnta, that is to wit, ridiculous fooleries; but neither of them both, do I take meet for a banquet; the former, both because they require so long time in the acting, and also, for that they require so costly furniture and preparation; the other, are too full of ribaudry, of filthy and beastly speeches, not well beseeming the mouths of pages and lackeys, that carry their master's slippers and pantofles after them, especially, if their masters be honest and wise men: and yet many there are, who at their feasts, where their wives sit by their sides, and where their young children be present, cause such foolish acts and speeches to be represented, as trouble the spirits and disorder the passions of the mind more, than any drunkenness whatsoever. But for the play of the harp, which is of so great antiquity, and ever since before Homer's time, hath been a familiar friend and companion with feasts, and always entertained there, it were not meet nor honest for to dissolve that ancient friendship, and of so long continuance; but we would request those minstrels that play and sing to the harp, to take out of their songs those doleful plaints, dumps, and sorrowful lamentations, which be so ordinary in them, and to chant pleasant ditties and fresh galliards, meet for those who are met to be merry and jocund. Moreover, as touching the flute and hautboys, they will not be kept out, do what a man will, from the table; for if we do but offer our libations, by pouring out wine in the honour of the gods, we must needs have our pipes, or else all were marred, yea, and chaplets of flowers upon our heads; and it seemeth that the gods themselves do sing thereto and accord: moreover, the sound of the flute doth dulce the spirits, it entereth into the ears with so mild and pleasant a tune, that it carrieth with it a tranquility and pacification of all motions, even unto the soul, in such sort, that if there did remain in the understanding and mind, any grief, any care or anxiety, which the wine had not discussed and chased away, by the gracious and amiable noise thereof, and the voice of the musician singing thereto, it quieteth it, and bringeth it asleep: provided always, that this instrument keep a mean and mediocrity, so that it move not the soul too much, and make it passionate, with so many tunes and notes that it hath, at what time as the said soul is so drenched and wrought soft with wine, that it is ready to be affected therewith: for like as sheep and other cattle, understand not any articulate language of a man, carrying a sense and understanding therewith; howbeit, with certain whistels or chirts, done by lips or hands, or with the sound of some pipe or shell, the shepherds and other herdmen can tell how to raise them, or make them lie down and couch; even so, the brutish part of our soul, which hath no understanding, nor is capable of reason, may be appeased, ranged and disposed as it ought to be, by songs and sounds, by measures, tunes and notes, as if it were charmed and enchanted by them: but to speak what I think, this is my conceit, that neither sound of flute, nor lute and harp, by itself, without man's voice and song to it, can make merry the company met together at a feast, so much as a good speech, well and properly fitted; for so we must accustom ourselves in good earnest, to take our principal pleasure and delight in speech, and to spend the most part of that time in discourse and communication: as for song and harmome, we are to make (as it were) a sauce to our speech, not to lick them up and swallow them down alone by themselves: for like as no man will reject and refuse the pleasure that cometh by wine & viands taken for the necessity of our nouriture, and bringing therewith commodity of our health; but that which entereth by sweet scents and perfumes is not necessary, but superfluous & delicate, Socrates sent away (as it were) with a box of the ear; even so we ought not to hear the sound of a flute or psaltery, which striketh and beateth upon our ears only, but if it follow or accompany our speech, which doth feast and exhilarat the reason that is in our soul, we may well admit and receive the same. And verily, for mine own part, I think, that the reason why in old time Apollo punished that presumptuous Marsyas, was this, that when he had closed up his mouth with his pipe and muzzle together, he presumed to contend and strive (having nothing but the bare sound of the naked flute) against him, who together with the sound of the harp, had the song also and music of the voice: let us therefore in this one thing especially, beware and take heed, that in the company of those men, who by their speech and learned discourses are able to delight and pleasure one another, we bring not in any such thing to enter in at their ears, which may be an impeachment and hindrance rather of their delight, than a delectation itself: for not only they be foolish and ill advised, as Euripides saith: 
Who having of their own at home enough themselves to save,  
Will seek else where, and from abroad, their remedy to have.  but also, that they being provided sufficiently of means in themselves, to make their recreations of, and to solace their hearts, labour nevertheless all that ever they can, to have their delights from others. For the magnificence of that great king of Persia, wherewith he meant to entertain Antalcides the Lacedaemonian, seemed (I assure you) very gross, absurd and impertinent, namely, when he dipped and wet a chaplet of roses, saffron, and other odoriferous flowers, intermingled together, in a precious oil, and so sent it unto him, doing injury by that means to the flowers, and utterly quenching and marring that native beauty and fragrant sweetness of their own; semblably, no less absurdity it were, when a feast hath mirth and music enough in itself, to go about for to enchant and encharme it with other minstrelsy from abroad, and so for a strange and borrowed delight, to bereave the guests of their own and proper, and as one would say, change the principal for the accessory. I conclude therefore, that the fittest season for such amusement and occupying of the ears is, when the feast beginneth a little to grow turbulent, and to fall into some contentious debate and brawl, by heat of opinionative arguing, for to allay and quench all, that it break not out, to opprobrious terms; or to repress a disputation, which is like to pass the bounds of reasoning, and to grow unto an unpleasant and sophistical alteration; yea, and to stay all litigious wrangling and vehement invectives, beseeming rather pleas at bar, or the orations in the public hall of a city, until such time as the banquer be reduced into the former calm and tranquility.   

THE NINTH QUESTION.  
That to consult at the table, while men are drinking wine, was an ancient custom among the Greeks as well as Persians.  
NIcostratus upon a time invited us to a supper; and when we were set, there arose some speech as touching certain matters, upon which the Athenians were the morrow after to sit in council, and to debate in a general assembly of the city: now, as one of our company cast out this word, and said: This is the Persian fashion, my masters, thus to consult and hold a council at the board. And why Persian rather than Grecian (quoth Glaucias?) for a Grecian I am sure he was, that said: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  That is to say, 
From belly full, best counsel doth arise,  
And surest plots men in that case devise.  And Greeks they were, who under the conduct of Agamemnon held Troy besieged; who as they were eating and drinking together, 
The good old Nestor first began,  
Wisely upon the point to scan.  who also was himself the author of this meeting, and advised the king to invite his nobles, and the principal captains of the army to a dinner, for to sit in counsel in these terms: 
Make now a feast, I you advise my lord,  
And bid your ancient peers; who when at board  
They be all set; mark who gives counsel best,  
Obey his reed, and see therein you rest.  And therefore the most nations of Greece which were ruled under the best laws, and most constantly retained their ancient ordinances and customs, laid the first foundation of their government and counsel of State upon wine: for those guilds and societies in Candy, which they called Andreia, as also the Phiditia in Sparta, were instituted and held for privy counsels and assemblies of senators; like unto that, if I be not deceived, which even in this city here of Athens goeth under the name of Prytaneion, and Thesmothesion; and not far different from these, in that night assembly of the principal personages, and most politic Statesmen whereof Plato speaketh in his books, unto which he referreth the causes and affairs of most importance, which require greatest consultation: those counsellors of State also in Homer: 
Who offer wine to Mercury, the last of others all,  
What time as now, bedtime it is, and them to sleep doth call.  do not they I pray you join wine and words together? when they are about therefore to depart, and retire themselves into their bedchambers, the first thing that they do, is to make their prayers, and power out their libations of wine, unto the wisest God of all others, as if he were present with them, and their superintendant to oversee them: but they who were indeed the most ancient of all others, called even Bacchus himself 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, a wise and prudent counsellor.  Eubulus, as if they had no need at all of Mercury, and in regard also of him, they attributed unto night the name of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, inventive or considerate.  Euphrone.   

THE TENTH QUESTION.  
Whether they did well who sat in consultation at the table?  
WHen Glaucias had spoken these words, we all thought that these turbulent and litigious debates had been well appeased and laid asleep; but to the end that they might so much the rather die and be buried in oblivion; Nicostratus provided another question and said: At the first (quoth he) I made no great matter of this custom, nor regarded it much, taking it to be a mere Persian fashion; but now seeing it is discovered to be an order also among the Greeks, requisite and necessary it is to render some reason thereof, for to defend it against an evident absurdity, which at the first sight presenteth itself; for that the discourse of reason in manner of the eye, is hardly to be governed by us, and untoward for to be brought to perform her work in a great quantity of moisture, and the same as yet stirring and waving: and beside, all odious griefs, which on every side appear and come forth to wine, like as snakes, lizards, and such like serpents, are brought to light and show themselves to the sun, cause the mind to be wavering, inconstant, and irresolute: as therefore a bed or pallet is better than a chair, for them that are disposed to drink and make merry, for that it containeth the body at full, and exempteth it from all manner of motion; even so the best way is, to keep the soul quiet and in repose altogether; and if that may not be, to do by it as men do by children that can rest and stand on no ground, but be evermore stirring; namely to give unto it, not a sword or a javelin, but a rattle or a ball, like as Bacchus putteth into the hands of drunken folk the ferula stalk (a most light weapon and instrument either to offend or defend withal) to the end that as they be readiest to strike, so they might be least able for to hurt: for the faults that be committed in drunkenness ought to pass lightly in mirth, and go away with a laughter, and not to be lamentable tragical, and bringing with them great calamities. Moreover, that which is the chief and principal thing in consultation of great affairs, to wit, that he who for want of wit and knowledge in the world, should follow the opinion of those who are of great conceit, deep judgement, and long experience, this means wine bereaveth us of; insomuch as it seemeth hereupon to have taken the name 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek; because as Plato saith, it causeth them drink it freely, 
* Wine of weening.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to have a good conceit and weening of themselves, as if they were very witty and wise: for how ever they take themselves to be eloquent, fair, or rich, as ordinarily they do all of them; yet they esteem better of their own wit and wisdom, than of any thing else: and this is the reason that wine is talkative and full of words; it filleth us with lavish speech, and the same unseasonable; yea, it maketh us to have a marvelous good opinion of ourselves in each respect, as if we were worthy to command and prescribe unto others, more meet to be heard than to hear, and fitter to lead and go before, than to follow & come after: But (quoth Glantias then) an easy matter it is for any man to collect and allege much tending unto this point, considering how evident and plain the thing is: it were good therefore to hear a discourse to the contrary, if haply any person, young or old, will stand up in defence of wine. Then our brother, full cunningly and slily, like a crafty sophister: Why (quoth he) think you that any man is able so presently and upon a sudden to devise and speak unto the question in hand, all that may be said probably thereto? And why (quoth Nicostratus) should not I so think, considering so many learned men in place, and those who love wine well enough? at which word the other smiled and said: Are you in deed sufficient, even in your own conceit, to discourse upon this point before us, and yet indisposed, and altogether unable to consider upon State matters, and affairs of government, because you have taken your wine well? and is not this all one, as to think that he who hath drunk freely, seeth well enough with his eyes, and howsoever he heareth not perfectly with his ears those whom he speaketh and talketh with, yet for all that he hath the perfect hearing of those who either sing or play upon the flute? for as it is likely, and standeth to great reason, that good and profitable things should affect and draw the outward senses more unto them, than those which are gaudy only and fine; even so no doubt, such matters make the mind also more intentive: and if a man for that he hath plied his drinking overmuch, cannot haply comprehend well the difficult subtleties of some high points in philosophy, I nothing marvel thereat; but if the question be of matters and affairs of State, great likelihood there is, that if he be called away thereto, he should gather his wits more close together, and be more vigorous; like as Philip king of Macedonia, who having played the fool, and made himself ridiculous at Chaeronea, after the battle there, both in word and deed, upon his liberal drinking, presently assoon as he fell to treaty of peace and articles of agreement, he composed his countenance to gravity, knit his brows, and cast behind him all vain fooleries, wanton gestures and unseemly behaviour, and so gave unto the Athenians a sober, discreet, and well advised answer. And verily one thing it is to drink well, and another thing to be stark drunk: such as be so far gone and overseen with drink, that they know not what they do or say, aught as we think, to take their beds and sleep; as for those who have taken their wine in deed too much, and be scarce sober (howbeit, otherwise men of wit and understanding) we shall never need to fear that they will fail in judgement, yea, and forget their experience, considering that we daily see these dancers, singers and minstrels perform their parts no worse at feasts, for all their liberal drinking, than in the public theatres: for the skill and knowledge, whereof they have gotten the habit, is evermore so present and ready with them, that it maketh their bodies active and nimble, able to perform those parts and functions directly, yea, and to answer the motions of the mind accordingly with confidence. Many there be also, in whose heads and hearts wine so worketh, that it putteth into them an assured boldness and resolution, which helpeth them much to the performance of any great actions, and the same is nothing insolent and outrageous, but mild and gracious. And thus we read of Aeschylus the poet, that he indited and wrote his tragedies, when he was thoroughly set in an heat with wine; in such sort, as that they all were conceived by the influence of Bacchus, and not as Gorgias saith, that one of them, and namely, the greatest (entitled, The seven princes before Thebes) was begotten (as it were) by Mars. For wine being of power to enchafe the body and mind both, according as Plato saith, causeth the body to be perspirable, quick and active, opening all the pores and passages thereof, giving way unto the fantasies and imaginations easily to run forth, drawing out together with them, the assurance of reason and boldness of speech: for you shall have men, whose invention naturally is good enough, in whom (when they be sober and fasting) the same is cold, timorous, and in manner frozen; let them once be well plied with wine, cup after cup, you shall see them evaporate and smoke out, like as frankincense doth by the heat of fire. Furthermore, the nature of wine, chaseth away all fear, which is as contrary unto those who sit in consultation, as any thing in the world; it quencheth also, many other base and vile passions, such as malice and rancour; it openeth the double plates and folds of the mind, displaying and discovering the whole disposition and nature of a man, by his very words; yea, it hath a virtue to give frank and liberal speech; and consequently, audacity to utter the truth; without which, neither experience nor quickness of wit availeth aught: for many there be, who putting in practice, and making use of that which cometh quickly into their heads, speed better, and have greater success, than those who warily, cautelously, and with much subtlety, seem to conceal and keep in that which presenteth itself unto them, and be very lateward in delivering their opinion: we are not therefore to fear wine in this regard, that it stirreth up the passions of the mind; for inciteth not the worst, unless it be in the wickeddest men, whose counsel is at no time sober: but as Theophrastus was wont to call barbers shops, dry banquets without wine; even so, there is a kind of winelesse drunkenness, and the same, sour and unpleasant, dwelling continually within the minds of men that be vicious and without good bringing up; troubled and vexed always with some anger, with grudge, malice, envy, emulation, contention, or illiberal baseness; of which vices, wine abating the edge of a great part, rather than sharpening them, maketh men not sottish fools, and blockish dolts, but ready and apt, and yet circumspect, cautelous, and wary; not supine and negligent in matters concerning their profit; but yet industrious, and making choice of that which is good and honest: but such as term wily-craftinesse, by the name of fine wit, and take erroneous opinion and mechanical nigardise, for wisdom, may even aswell and with as good reason say, that as many as when they be drinking at the table, speak their minds roundly, and utter with liberty what they think, be senseless fools: but chose, our ancients called Bacchus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which is as much to say, as Deliverer and Freer; being of opinion, that there was to be ascribed unto him, a great part of divination, not for that he was furious, raging & mad, as Euripides said, but because he delivereth the mind, and freeth it from all servile fear, diffidence and cowardice, giving us freedom and liberty to speak the truth, and use frankness of speech one to another.     

THE EIGHTH BOOK OF SYMPOSIAQUES OR TABLE-DISCOURSES.  

The Summarie.  
1 OF those days, upon which were borne certain not able and famous persons; and withal, as touching that progeny, which is said to descend from the gods.  
2 In what sense Plato said, that God always exerciseth Geometry.  
3 What is the reason that sounds be more audible in the night, than in the day.  
4 What is the cause that of the sacred games, some have this garland, and others that, but all, the date-tree branch; as also, why the great dates be called Nicolai.  
5 Wherefore they that sail upon the river Nilus, draw up water for their use, before it be day.  
6 Of those that come late to supper; and therewith, whereupon came these names of refections, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
7 Of certain Pythagorean precepts, by which for bidden we are to entertain swallows within our houses; and when we are newly risen out of our beds, to ruffle the clothes.  
8 What might be the motive that induced the Pythagoreans among all other living creatures, to abstain most from fish.  
9 Whether it be possible, that by our meats there should be engendered new diseases.  
10 What is the cause that we take least heed of our dreams in Autumn.   

THE EIGHTH BOOK OF Symposiaques or table-discourses.  

The Proëme.  
THey that chase philosophy out of feasts and banquets (o Sossius Senecio) do not the same, but worse far, than those who take away the light from thence; for that when the lamp is gone, such persons as be made temperate and well disposed, will be nothing the worse therefore, making as they do, more account of a reverend regard, than of the mutual sight one of another: whereas, if rudeness, ignorance and lewdness be joined with wine, the very golden lamp of Minerva, if it were there, could not possibly make the feast or banquet lovely, gracious, modest, and well ordered: for that men should feed and fill themselves together in silence, without a word saying, were the fashion that savoured very much of still swine at their draff, and perhaps a thing impossible: but whosoever reserveth speech in a feast, and withal, admitteth not the wise and profitable use thereof, is more worthy to be laughed at, than he who thinketh verily, that guests should be ever eating and drinking at a supper, but not filleth unto them, wine undelaied, unseasoned, and which is mere of itself; or setteth before them, viands unseasoned, without salt or sauce, and the same not cleanly dressed; for that there is no meat or drink so unsavoury, unpleasant and hurtful, for want of good and orderly handling, as words carried unseemly, and without discretion, at a banquet: which is the reason, that philosophers when they reprove drunkenness, call it a doting by wine; and surely, this dotage is no other thing, but raving or vain, foolish and undiscreet using of words: now when disordinate babbling and foolish talk, meeteth once with wine in a banquet, it can not choose but the issue thereof will be reproachful contumely, insolency, brainsick folly and villainy, which of all others, is a most unpleasant end, and farthest from all muses and graces: and therefore it is no foolish ceremony and absurd fashion, which the women in our country observe at their feasts called Agronia, where they make semblance for a while, as if they sought for Bacchus, being fled out of the way, but afterwards give over seeking, and say that he is gone away, and run to the muses, and there lurketh, and lieth hidden among them: and anon, when supper is ended, they use to put forth dark riddles, and propose questions one to another, hard to be solved: the mystery whereof, teacheth us thus much, that both we, ought at the table, to use such speech as doth contain some good learned speculation and erudition; and also, that when those discourses are joined with wine and drunkenness, than they be the muses who hide and cover all furious outrage and enormity, which also is willing to be detained and kept by them.   

THE FIRST QUESTION.  
As touching those days which are ennobled by the nativity of some renowned persons; and withal of that pragenie or race which is said to be derived from the gods.  
THis book then, which is the eighth in order of our symposlaques or discourses at the table, shall contain in the first place, that which not long since we chanced to hear and speak, that day whereon we celebrate the feast of Plato's nativity: for having solemnised the birth day of Socrates upon the sixth of February; the morrow after, which was the seventh of that month, we did the like by Plato; which gave us occasion, and ministered matter first to enter into a discourse fitting the occurrence of these two nativities; in which Diogenianus the Pergamian, began first in this manner; jon the poet (quoth he) said not amiss of fortune, that being as she was, different from wisdom in many things, yet she brought forth effects not a few like unto her; and as for this, it seemeth that she hath caused it to fall out very well and fitly, and not without some skill, (rash though she be otherwise) not only for that these two birth-days jump so near one unto the other, but also because, that of the master who of the twain more ancient, cometh also in order before the other. Whereupon it came into my head also to allege many examples of occurrents happening likewise at one and the same time; and namely, as touching the birth and death of Euripides, who was borne that very day whereon the Greeks fought the naval battle of Solamis at sea with the king of Persia, and whose fortune it was to die the same day that Denys the elder tyrant of Sicily was borne; as if fortune of purpose (as Timaeus saith) had taken out of the world a poet, who represented tragical calamities, the very same day that she brought into the world the actor thereof. Mention also was made of the death of king Alexander the Great, which fell out just upon the same day that Diogenes the Cynic philosopher departed this life: and by one general voice accorded it was, that king Attalus left his life, the very day that he celebrated the memorial of his nativity: and some there were who said, that Pompey the Great died in Egypt, the same day of the year that he was born; though others affirmed that it was one day sooner: semblably, there came into our remembrance at the same time Pindarus, who being borne during the solemnity of the Pythicke games, composed afterwards many hymns in the honour of that god, for whom those games were solemnised. Then Florus said, that Carneades was not unworthy to be remembered upon the day of Plato's nativity, considering he was one of the most famous pillars that supported the school of Academy; and both of them were borne at the festival times of Apollo; the one in Athens, what time as the feast Thargelia was holden; and the other, that very day when as this Cyrenians solemnised it, which they call Carnea; and both of them fell out just upon the seventh day of February; on which day you my masters, who are the prophets and priests of Apollo, do say that himself was borne, and therefore you call him Hebdomagenes: neither do I think, that they who attribute unto this God, the fatherhood of Plato, do him any dishonour, in that he hath begotten and provided for us a physician, who by the means of the doctrine of Socrates, even another Chrion, cureth and healeth the greater infirmities and more grievous maladies of the soul. Moreover, it was not forgotten, how it was held for certain, that Apollo appeared in a vision by night, unto Ariston the father of Plato, and a voice beside was heard, forbidding him expressly not to lie with his wife, nor to touch her for the space of ten months. Hereupon Tyndares' the Lacedaemonian seconded these words, and said, that by good right we were to sing and say thus of Plato: 
He seemed not the son of mortal wight;  
Some god for sire, he may avouch by right.  Howbeit, for my part, I am afraid, that to beget repugneth no less with the immortality of the deity, than to be begotten; for surely, even the act of generation, implieth also a mutation and passion: and king Alexander the Great signified no less one time, when he said, that he knew himself principally to be mortal and subject to corruption, by having company with a woman, & by his sleep: for that sleep is occasioned by a relaxation proceeding from feebleness: and as for all generation, performed it is by the passage of some portion of ones self into another; and so much therefore is lost & gone from the principal: and yet on the other side, I take heart again, and am confirmed, when I hear Plato himself to call the eternal God, who never was borne nor begotten, Father and Creator of the world, and of other things generable; not that God doth engender after the manner of men, by the means of natural seed; but by another power doth ingenerate and infuse into matter, a virtue generative, and a principle, which altereth, moveth, and transmuteth the same: 
For even by winds that female birds inspire,  
Conceived they be, when they to breed desire.  Neither do I think it any absurdity, that a god companying with a woman, not as man, but after another sort of touching & contractation, and by other means, altereth and replenisheth her, being a mortal creature, with divine and heavenly seed: And this is (quoth he) no invention of mine: for the Egyptians hold that their Apis is in that manner engendered by the light of the moon, striking upon his dam, whereby she is conceived; and generally they admit thus much, that a god of the male sex, may deal with a mortal woman: but chose, they think not that a mortal man is able to give unto any goddess the beginning of conception or birth; for they are of opinion, that the substance of these goddesses, consisteth in a certain air, and spirits, yea and in certain heats and humours.   

THE SECOND QUESTION.  
How Plato is to be understood, when he saith: That God continually is exercised in Geometry.  
AFter these words, there ensued some silence for a while; and than Diogenianus beginning again to speak: How think you masters (quoth he) are you contented & well pleased, considering that we have had some speech already of the gods, and that on the day wherein we solemnize the nativity of Plato, that we make him partaker also of our conference, and take occasion thereby, to consider upon what intention and in what sense hehath said, that God continually practiseth Geometry, at leastwise if we may presuppose and set down, that he it was who was the author of this sentence: Then said I: Written it is not in any place of all his books; howbeit, held to be a saying of his, and it savoreth much of his style and manner of phrase. Whereupon Tyndares' immediately taking the words out of his mouth: Think you (quoth he) o Diogenianus, that this sentence covertly and in mystical terms, signifieth any dark subtlety, and not the very same, which Plato himself hath both said and written in praising and magnifying Geometry, as being the thing which plucketh those away who are fastened unto sensible objects, and averteth them to the consideration of such natures, as be intelligible and eternal; the contemplation whereof is the very end of philosophy, even as the view and beholding of secret sacred things, is the end of religious mysteries: for the nail of pleasure and pain, which fasteneth the soul unto the body, among other mischiefs that it doth unto man, worketh him this displeasure as it should seem above all, that it causeth sensible things to be more evident unto him, than intellectual, and forceth his understanding to judge by passion more than by reason: for being accustomed by the sense and feeling of extreme pain, or exceeding pleasure of the body, to be intentive unto that wandering, uncerteine, and mutable nature of the body, as seeming a thing subsistent, blinded he is, and loseth altogether the knowledge of that which is essential indeed, and hath a true being, foregoing that light and instrument of the soul, which is better than ten thousand bodily eyes, and by which organ alone, he might see the deity and divine nature: for so it is, that all other sciences which we name mathematical, as in so many mirrors, not twining and warping, but plain, smooth, and even, there appear the very tracts, prints, and images of the truth of things intelligible: but Geometry especially which Philo calleth the mother city, and mistress commanding all the rest, doth divert and gently withdraw by little and little, the mind purified & cleansed from the cogitation of sensual things: and this is the reason that Plato himself reproved Eudoxus, Architas, and Menaechmus, who went about to reduce the duplication of the cube or solid square into mechanical instruments, and artificial engines, as if it had not been possible, (if a man would set unto it) by demonstration of reason to find out and comprehend, two middle lines proportional; for he objected unto them: That this was as much as to destroy and overthrow the best thing in Geometry, when by this means they would have her turn back again unto sensible things, and keep her from mounting up aloft, and embracing those eternal and incorporal images; upon which God being continually intentive, is therefore always God.  
After Tyndares', Florus a familiar friend of his, and one who made semblant always by way of sport and gave it out in word, that he was timorous of him: Well done of you (quoth he) in that you would not have this speech to be your own, but a common saying of every man, and you would seem to argue and prove, that Plato showeth how Geometry is not necessary for the gods, but for men: for God hath no need of any mathematical science, as an engine or instrument to turn him from things engendered, and to bring about and direct his intelligence and understanding unto those that be of an eternal essence: For why? In him, with him, and about him they be all: but take heed rather, & see whether Plato hath not covertly under these dark words lisped and signified somewhat that is pertinent and proper unto you, which you have not marked and observed, in that he joineth Lycurgus with Socrates, no less than Pythagoras, as Dicaearchus was of opinion: for Lycurgus as you know very well, chased out of Lacedaemon, arithmetical proportion as a popular thing, turbulent and apt to make commotions; but he brought in the Geometrical, as befitting the civil and modest government of some few wise sages, and a lawful royalty and regal dominion: for the former giveth equally unto all according to number; but the other unto every one, by reason and with regard of desert and worthiness; this proportion (I say) maketh no confusion of all together, but in it there is an apparent discretion and distinction between the good and the bad, dealing always unto every one their own, not by the balance or lot, but according to the difference of vice and virtue: God therefore useth this proportion, and applieth it unto things: and the same it is (my good friend Tyndares') which is called Dice and Nemesis; teaching us there by, that we ought to make of justice, equality, and not of equality, justice; for the equality which the common sort seeketh after, and is indeed the greatest injustice that may be, God taketh out of the world, and as much as possibly may be, observeth that which is fit and meet for every one according to desert and worthiness, going herein Geometrically to work, by reason and law defining and distributing accordingly.  
When we had praised this exposition and interpretation of his, Tyndares' said: That he envied such commendation, exhorting Autobulus to set against Florus, to confute him, and correct that which he had delivered. That he refused to do; howbeit, he opposed and brought forth a certain opinion and conceit of his own: Thus it is (quoth he) Geometry is not a speculative skill of men's manners and behaviour, nor yet occupied about any subject matter whatsoever, but the symptoms, accidents, and passions of those extremities or terms which accomplish bodies: neither hath God by any other means framed and made the world, but only by determining or making finite that matter which was infinite in itself, not in regard of quantititie, greatness, and multitude; but for that being as it was, inconstant, wandering, disorderly, and unperfect, our ancients were wont to call it infinite, that is to say, undetermined and unfinished: for the form and figure is the term or end of every thing that is form and shapen; the want whereof made it of itself to be shapeless and disfigured: but after that numbers and proportions come to be imprinted upon the rude and formelesse matter, then being tied and bound (as it were) first with lines, and after lines, with superficies and profundities, it brought forth the first kinds and differences of bodies, as the foundation and groundwork for the generation of air, earth, water, and fire: for impossible it had been, and absurd, that of matter so wandering, so errant, and disorderly, there should arise equalities of sides, and similitudes of angles, in those solid square bodies, which were called Octaedra and Eicosaedra, that is to say, with eight and twenty bases: likewise in pyramidals and cubes, unless there had been some workman to limit, ordain, and dispose every thing Geometrically; thus a limit or term being given unto that which was infinite; all things in this universal world, composed, ordered, and contempered accordingly in excellent manner, were first and made, and are made now every day; notwithstanding the said matter striveth and laboureth daily to return unto her infinite estate, as very loath and refusing to be thus geometrized, that is to say, reduced to some finite and determinate limits; whereas reason on the contrariside, restraineth and comprehendeth her; distributing her into diverse Ideas, from which all things which are engendered, take their generation and constitution.  
He had no sooner thus said, but he requested me to contribute somewhat also of mine own unto this discourse and question in hand: but I for my part, commended highly their opinions, thus delivered, as being naturally and directly devised by themselves and their own proper inventions, saying withal: That they carried with them sufficient probability: But for that (quoth I) you should not be displeased and offended with yourselves, nor altogether have your eye abroad and look unto others, listen and hear what meaning and interpretation of the said sentence, was most approved unto our masters and teachers: for there is among the propositions, or positions rather, and theorems geometrical, one above the rest, to wit; When two forms or figures are given and put down, to set a third thereto, equal to the one, and semblable to the other; for the invention whereof, it is said, that Pythagoras sacrificed unto the gods: for this Theoreon without all doubt is more gallant, witty, and learned, than that, by which he did demonstrate, and prove that the slope line Hypotinusa, availeth as much as the two laterales, which make a right angle in a triangle: Well said of you (quoth Diogenianus) but what serveth this for the matter now in question? You shall understand soon (quoth I) in case you will call to memory that division in Timaeus, whereas the philosopher made a tripartite distribution of those principles, whereby the world had the beginning of generation; of which, the one he called by a most just name, God; the second Matter; and the third Form or Idea: So the matter of all subject things is most disordinate; the Idea of all moulds and patterns, most beautiful; but God of all causes simply the best: Thus would not he admit, or leave any thing, as far forth as possibly might otherwise be, infinite and undeterminate; but adorn nature with proportion, measure, and number, making of all subjects one thing, in quantity equal to the matter, & in quality semblable to the form, setting therefore before him this proposition, having already twain, a third to it he made, doth make and preserve for ever, equal to the matter, & semblable to the form, to wit, the world; which being always in regard of that inbred necessity of a body, subject to generation, alteration, & all kinds of passion, is aided and succoured by the creator and father thereof, who determineth the substance by reason of just proportion, according to the image of the patron, whereby the pourprise and circuit of this universal world is more beautiful, being thus vast and great, than if it had been less and competent.   

THE THIRD QUESTION.  
What is the reason that the night is more resonant or resounding than the day?  
AS we sat at supper one evening in Athens with Ammonius, we heard a great tumult & noise which rang all the house over, of people in the street without, crying aloud; Captain, captain: now was Ammonius then the third time praetor or captain of the city: He sent forth immediately some of his men about him, to see what the matter was; who presently appeased the hurry, and dismissed those who had raised this outcry: upon which occasion we in the mean while entered into question: Why those who are within house hear them very well that cry without; but they that are abroad hear not so easily those within, crying as loud? Ammonius incontinently made answer and said, that this question had already been solved by Aristotle in this wise: For that the voice of those within being once gotten forth and flown into a wide place of much air, vanisheth away, and is dissipated immediately; whereas the voice of them without, when it is entered in, doth not the like, but is retained and kept close, and so by consequence more easy to be heard: But there is another thing (quoth he) which requireth rather to have a reason rendered thereof; namely: Why in the night season all voices do resound greater than in the day time, and besides the greatness, are more clear, distinct, articulate, & audible? For mine own part (quoth he) I am of this mind, that the divine providence hath in great wisdom ordained, that our hearing should be more fresh and quick, when as our sight serveth us in little or no stead at all; for seeing that the air of the night which accorcording to Empedocles, 
wandereth alone, and solitary,  
And doth blind eyes about her carry.  is obscure and dark, look how much defect it maketh in our sight, so much it supplieth and requiteth in our ears: but for that of things also which necessarily are done by nature, the causes ought to be sought out, and the proper & peculiar office of a philosopher and naturalist, is to busy himself in seeking after the material causes, & instrumental principles; which of all you will first come forth with some probable reason, as touching this matter? whereupon there being some pause & silence for a time, Boethus said thus: When I was myself a young man, and a student, I made use otherwhiles of those principles which are in Geometry called Positions: and certain propositions I supposed as undoubted truths, without any need of demonstration: but now will I use some of those which heretofore have been proved by Epicurus, as for example: Those things which be, are carried in that which is not, nor hath any being: for much vacuity or voidness there is stored as it were, and intermingled among those atoms or indivisible little bodies of the air, which when it is spread abroad in spacious capacity, and by reason of the rarity and thinness thereof, runneth too and fro round about: there be a number of small, void, and empty places, among those little motes or parcels scattered here and there, and taking up the whole region: but chose, when they are penned in, and a restraint and compression made of them, being thrust together into a little space; these small bodies being huddled perforce one upon another, leave a large void space, to vague and range abroad: and this doth the night by reason of cold; for heat doth loosen, disgregate, scatter and dissolve all thick things, which is the reason why those bodies which either boil, thaw, or melt, occupy more room: chose, such which gather, congeal, and be frozen, come together close, and be united, leaving an empty place in those vessels wherein they were contained, and from which they be retired: The voice therefore coming among, and lighting upon many of these bodies thus scattered and dispersed thick every where, either is drowned altogether at once or disgregated and broken as it were in pieces, or else meeteth with many impeachments to withstand and stay it: but where there is a space void, and wherein there is not a body, it having a free and full course, and the same not interrupted, but plain and continued, cometh so much the sooner unto the ear, and together with that swiftness, retaineth still the articulate, express, and distinct sound of every word in speech: for you see how empty vessels, if a man knock upon them, answer better to every stroke, and carry the sound and noise a great way off; yea, and many times they yield a sound that goeth round about, and continueth a good while, redoubling the noise; whereas let a vessel be filled either with solid bodies, or else with some liquor, it is altogether deaf and dumb, if I may so say, and yieldeth no sound again; for that it hath no place nor way to pass thorough. Now among solid bodies, gold and stone, because they be full and massy, have a very small and feeble sound, that will be heard any way, and that little which they do render, is soon gone: chose, brass is very vocal, resonant, and (as one would say) a blab of the tongue; for that it hath much emptiness in it, and the substance or mass thereof, is light and thin, not compact of many bodies, huddled together, and thrust one upon another; but hath foison and plenty of that substance mingled together, which is soft, yielding and not resisting the touch or the stroke, which affordeth easiness unto other motions, and so entertaining the voice gently and willingly, sendeth it until it meet something in the way which stoppeth the mouth; for than it stayeth and ceaseth to pierce any further, because of the stoppage that it findeth. And this is it (quoth he, in mine opinion) that causeth the night to be more resonant, and the day, less; for that the heat in day time which dissolveth the air, causeth the intervalles between the atoms or motes abovesaid, to be the smaller: this only I would request, that no man here do oppose himself to contradict the premises and first suppositions of mine. Now when as Ammonius willed me to say somewhat, and reply against him: As touching your foremost supposals, friend Boethus (quoth I) about the great emptiness, let them stand, since you will have it so; but whereas you have set down, that the said emptiness maketh much for the motion and easy passage of the voice, I like not well of that supposition; for surely, this quality not to be touched, smitten, or made to suffer, is rather proper unto silence and still taciturnity; whereas the voice is the striking and beating upon a sounding body; and a sounding body is that which acordeth and correspondeth to itself, movable, light, uniform, simple and pliable, like as is our air; for water, earth and fire, be of themselves dumb & speechless; but they sound & speak all of them, when any spirit or air is gotten in, than (I say) they make a noise: as for brass, there is no voidness within it; but for that mixed it is with an united and equal spirit, therefore it answereth again to claps and knocks, and therewithal resoundeth: and if we may conjecture by that which our eye seeth and judgeth, iron seemeth to be spongeous, and as it were worm-eaten within, full of holes, and hollowed in manner of hony-combs; howbeit, a metal it is of all other, that hath the worst voice, and is most mute: there was no need therefore to trouble the night so much in restraining, compressing, and driving in the air thereof so close of the one side, and leaving so many places and spaces void on the other side; as if the air impeached the voice, and corrupted the substance thereof, considering itself is the very substance, form and puissance of it: over and beside, it should follow thereupon, that unequal nights, namely, those that be foggy and misty, or exceeding cold, were more resonant than those that be fair and clear; for that in such nights, those atoms are clunged close together, and look where they come, they leave a place void of bodies: moreover, (that which is easy and evident to be seen) the cold Winter night ought by this reckoning to be more vocal and fuller of noise, than the hot Summer's night; whereof, neither the one nor the other is true: and therefore (letting this reason, such as it is, go by) I will produce Anaxagoras, who saith: That the sun causeth the air to move and stir after a certain trembling motion, as if it did beat and pant; as it may appear by those little motes and shave (as it were) in manner of dust, which flutter and fly up and down thorough those holes; whereas the sunshine passeth, such as some Greeks call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which (saith he) chirming (as it were) and making a humming in the day time, cause by their noise, any other voice or sound not so easy to be heard; but in the night season, as their motion ceaseth, so consequently, their noise also is gone.  
After I had thus said, Ammonius began in this wise: We may be deemed haply ridiculous (quoth he) to think that we can refute Democritus, or to go about for to correct Anaxagoras; howbeit, we must of necessity take from these little bodies of Anaxagoras his devising, this chirming noise before said, which is neither like to be so, nor any ways necessary: sufficient it will be to admit the trembling motion and stirring of them, dancing as they do, in the same light, and by that means disgregating and breaking the voice many times, and scatter it to and fro: for the air (as hath been said already) being the very body and substance of the voice, if it be quiet and settled, giveth a direct, united and contained way unto the small parcels and move of the voice, to pass along a great way: for calm weather and the tranquility of the air, is resonant, whereas chose, tempestuous weather is dumb and mute: according to which, Simonides hath thus written: 
For then, no blasts of wind arose on high,  
Shaking tree-leaves; that men need once to fear  
Lest they might break sweet songs and melody,  
Stopping the sound from passage to their ear.  For often times the agitation of the air, permitteth not the full, express and articulate form of the voice, to reach unto the sense of hearing; howbeit, somewhat it carrieth always thorough from it, if the same be multiplied much and forced aloud: as for the night, in itself in hath nothing to stir and trouble the air; whereas the day hath one great cause thereof, to wit, the sun, as Anaxagoras himself hath said.  
Then Thrasyllus the son of Ammontus, taking his turn to speak: What should we mean by this I pray you in the name of Jupiter (quoth he) to attribute this cause unto an invisible motion of the air; and leave the agitation, tossing and divulsion thereof, which is so manifest and evident to our eyes? for this great ruler and commander in the heaven, Jupiter, doth not after an imperceptible manner, nor by little and little, stir the smallest parcels of the air, but all at once, so soon as he showeth his face, exciteth and moveth all things in the world, 
Giving forthwith a signal in such wise,  
As men thereby unto their works may rise.  which they no sooner see, but they obey and follow; as if together with the new day, they were regenerate again, and entered into another manner of life, as Democritus saith; setting themselves unto their business and affairs, not without some noise & effectual cries: in which sense Ibycus called not impertinently the morning, or dawning of the day Clitus, for that now we begin 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to hear others, yea, & to speak aloud ourselves: whereas the air of the night being for the most part calm and still, without any waves and billows, for that every thing is at rest and repose, by all likelihood conveigheth the voice entier and whole unto us, not broken nor diminished one jot. At these words, Aristodemus of Cypress, who was one of our company: But take heed Thrasyllus, (quoth he) that this which you say be not convinced and resuted by the battles and marches of great armies in the night season, for that upon such an occasion the noise and outcries be no less resounding and clear, how troubled and waving soever the air be, than otherwise: and peradventure there is some cause thereof, proceeding also from ourselves; for the most part of that which we speak in the night season, is of this nature, that either we command some body after a turbulent manner, as if a passion urged us thereto, or if we demand and ask aught, we cry as loud as we can; for that the thing which wakeneth and maketh us to rise at such a time (when as we should sleep and take our repose) for to speak or do any thing, is no small matter or peaceable, but great and important, hasting us for the urgent necessity thereof unto our business, in such sort, that our words and voices which then we utter, go from us in greater force and vehemency.   

THE FOURTH QUESTION.  
How it comes to pass, that of the sacred games of prize some use one manner of chaplet, and some another, yet all have the branch of the date tree? Also why the great dates be called Nicolai?  
During the solemnity of the Isthmick games, at what time as Sospis was the judge and director thereof now the second time: other feasts of his I avoided; namely, when as he invited one while many strangers together; and otherwhiles a number of none else but citizens, and those one with another; but one time above the rest, when as he feasted those only who were his greatest friends, and all, men of learning, I myself also was a bidden guest, and present among them; now by that time that the first service at the table was taken away, there came one unto the professed orator and rhetorician Herodes, who brought unto him from a scholar and familiar of his, who had won the prize, for an encomiasticall or laudatory oration that he had made, a branch of the date tree, together with a plaited and broided coronet of flowers; which when he had courteously received, he returned them back to him again, saying withal: that he marveled why some of these sacred games had for their prize this crown, and others that, but generally all, a branch of date tree: For mine own part (quoth he) I cannot persuade myself that this ariseth upon that cause which some allege; namely, the equality and uniformity of the leaves, springing and growing out as they do, always even and orderly, one just against another directly, wherein they seem to contend and strive a vie, resembling thereby a kind of combat; and that victory itself took the name in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as it were 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, not yielding nor giving place: for there be many other plants which as it were by weight and measure, distribute nourishment equally unto their boughs and branches growing opposite in that manner, and herein observe exactly a wonderful order and equality: but in my conceit, more probability and appearance of reason they allege, who imagine & suppose, that our ancients made choice of this tree, because they took a love to the beauty, tallness, and straight growing thereof; and namely Homer, who compareth the beauty of Nausicaa the Phaeocian queen, unto the plant or stem of a fair date tree: for this you all know very well, that in old time they were wont always to cast upon those victorious champions who had won the prize, roses, and rose champion flowers; yea and some otherwhiles apples and pomegranates, thinking by this means to recompense and honour them: but there is nothing else so much in the date tree, to commend it so evidently above other trees: for in all Greece fruit it beareth none that is good to be eaten, as being unperfect and not ripe enough; and if it bore here as it doth in Syria and Egypt, the date which of all fruits for the lovely contentment of the eye, is of all sights most delightsome, and for the sweetness of taste, of all banqueting dishes most pleasant, there were not a tree in the world comparable unto it: and verily the great monarch and emperor Augustus by report, for that he loved singularly well, one Nicolaus a philosopher Peripatetic, in regard that he was of gentle nature and sweet behaviour, tall and slender withal of stature, and beside of a ruddy and purple colour in his visage, called the fairest and greatest dates, after his name, Nicolai, and to this day they bear that denomination.  
In this discourse, Herodes pleased the company no less with the mention of Nicolaus the philosopher, than he did with that which he had spoken to the question: And therefore (quoth Sospis) so much the rather ought we every one to devise for to confer unto this question propounded, whatsoever he is persuaded concerning it: Then I for my part first, brought forth mine opinion as touching the superiority of this date tree at the sacred games, because the glory of victors and conquerors, aught to endure and continue incorruptible, and as much as possibly may be not age and wax old: for the date tree liveth as long as any plant whatsoever that is longest lived: and this is testified by these verses of Orpheus: 
Living as long as plants of date trees tall,  
Which in the head be green and spread withal.  And this is the only tree in manner, which hath that property indeed, which is reported though not so truly, of many others: And what is that? namely, to carry the leaves firm and fast, so as they never fall off; for we do not see, that either the laurel or olive tree, nor the myrtle, nor any other trees which are said to shed no leaf, keep always the same leaves still; but as the first fall, others put forth, and by this means they continue always fresh and green, living evermore as cities and great towns do; whereas the date tree never loseth any of those leaves which once came forth, but continueth still clad with the same leaves; and this is that vigour as I take it which men dedicate and appropriate especially to the force or strength of victory.  
When Sospis had made an end of this speech, Protogenes the Grammarian calling by name unto Praxitelis, the discourser and historian: Shall we suffer these orators and rhetoricians (quoth he) after their usual manner and profession, to argue thus by conjectures and likely probabilities; and can we allege nothing out of histories pertinent directly unto this matter? and verily for mine own part, if my memory fail me not, I have not read long since in the Attic annals, that Theseus, who first set out games of prize in the isle Delos, brake & plucked from the sacred date tree, a branch, which thereupon was called Spadis; and Praxitelis said as much: But some men (quoth he) might ask of Theseus himself, what reason induced him (when he proposed the prize of victory) to pull a branch from the date tree, rather than from the laurel or olive tree? and what will you say, if this be a Pythicke prize? for that the Amphyctiones honoured first at Delphos, the victors, with a branch of date tree and laurel, in honour of Pythius Apollo, considering that the manner was not to consecrate unto that God, the laurel or olive only, but also the date tree; like as Nictas did, when in the name of the Athenians, he defrayed the charges of games, in Delos; and the Athenians, at Delphi; and before them, Cypselus the Corinthian; for otherwise, this God of ours hath evermore loved those games of prize, yea, and was desirous to win the victory, having striven personally himself in playing upon the harp, in singing, and flinging the coit of brass; yea; and as some some say, at hurl-bats and fist-fight; favouring men also, and taking their part at such combats; as Homer seemeth to testify, when he bringeth in Achilles, speaking in this wise: 
Two chumpions now, who simply are of all the army best,  
My pleasure is, shall forth advance; and look who is so blest,  
And favoured at buffet-fight, by god Apollo's grace,  
As for to win the victory, and honour, in that place.  Also when he speaketh of archers, he saith expressly, that one of them who invocated upon Apollo, and prayed unto him for help, had good success, and carried away the best prize; but the other, who was so proud, and would not call upon the god for his aid, miss the mark & scope whereat he shot. Neither is it likely or credible, that the Athenians dedicated their public place of exercise, unto Apollo, for nothing, and without good cause; but surely thus they thought, that the same God unto whom we are beholden for our health, giveth us also the force and strong disposition of body, to perform such games and feats of activity. But whereas, some combats there be, sleight and easy; others, hard and grievous: we find in writing, that the Delphians sacrificed unto Apollo, by the name of Pyctes, that is to say, the champion at firstfight: but the Candians and Lacedæmonians offered sacrifice unto the same God, surnamed, the Runner. And seeing as we do, that the manner is to present in his temple within the city of Delphos, the primices or dedications of the spoils and booty gained from the enemies in war, as also to consecrate unto him the Trophies; is not this a great argument and testimony, that in this God it lieth most to give the victory and conquest? And as he went forward, and was minded to say more, Cephisus the son of Theon, interrupted his speech, saying: These allegations (believe me) savour not of histories, nor of Cosmographical books; but being fetched immediately out of the minds of those Peripatetical discourses, are handled and argued probably to the purpose: and beside, whiles you take up the fabric or engine, after the manner of tragedian players, you intent as it should seem, to affright by intimating the name of Apollo, those that contradict and gainsay your opinions: and yet (as well beseemeth his goodness and bounty) he is indifferent and alike affected unto all, in clemency and benignity: but we following the tracts & steps of Sospis, who hath led us the way very well, keep ourselves to the date tree, which afoordeth us sufficient matter to discourse thereof again: for the Babylonians do chant and sing the praises of this tree; namely, that it bringeth unto them three hundred and threescore sorts of sundry commodities; but we that are Greeks, have little or no profit thereby: howbeit, good philosophy may be drawn out of it, for the better instruction of champions and such as are to perform combats of prize, in that it beareth no fruit with us: for being a right goodly, fair, and very great tree, by reason of the good habit and disposition thereof, yet is it not here among us, fruitful; but by this strong constitution that it hath, it employeth and spendeth all nouriture to feed and fortify the body, after the manner of champions, by their exercise, so as there remaineth but a little behind, and the same not effectual for seed: over and above all this, one quality it hath, proper, and peculiar to itself alone, and that which agreeth not to any other tree, the which I intent to show unto you: For the woody substance of this date tree aloft, if a man seem to weigh and press down with any heavy burden, it yieldeth not, nor stoopeth under the poise, but curbeth upward archwise, as withstanding that, wherewith it is charged and pressed; and even so it is with those combatants in sacred games: for such as through feebleness of body, or faintness of heart seem to yield, those, the said exercises do bend and keep under; but as many as stoutly abide, not only with their strong bodies, but also with magnanimous courage, these be they that are raised up on high, and mount unto honour.   

THE FIFTH QUESTION.  
What is the cause that they who sail upon the river Nilus, draw up water for their use, before daylight?  
ONe there was, who demanded upon a time the reason, why the watermen who sail and row upon the river Nilus, provided themselves of that water which they drink, in the night, and not by day. Some said, it was, because they feared the sun, which by enchafing and heating the water, maketh it more subject to corruption and putrefaction: for whatsoever is warmed or made hot, the same is always more ready and disposed to mutation, and doth soon alter, by relaxation of the proper and native quality that it hath: whereas cold, by restraining, seemeth to contain and keep each thing in the own kind or nature; and water, especially. Now, for the truth of this, that the coldness of water hath virtue to preserve, the snow is a sufficient testimony, which keepeth flesh a long time sweet, and without corruption; but chose, heat causeth all things to go out of their own nature, yea, even honey itself; for being once boiled, marred it is; but if it continue raw, it not only keepeth itself well enough, but helpeth to preserve other things: and for a further proof of this matter, the water of lakes and pools is a principal thing to confirm the same; for as potable it is, and as good to drink in Winter, as any other waters; but in Summer, the same is stark nought, and breedeth diseases: and therefore, since the night answereth to Winter, and the day to Summer, those watermen of Nilus' abovesaid, are of this opinion: That water will continue longer before it turens and corrupt, if it be drawn in the night season. To these allegations, which of themselves seemed to carry probability enough, reason also includeth as an evident & inartificial proof to strengthen and confirm the experience and belief of these watermen; for they said, that they drew water, whiles the river was yet still and quiet; for in the day time, many men either sail upon it, or otherwise, fetch water from it; many beasts also, pass to and fro in it; whereby it is troubled, thick and muddy; and such water will soon putrify: for whatsoever is mixed, more easily taketh corruprion, than that which is pure and simple, considering that mixture maketh a fight, and fight causeth change and alteration. Now, who knoweth not that putrefaction is a kind of mutation? which is the cause that painters call the mixtures of their colours, by the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, corruptions; and the poet Homer, when he speaketh of dying, saith, they did 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, stain and infect: the common use also of our speech carrieth it, to call that which is unmixed and mere of itself, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, incorrupt and sincere: but principally, if earth be mingled with water, it changeth the quality, and marreth the nature of it quite for ever, for being potable and good to drink: and therefore it is, that dormant and dead waters, which stand in hollow holes, are more subject to corruption than others, as being full of earthy substance; whereas, running streams escape this mixture, and repel the earth which is brought into them: good cause therefore, had Hesiodus to commend 
The water of some lively spring, that always runs his course,  
And which no muddy earth among, doth trouble and make worse.  For wholesome we hold that which is uncorrupt; and uncorrupt we take that to be, which is all simple, pure and unmixed: and hereto may be adjoined, for to confirm this opinion of theirs, the sundry kinds and differences of earth: for those waters which run thorough hilly and stony grounds, because they carry not with them, much of the earth or soil, are stronger and more firm, than such as pass along marshes, plains and flats. Now the river Nilus keeping his course within a level and soft country; and to speak more truly, being (as it were) blood tempered and mingled with flesh, is sweet doubtless, and full of juices that have a strong and nutritive virtue; but ordinarily, the same runneth mixed and troubled; and so much the rather, if it be stirred and disquieted; for the moving and agitation thereof, mixeth the terrestrial substance with the liquid humour; but when it is quiet and at repose, the same settleth down to the bottom, by reason of the weight. Thus you see why they draw up their water in the night-season; and withal, by that means they prevent the sunrising; which always doth catch up and corrupt that which is in all waters most subtle and light.   

THE six QUESTION.  
Of those who come late to supper; where, discoursed it is, from whence be derived these names of refections in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
MY younger sons upon a time had stayed longer at the theatre, than they should, to see the sights, and hear the eare-sports which there were exhibited; by occasion whereof, they came too late to supper; whereupon Therus sons called them in mirth & sport 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as one would say, supper-letting, and night-supping-lads, with other such like names; but they, to be meet & quit with them again, gave them the term of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, runners to supper. Herewith one of the elder sort there present, said: That he who came late to his supper, ought rather to be called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 because he maketh more haste with an extraordinary pace, for that he hath seemed to stay too long: to which purpose he related a pretty term of Battus, the buffoon or pleasant jester to Caesar, who was wont to call those, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, desirous of suppers, who at any time came tardy: For (quoth he) although they have business to call and keep them away, yet for the love of good cheer and sweet morsels, they refuse not to come (late though it be) whensoever they are invited. here came I in with the testimony of Polycharmus, one of the great orators, who managed the State of Athens: in an oration of his, where making an apology of his life unto the people in a frequent assembly, he spoke in this wise: Lo, my masters of Athens how I have lived: but besides many other things which I have already alleged, take this moreover: that whensoever I was bidden to any supper, I never came last, for this seemed to be very popular and plausible; whereas chose, men are wont to hate them as odious persons, and surly lords, who come late, and for whom the rest of the company are forced to stay. Then Soclarus willing to defend the young boys: But Alcaeus (quoth he) called not Pittacus, Zophodorpidas, because he supped late in the night, but for that it was ordinary with him to delight in none other guests, and table companions, but base, vile, and obscure persons; for to eat early or betimes, was in old time counted a reproach; and it is said, that this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a breakfast, was derived of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, intemperance. Then Theon interrupting his speech: Not so (quoth he) but we must give credit rather unto those who report the ancient manner of life in old time: for they say, that men in those days being laborious, painful, and temperate in their living withal, took for their repast early in the morning, a piece of bread dipped in wine, and no other thing, and therefore they called this breakfast of theirs, Acratisma, of Acraton, which is mere and pure wine: and as for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 it signifieth those viands which were prepared for repast in the evening for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 betokeneth late in the evening, at what time their manner was to sup; namely, after they had dispatched their other affairs. here occasion was given to demand from whence were derived these words 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, supper, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 dinner: and thought it was that Ariston and Acratisma, signified both one thing: and for proof hereof, they reported them to Homer, who saith: That Eumaeus provided Ariston by the break of day, as appeareth by this verse: 
No sooner did day light appear,  
But they prepared their own 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  dinner.  And it seemeth very probable that this repast 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 took the name of the morne-tide, and is as much to say, as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 now for the refection called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, supper, it was so called, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 because it gave repose from their labours; for men used to take their supper after they had done some business, or else in the very time that they were about the same; this also may be showed by the testimony of Homer, who saith: 
But what time as the woodman minding rest,  
From bewing trees, his supper soon had dressed.  Unless a man will haply say, that Ariston, that is to say, a dinner or breakfast, took that name, because folk use to dine or break their fast, with that which first came to their hands, without any labour or dressing thereof in the kitchen: and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, supper was so called, because there was some labour employed about the dressing thereof; and therefore 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is as much to say, as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, very easily, and soon provided; but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as one would say, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, done with much pain and travel. But out brother Lamprias, who naturally was given to scossing, and loved a life to be merry and to 〈◊〉 Since that (quoth he) we are allowed so great liberty for to prate thus and talk so idly as we do, I am able to prove unto you, that the Roman words are ten thousand times more properly devised, and express these things better than the Greek: for they called a supper, Coena, which is as much as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for the good fellowship and company of those that supped (as it were) in common together: for the old Romans, howsoever they dined or broke their fast ordinarily by themselves alone, yet they supped ever with their friends about them. Now their dinner, they called, Prandium, of the hour or time thereof, as if they would say 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is as much as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, morning or noontide at the farthest; and to repose or rest after dinner, is expressed by the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or else perhaps, Prandium signifieth a breakfast or morning repast, when as men do eat before they be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, before they have any need or want of victuals: and now to say nothing of many things, which they express by mere Greek words; as for example, how they call beds, Strata, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 wine, Vinum, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 oil, Oleum, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 honey, Mel, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to taste, Gustare, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to drink one unto another, Propinare, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who can deny, but their word, Comessatio, that is to say, Banqueting, is derived of our Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and Miscere, that is to say, to temper and mix wine, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek? for thus saith Homer: 
She took the cup, and once again,  
In it she tempered pleasant wine.  also a table, they called Mensa, because it stood 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, in the mids; and bread, Panis, for that it slaked 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, hunger; also a chaplet or garland of flowers, Corona, of the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 an helmet, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the head; for in one place, Homer called an helmet or headpiece, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, Corona, a coronet; likewise, Caedere, that is to say, to beat or kill, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and Dentes, that is to say, teeth of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and last of all, Labra, that is to say lips, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, receiving and taking in meat with them. To conclude therefore, either we are to hear such derivations as these, without laughing thereat; or else we must not give them so easy access (as it were by undermining) unto words, as unto walls; partly to overthrow and beat down some, and in part to batter and break others.   

THE SEVENTH QUESTION.  
Of certain Pythagorean precepts, for bidding in any wise to admit swallows into the house, and commanding to ruffle the bed-clothes, so soon as a man is risen.  
SYlla of Carthage, upon my return to Rome, after I had been long absent, invited me to a supper for my welcome home; for so the Romans termed such a courtesy; and to bear me company, he bade other friends, and those not many in number; among whom was one Lusius of Tuskane, a disciple of the Pythagorean philosopher, Moderatus: this Lucius perceiving that our Philinus did eat of nothing which ever had life (as the usual manner of him and other Pythagoreans was to do) fell into speech as touching Pythagoras himself, and affirmed that a Tuskane he was, not as some others, because his father, and his ancestors, were Tuskans, from whom he was descended; but for that he was himself borne, reared, brought up, and taught in Tuskane; which he proved principally, by certain symbolical and allegorical precepts of his; as for example, among others, that he commanded those who were new risen out of their beds, to ruffle the clothes together; also that the print of a pot or cauldron, should not be left upon the ashes, after it is taken away, but that the ashes ought to be stirred together; item, that no swallows should be admitted into the house; likewise, that no man should step over a bosom, nor keep within house, those creatures which had hooked claws: For these rules, and such like (quoth he) which the Pythagoreans deliver in word, and set down in writing, the Tuskans only observe and keep in deed. Which when Lucius had said, strange it was thought, and absurd above the rest, to chase and keep out of the house, silly swallows, harmless and gentle creatures, aswell as those that have crooked clees, which are the most bloody and cruel of all others: for whereas some ancient interpreters gave the solution and exposition only, as if covertly it implied thus much, that we should avoid the company of secret whisperers, backbiters and slanderers; Lucius himself approved not thereof; for the swallow whispereth not at all; it chattereth in deed and talketh (as one would say) loud enough; and yet not more than pies, partridges and hens. But what think you by this (quoth Sylla) that in regard of the tale that goes of Progne, who killed-her young soon Itys, they hate 
* For Philomela was turned (as the poet's fame) into a swallow; who produced her sister 〈◊〉 to kill her own child, by Tereus, and serve it up before 〈◊〉 is a 〈◊〉 of meat, to the board, for that he had 〈◊〉 the said 〈◊〉  swallows for that abominable act, and therefore would seem to cause us for to detest a far off, such infamous cases, for which they say, both Tereus and the women, partly did perpetrate, & in part suffered horrible and unlawful things; whereupon, to this very day, these birds be called Daulides? But Gorgtas the sophisier, by occasion that a swallow mewted over his head, and squirted her dung upon him, looking up unto her: These be no fair casts (quoth he) Philomela; or is this also common to the rest? for the Pythagoreans do not exclude or banish out of house the nightingale, 
*  which bearetha part in the same tragedies, and is faulty with the rest. Peradventure (quoth I then) there is as much reason in the one as the other (o Sylla;) but consider, and see whether the swallow be not odious and infamous with them for the same cause, that they reject and will not entertain those creatures which have hooked talons; for she likewise feedeth upon flesh, and beside, killeth and devoureth especially, grasshoppers, which are sacred and musical: moreover, she flieth close by the ground, hunting and catching little silly creatures (as Aristotle saith) furthermore, she is the only creature of all the other, that be under the same roof with us, which lodgeth there of free cost, living without contributing aught, or paying any rent: yet the stork which hath no covert by our house, nor warmth by our fire, ne yet enjoieth any benefit, pleasure, or help at all by our means, giveth us otherwhiles some tribute and custom (as it were) for marching only upon the ground; for up and down she goes, killing toads and serpents, mortal enemies to mankind, and lying in wait for our lives; whereas the swallow having all those commodities at our hands, no sooner hath nourished her young ones, and brought them to some perfection, but away she goes and is no more to beseene, so disloial and unthankful she is: and that which of all others is worst, the fly and the swallow be the only creatures haunting our houses as they do, that never will be tamed, nor suffer a man to touch and handle them, nay they will not admit any fellowship, society, or communion with him, either in work or play: the fly indeed hath some reason to be afraid of us, for that she sustaineth harm by us, and is chased and driven away so often: but the swallow hateth man naturally, she will not trust him, but remaineth always suspicious and untamed: now if we are to take these and such like speeches, not directly according to the literal sense, and as the words only do imply, but rather by way of an oblique reflection, as the resemblances of things appearing in others: certes Pythagoras proposeth unto us herein, the very pattern of an unthankful and faithless person, admonishing us not to receive unto our familiar acquaintance and amity, those who for the time, and to serve their own turn, draw near unto us, and retire themselves under the roof of our house, and that we ought not to make them inward with us, communicating with them, our house, our domestical altar, and those things which are in stead of most sacred obligations. When I had thus said, it seemed that I had given the company encouragement and assurance to speak, for they began boldly to apply unto the other symbolical precepts, their moral expositions: And Philinus for his part said, that in commanding to confound the form of the pot or cauldron imprinted in the ashes, they taught us this lesson, not to leave any mark or apparent impression of anger; but after it hath once done boiling what it will, and is settled and cooled again, to rid away all rancour and malice, yea and to bury all in perpetual oblivion. As for the shuffling of the bed clothes together, when we are newly risen, some thought there was no hidden matter meant thereby, but signified only, that it was not seemly or honest, that the mark or print in the bed should remain as an express image to be seen, of the place, wherein man and wife had lain together: But Sylla guessed otherwise and conjectured that herein was contained a dehortation to divert us from sleeping on bed in the day time, when as even in the very morning the preparation and means to sleep was so immediately taken away: for that we ought to take our rest and repose in the night, but in the day time to be stirring and about our business, not suffering to remain in our beds so much as the tract of our body; for a man lying asleep, is good for nothing, no more than when he is dead: and hereto seemeth to allude and accord, another precept of the Pythagoreans which they give unto their friends, forbidding them not to ease any man of his burden, but rather to lay on more, and seem to surcharge him still, as not approving any sloth or idleness whatsoever: now for that during these discourses, Lucius neither approved nor disproved aught that was said, but sat still, heard all, said nothing, and pondered every thing in himself: Empedocles calling unto Sylla by name, said as followeth.   

THE EIGHTH QUESTION.  
Why the Pythagoreans, among all other living creatures, abstain most from eating fish.  
IF Lucius our friend (quoth he) be offended, or take no pleasure in our sayings, it is high time that we should give over and make an end: but if these things fall within the compass of their precept for silence; yet this I think ought not to be concealed, but may well be revealed and communicated unto others, namely: What the reason is, that the Pythagoreans abstained principally from eating fish? for so much we find written of the ancient Pythagoreans: and I myself have fallen into the company and conference of certain disciples of Alexicrates, a man of our time; who fed a little sometimes of other living creatures, yea and sacrificed them unto the gods; but for no good in the world would they so much as taste of a fish: not as I take u for that cause which Tyndares' the Lacedaemonian alleged, who thought that this was done for the honour they had to silence; in regard whereof, the philosopher Empedocles whose name I bear, who was the first that ceased to teach Pythagorically, that is to say, to give rules and precepts of hidden wisdom, calleth fishes Ellopas, as having 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, their voice tied and shut up within; but for they thought, taciturnity to be a singular and divine thing, and in one word, that even the gods themselves do show by deeds and effects, without voice or speech unto wise men, what their will and pleasure is: Then Lucius mildly and simply answered: That the true cause indeed might peradventure lie hidden still and not be divulged: howbeit, there is nothing to hinder or let us, but that we may render one reason or other which carrieth with it some likelihood & probability: so Theon the grammarian began first to discourse upon that point saying: it was very difficult to show & prove that Pythagoras was a Tuscan born; but for certain known it was, that he had made his abode a long time in Egypt, & conversed with the sages of that country, where he approved, embraced, and highly extolled many of their religious ceremonies, and namely, that as touching beans: for Herodotus writeth, that the Egyptians neither sow, nor eat beans, no nor can abide so much as to look upon them: and as for fishes, we are assured that their priests, even at this day, abstain from them, and living as they do, chaste and unmarried, they refuse salt likewise; neither will they endure to eat it as a meat by itself, nor any other viands wherein any sea salt cometh; whereof diverse men allege diverse & sundry reasons: but there is one true cause indeed, & that is the enmity which they bear unto the sea, as being a savage element, a mere alien, & estranged from us, or to speak more truly, a mortal enemy to man's nature; for the gods are not nourished therewith, as the Stoics were of opinion: that the staries were fed from thence: but chose, that in it was lost the father and saviour of that country of Egypt, which they call the deflux or running out of Osiris, and in lamenting his generation on the right hand, and corruption on the left, covertly they give us to understand, the end and perdition of Nilus in the sea: In which consideration, they are of opinion, that lawful it is not, once to drink of the water, as being not potable; neither do they think, that any thing which it breedeth, bringeth forth, or nourisheth, is clean and meet for man; considering that the same hath not breath and respiration common with us, nor food and pasture agreeable unto ours, for that the very air which nourisheth and maintaineth all other living creatures, is pernicious and deadly unto them, as if they were engendered first, and lived afterward in this world against the course of nature, and for no use at all: and marvel we must not, if for the hatred they bear unto the sea, they hold the creatures therein, as strangers, and neither meet nor worthy to be intermingled with their blood or vital spirits: seeing they will not deign so much as to salute any pilots or mariners whensoever they meet with them, because they get their living upon the sea.  
Sylla commending this discourse, added moreover, as touching the Pythagoreans, that when they sacrificed unto the gods, they would especially taste of the primices or parcels of flesh which they hadkilled: but never was there any fish that they sacrificed or offered unto the gods. Now when they had finished their speech, I came in with mine opinion: As for those Egyptians (quoth I) many men there be as well learned, as ignorant, who contradict them, & plead in the behalf and defence of the sea, recounting the manifold commodities thereof, whereby our life is more plentiful, pleasant, and happy: as touching the surcease as it were of the Pythagoreans, and their forbearing to lay hand upon fishes, because they are such strangers unto us, it is a very absurd and ridiculous device, or to say more truly, it is a cruel and inhuman part, and savouring much of a barbarous Cyclops, seeing that to other living creatures they render a reward and recompense, for their kindred, cozenage and acquaintance, by killing, eating, and consuming them as they do: and verily reported it is of Pythagoras, that upon a time he bought of the fishers a draft of fish; and when he had so done, commanded that they should be all let out of the net into the sea again: surely this was not the act of a man, who either hated or despised fishes as his enemies or strangers; considering that finding them prisoners as he did, he paid for their ransom, and redeemed their liberty, as if they had been his kinsfolk & good friends: and therefore the humanity, equity, and mildness of these men, induceth us to think and imagine clean contrary, that it was rather for some exercise of justice, or to keep themselves in ure and custom thereof, that they spared and pardoned those sea-creatures; for that all others, give men cause in some sort to hurt them; whereas poor fishes offend us in no manner: and say their nature and will were so disposed, yet cannot they execute the same: moreover, conjecture we may and collect, by the reports, records, and sacrifices of our ancients, that they thought it an horrible & abominable thing, not only to eat, but also to kill any beast that doth no hurt or damage unto us: but seeing in process of time how much pestered they were, with a number of beasts that grew upon them, and overspread the face of the earth; and withal being as it is said, commanded by the oracle of Apollo at Delphos, to succour the fruits of the earth, which were ready to perish; they began then to kill them for sacrifice unto the gods: yet in so doing, they seemed to tremble and fear, as troubled in mind, calling this their action 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to do or perpetrate, as if they did, and committed some great deed in killing a creature having life; and even still at this day they observe a ceremony with all religious preciseness, not to massacre any beast before it hath given a nod with the head, after the libations and effusions of wine upon it, in sign and token of consent; so strict they were and wary to commit no unjust act. Certes, to say nothing of other beasts, if all men had forborn to kill and eat no more, but pullen and coneys, within short time they should not have been able to have dwelled within their towns or cities, nor enjoyed any fruits of the earth: & therefore although necessity at the first had brought in the use of eating flesh; a very hard matter it were now, in regard of pleasure, to put down & abolish the same: whereas the whole kind of sea-creatures using neither the same air and water with us, nor coming near unto our fruits, but being (as a man would say) comprised within another world, & having distinct bounds and limits of their own, which they cannot pass, but immediately it costeth them their life, for punishment of their trespass, giveth unto our belly none occasion or pretence at all, more or less, to run upon them: so that the whole hunting, catching, and running after fish, is a 〈◊〉 work of gourmandise and dainty feeding; which without any just or lawful cause, troubleth & disquieteth the seas, and descendeth into the very bottom of the deep; for we have no reason at any time to call the red sea-barbell 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, corn devourer; nor the guilthead 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, vine waster, or grape eater, nor yet any mullets, lubins, or sea-pikes, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, seed gatherers, as we name diverse land beasts, noting them thereby for the harm and annoyance they do unto us: neither can we impute unto the greatest fish in the sea, the least wrong or shrewd turn, wherewith we charge, in our exceeding nearness and parsimony, some cat or weezle, a 
* Some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a sly.  mouse, or rat which haunt our houses: in which regard, they precisely contemning themselves, not for fear of law only, to do wrong unto men, but also by the very instinct of nature, to offer no injury unto any thing in the world that doth them no harm, nor displeasure, used to feed on fish less than on any other meat: & admit there were no injustice in the thing, all busy curiosity of men in this point, being so needless as it is, bewrayeth great intemperance and wasteful gluttony: and therefore Homer in his poem deviseth this, that not only the Greeks encamping upon the straight of Hellespont, abstained wholly from eating fish, but also that the delicate and dainty toothed Phaeacians, the wanton and liquorous wooers likewise of lady Penelope, dissolute though they were otherwise, and all islanders were never served at their tables with any viands or cates from the sea: no nor the companions of Ulysses in that great and long voyage of theirs which they had at sea, ever laid hook, leap, or we'll, or cast net into the sea for fish, so long as they had a bit of bread, or handful of meal left: 
But when their ship had victuals none,  
But all therein was spent and gone.  even a little before that they laid hands upon the kowes of the sun, than began they to fish; not iwis for any dainty dishes, but even for necessary food: 
With bended hooks, for now their maw,  
Great hunger bit, and guts did gnaw.  So that for extreme need they were forced to eat fish, and to kill the suns kine: whereby we may perceive that it was a point of sanctimony and chastity, not only among the Egyptians and Syrians, but the Greeks also, to forbear feeding upon fish; for that beside the injustice of the thing, they abhorred as I think, the superfluous curiosity of such food.  
Hereupon Nestor took occasion to speak: And why (quoth he) is there no reckoning made of my countrymen and fellow-citizens, no more than of the Megarians? and yet you have heard me to say often times, that the priests of Neptune, whom we call Hieromnemones, never eat fish: for this god is surnamed Phytalmios, that is to say, the Precedent of breeding and generation in the sea: and the race descending from that ancient Helen, sacrificed unto Neptune, by the name and addition of Patrogeneios, that is to say, the stockfather and principal Progenitor, being of opinion, that man came of a moist and liquid substance, as also, be the Syrians; which is the very cause that they worship and adore a fish, as being of the same kind, generation, and nouriture with themselves; philosophising and arguing in this point, with more appearance and show of reason, than Anaximander did, who affirmed not, that men and fishes were bred both in the same places; but avouched that men were first engendered within fishes themselves, and there nourished like their young fry; but afterward, when they became sufficient and able to shift and help them, they were cast forth, and so took land: like as therefore, the fire eateth the wood, whereby it was kindled and set a burning, though it were father and mother both unto it; according as he said, who inserted the marriage of 
* Or Cyex.  Ceyx among the works of Hesiodus; even so Anaximander in pronouncing, that fish was both father and mother unto men, taxeth and condemneth the feeding thereupon.   

THE NINTH QUESTION.  
Whether it be possible, that new diseases may be engendered by our meats?  
PHilo the physician constantly affirmed, that the leprosy, called Elephantiasis, was a disease not known long since; for that none of the ancient physicians made any mention of this malady; whereas they traveled and busied their brains, to treat of other small trifling matters, (I wot not what) and yet such subtleties as the common sort could hardly comprehend. But I produced and alleged unto him for a witness out of philosophy, Athenodorus, who in the first book of his Epidemial or popular diseases, writeth, that not only the said leprosy, but also Hydrophobie, that is to say, the fear of water, occasioned by the biting of a mad dog, were first discovered in the days of Asclepiades: now as the company there present, marveled that these maladies should newly then begin, and take their consistence in nature; so they wondered as much on the other side, how so great and grievous diseases could be hidden so long, and unknowen to men: howbeit, the greater part inclined rather to this second & later opinion, as being more respective and favourable to man; for that they could not be persuaded, that nature in such cases should in man's body (as it were in some city) study novelties, and be evermore inventing and working new matters. As for Diogenianus, he said, that the passions and maladies of the soul, held on their common course, and went the accustomed way still, of their predecessors: And yet (quoth he) wickedness is very manifold in sundry sorts, and exceeding audacious, to enterprise any thing: and the mind is a mistress of herself, and at her own command; having puissance to turn and change easily as she thinketh good: and yet that disordinate confusion of hers, hath some order in it; keeping a measure in her passions, and containing herself within certain bounds, like as the sea, in the flow and tides; in such sort, as that she bringeth forth no new kind of vice, such as hath not been known unto those in old time, and of which they have not written: for there being many different sorts of lusts and desires, infinite motions of fear, as many kinds of pain, and no fewer forms of pleasure; which would require great labour to reckon up, and not to give over. 
These neither now nor yesterday  
Began; but all have liveday:  
And no man knows, nor can say well,  
Since when they first to men befell.  nor yet whereupon any new malady or modern passion hath arisen in our body; considering it hath not of itself the beginning of motion properly as the soul hath, but is knit and conjoined with nature by common causes, and composed with a certain temperature: the infinite variety whereof, wandereth notwithstanding within the pourprise of set bounds and limits; like unto a vessel which lying at anchor in the sea, nevertheless doth wave, and is tossed within a round compass: for neither the settled constitution of a disease is without some cause, bringing into the world irregularly and against all law of nature, a generation and power from that which hath no being at all: nor an easy matter is it for a man to find out a new cause, unless withal, he do set down a new air, strange water, and such meats as our forefathers never tasted of, imagining, that they are run hither to us now and never before, out of (I wot not what) other worlds: or imaginary inter-worlds' and spaces between; for sick we fall by means of the same things whereof we live; and no peculiar and proper seeds there be of diseases; but the naughtiness and corruption of such things whereby we live, in regard of us, and our own faults and errors beside, about them, are they which trouble and offend nature: these troubles have perpetually the same differences, though the same many times take new names; for these names are according to the ordinance and custom of men; but the maladies themselves are the affections of nature: and so those diseases of themselves finite, being varied & diversified by these names infinite, have deceived and beguiled us: and as there is not lightly and upon a sudden, committed in the Grammatical parts of speech, or in the Syntaxis, and construction thereof, any new barbarism, solecism, or incongruity; even so the temperatures of men's bodies, have their falls, errors and transgressions, which be certain and determinate, considering that in some sort, even those things which are against nature, be comprised and included in nature: and this is it, that the witty inventors and devisers of fables, would signify in saying: That when the giants made war against the gods, there were engendered certain strange and monstrous creatures every way, at what time as the moon was turned clean contrary, and arose not as she was wont: and verily, their meaning was, that nature produced new maladies, like unto monsters, but withal, imagine and devise a cause of such change and alteration, that is neither probable nor yet incredible; but pronouncing and affirming, that the augmentation more or less of some diseases, causeth that newness and diversity in them, which is not well done of them (my good friend Philo:) for this intention and augmentation may well add thereto frequency and greatness; but surely it transporteth not the subject thing out of the first and primitive kind: and thus I suppose the leprosy or Elepantiasis to be nothing else, but the vehemency of these scurvy and scabby infections; as also the hydrophoby, or vain fear of water, no other but an augmentation of the passions of stomach or melancholy: and verily, a wonder it were, that we should not know how Homer was not ignorant hereof; for this is certain, that he called a dog 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of this raging accident whereto he is subject: and hereupon men also, when they are in a rage, be said likewise 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 When Diogenianus had thus discoursed, Philo himself, both seemed somewhat to answer and refute his reasons; and also requested me to speak in the behalf of the ancient physicians, who were thus challenged and condemned for their ignorance or negligence in these principal matters, in case it were true, that these maladies were not of a later breed and more modern than their age. First therefore, it seemed unto me, that Diogenianus put not this well down for a good supposal, that tensions and relaxations, according to more or less, make no differences, nor remove the subject matters out of their kind: for by this means we should likewise say, that vinegar differed not from wine that is souring, nor bitterness from styplicitie or sourness, nor 〈◊〉 from wheat, ne yet garden mints from the wild mint: but evident it is, that these do degenerate, yea, and become altered in their very qualities; partly by relaxations, as the things do languish and lose their heart; and in part, by tension, as they be reenforced, and take vigour: for otherwise, we must be forced to say, that the flame differeth not from a white or clear wind, nor a light from a flame, nor frost from dew, nor hail from rain; but that all these be but the enforcements only and tensions of the same things; and so constantly we shall be driven to affirm, that blindness and dim sight differ not, and inordinate passion of vomiting, called Cholera, is nothing different from a keckish stomach and a desire to cast, but only according to augmentation and diminution, more or less: and all this is nothing to the purpose; for if they admit and say, that this very tension and augmentation in vehemency, came but now of late, as if this novelty were occasioned by the quantity and not the quality, yet the absurdity of the paradox remaineth nevertheless: moreover, seeing that Sophocles (speaking of those things, which because they had not been in times past, men would not believe to be at this present) said very well in this wise: 
All kind of things both good and bad,  
Once at the first their being had.  This also seemeth very probable and to stand with great reason, that maladies ran not forth all at once, as if the barriers had been set open for the race, and they let out together: but some came always successively behind at the tail of others, and each one took the first beginning at a certain time: And a man may well conjecture and guess (quoth I) that such as arose of want and indigence, as also those that came of heat and cold, were the first that assailed our bodies; but repletions, gluttonies, and delicate pleasures, came afterwards together with sloth and idleness; which by reason of abundance of victuals, caused great store of superfluities and excrements, from whence proceeded sundry sorts of maladies; the complication whereof and intermixture one with another, bringeth evermore some new thing or other: for every natural thing, is orderly, and limited; because that nature is nothing else but order itself, or at leastwise the work of order: whereas disoreder (like to the same that Pindarus speaketh of) is infinite, and can not be comprised within any certain number; so that whatsoever is unnatural, the same immediately is unlimited and infinite: for, the truth we can not deliver but one way; marry to lie, a man may find an infinite number of means, by occasion of innumerable occurrents; also accords musical and harmonies, stand upon their certain proportions; but the errors that men commit in playing upon the harp or other instrument, in song, and in dancing, who is able to comprehend? although Phrynichus the tragedian poet said of himself thus: 
In dance I find as many sorts  
And forms of gestures and disports,  
As waves in sea, and billows strong  
Arise by tempest all night long.   
And Chrysippus writeth that the diverse complications often prositions, which they call Axioms, and no more, surmount the number of ten hundred thousand: but Hipparchus reproved this, and taught that the affirmative doth contain of connexed propositions, one hundred thousand, and beside, one thousand forty and nine; but the negative of the same propositions comprehendeth three hundred and ten thousand, with a surplusage of nine hundred, fifty and two: and Xenocrates hath set down, that the number of syllables, which the letters in the alphabet, being coupled and combined together, do afford, amount to the number of one hundred millions, and two hundred thousand over: why should it therefore be thought strange and wonderful, that our body having in it so many faculties, and gathering still daily, by that which it eateth and drinketh, so many different qualities, considering withal, that it useth motions and mutations, which keep not one time nor the same order always; the complications and mixtures of so many things together, bring evermore new and unusual kinds of maladies, such as Thucydides wrote, was the pestilence at Athens, conjecturing that this was no ordinary and usual malady, by this especially, for that the beasts of prey, which otherwise did eat of flesh, would not touch a dead body: those also who fell sick about the red sea (as Agathircides maketh report) were afflicted with strange symptoms and accidents, which no man had ever read or seen, and among others, that there crawled from them certain vermin like small serpents, which did eat the calves of their legs and the brawns of their arms; and look whensoever a man thought to touch them, in they would again, and winding about the muscles of the flesh, engendered inflammations and impostumes with intolerable pain. This pestilent disease, no man ever knew before, neither was it ever seen since by others, but by them alone, like as many other such accidents; for there was a man who having been a long time tormented with the disury or difficulty of his urine, delivered in the end by his yard, a barley straw knotted as it was with joints: and we know a friend and guest of ours, a young man, who together with a great quantity of natural seed, cast forth a little hairy worm or vermin with many feet, and therewith it ran very swiftly: Aristotle writeth also, that the nurse of one Timon of Cilicia, retired herself for two months space every year, and lurked in a certain cave all the while, without drink or meat, or giving any other appearance of life, but only that she took her breath: certes recorded it is in the Melonian books, that it is a certain sign of the liver diseased, when the sick party is very busy in spying, seeking, and chase the mice and rats about the house; a thing that now a days is not seen: let us not marvel therefore, if a thing be now engendered that never was seen before, and the same afterward cease as if it had never been; for the cause lieth in the nature of the body, which sometime taketh one temperature, and one while another: but if Diogemanus bring in a new air, and a strange water, let him alone, seeing he is so disposed: and yet we know well that the followers of Democritus both say, and write, that by the worlds which perish without this, and by the strange bodies which from that infinity of worlds run into this, there arise many times the beginnings of plageu and pestilence, yea and of other extraordinary accidents: we will pass over likewise the particular corruptions which happen in diverse countries, either by earthquakes, excessive droughts, extreme heats, and unusual rains, with which it cannot be chosen, but that both winds and rivers which arise out of the earth, must needs be likewise infected, diseased, and altered: but howsoever those causes we let go by, yet omit we must not, what great alterations and changes be in our bodies, occasioned by our meats and viands, and other diet and usage of ourselves; for many things which before time were not wont to he tasted or eaten, are become now most pleasant dainties; as for example: the drink made of honey and wine; as also the delicate dish of a farrowing swine's shape or womb; as for the brain of a beast, it is said, that in old time they were wont to reject and cast it from them, yea, and so much to detest and abhor it, that they would not abide to hear one to name it; and for the cucumber, the melon or pompion, the pomeeitron and pepper, I know many old folk at this day, that cannot away with their taste: credible it is therefore, that our bodies receive a wonderful change and strange alteration by such things in their temperature, acquiring by little and little a diverse quality, and superfluity of excrements far different from those before: semblably we are to believe that the change of order in our viands, maketh much hereto; for the services at the board, which in times past were called the cold tables, to wit, of oysters, seaurchings, green salads of raw lettuce, & such other herbs, be as it were the light forerunners of the feast, as transferred now by Plato, from the rearward to the forefront, and have the first place, whereas before in old time, they came in last: a great matter there is also in those beavers or fore-drinking called Propomata; for our ancients would not drink so much as water before they did eat; and now a days, when as men are otherwise fasting & have eat nothing, they will be in manner drunk, & after they have well drenched their bodies, they begin to fall unto their meats, and whiles they be yet boiling, they put into the stomach those things that be attenuant, incisive and sharp, for to provoke and stir up the appetite, and still fill themselves up full with other viands: but none of all this hath more power to make mutation in our bodies, nor to breed new maladies, than the variety of sundry fashions, of bathing of flesh: for first & foremost it is made soft, liquid, and fluid as iron is by the fire, and afterwards it receiveth the temper and tincture of hard sleele, by cold water: so that me thinks if any one of those who lived a little before us should see the door of our stouphes and baines open, he might say thus: 
here into runneth Acheron,  
And firelike burning Phlegeton,  Whereas in our forefather's days, they used their baths and hothouses, so mild, so kind, and temperate: that king Alexander the Great, being in a fever, lay and slept within them: yea the Gauls wives, bringing thither their pots of pottage, and other viands, did eat even there with their children, who bathed together with them: but it seemeth in these days, that those who are within the stouphes and baines, be like unto those that are raging mad, and bark as dogs, they puff and blow like fed swine, they lay about them and toss every way; the air that they draw in, as it were mingled with fire & water, suffereth no piece nor corner of the body in quiet and rest, it shaketh, tosseth, and removeth out of place, the least indivisible parcel thereof, until such time as we come to quench and allay the same thus inflamed and boiling as they do: There is no need therefore o Diogenianus (quoth I) offorren and far fetched causes from without, neither of those new worlds and intervals between: for to go no further than to ourselves, the very change only of the fashion of our diet, is a sufficient means both to breed, and also to abolish and cause to ease any malady in us.   

THE TENTH QUESTJOIN.  
What is the reason that we take least heed of dreams in the end of Autumn, and give small credit unto them?  
FLorus lighting upon physical problems or natural questions of Aristotle, which were brought to Thermopylae, for to pass the time away, filled both himself with many doubts, as ordinarily men do, who are by nature studious, and also put as many into the heads of others, giving testimony herein to Aristotle who saith: That much knowledge breedeth many occasions of doubt; as for other questions, they afforded unto us no unpleasant pastime and recreation, in the day time as we walked in the galleries abroad; but that problem concerning dreams, (namely, that they be uncertein, lying, & false, especially during those months when trees shed their leaves) was set on foot again (I wot no thou) after supper by Phavorinus, when he had done with other discourses: As for your familiar companions my children, they were of opinion, that Aristotle, himself had sufficiently solved the question, & there needed no farther enquiry into the matter, nor any speech more to be made thereof, but even to attribute the cause, as he did, to the new gathered fruits of that season: for being as they were, fresh and green still in their strength and full of vigour, they engendered in our bodies many ventosities and bred much trouble and agitation in the humours: for likely it is not, that new wine alone doth work, boil, and chaufe, nor that oil only, being new drawn and pressed, yieldeth a noise as it burneth in lamps, by occasion that the heat causeth the windiness and spirit thereof to evaporate and walm out: but we see that corn also newly inned, & all fruits of trees presently upon their gathering, are plump, full, and swollen again, until such time as they have exhaled forth all that is flatuous, and breathed out the crudities thereof: now that there be certain meats that cause troublesome dreams, and engender turbulent visions and fancies in our sleep, they brought in and alleged for their testimony the instance of beans, and the head of the pulp or pour-cuttle fish, which they are bidden to abstain from, who would divine and foreshow things that come by dreams. As for Phavorinus, howsoever he was himself at all times wonderfully affected & addicted to Aristotle, and one who attributed unto the Peripatetics school this singular commendation, that their doctrine carried more probability and resemblance of the truth, than other philosophers whatsoever; yet at this present he came out with an old rusty reason of Democritus, taken out of the smoke (where it had gathered a deal of thick soot) for to furbish, scour, and make it bright again: for this was the vulgar opinion which Democritus put down for a supposition: That certain images do enter and pierce deep into our bodies through the pores, which as they rise again from the bottom, cause those visions which appear unto us as we sleep; that these came out of all parts wandering, as presented from utensils, habiliments, & plants, but principally from living creatures, for that they move & stir much, and beside are hot, having not only the express similitudes and sundry forms of bodies imprinted in them, as Epicurus thinketh (who thus far forth followeth Democritus, and leaveth him there) but also drawing therewith the apparences of the motions of the mind, of counsel, of usual mild affections, as also of vehement passions, wherewith they entering in, do speak as if they were living things, and distinctly carry unto those that receive the same, the opinions, the words, the discourses and affections of such as transmit the same, if in their entrance they retain still the express figures and nothing confused; which they do especially, all while that their way and passage through the air, clear and united, is speedy, quick, and not impeached by any hindrance: considering than, that the air of the Autumnal quarter, in the end when as trees do cast their leaves, hath much asperity and inequality, it turneth aside and putteth by diversely those images, causing their evidence to be feeble and transitory, as being darkened by the tardity and slowness of their pace in the way: whereas chose, when they run forth in great number, and swiftly out of those things that swell with fullness, and burn, as it were, with desire to be delivered of them, then as they pass they yield their resemblances all fresh and very significant. After this, casting his eye upon Autohulus, and smiling withal: Methinks (quoth he) that I perceive you, and those about you, to address yourselves already for to maintain a kind of fight against these images, & that you mean to fasten with your hands and catch hold of this old opinion, as if it were some rotten picture, to do it some violence: Go to (quoth Autobulus) will you never leave these fashions, to play with us in this manner? for we know well enough iwis, that you hold and approve the opinion of Aristotle, and that for to give a lustre thereunto, you have set this of Democritus by it, as a shadow and foil: that conceit therefore of Democritus, we will turn over and put by, and take in hand for to impugn this reason of Aristotle's, which imputeth all to these new fruits, and unjustly without all all reason, blaming & discrediting that which we all love so well; for both Summer & Autumn will bear witness, that when we eat these fruits, more fresh and green, even at such time as they are most succulent, and verdant: (as Antimachus said) our dreams are less lying and deceitful: but these months which we name, the Fall of the leaf, pitching their tents as it were, and taking up their standings close to the Winter, have reduced already, both corn of the field, and also the fruits of trees, which remain uneaten by their perfect concoction, to this pass that they look slender, and in some sort riveled, as having lost by this time, that violent, heady, and furious force which was in them. As touching new wine, they that drink it soon, do it in the month 
* Some readu November, before 〈◊〉, according to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Anthisteron, that is to say, February, presently after winter, and that day upon which they begin to taste it, we in our country call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the day of good fortune; but the Athenians name it, of opening their tons or wine vessels, Pithaegia: but so long as the Must or new wine is working still, and in the heat, we see, that all men even the very artificers and labourers are afraid to taste of it, and to meddle withal: let us forbear therefore to slander and blame the good gifts of the gods, and go we rather another way to work for the inquisition of the cause, unto which the very name of the season, and of these windy and vain dreams doth lead us: for this time is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the fall of the leaf, to wit, the end of Autumn; when by reason of cold, and dryness, trees shed their leaves, unless it be some which are hot and fatty, by nature, as the olive, the laurel, and the date trees, or very moist, as the ivy and myrtle; for such as these, their temperature helpeth, others not, by reason that this glutinous humour which holdeth the leaves upon the tree, continueth not; becave that their natural humidity is congealed with cold, or else dried up, being so feeble and little withal: to flourish therefore, to grow, and to be fresh, in plants, and much more in living creatures, cometh of moisture and heat; and chose, cold & dryness are deadly enemies: & therefore Homer very properly, is wont to call men who are fresh and lusty 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, moist and succulent; as also to joy and be merry, he expresseth by the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to be hot; chose, that which is dolorous and fearful, he termeth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, stiff & stark for cold; a body that is dead, he termeth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, without moisture; as also 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a very anatomy, dried in the smoke, or against the sun; which are two words devised to traduce & note their extreme dryness: moreover, blood which is the thing within us, of principal strength & virtue, is both hot and moist; but old age is destitute bothof the one and the other: now it seemeth that the later end of Autumn is the very age of the year, having performed his revolution; for as yet the moisture is not come, but the heat is gone already, or at leastwise very feeble, & that (which is a great sign of cold & dryness) this season causeth bodies to be disposed unto diseases. This being laid sor a ground, necessary it is that the soul should have a sympathy & fellow ceiling of the indispositions of the body, & that when the spirits be incrassate & thickened, and the power and faculty of divination or foreseeing future things, must needs be dimmed and dulled, much like as a mirror or looking glass, overcast with some thick mist: no marvel therefore if it send and transmit nothing in fantasy and imaginations, that is plain, express, articulate, evident, and significant, so long as it is rough and unpolished, not smooth and resplendent.     

THE NINTH BOOK OF SYMPOSIAQUES OR BANQUET-DISCOURSES.  

The Summarie or principal chapters thereof.  
1 OF verses which have been cited and alleged fitly in good season or otherwise.  
2 What is the cause that the letter Alpha, or A, standeth first in the alphabet, or A, b, c.  
3 In what proportion hath been composed and or deined, the number of vowels and semi-vowels?  
4 Whether hand it was of Venus, that Diomedes wounded?  
5 What was the reason of Plato, when he said, that the soul of Ajax, came in the 20. place to the lot?  
6 What is covertly signified by the fable wherein Neptune is feigned to be vanquished? and why the Athenians put out of their calendar the second day of August?  
7 What is the cause that the accords in music are divided into a ternary?  
8 Wherein differ the intervals, melodious, and accordants in music?  
9 What is it that maketh accord or symphony? and what is the reason that when a man striketh two strings accordant together, the melody is more base?  
10 How it cometh to pass that the ecliptic revolutions of sun and moon, being in number equal, yet the moon is seen to be oftener eclipsed than the sun?  
11 That we continue not always one and the same, for that our substance evermore passeth still away.  
12 Whether is more probable of the twain, that the stars be in number evenor odd.  
13 A question of contrary laws and convenants, drawn out of the third book of the Rhapsody of Homer's Ilias.  
14 Of the number of the Muses, certain discourses and reasons, not after a vulgar and common manner delivered.  
15 That there be three parts of dancing, 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  motion, gesture, and show; and what each of these is; also what community there is between the art of poetry, and the skill in dancing.   

THE NINTH BOOK OF Symposiaques or banquet-discourses.  

The Proëme.  
THis ninth book of Symposiaques (o Sossius Senecio) containeth the discourses held at Athens, during the festival solemnities of the Muses; for that this number of nine, foreth and agreeth well with the said Muses. Now if the number of question handled in this book, surmount the ordinary Decade of the former books, you are nothing to marvel thereat, because we ought to render unto the Muses all that appertaineth unto the Muses, without taking away or detaining aught from them, no more than from holy sacrifices; considering that we owe unto them many things beside, and the same more beautiful than this.   

THE FIRST QUESTION.  
Of verses cited and pronounced in season and to good purpose, or otherwise.  
AMmonius being captain of the city of Athens, was desirous in favour of Diogenius, to take view and knowledge, how the young men profited, who were students in Grammar, Geometry, Rhetoric and Music; whereupon he invited to supper, the most famous regents and masters, that were throughout the whole city. There met also with them, and were present, many other learned and studious persons, in great frequency, yea, and in manner all his friends and familiars: As for Achilles, verily, at the funeral games and solemnities of Patroclus, he bade only those to sup with him, who had fought hand to hand in single combat to the utterance, with this intent (as it is said) that if haply there had been any choler or heat of revenge enkindled and inflamed between these men, whiles they were in arms, they should now lay down and quit the same, meeting thus at one feast, eating and drinking together at one table: but it happened clean contrary at this time unto Ammonius; for the jealousy, contention, and emulation of these schoolmen and masters of art aforesaid, became the hotter, and grew to the height amid their cups; for by this time, they fell to argue, yea, and to challenge and defy one another, reasoning, and disputing without all order or judgement: whereupon, at the first he commanded the musician Eraton, to sing unto the harp; who began his song in this wise, out of the works of Hesiodus: 
Of quarrel and contention.  
There were as then, more sorts than one.  for which I commended him, in that he knew how to apply the ditty of his song so well unto the present time; which gave occasion afterwards unto Ammonius of this argument; namely, to discourse of verses in season, and to good purpose pronounced; saying: That herein there appeared not only a good grace, but also ensued otherwhiles great commodity thereof. And presently every man's mouth was full of that Rhapsodian poet; who at the marriage of king 
* 〈◊〉  Ptolemaus, when he espoused his own sister, and was thought herein to commit a strange and unlawful act, began his song with these verses out of Homer: 
Great Jupiter, to Juno then, did call  
His sister dear and wedded wife withal.  as also another, who being to sing after supper before king Demetrius, at what time as he sent unto him his son philip, being as yet a very infant, came readily forth with these verses: 
This child, see that you well bring up in virtuous discipline;  
As fits the race of Hercules, and eke a son of mine.  Anaxarchus likewise, when Alexander at supper time flung apples at him, arose from the board, reharsing this verse out of Euripides: 
Some god one day, in verity  
By mortal hand shall wounded be.  But most excellently of all others, a Corinthian lad, who being led away prisoner, as the city was forced and lost, when Mummius taking a survey of those children who were free borne, commanded as many of them as had any knowledge in literature, for to write before him, wrote extempore these verses: 
Thrice and four times those Greeks were blest, I say,  
Whose hap it was, to die before this day.  And by report Mummius took such ruth and compassion hereat, that he shed tears, and for this youths sake, set at liberty as many as were of his kindred and alliance. There was remembered also, the wife of Theodorus the tragedian, who when the time drew near, that such poets and actors were to strive for the best game, would not suffer him to lie with her; but after he was returned home from the theatre, where he had gotten the victory, and gained the prize, when he came toward her, she kissed and welcomed him home with these verses: 
O noble son of Agamemnon, now  
To do with me your will, good leave have you.  Semblably, some there were in place, who hereupon inferred many other verses as unfitly alleged, and altogether out of season; for that it was not thought amiss or unprofitalbe, both to know the same, and to beware thereby; and namely, that which is reported concerning Pompeius Magnus, when he returned from a great expedition and warlike voyage; unto whom his little daughter was presented by her schoolmaster; and for to show unto him how she had profited in learning, when a book was brought unto her, the said schoolmaster opened it, and turned to this place for her to read, which beginneth thus: 
From war thou art returned safe and sound,  
Would God thou hadst been there 〈◊〉 on ground.  Also, when uncerteine news (without any head or author) was brought unto Cassius Longinus, that his son was dead in a strange country, so as he could neither know the truth, nor yet do away the doubtful suspicion therefore, there came an ancient senator to visit him, and said: What Longinus, will you not contemn and neglect this vain bruit and headless rumour, raised (no doubt) by some malicious person? as if you neither had known nor read this sentence: 
No public fame, nor vox popli  
Was ever known in vain to die.  As for him, who when a Grammarian in the isle of Rhodes, called for a theme, to vary upon, and to show thereby his learning before the people in a frequent theatre, gave him this verse: 
Avaunt out of this isle, I do thee reed,  
Most wicked wretch that lives, and that with speed.  it is hard to say, whether he did it of purpose, contumeliously, to deride this poor Grammapion, or committed an error against his will? But to conclude this discourse of verses inserted aptly and otherwise alleged, did very prettily appease the stir and tumult among the regents and masters of art abovesaid.   

THE SECOND QUESTION AND THE THIRD.  
What is the cause why Alpha, (or A) was ranged first of all other letters? as also, what proportion, the number of vowels and semi-vowels hath been composed and ordained?  
WHereas the use and custom was at Athens, during the foresaid feasts in the honour of the Muses, that lots should be carried round about the city, and they that chanced by drawing to be matched together, propound one unto another questions of learning: Ammonius fearing lest some professors of one and the same art, should be committed in opposition together, took this order, and ordained, that without any lottery at all, a Geometrician might propose a question unto a Grammarian; the Rhetorician unto a Musician, and so reciprocally answer them again by turns: Hereupon Hermias the Geometrician put forth first unto Protogenes the Grammarian, a question, urging him to tell the cause, why, A was set foremost of all the letters? who rendered unto him a reason which goeth for currant in the schools: For this is certain (quoth he) that vowels may claim by a most just title, the place before all consonants, whether they be mute or semi-vowels: and seeing that of vowels some be long, others short, and a third sort doubtful, and as they say, of a double time: these of the last kind, aught by good right to be esteemed of greater worth and puissance than the rest; and of them, that is, to have and hold the place of a capitainnesse, which in composition and making of a diphthong, goeth always before the other two, and never cometh behind; and that is Alpha, which neither secondeth Jöta, or Upsilon so, as that it will in such composition yield or help to make one syllable of those twain: but in a kind of anger and indignation, leap back again unto her proper place: chose, set Alpha with whether you will of the other two, so as she may go before, she will accord very well, and both together will make one entire syllable, as we may see in these words, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as also in 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and an infinite number of others: thus in these three respects she hath the victory, and carrieth the prize, like unto those champions who are winners in Quinquectium, or the five several games, for she hath the vantage above the multitude of other letters, in that she is a vowel above vowels, because she hath two times, as being one while long, and anotherwhile short, andeven of these double timed vowels she hath the pre-eminence, by reason that she standeth always before, and never followeth or cometh behind others.  
When Protogenes had made an end of his speech, Ammonius called unto me by name and said: How now Plutarch, will not you aid Cadmus, being (as you are) a Boeotian as he was? for it is said, that he placed Alpha before all other letters, for that Alpha in the Phaenician language signifieth a beef, reputed amonng them, not in the second or third place, according to Hesiodus, but even the very first and principal of necessary movables belonging to a man: Not I (quoth he) for I am bound to succour (what I can) mine own grandfather, rather than the very grandsire of Bacchus; for my grandfather Lamprias was wont to say: That the first distinct and articulate voice which a man pronounceth, is by the power of Alpha; seeing that the breath and spirit within the mouth, is form principally by the motion of the lips, which as they are opened and divided a sunder, yield by that simple overture this voice first, which of all others likewise is most simple, and performed with least ado, calling neither for the tongue to help it, nor waiting for the use thereof, 〈◊〉 forth, even when it lieth still and stirreth not out of the own place: and therefore it is the first voice that infants utter: hereupon also cometh this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek, which signifieth as much as to hear any voice, for that always such a sound as A is usually heard: yea, and many other like vocables, as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to sing; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to pipe; and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to cry or holla; yea and these words 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to elevate or lift up, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to open: not without good cause took these names upon the deduction and lifting up of the lips, whereby such a sound as A, is let forth, and falleth out of the mouth, and therefore the names of other mute consonants, all save one, are helped by this A, which serveth as a light to clear their blindness: for there is but 〈◊〉, or P only, wherein the power of this letter or sound is not employed: as for Phi and Chi, the one of them is P, and the other K, pronounced with (h) or an asperation.   

THE FOURTH QUESTION.  
Whether hand it was of Venus that Diomedes wounded?  
AFter this, when Hermias addressed himself to propose unto Zopyrion a question, we inhibited and stayed him. But Maxmus the Rhetorician, came with a long fetch a far off out of Homer, and demand of him: Whether hand it was of Venus that Dimedes wounded? With that Zopyrion to quit him again, asked him presently: Of whether leg king Philip haulred? The case quoth Maximus is not all one and the same: for Demosthenes hath left unto us no means for to answer this question: but if you confess once that you know not; others there be who will show you the very place where Homer telleth them who have any wit to conceive, which hand of hers was hurt? Zopyrion at this speech seemed to be astonished and stand in a maze: whereupon whiles he help his peace, we requested Maximus, to point unto us the place aforesaid: First and foremost (quoth Maximus then) considering that the verses run in this wise: 
Then leapt aside bold Tideus son, and traversing his ground,  
Stepped to, and with sharp pointed spear, her hand aloft did wound.  It is plain and evident, that if he had meant to have smitten her left hand, he needed not to have leapt at one side, for he had the left hand of Venus' just opposite unto his own right hand, when he directly affronted her: and more probable it is, and stands to greater reason, that his intent was to hurt the stronger hand, and that which held Aeneas her son, whom she seemed with violence to carry away, and which being wounded, she might be forced to forego her hold, and let his body go. Secondly, when Venus was returned up into heaven, Minerva by way of scoffing, laughed at her, and said to Jupiter in this wise: 
No doubt, fair Venus hath suborned some Greekish dame to love,  
And follow one of these Troy knights, whom she affects above  
All other wights: and whiles she stroked this lady gently see,  
Her soft hand met with some gold-clasp, and so came razed to be.  And verily I suppose, that even yourself good sir, an excellent regent and professor as you are, if at any time you would seem in making much of one of your scholars, to stroke and softly to handle him, will not do it with your left hand, but with the right; and even so, very like it is, that Venus, the most gentle and courteous goddess of all others, in this manner dealt with the Grecian ladies, when she persuaded them unto her mind.   

THE FIFTH QUESTION.  
What is the reason that Plato said, how the soul of Ajax came to the lot, in the 20. place.  
THis pretty discourse aforesaid, pleased the whole company, and made them all merry, but one Grammarian named Hylas, whom Sospis a professor in Rhetoric, seeing to sit all silent, sad and heavy, (for that in deed he had sped not very well, whensoever he made proof of his scholars proceedings) came out with these verses aloud: 
Ajax soul, the son of Telamonius,  
Remained still, and all alone.  and the rest of the verses following, he delivered in an higher note than ordinary, and rehearsed them aloft unto him, in this wise: 
But now good sir come hither, that my words you may well hear,  
Repress your ire, this anger quench, and tame your moody cheer.  But Hylas grumbling still in anger, bewrayed no less by his cross and impertinent answer, saying: That the ghost of Ajax in hell, took her turn in the 20. place, and her lot was according to Plato, to be transmuted into the nature of a lion: But for mine own part (quoth he) I think many times of the old man's saying in the comedy: 
Better it were an ass to be  
Indeed, than for a man to see  
Those live preferred in worldy pelf,  
Who are for worth behind himself.  hereat Sospis laughing heartily: But I beseech you good Hylas (quoth he) mean while that we are turning into asses, and taking packsaddles on our backs (if you regard and respect any thing the honour of Plato) declare unto us the reason, why he said: That the soul of Ajax (him I mean who was Telamon's son) came in the twentieth place to have her choice from the lottery? Which when Hylas flatly refused to do, (for he thought that they made a mocking stock of him, because he had but bad success in his former trials:) my brother took the matter in hand: And what say you (quoth he) to this? may it not be, for that Ajax carried the name always for beauty, greatness and valour, 
Next after Peleus' son (I say,)  
Who was sans-peere for prowess ay?  And you know that twenty makes up the second decade; and the decade or number of ten, is of all numbers principal and most puissant, like as Achilles was among the princes of the Greeks. With that we all set up a laughter: Then Ammonius, Well (quoth he) Lamprias, you are disposed thus to jest and play with Hylas, 〈◊〉 of your own accord, you have undertaken the charge, to deliver the cause hereof, let us entreat you to impart it unto us, not by way of sport and merriment, but in good earnest. Lamprias was at the first not a little troubled at this challenge, but after he had paused, and thought upon the matter a while, in the end he spoke to this effect: It is an ordinary thing (quoth he) with Plato, to play with us many times merrily, by certain devised names that he useth: but whensoever he inserteth some fable in any treatise of the soul, he doth it right soberly, and hath a deep meaning, and profound sense therein: for the intelligent nature of heaven, he calleth, a Chariot volant, to wit, the harmonical motion and revolution of the world: and here in this place whereof we are now in question (to wit, in the end of the tenth book of his Commonwealth) he bringeth in a messenger from hell, to relate news of that which he had there himself seen; and calleth him by the name of Era, a Pamphylian borne, and the son of Armonius, giving us covertly (by an enigmatical conveyance) thus much to understand: That our souls are engendered by harmony, and so joined to our bodies, but when they be disjoined, and separate from them, they run together all into air from every side, and so return again from thence unto second generations: what should hinder then but this word 
* Which signifieth also the twentieth.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 was put down by him, not to show a truth whereof he spoke, but rather 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as a probable speech, and conjectural fiction, or else, a thing spoken (as it should seem) to a dead body, and so uttered 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  vainly and at a venture in the air: for Plato always toucheth three causes, as being the philosopher who either first knew, or principally understood how fatal destiny is mingled with fortune: and again, how our free-will is wont to be joined with either of them, or is complicate with both: and now in this place before cited, he showeth excellently well, what power each of these causes hath in our human affairs, attributing the choice and election of our life unto free will, (for virtue and vice be free, and at the command of no lord) and tying to the necessity of fatal destiny, a religious life to godward in them, who have made a good choice, and chose in those who have made a choice of the worst: but the cadences or chances of lots, which being cast at a venture, and lighting here and there, without order, befall to every one of us, bring in fortune, and preoccupate or prevent much of that which is ours, by the sundry educations or governments of commonweal, wherein it happeneth each of us to live: for this I would have every one of you to consider whether it be not mere folly and without all reason, to seek for a cause of that which is done by fortune and casually; for if lot should seem to come by reason, there were to be imputed no more to fortune or adventure, but all to some fatal destiny or providence.  
Whiles Lamprias delivered this speech, Marcus the Grammarian, seemed to count and number (I wot not) what upon his fingers to himself apart: but when he had made an end, the said Marcus named aloud all those souls or spirits which are called out in Homer's Necya: Among which (quoth he) the ghost only of Elpenor wandering still in the middle confines, is not reckoned with those beneath in another world, for that his body as yet is not interred and committed to the earth: as for the soul of Tiresias also, it seemeth not to be numbered with the rest, 
To whom now dead Proserpina, above the rest did give,  
This gift alone right wise to be, although he did not live.  as also the power to speak with the living, and to understand their state and affairs, even before he had drunk the blood of sacrificed beasts: If then (quoth he) o Lamprias you subtract these two, and count the rest, you shall find that the soul of Ajax was just the twentieth of those which presented themselves to Ulysses; and hereto alluded Plato, as it should seem by way of mirth, joining his fable together with that evocation of spirits, otherwise called Necyra in Homer's Odyssea.   

THE six QUESTION.  
What is covertly meant by the fable, wherein Neptune is feigned to have been vanquished: as also, why the Athenians take out the second day of the month, August?  
NOw when the whole company were grown to a certain uproar, Menephyllus a Peripatetic philosopher calling unto Hylas by name: You see (quoth he) now, that this question was not propounded by way of mockery and contumelious flouting: but you my good friend (leaving this froward and mal-contented Ajax, whose name as Sophocles saith, is ominous, and of ill presage) betake yourself unto Neptune, and side with him a while; who is wont to recount unto us himself, how he hath been oftentimes overcome, to wit, in this city, by Minerva; at Delphi, by Apollo; in Argos, by Juno; in Aegina, by Jupiter; and in Naxus, by Bacchus: and yet in all his repulses, disfavors, and infortunities, he bore himself always mild, and gentle, carrying no rancour or malice in his heart: for proof hereof, there is even in this city a temple common to him and Minerva, in which there standeth also an altar dedicated to Oblivion: Then Hylas who seemed by this time more pleasantly disposed: But you have forgotten (quoth he) o Menephyllus, that we have abolished the second day of the month, August, not in regard of the moon, but because it was thought to be the day upon which Neptune and Minerva pleaded for the scignorie of this territory of Attica. Now I assure you (quoth Lamprias) Neptune was every way much more civil and reasonable than Thrasibulus, in case being not a winner as the other, but a loser, he could forget all grudge and malice.   

A great breach and defect there is in the Greek original, wherein wanteth the farther handling of this question, as also 5. questions entire following, and a part of the 6. to wit.  
7 Why the accords in music are divided into three?  
8 Wherein differ the intervals or spaces melodious, from those that be accordant?  
9 What cause is it that maketh accord? and what is the reason that when one toucheth two strings accordant together, the melody is ascribed to the base?  
10 What is the cause that the ecliptic revolutions of sun and moon being in number equal, yet we see the moon oftener eclipsed than the sun?  
11 That we continue not always one and the same, in regard of the daily deflux of our substance.  
12 Whether of the twain is more probable, that the number of stars is even or odd?   

Of this twelfth question thus much remaineth as followeth.  
Lysander was wont to say: That children are to be deceived with cockall bones, but men with oaths: Then Glaucias, I have heard (quoth he) that this speech was used against Polycrates the tyrant; but it may be, that it was spoken also to others: But whereby do you demand this of me? Because verily (quoth Sospis) I see, that children snatch at such bones, & the Academiques catch at words: for it seemeth unto me, that these stomachs differ in nothing from them, who holding out their clutched fists, play at handy dandy, & ask whether they hold in their close hand even or odd? Then Protogenes, arose, and calling unto me by name: What ail we (quoth he) and what is come unto us that we suffer these Rhetoricians and orators thus to brave it out, and to mock others, being demanded nothing in the mean time, nor put to it for to contribute their skot and part unto this conference and these discourses? unless peradventure they will come in with this plea, that they have no part of this table talk, in drinking wine, as being those who admire and follow Demosthenes, who in all his life time never drank wine: This is not the cause (quoth I) but the reason is, because we have spurred them no questions: but if you have no better thing to ask, I will propose unto them a case of repugnancy in contrary laws or conditions, and the same drawn out of Homer.   

THE THIRTEENTH QUESTION.  
A question as touching repugnant laws, taken out of the third Rhapsody or book of Homer's Ilias.  
ANd what is that case, demanded he again? I will tell you (quoth I) and withal propose it unto these here: and therefore let them give attentive ear: Alexander Paris, in the third book of Homer's Ilias, giveth defiance to Menelaus, and challengeth him to a single fight, with certain conditions protesting in this manner: 
Let us between both armies meet without,  
Myself I mean and Menelaus stout:  
To try in single fight upon this plain  
To which of us by right shall appertain  
Dame Helen, with her goods: For look who shall  
Make good his ground, and quit himself withal  
So bravely, that the victory he gain,  
Have he herself, and jewels in domain.  Hector again publishing unto all, and declaring as well to Greeks as trojans the same challenge and defiance of his brother Paris, useth in manner the very same words, saying: 
His meaning is, that Greeks and trojans all  
Besides should for the time surcease and quite  
Lay down all arms upon the ground withal,  
Whiles he and Menelaus hardy knight,  
For Helen fair, and all her jewels fight:  
And he that shall the better hand obtain,  
With him both lady shall and goods remain.  Now when Menelaus had accepted of these conditions, and both sides were sworn to the articles accorded, Agamemnon to ratify the same by his royal assent, spoke in this wise: 
If Alexander in plain fight, shall Menelaus kill:  
Dame Helen he may lead away, and her goods at his will:  
But say that Menelaus brave, do Alexander stay  
The woman then and what she hath, let him 〈◊〉 have away.  Now for that Menelaus vanquished Paris indeed, but yet bearest him not of his life; either side had good plea to defend their cause opposite unto their enemies: for the Greeks pretended a right claim unto Helena, for that Paris was overcome: and the trojans impleaded and denied to redeliver her, because he was not left dead in the place: how shall this case then be decided and judged aright in so great a difference and contrariety? Certes it belongeth not to Philosophers nor Grammarians alone; but it is for Rhetoricians also to determine hereof, who are both learned in Grammar and good letters; and withal, well seen in Philosophy, as you be. Then Sospis gave his opinion and said: That the cause and plea of the defendant challenged, was far better and stronger, as having the law directly on his side: for the assailant and challenger himself, denounced under what conditions the combat should be performed; which seeing the defendant accepted of, and yielded unto, it lieth not in their power any more to add aught thereto: for the condition comprised in the challenge, carried no words implying slaughter or death of any side; but the victory of the one, and the discomfiture of the other; and that with very great reason: for by right the lady belonged to the better man, and more valiant; and the more valorous man is he who vanquisheth: for otherwise it falleth out many times, that valiant and hardy men are slain by very cowards; as afterwards Achilles himself chanced to be killed by Paris with the shot of an arrow: neither will any man (I trow) say, that Achilles thus slain, was the less valiant, or call this the victory; but rather the good fortune of Paris unjustly dealt, whose hap it was to shoot so right; whereas on the other side, 〈◊〉 was vanquished by Achilles, before he was slain, for that he would not abide his coming, but for fear abandoned his ground and fled: for he 〈◊〉 refuseth combat and runneth away, is in plain terms vanquished, & hath no excuse to palliate or cloak his defeature; but flatly confesseth his enemy to be his better. And therefore Irus, coming at first to Helena for to give her intelligence of this combat, saith unto her: 
They will in combat fight it out with long spears now for thee:  
And look who wins the victory, his wife thou named shalt be.  And afterwards Jupiter himself adjudged the prize of victory unto Menelaus in these words: 
Now 〈◊〉 it is, the champion bold, sir Menelaus height,  
Hath quit himself a man, and won the prize in single fight.  For it were a tidiculous mockery to say: That Paris had conquered Achilles, because he stood behind a far off, & with the shot of an arrow wounded him in the foot, who never was ware of him, nor so much as looked for any such thing; & that now when he refused combat, disinherited himself, & ran out of the field like a coward, to shroud & hide himself within the bosom, & between the arms of a woman, being as a man would say disarmed and despoiled of his weapons, even whiles he was alive, his concurrent should not deserve to carry away the victory, showing himself the conqueror in open field; even according to the conditions offered by Paris the challenger. Then Glaucus taking the matter in hand, impleaded and argued against him thus: First (quoth he) in all edicts, decrees, laws, covenants and contracts, the last are reputed always of greater validity, and do stand more firm than the former: but the second covenants and the last, were they which were declared and published by Agamemnon; in which was comprised, expressly death for the end of the combat, and not the discomfiture or yielding of the party conquered: moreover the former capitulation of covenants, passed only by parole & bare words; but the other which followed after, was sealed & confirmed with an oath, yea & a curse and execration was set thereupon, for whosoever should transgress the same: neither was it approved & ratified by one man alone, but by the whole army together: in such sort as this latter paction and covenant, ought properly and by right, to be so called; whereas the former was nothing else but the intimation of a challenge and defiance given; in testimony whereof, Priamus also after the articles of combat were sworn unto, departed out of the field saying: 
Great Jupiter and other gods immortal now do know,  
Whose destiny it is to die upon his overthrow.  For he wist well enough that the covenants of combat were capitulated and accorded upon this condition: and therefore it was, that a little while after, Hector saith: 
God Jupiter aloft in heaven  
who sits upon his throne,  
The covenants sworn hath not performed  
which were agreed and sworn.  For as yet the combat remained unatchived and unperfect, neither had it a certain and doubtless conclusion, considering neither the one nor the other of the champions was slain: so that in mine opinion, there is no contrariety here at all, because the former articles and conditions were comprised in the second: for no doubt, he that killeth hath overcome; but it followeth not, that he who vanquisheth hath killed his enemy: but to say a truth, we may well plead thus: That Agamemnon did not reverse or annul the challenge or defiance pronounced by Hector, but explained and declared it; neither altered he it, but added rather the principal point thereof, setting down expressly, him for victor who killed his enemy; for this indeed is a complete and absolute victory; whereas all others have evasions, pretended excuses and oppositions, such as this of Menelaus, who wounded not his enemy, nor so much as pursued and followed after him: like as therefore in such cases wherein there is an evident contradiction of laws indeed, the judges are wont to pronounce award and sentence, according to that which is most expressly and 〈◊〉 set down, leaving that which is doubtful and obscure; even so in this present case now in question; that covenant which hath an evident conclusion, and admitteth no tergiversation at all, we ought to esteem more firm and effectual: furthermore, that which is the chief and most principal point of all, even he himself who is supposed to be the victor, in that he retired not back, nor gave over seeking for him that fled, but went up and down, to and fro among the troops searching all about, 
If haply of this gallant knight  
Sir Paris he might have a sight.  testified plainly, that his victory was imperfect and of no validity; considering that his concurrent was escaped out of his hands, which put him in mind of the words which himself a little before had said: 
The hour of death, to whether of us twain  
Is come, let him lie dead upon the plain:  
As for the rest, see every one apart,  
And that with speed, you home in peace depart.  And therefore it stood him upon necessarily, to seek out Alexander, to the end, that having slain him, he might accomplish the entire execution of the combat, and gain the end thereof; whereas, neither killing him out of the way, nor taking him prisoner, without all right he demanded the prize of victory: for in very truth, he did not so much as vanquish him, if we may gather presumptions and conjectural arguments, even out of his own words, complaining as he doth of Jupiter, and lamenting to himself, that he miss of his purpose, in these words: 
O Jupiter, in heaven above, no God there is again,  
More spiteful than thyself to me, nor cruel; to be plain,  
I made account, and so gave out, of Paris in this place,  
Revenged to be for all his wrongs, and working my disgrace:  
But now my sword in hand is burst, my javelin 〈◊〉 in 〈◊〉  
With force of arms, hath done no hurt, nor wrought him any pain.  For himself confesseth, that it was to no purpose, that he pierced thorough his enemy's shield, and took away his armet that fell from his head, unless he had wounded him therewith, and slain him outright.   

THE fourteenth QUETSION.  
As touching the Muses and their number, certain points not after a vulgar and common manner handled.  
THis discourse being thus finished, we performed our oblations and libaments to the Muses; and after we had sung an hymn to Apollo, the leader and conductor of the Muses, we chanted also to the found of the harp, as Eraton played there upon, those verses which 〈◊〉 wrote concerning the generation and birth of the Muses: when our song was ended, Herodes the thetorician began his speech in this wise: Listen lordings (quoth he) you that would distract and pluck from us, Calliope: they say (forsooth) that she converseth with kings, and not with those who can skill of unfolding syllogisms, or who propose difficult questions to such as speak big, and are of magnificent speech, 〈◊〉 those rather who do and effect great matters, the works I mean which concern orators, politicians & Statesmen: and as for Clio, of all the Muses, she 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 the encomiasticall orations, wherein are contained the praises of other artisans; for that in old time, our ancestors called praises, Clea: and Polymneia enterteineth history; which is nothing else, but the memorial or remembrance of many antiquities: and it is reported, that in some places, and namely, in 
* Or, 〈◊〉.  Chios, they name all the Muses 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; that is to say, memories: as for me, I challenge also to myself some part of 
* Or, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Euterpe, if it be as 〈◊〉 saith, that she it is, who hath allotted unto her the gift to entertain meetings and conferences, with pleasure, delectation and grace: for an orator is no less affable in familiar conversation, than eloquent in pleading causes at the 〈◊〉, or in opining and delivering his mind in consultations at the counsel table; considering that the art and profession of an orator, containeth the faculty and feat to win good will, do defend, maintain, and justify; but principally, and most of all, we employ our greatest skill in praising and dispraising; which if we can order artificially and with dexterity, we are able to bring about and effect no small matters: and chose, if we do unskilfully, and without art, we fail of the mark which we shoot at: for this commendable title, 
O God, this man how acceptable  
Is he to all, and venerable!  agreeth in my judgement, to orators, rather than to any other persons, who have the skill to speak well and to persuade: a gift most requisite, fit, and beseeming those that are to converse with men. Then Ammonius: It were not well done of us (quoth he) o Herodes, if we should be offended and angry with you, although you seem to comprehend all the Muses together in your hand: for that among friends, all things are common: and therefore it is, that Jupiter hath begotten many Mufes, that every man might draw abundance from them of all good things, and make no spare: for we have not all of us need, of the skill in hunting, of military science, of the art of navigation, nor of the mechanical handicrafts of artisans; but we all stand in need of learning and erudition, 
As many as on fruits do feed,  
Which for our use the earth doth breed.  And hereupon it is, that Jupiter hath procreated one Minerva, one Diana, and one Vulcan; but many Muses: now that there should be nine of them in number just, and neither more nor fewer, you will be so good (will you not) as to yield us a reason? for I suppose you are well studied in this point, being as you are, so well affected unto them, and so much adorned by their graces. And what great learning (quoth Herodes again) should there be in that? for every man hath in his mouth, the number of nine, and there is not a woman, but singeth thereof, and is able to say, that as it is the first square arising from the first odd number, so it is unevenly odd itself, as being divided into three odd numbers equal one to the other. Now surely (quoth Ammontus, and therewith smiled) this is manfully done of you, and stoutly remembered: but why do you not add thereto, thus much more, for a corollary and over-measure, that it is a number composed of the two first cubes, considering that it is made of an unity and an octonaric: and after another manner likewise of composition, it standeth of two triangled numbers, to wit a senarie and a ternary, where of, both the one and the other is a perfect number: but what is the reason, that this novenarie or number of nine, agreeth better unto the Muses, than to any other gods or goddesses; for nine Muses we have, but not nine Cereses, nor nine 〈◊〉, nor yet nine Diana's? you are not (I trow) persuaded that the cause hereof is, because the name of their mother 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, containeth just so many letters? Herodes laughed heartily hereat; and after some time of pause and silence, Ammonius solicited us to take the matter in hand, and search the cause thereof. With that, my brother began, and said: Our ancients in old time knew of no more than three Muses; but to prove so much by way of demonstration, before this company, where there be so many wise men and learned clerks, were a mere uncivil and rustical part, savouring of vanity and ostentation: but I assure you, the reason of this number, was not (as some affirm) the three kinds of music or melody, to wit, 
* Plainsong or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Diatonique, 
* Full .  Chromatique, and 
* 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of pleasant consent and accord.  Harmonique; nor by occasion of the three terms or bounds which make the intervals in an octave or eight, of music harmonical, to wit, Neat, Mese, and Hypate, that is to say, the Treble, the Mean, and the Base: and yet verily, the Delphians so called the Muses; wherein they did amiss, in my judgement, to restrain that general name of them all, to one science, or rather to one part of a science, to wit, the harmony of music: but our ancients (knowing well, that all arts and sciences which are practised & performed by reason and speech, are reduced to three principal kinds, Philosophical, Rhetorical, and Mathematical) reputed them to be the gifts and beneficial graces of three deities or divine powers, which they called Muses: 〈◊〉, afterwards, and about the time wherein Hesiodus lived, when the faculties of these general sciences were better revealed and discovered, they perceived that 〈◊〉 of them had three differences; and so they subdivided them into three subalternal sorts; namely, the Mathematics, into Arithmetic, Music, and Geometry; Philosophy, into Logic, Ethicke or Moral, and Physic or Natural; as for Rhetoric, it had at the beginning for the first part, Demonstrative, which was employed in praises; for the second, Deliberative, occupied in consultations; and for the third, Judicial, used in pleas and judgements: of all which faculties, they thought there was not so much as one, that was invented, or could be learned without some gods or Muses, that is to say, without the conduct and favour of some superior puissance: and therefore they did not devise and make so many Muses, but acknowledged and found that so many there were: like as therefore, the number of nine is divided into three ternaries, and every one of them subdivided into as many unites; even so the rectitude of reason in the precellent knowledge of the truth, is one puissance, and the same common: but each of these three kinds is subdivided into three other; and every of them hath their several Muse, for to dispose and adorn particularly one of these faculties: for I do not think, that in this division, poets and astrologers can of right complain of us, for leaving out their sciences; knowing (as they do) aswell as we can tell them, that Astrology is contributed unto Geometry, & Poetry to Music. Upon this speech, Tryphon the physician broke out into these words: But what mean you (I pray you) and how hath our poor art offended you, that it is excluded thus out of the temple and society of the Muses? Then 〈◊〉 of Melitus, added moreover, and said: Nay you have provoked many of us beside, to complain upon our discontentment in the same behalf: for we that are gardeners and husbandmen employed in agriculture, challenge a right and property in lady 〈◊〉, ascribing unto her, the care and charge of plants and seeds, that they may come up, grow, flower, increase, and be preserved. But herein (quoth I) you do the man manifest wrong; for you have Ceres for your patroness, furnamed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, for giving us so many gifts; to wit, the fruits of the earth: yea, and Bacchus may go for a patron in this respect, who (as Pindar us saith) 
Taking the charge of trees that grow,  
Doth cause them for to bud and blow:  
The verdure fresh and beauty pure,  
Of lovely fruits he doth procure.  And we know beside, that physicians have Aestulapius for their precedent and tutelar god, who ordinarily also use Apollo as he is surnamed, Paean, that is to say, the appeaser of all pains and maladies, but never as he is, Musegetes, that is to say, the prince and guide of the Muses: True it is indeed, that according to Homer: 
All mortal men of gods have need,  
That they in their affairs may speed.   
Howbeit all men require not the help of all gods: But I wonder much at this, that Lamprias should either forget or be ignorant of that common saying of the Delphians, who give out: That among them the Mules bear not the name, either of sounds and notes, or of strings; but whereas the whole world is divided into three principal parts or regions; where of the first is of those natures which be fixed and not erratical; the second of such as are wandering; and the third, of bodies under the sphere of the moon: these are every one distinctly digested, composed, and ordered by harmonic all proportions, and each of them (as they say) hath a Muse to their keeper and precedent, to wit, the first or highest region, Hypate; the last or lowest, Neat: & as for Mese which is in the middle between, she doth both comprehend and also turn about mortal things, (as much as it is possible, considering they come after) with divine and immortal, yea, and earthly natures with heavenly and celestial, according as Plato himself after a covert & enigmatical manner hath given us to understand, under the names of the three Destinies, calling one, Atropos; another, Lachesis; and a third, Clotho: for as touching the motions and revolutions of the eight heavenly Spheres, he hath attributed as precedents unto them so many sirens in number, and not Muses.  
Then Menephylus the Peripatetic coming in with his speech: There is (quoth he) some reason and probability in the Delphians saying; but surely the opinion of Plato is absurd, in that unto those divine and eternal revolutions of the heavens, he hath assigned in stead of Muses, the sirens which are daemons, or powers not very kind and good, nor beneficial; either leaving out as he doth the Muses altogether, or else calling them by the names of the Destinies, and saying they be the daughters of Necessity: for surely Necessity is a rude thing and violent; whereas Persuasion is gentle and gracious; by the means of Muses amiable, taming what it will, and in my mind, 
Detesteth more the duritie,  
And force of hard necessity.  than doth that grace and Venus of Empedocles. That is true indeed (quoth Ammonius) it abhorreth that violent and involuntary cause which is in ourselves, enforcing us to do against our evils: but the necessity which is among the gods is nothing intolerable, nor violent, nor hard to be obeyed or persuaded, but to the wicked, no more than the law of a city, that unto good men is the best thing that is, & which they cannot pervert or transgress; not because it is impossible for them so to do, but for that they are not willing to change the same. Moreover as touching those sirens 
* Odyss. 〈◊〉 167.  of Homer, there is no reason that the fable of them should affright us: for (after an enigmatical and covert sort) even he signifieth very well unto us, that the power of their song and music, is neither inhuman, nor pernicious or mortal; but such as imprinteth in the souls which depart from hence thither, as also to such as wander in that other world after death, a vehement affection to divine and celestial things, together with a certain forgetfulness of those that be mortal and earthly, detaining and enchanting them as it were with a pleasure that they give unto them; in such sort as by reason of the joy which they receive from them, they follow after and turn about with them: now of this harmony, there is a little echo or obscure resonance cometh hither unto us, by the means of certain discourses, which calleth unto our soul, and putteth into her mind, such things as then and there are, whereof the greatest part is enclosed and stopped up with the abstructions of the flesh, and passions that are not sincere: howbeit, our soul, by reason of the generosity wherewith it is endued, doth understand, yea, and remember the same, being ravished with so vehement an affection thereof, that her passion may be compared properly unto most ardent and furious fits of love, whiles she still affecteth and desireth to enjoy, but is not able for all that, to loosen and free herself from the body; howbeit, I do not accord and hold with him altogether in these matters: but it seemeth unto me, that Plato as he hath somewhat strangely in this place, called the axes and poles of the world and heavens, by the names of spindels, rocks, and distaves, yea & termed the stars, wherves: so, to the Muses also he hath given an extraordinary denomination of Sirens, as if they related, and expounded unto the souls and ghosts beneath, divine and celestial things: like as Ulysses in Sophocles saith, that the sirens were come: 
The daughters who of Phorcis were,  
That doth of hell the laws declare.  As for the Muses they be assigned unto the eight heavenly spheres: and one hath for her portion the place and region next to the earth: those than which have the presidences & charge of the revolution of those eight spheres, do keep, preserve and maintain the harmony and consonance, aswell between the wandering planets and fixed stars, as also of themselves one to another; and that one which hath the superintendence of that space between the moon and the earth, and converseth with mortal and temporal things, bringeth in and infuseth among them, by the means of her speech and song (so far forth as they be capable by nature and apt to receive the same) the persuasive faculty of the Graces, of musical measures and harmony: which faculty is very cooperative with civil policy and human society, in dulsing and apeasing that which is turbulent, extravagant and wandering in us, reducing it gently into the right way, from blind by-paths and errors and there settleth it: but according to Pyndarus: 
Whom jupiter from heaven above  
Vouchsafeth not his gracious love,  
Amazed they be and fly for fear  
When they the voice of Muses hear.  Whereto when Ammonius had given acclamation, alluding (as his manner was) unto the verse of Xenophanes in this wise: 
These things do carry good credence  
And to the truth have reference,  and withal moved us every one to opine and deliver his advice: I myself after some little pause and silence, began thus to say: That as Plato himself by the etymology of names (as it were by traces) thought to find out the properties and powers of the gods; even so let us likewise place in heaven & over celestial things, one of the Muses, which seemeth of the heaven to to be called Urania. Certes, it standeth to great reason, that these heavenly bodies require not much variety of government, for that they have but one simple cause, which is, nature: but whereas there be many errors, many enormities & trespasses, thither we must transfer those eight: one for to correct one sort of faults and disorders, and another for to amend & reform another: and for that of our life, one part is bestowed in serious & grave affairs, and another in sport & game; & throughout the whole course thereof, it hath need of a moderate temperature & musical consent: that which in us is grave & serious shall be ruled and conducted, by Calliope, Clio and Thalia, being our guides in the skill and speculation as touching gods and goddesses: as for the other Muses, their office and charge is to support and hold up that which is inclined and prone to pleasure, play and disport, not to suffer it through weakness and imbecility to run headlong into looseness and bestiality; but to keep in, repress and hold it in good and decent order with dancing, singing and playing such as hath their measures, and is tempered with harmony, reason, and proportion: For mine own part, considering that Plato admitteth and setteth down in every one two principles and causes of all our actions; the one inbred and natural; to wit, a desire and inclination to pleasures: the other coming from without forth; to wit, an opinion which covereth the best; insomuch, as the one he calleth sometime, Reason, and the other, Passion; and seeing that either of these again admitteth distinct differences; I see certainly, that both of them require a great government; and in very truth, an heavenly and divine conduct: and first as touching Reason, one part thereof is civil and royal; namely, that which meddleth in policke government, and matters of State: over which is placed as Hesiodus saith, Calltope; Clio is allotted for her part principally, to advance, colland, and encourage, ambition or desire of honour; Polymneia ruleth and preserveth the virtue memorative, and the desire of knowledge and learning, which is in the soul: and hereupon it is, that the Sicyonians of those three Muses which they honour, call one, Polymathia; and unto Euterpe, who attributeth not the skill and speculation of truth in nature, as acknowledging no delights and recreations more pure, beautiful, and honest than it. To come now unto appetites and affections, that which concerneth eating and drinking, Thalia maketh civil, sociable, and honest: whereas, otherwise it would be inhuman, beastly, and disordered; which is the reason that we say; those men do 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, when they meet together friendly and merrily to make good cheer: but in no wise such as become drunk, and grow to excess and riotous misdemeanours. As for the accords of love and Venus, Erato is she that performeth them with her presence; persuading that the action thereof should respect reason and the opportunity of time, cutting off wantonness, and quenching the furious heat of lust and pleasure, making it for to determine and rest in faithful love and amity, and not to end in dissolute and lascivious intemperance. There remaineth yet the pleasure of hearing and seeing, whether the same belong to reason or to passion; or rather appertain in common to both: the other two Muses, to wit, Melpomene and Terpsichore, are regents over them, which they compose and order in such sort, that as the one becometh an honest delight, and not an enchantment of the ears; so the other contenteth the eyes as much, though it do not bewitch and corrupt the same.  
The whole chapter following is so defective and faulty in the original, that we know not by any conjectural means to supply or reform it.   

THE FIFTEENTH QUESTION.  
That in dancing there be three parts, Motions, Gesture, and Show: what every of them is? also, what community there is between the art of Poetry and the feat of dancing.  
AFter this, there was proposed a tart or cake called Pyramus, as the prize of victory for 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, all.  children, who dance best: and for umpiers & judges were chosen Menissus the schoolmaster, and Lampryas my brother: for before time he had danced the warlike moriske very prettily, and was held in the dancing schools and places of exercise, to have the best grace in gesticulation with his hands when he danced, above all other boys whatsoever: now when as many had danced and showed therein more affection than elegancy, and more heart than art; some there were of the company, who having chosen two more expert than the rest, and who affected greatly to observe the rules of art, prayed them to dance 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as one would say, motion after motion, or one bout after another. Hereupon Thrasibulus the son of Ammonius, demanded what this term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, motion, signified in this place, which ministered matter, and gave occasion unto Ammonius to discourse more at large concerning the parts of dancing; for he said: That there were three parts thereof, namely, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: For that (quoth he) a dance is compounded of motions, gestures, or countenances, like as songs standeth upon sounds, and times, or rests between; for pauses and stays are the ends of motions herein; and verily those motions, professors call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; but the dispositions and habitudes, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, unto which the motions do tend, and wherein they rest and end; namely, when in the form and gesture of their body, they represent Apollo or Ran, or some of these raging Bacchaes, so as a man at the first sight may acknowledge their part expressly resembled: as for the third part called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, it is not a feigned imitation, but a lovely and true demonstration of the subject matters in the dance: for like as the poets when they would plainly and barely name Achilles, Ulysses, the Earth or Heaven, use their proper terms to express them, and even such as the vulgar know them by; but for the greater emphasis and representation as it were to the life of that which they mean to deliver, they use otherwhiles words of their owae making, and borrowed Metaphors; as namely, when they would signify the noise of running mates, they are wont to say, they do 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and for to express the flight of arrows, they tell us that they fly 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say: 
What hot desire and haste they make,  
Of flesh and blood their fill to take.  Also to show a doubtful battle, wherein it is hard to say whether part shall have the better hand; they come with these terms: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
The fight two heads aloft in view,  
Confronting equally did show.  Likewise to express that which they would say, they devise and coin many compositions of names in their verses, as for example: Euripides speaking of Perseus: 
Then Gorgon-slayer mounting high,  
In air of Jupiter did fly.  Semblably Pindarus writing of the horse: 
What time as he with courage stout,  

* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Spur-lesse, his body gave so strong,  
To run a race from bout to bout,  
Upon Alphëus banks along.  Yea and Homer describing a course at horserunning: 
The chariots with brass and tin, bedight upon the plain,  
And draw'ne by sure swiftfooted steeds, were seen to run amain  Even so it is in dancing, for that which they call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, gesture, representeth the form & the visage: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the motion, expresseth emphatically some affection, action, or power of the mind; but by the shows, which they call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, properly and promptly, the very things themselves; as for example: the earth, the heaven, the assistants or standers by; which being done in order, number, and measure, resemble those proper names which otherwhiles in poetry are used, running roundly with the ornaments of their attributes and epithits in this manner: 
Themis modest, venerable:  
Venus black-eied, amiable:  
Queen Juno with her gold-crowne honoured,  
Fair Dion and well-favoured.  Also: 
From Helen came renowned kings, of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  laws protector's grave,  
Sir Dorus, Xanthus, Aeolus,  

* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  who joied in horses brave.  for otherwise if poets should not thus do, their style would be very base, and their verses stark nought, and without all grace, as if one should pen them in this sort simply without all epithits: 
From one descended Hercules,  
And from another Iphytus,  
This lady's Sire, her husband eke,  
And son were kings all in their course:  
Her brethren also were the like,  
And so were her progenitors.  
Who first to know what dame she was  
Greece cleped her Olympias.   
For the like faults and errors are committed at dancing in the foresaid shows, if they carry not a probable likelihood and a grace with them, and the same accompanied with decency and an unaffected simplicity: in one word, we may fitly transfer the apothegm of Simonides, from painting unto dancing, and say thus: That a dance is a mute poesy, and poesy a speaking dance; insomuch (quoth he) as neither painting dependeth upon poesy, nor poesy of painting, as having no need at all, one of the other: whereas between dancing and poetry, all things are common, are participating one with another in every thing, and representing, both of them, one and the same thing, especially in those songs to dance, which they call Hyporchemata, wherein is performed the most effectual and lively resemblance, of the one, by gesture, and of the other, by words and names: so that poëmes seem aptly to be compared unto the lines and pourfling in a picture, by which the forms of visages are drawn; insomuch, as he who hath proceeded well in those Hyporchemata, and is become excellent in that feat, showeth plainly, that these two arts, necessarily have need the one of the other: for he who chaunteth out this song, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  That is to say: 
I play the horse of Thessaly,  
Or else the hound of Amycly.  following and pursuing with his foot, the measures, and expressing the winding and turning sound of the voice; or this other song, 

* This place is corrupt, in the original, that until it be restored, I think it bootless to go about to 〈◊〉 it.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  declareth thereby, that poëmes do in manner provoke the disposition and gesture of dancing, drawing with the sound of verses, as it were with certain cords, both hands & feet, or the whole body rather, stretching out every member thereof in such sort, as when they be pronounced and chanted forth, there is not one of them that can rest in quiet: by occasion whereof, the party who singeth such songs, is not abashed to praise himself no less for his sufficiency in the art of dancing, than his accomplished skill in poesy; and as if he were rapt with some divine instinct, breaketh out into this note: 
How old soever that I be,  
I can yet foot it merrily.  And this manner of dancing to the measures, they call the Candiot dance; howbeit, now a days there is nothing so ill taught, so badly practised, and so much depraved and corrupted, as is this feat of dancing: and therefore that is befallen unto it, which 〈◊〉 the poet fearing, wrote of himself in these verses: 
For honour lost among the gods, I 〈◊〉,  
With men alone I shall be honoured.  For having associated herself to (I wot not what) trivial and vulgar poesy, & being fallen from that which was ancient, divine and heavenly, she ruleth and beareth sway only in foolish and amazed theatres, where like a tyranness she hath in subjection a small deal of music (God wot) good enough to please and content the vulgar sort; but among wise men and divine indeed, it hath (to say a truth) lost all honour and reputation.  
These were in manner the last philosophical discourses (O 〈◊〉 Senecio) which were held at that time, in good 〈◊〉 his house, during the festival solemnity of the Muses.      

THE OPINIONS OF PHILOSOPHERS.  

The Summarie.  
FOrasmuch as in the Preface to the second tome, containing the Miscellanes or mixed works of Plutarch, he spoke of these gatherings out of natural philosophy, and of the fruit that may be reaped thereout, by discerning true opinions from false; we will not rehearse again here, that which was delivered in that place; but propose only to the eyes of the reader, the bare titles of every chapter throughout these five books, which the author hath joined together, for to show the opinions of the ancient philosophers, as touching the exposition of the principal points of natural philosophy.  

Chapters of the first Book. 

1 What is Nature.  
2 What difference there is between a principle and an element.  
3 As touching Principles, what they be.  
4 How the world was composed.  
5 Whether All be One.  
6 How it cometh that men have a notion of God.  
7 What is God.  
8 Of heavenly intelligences or powers called Daemons, and of Demigods.  
9 Of the first Matter.  
10 Of the Form called Idea.  
11 Of Causes.  
12 Of Bodies.  
13 Of the least indivisible bodies or Atoms.  
14 Of Figures.  
15 Of Colours.  
16 Of the section of bodies.  
17 Of Mixture and Temperature.  
18 Of voidness.  
19 Of Place. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
20 Of Space. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
21 Of Time.  
22 Of the essence of Time.  
23 Of Motion.  
24 Of Generation and Corruption.  
25 Of Necessity.  
26 Of the essence of Necessity.  
27 Of 〈◊〉.  
28 Of the substance of Destiny.  
29 Of Fortune.  
30 Of 〈◊〉.    
Chapters of the second Book. 

1 Of the world.  
2 Of the figure of the world.  
3 Whether the world be endued with soul, and governed by providence.  
4 Whether the world be incorruptible.  
5 Whereof the world is nourished.  
6 With what element God began to frame the world.  
7 The order of the world's fabric.  
8 For what cause the world bendeth or copeth.  
9 Whether there be any voidness without the world.  
10 Which is the right side of the world, and which is the left.  
11 Of heaven, and what is the substance 〈◊〉.  
12 The division of heaven, and how many 〈◊〉 it is divided into.  
13 What is the substance of the stars, and how they be composed?  
14 The figure of the stars.  
15 The order and situation of the stars.  
16 The lation or motion of the stars.  
17 Whence the stars have their light.  
18 Of the stars called Dioscuri, that is to say, Castor and Pollux.  
19 The signifiance of stars: how cometh winter and summer.  
20 The substance of the sun.  
21 The greatness of the sun.  
22 The form of the sun.  
23 The 〈◊〉 or sunne-steads, or the conversions of the sun.  
24 The eclipse of the sun.  
25 The substance of the moon.  
26 The bigness of the moon.  
27 The form of the moon.  
28 The illumination of the moon.  
29 The eclipse of the moon.  
30 The face or appearance of the moon; and why she seemeth earthly.  
31 The distance that is between sun and moon.  
32 Of the year; and how much is the great 〈◊〉; & the revolution of each planet.    
Chapters of the third Book. 

1 Of the circle Galaxia, or the milk way.  
2 Of comets or blazing stars; of stars that seem to shoot or fall; as also of the fire-lights, or meteores called beams.  
3 Of thunders, lightnings, flashings, of the 〈◊〉 winds, called Presteres and Typhons.  
4 Of clouds, rain, snow, and hail.  
5 Of the rainbow.  
6 Of rods or strakes in the sky.  
7 Of winds.  
8 Of winter and summer.  
9 Of the earth: what is the substance thereof: and how big it is.  
10 The form of the earth.  
11 The positure or situation of the earth.  
12 The bending of the earth.  
13 The motion of the earth.  
14 The division of the earth.  
15 The zones or climates of the earth, how many and how great they be.  
16 Of earth quakes.  
17 Of the sea: how it is concrete; and how it comes to be bitter.  
18 How come the tides, that is to say, the ebbing and flowing of the seas.  
19 Of the circle called Halo.    
Chapters of the fourth Book. 

1 Of the rising of Nilus.  
2 Of the soul.  
3 Whether the soul be corporal: and what is her substance.  
4 The parts of the soul.  
5 Which is the mistress or principal part of the soul, and wherein it doth consist.  
6 Of the soul's motion.  
7 Of the soul's immortality.  
8 Of the senses and sensible things.  
9 Whether the senses and imaginations be true.  
10 How many senses there be.  
11 How sense and notion is performed, as also how reason is engendered according to disposition.  
12 What difference there is between imagination, imaginable, and imagined.  
13 Of sight, and how we do see.  
14 Of the reflections or resemblances in mirrors.  
15 Whether darkness be visible.  
16 Of hearing.  
17 Of smelling.  
18 Of tasting.  
19 Of the voice.  
20 Whether the voice be incorporal: and how cometh the resonance called echo.  
21 How it is that the soul hath sense: and what is the principal & predominant part thereof.  
22 Of respiration.  
23 Of the passions of the body: and whether the soul have a fellow-feeling with it of pain.    
Chapters of the fifth Book. 

1 Of divination or 〈◊〉 of future things.  
2 How dreams 〈◊〉.  
3 What is the substance of natural seed.  
4 Whether natural seed be a body.  
5 Whether females as well as males do yield natural seed.  
6 After what manner conceptions are.  
7 How males and females are engendered.  
8 How monsters are engendered.  
9 What is the reason that a woman accompanying often times carnally with a man, doth not 〈◊〉.  
10 How twins, both two and three at once, be occasioned.  
11 How cometh the resemblance of parents  
12 What is the cause that infants be like to some other, and not to the parents.  
13 How women prove barren, and men unable to engender.  
14 What is the reason that mules be barren.  
15 Whether the fruit within the womb, is to be accounted a living creature or no.  
16 How such fruits be nourished within the womb.  
17 What part is first accomplished in the womb.  
18 How it cometh to pass, that infants borne at seven months end, do live, and are livelike.  
19 Of the generation of living creatures; how they be engendered, and whether they be corruptible.  
20 How many kinds there be of living creatures; whether they all have sense and use of reason.  
21 In what time living creatures receive form within the mother's womb.  
22 Of what elements is every general part in us composed.  
23 How cometh sleep and death; whether it is of soul or body.  
24 When and how a man beginneth to come unto his perfection.  
25 Whether it is soul or body, that either sleepeth or dieth.  
26 How plants come to grow, and whether they be living creatures.  
27 Of nourishment and growth.  
28 From whence proceed appetites, lusts and pleasures in living creatures.  
29 How the fever is engendered; and whether it be an accessary or symptom to another disease.  
30 Of health, sickness, and old age.      

THE FIRST BOOK OF Philosopher's opinions.  

The Prooeme.  
BEing minded to write of natural philosophy, we think it necessary in the first place, and before all things else, to set down the whole disputation of Philosophy, by way of division; to the end that we may know which is natural, and what part it is of the whole. Now the Stoics say, that sapience or wisdom is the science of all things, aswell divine as human; and that Philosophy is the profession and exercise of the art expedient thereto, which is the only supreme and sovereign virtue; and the same divided into three most general virtues; to wit, Natural, Moral, and Verbal: by reason whereof, Philosophy also admitteth a three-folde distribution; to wit, into Natural, Moral, Rational or Verbal: the Natural part is that, when as we inquire and dispute of the world and the things contained therein: Moral, is occupied in entreating of the good and ill that concerneth man's life: Rational or Verbal, handleth that which pertaineth unto the discourse of reason and to speech, which also is named Logic or Dialelectique, that is to say, Disputative. But Aristotle and Theophrastus, with the Peripatetics, in manner all, divide Philosophy in this manner; namely, into Contemplative and Active: For necessary it is (say they) that a man (to attain unto perfection) should be a spectator of all things that are, and an actor of such things as be seemly and decent, and may the better be understood by these examples: The question is demanded, whether the Sun be a living creature, according as it seemeth to the sight to be, or no? He that searcheth and inquireth into the truth of this question, is altogether therein speculative, for he seeketh no farther than the contemplation of that which is; semblably, if the demand be made, whether the world is infinite? or if there be any thing without the pourprise of the world? for all these questions be mere contemplative. But on the other side moved it may be, How a man ought to live? how he should govern his children? how he is to bear rule and office of State? and lastly, in what manner, laws are to be ordained and made? for all these are sought into, in regard of action, and a man conversant therein, is altogether active and practic.   

CHAP. I. What is Nature?  
SInce then, our intent and purpose is to consider and treat of Natural philosophy, I think it needful, to show first, what is Nature: for absurd it were, to enterprise a discourse of Natural things, and meanwhile to be ignorant of Nature and the power thereof. Nature then (according to the opinion of Aristotle) is the beginning of motion and rest, in that thing wherein it is properly and principally, not by accident: for all things to be seen (which are done neither by fortune nor by necessity, and are not divine, nor have any such efficient cause) be called Natural, as having a proper and peculiar nature of their own; as the earth, fire, water, air, plants, and living creatures. Moreover, those other things which we do see ordinarily engendered, as rain, hail, lightning, presteres, winds, and such like; for all these have a certain beginning; and every one of them was not so for ever, and from all eternity, but did proceed from some original: likewise, living creatures and plants, have a beginning of their motion; and this first principle, is Nature: the beginning not of motion only, but also of rest and quiet; for whatsoever hath had a beginning of motion, the same also may have an end: and for this cause, Nature is the beginning aswell of rest as of moving.   

CHAP. II. What difference there is between a principle and an element.  
ARistotle and Plato are of opinion, that there is a difference between a Principle and an Element; but Thales Milesius thinketh they be both one: howbeit, there is a great difference between the one and the other; for elements be compounded; whereas we hold, that the first Principles neither be compounded, nor are any complete substance: and verily, earth, water, air, and fire, we term Elements; but Principles we call other Natures in this respect, that there is nothing precedent or before them, whereof they are engendered; for otherwise, if they were not the first, they should in no wise be Principles, but that rather were to be so called, whereof they be engendered. Now certain things there are precedent, whereof, earth and water, etc. be composed; to wit, the first matter, without all form and shape; as also the first form itself, which we call Entelechia; and thirdly, Privation. Thales therefore is in an error, when he saith, that water was both the Element and Principle or first beginning of all things.   

CHAP. III. Of principles or first beginnings, what they be.  
THALES the Milesian affirmed, that Water was the first principle of the whole world: and this man seemeth to have been the first author of philosophy: and of him took the jonique sect of Philosophers their name (for many families there were successively of Philosophers) who having studied Philosophy in Egypt, went to Miletum, when he was far stepped in years, where he maintained this position: That all things were made of Water; so all things were to be resolved again into Water. The reasons of this conjecture of his, were these: first, because natural seed is the principle and beginning of all living creatures, and that is of a moist substance; therefore probable it is, that all other things likewise have humidity for their principle: secondly, for that all sorts of plants be nourished by moisture, which if they want, they whither and fade away: thirdly, considering that the fire or the sun itself, and the stars is nourished and maintained by vapours proceeding from the waters, the whole world also by consequence consisteth of the same: which is the reason, that Homer (supposing all things to be engendered of water) saith thus: 
The ocean sea, from whence 〈◊〉 thing  
〈◊〉 is, and hath beginning.  But ANAXIMANDER the Milesian holdeth: that infinity is the principle of all: for every thing proceedeth from it, & resolveth into it again; & therefore there be engendered infinite worlds, and those vanish again into that whereof they be engendered: and why is there this infinity? Because (quoth he) there should never fail any generation, but still have 〈◊〉, howbeit, even he also erreth herein; for that he declareth not what is this infinity whereof he speaketh, whether it be air, water, or any other body? he faileth likewise in this, that he putteth down a subject matter, but overthroweth the efficient cause: for this Infinity whereof he talketh, is nothing else but matter; and matter cannot attain to perfection, nor come into act; unless there be some moving and efficient cause. ANAXIMENES' the Milesian, maintaineth that air is the principle of the world; for that all things come of it, and return unto it: Like as, (quoth he) our soul which is air, keepeth us alive; even so spirit and air maintain the Being of the whole world: for spirit and air be two words, signifying both one thing. But this Philosopher is out of the way as well as the rest, in that he thinketh that living creatures be composed of a simple spirit, or uniform air: and impossible it is that there should be but one principle of all things, to wit, matter; but there ought withal to be supposed an efficient cause: for it is not enough to be provided of silver or gold, for to make a vessel or piece of plate, if there come not unto it, the efficient cause, to wit, the goldsmith: semblably we are to say of brass, wood, and all other sorts of matter.  
ANAXAGORAS the Clazomenian, is persuaded, and so teacheth: That the principles of the world, and all that therein is, are small like parcels; which he termeth Homaeomeries'; for he thought it altogether absurd and impossible, that any thing should be made of that which is not; or be dissolved into that which hath no being; for howsoever we take our nourishment simple and uniform; as for example; eat bread of corn, and drink water, yet with this nutriment, are nourished, hairs, veins, arteries, sinews, bones, and other parts of the body, which being so: Confess we must (quoth he) likewise, that in this food which we receive are all things which have their Being; and that all things do grow and increase of that which hath Being: so that in this nourishment be those parcels which breed blood, sinews bones, and other parts of our body, which may be comprehended by discourse of reason; for we are not to reduce all unto the outward sense, to show and prove that bread and water effect these things: but it may suffice, that in them these parts are conceived by reason: Inasmuch therefore as in nourishment there be parcels semblable unto that which they breed, in that regard he called them Homaeomeries', affirming them to be the principles of all things; and even so he would have these semblable parcels, to be the matter of all things; and for efficient cause, he setteth down a Mind or understanding, that ordereth and disposeth al. And thus beginneth he to go to work, and reasoneth in this wise. All things at first were consumed and huddled together pell mel; but that Mind or understanding doth sever, dispose, and set them in order: in this one thing yet he hath done well, and is to be commended, that unto the matter he hath adjoined a workman.  
ARCHELAUS an Athenian, the son of Apollodorus, affirmeth, that the principle of all things was the infinite air, together with the condensation, and rarefaction thereof; of which the one is fire, and the other water: and these Philosophers, following by continual succession one upon another after Thales, made that sect which is called 〈◊〉. But from another head, PYTHAGORAS the son of Mnesarchus, & a Samian borne, the first author of the name of Philosophy: held that the principle of all things were Numbers, and their symmetries, that is to say, the proportions that they have in their correspondency one unto another; which he calleth otherwise Harmonies: & those elements that be composed of them both, are termed by him 〈◊〉: furthermore, he reckoneth among Principles, Unity, and Twain indefioit; of which, the one tendeth and hasteneth to an efficient and specifical cause, to wit, a Mind, and the same is God; the other unto a passive and material cause, namely, the visible world: Moreover, he thought that the denary or Ten, was the absolute nature and perfection of numbers; for that all men, as well Greeks as Barbarians, count until ten, and when they be thither come, they return back again unto unity: over and beside he said: That all the power of ten, consisted within four, and in a quaternary; the reason is this: that if a man begin at one, and reckon on still, numbering upright unto four, he shall make up ten; surpass he once the quaternary, he is gone beyond the denary; as for example; one and two make three, three thereto arise to six, put thereto four, and you have ten: insomuch as number collected by unities, resteth in ten; but the force and puissance thereof 〈◊〉 in four. The Pythagoreans therefore were wont to swear by the quaternary or number of four, which they held to be the 〈◊〉 oath that they could take, as appeareth by this Distichon: 
I swear by this quaternity,  
That 〈◊〉 our soul's fountain,  
Which of nature's eternity,  
Doth seed and root contain.  And our soul (as he saith) doth consist of the quaternary number; for there is in it, understanding, science, opinion, and sense; from whence proceedeth all manner of art and knowledge, and whereupon we ourselves are called reasonable: as for understanding, it is that unity; for that it conceiveth and knoweth not but by unity; as for example: There being many men, they are not every one in particular subject to our senses, but incomprehensible and infinite; mary in our understanding we conceive and apprehend this one man alone, unto whom none is like: and so in our cogitation we consider one man only; but if they be considered particularly apart, they are infinite: for all these genders and kinds are in unity; and therefore when the question is asked of a particular man what he is? we yield a general definition and say: He is a reasonable creature, apt to discourse by reason; and so likewise of this or that horse, we must answer: That he is a living creature, having a property to neigh. Thus you see how understanding is unity, whereby we understand these things: but the binary or number of two, is by good right an indefinite science: for all demonstration and proof of any science, yea and moreover, all manner of syllogism or argumentation, doth collect a conclusion which was doubtful, of certain premised propositions, confessed as true: whereby it showeth easily another thing, whereof the comprehension is science; and so it appeareth, that science by a likelihood is the binary number: but opinion by good reason may be said, the ternary number by comprehension; for that opinion is of many, and the ternary number implieth a plurality or multitude, as we may see by the poet when he saith: 
Thrice happy men,  
Those Greeks were then.  And for this cause Pythagoras made no reckoning of three, whose sect bore the name of Italique, for that he (not able to endure the tyrannical dominion of Polycrates) departed from Samos, his native country, and went to keep his school in Italy.  
HERACLITUS, and HIPPASUS the Metapontine, were of opinion, that Fire was the principle and beginning of all: for of fire say they, all things are made, and in fire they shall have an end; and when it is extrinct and quenched, the universal world is in this manner engendered and framed: for first and foremost the grossest part thereof being condensate and thrust together into itself, becometh earth, and afterwards, when the same earth is resolved by fire, it turneth to be water; which when it doth evaporate, is converted into air: again, the whole world, and all the bodies therein contained, shall be one day consumed by fire in that general conflagration and burning of all: whereby he concludeth, that fire is the beginning of all things, as that whereof all was made, and the end likewise, for that all things are resolved into it.  
EPICURUS the Athenian, son of Neocles, following the philosophy of Democritus, saith: That the principles of all things be certain Atoms, that is to say, little bodies indivisible, and by reason only perceptible, the same solid, and admitting no vacuity, not engendered, immortal, eternal, incorruptible, such as neither can be broken, nor receive any form of the parts, ne yet be otherwise altered: These (quoth he) being perceptible & comprehended by reason, move notwithstanding in emptiness, and by emptiness; & as the same voidness is infinite, so the said bodies also be in number infinite: howbeit these three qualities are incident unto them, figure, bigness, and weight: for DIMOCRITUS allowed them but twain, to wit, bigness, and figure; but Epicurus added unto them a third, namely poise or ponderosity: For these bodies (quoth he) must of necessity move by the permission of the weight; otherwise they could not possibly stir: the figures also of their bodies, (he said) were comprehensible and not infinite; and these were neither hooked nor threeforked, ne yet round in manner of a ring, for such forms are apt to break: as for the Atoms themselves, they be impassable and infrangible, having certain figures, no otherwise perceptible, but by reason; and such a body is called Atomus, not in this regard, that it is the least of all, but for that it cannot be divided, as being impassable, and admitting no vacuity: and therefore he that nameth an Atom, saith as much, as infrangible, impassable, and without vacuity: now that there is such an indivisible body called Atomus, it is apparent, for that there be elements eternal, bodies void, and an unity.  
EMPEDOCLES an Agrigentine, the son of Meton, saith: There be four elements, fire, air, water, and earth; also two principal faculties or powers, namely, 〈◊〉, and discord, or amity and enmity, of which, the one hath puissance to unite, the other to dissolve: and these be his words: 
Four seeds and roots of all things that you see,  
Now listen first, and hearken what they be:  
Lord Jupiter with hisignipotence,  
And lady Juno's vit all influence,  
Rich Pluto, and dame Nestis weeping ay,  
Who with her tears, our seed-sourse weets alway.  By Jupiter he meaneth fiery heat, and ardent sky; by Juno giving life, the air; by Pluto, the earth; by Nestis and this human fountain of natural seed, water.  
SOCRATES the son of Sophroniscus, and PLATO the son of Ariston, both Athenians, (for the opinions of them both, concerning the world and all things therein, be the same) have set down three principles, God, Matter, and Idea, that is to say, Form: God is an universal spirit or Mind: Matter is the first and principal subject of generation and corruption: Idea, an incorporal substance, resting in the thoughts and cogitations of God, which God; is the general soul and intelligence of the world.  
ARISTOTELES of Stagira the son of Nichomachus, hath put down for Principles these three, to wit, a certain form called Eutelectus, Matter, and Privation: for elements, four, and for a fifth Quintessence, the heavenly body which is immutable.  
ZENO the son of Mnaseas, a Citican borne, holdeth for two principles, God and Mtater: whereof the one is an active and efficient cause, and the other passive; and beside, four elements.   

CHAP. FOUR How the the world was framed?  
THis world then, became composed & form in a round figure, bending and coping after this manner: those Atoms or indivisible bodies, having an accidentary and inconsiderate motion, stirring continually, and most strictly, happen many of them to encounter one another and meet together; in which regard they differ in figures and magnitudes: now when they are thus gathered and heaped up together in one, the greater sort of them, and such as were most ponderous, settled altogether downward; as many of them as were small, round, even, smooth, and slippery, those being beaten upon by the encounter of these weighty bodies, were repulsed, driven back, and forced upward; but when that force which drove them aloft began to fail, and gave over once to send them up higher, not being able to fall downward again; for that they were impeached, they were of necessity enforced to retire into those places which were able to receive them: to wit, such as were round about them; unto which, a mighty number of bodies being wound together in an heap, and by means of the repercussion, interlaced one within another, they engendered and brought forth the heaven; and afterwards others of the same nature; yet of diverse forms (as hath been said before) being likewise driven up aloft, accomplished the nature of Stars. Moreover, the multitude of those bodies yielding a vapour and exhalation, did beat forward and drive the air; which by stirring and motion, being converted into wind, and comprising therewith the Stars, turned them about with it; and so maintain unto this day, that revolution which they have aloft. Of those bodies then, which settled below, was made the earth; and of such as mounted on high, the heaven, the fire, and the air: but round about the earth, by occasion that there was much matter yet left, and the same incrassate and thickened, by the forcible driving of the winds, and the breathing of the stars: all that part thereof which was more subtle, and of a thinner form and consistence, gathered round together, and engendered the element of water, which being of a liquid, and flowing nature ran downward to hollow places lying low, which were able to receive and hold them: or else the water of itself where it stayed and rested, made concavities and hollow places underneath. Thus you see after what manner the principal parts of the world were first engendered and made.   

CHAP. V. Whether All be one?  
THe STOIC Philosophers held opinion that the world was one, which they called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, That is to say, All, and the same of corporal substance.  
EMPEDOCLES affirmed, that the world indeed was one; but All and the world, were not both one: for the world quoth he, is but a small portion of All: and as for the rest beside, it is but an idle and dull matter.  
PLATO proveth his opinion, that the world is but one, by conjecture; and guesseth All to be one, by three presumptions or probable arguments. First, for that otherwise the world were not perfect and accomplished, if it comprised not All within itself. Secondly, it should not be like unto the pattern, if it were not one and uniform. Thirdly, it would not be incorruptible, in case there were any thing without it. But we are to answer Plato and say against him, that the world is perfect, although it comprehend not all things: for man is perfect enough, and yet all things be not comprised in him. Moreover, there be many examples drawn from one pattern, as we may see in statues, houses, and pictures: and how is it perfect, if any thing may turn without it? Finally, incorruptible neither is it, nor can it be, considering it had a beginning and a kind of Nativity.  
METRODORUS saith: That as it were an absurd and impertinent speech to say, that in a great field there grew but one ear of corn; so it were as strange a matter, that in this infinity there should be but one world: and that there be in number infinite, it appeareth by this, that there be causes infinite: for if the world were finite, and all the causes infinite whereof it is made, it cannot choose but of necessity there should be likewise infinite: for where all the causes be, there must needs the effects follow: now the causes of the world, be either these Atoms or the Elements.   

CHAP. VI From whence it came that Men had the notion of God?  
THe Stoic Philosophers define the Essence of God in this wise; namely, To be a spirit full of intelligence, and of a fiery nature, having no form, but transforming himself into whatsoever he will, and resembling all things. The notion and apprehension men had of him, first, by conceiving the beautic of those things which are object to their eyes: for no beautiful thing hath been made by chance, and at adventure, but composed & framed by some ingenious and operative Art: now that the heaven is beautiful, it appeareth by the form, colour, and bigness thereof, by the variety also of the stars disposed therein: moreover, the world is round in manner of a Ball, which figure of all other is principal and most perfect, for it alone resembleth all the parts; for being round itself, it hath the parts likewise round. For this cause Plato said, That our mind and reason (the most divine part of man) is lodged and seated in the head, which cometh near unto a round figure: as for the colour, it is fair and lovely; for it standeth upon the azure or blue, which being more dark than purple, hath notwithstanding a bright and resplendent quality, in such sort, as by the exceeding strength of that lightsome hue, it cutteth and pierceth thorough so great an interval and spaciousness of the air, as it may be evidently seen in so mighty a distance: in regard also of the greatness thereof, it is right beautiful; for, of all things that be of one and the same kind, that which invironeth and containeth the rest, is ever fairest; as we may see in a living creature, and a tree: beside, to consummate and accomplish the beauty of the world, there be the celestial signs which appear unto our eye; for the oblique circle of the Zodiac, is embellished with twelve diverse and sundry images, 
Wherein the CRAB is to be seen, the LION after it,  
The VIRGIN, and two forked 
* That is to say, Libra.  CLEES, the SCORPION with his bit,  
The ARCHER and the CAPRICORN, upon which horned GOAT,  
There follow with the WATERMAN, two FISHES all afloat;  
And after these, ensue in course, the RAM and sturdy Bull,  
But last of all, the double TWINS, make up the dozen full.  Besides an innumerable sort of other configurations of stars, which God hath made in the like arches and rotundities of the world; whereupon Euripides wrote thus: 
The starry splendour of the sky, which 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 some do call,  
The wondrous work of that most wise Creator, Lord of all.  Thus than we apprehended hereby, the notion of God; for the sun, the moon, and other stars, after they have performed the course of their revolutions under the earth, come to rise again all like in colour, equal in bigness, and retaining always still the same places and times: whereupon, they who deliver unto us the manner of God's service and worship, declare the same unto us after three sorts; the first, natural; the second, fabulous; and the third, civil; that is to say, testified by the statutes and ordinances of every city and State: the natural is taught by philosophers; the fabulous, by poets; the civil and legal, by the customs of each city: but all this doctrine and manner of teaching, is divided into seven sorts; the first consisteth in the celestial bodies, appearing aloft in heaven; for men had an apprehension of God, by stars that show above, seeing how they are the causes of great symphony and accord, and that they keep a certain constant order of day and night, of Winter and Summer, of rising and setting, yea, and among those living creatures and fruits, which the earth beneath bringeth forth: whereupon, it hath been thought, that heaven was the father, and earth, the mother to these; for that the pouring down of showers and rain seemed in stead of natural seeds, and the earth as a mother, to conceive and bring the same forth. Men also, seeing and considering the stars always 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, holding on their course, and that they were the cause that we did 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, behold and contemplate: therefore they called the sun and moon, etc. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, gods, of the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to run, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to behold. Now they range the gods into a second and third degree; namely, by dividing them into those that be profitable, and such as are hurtful, calling the good and profitable, Jupiter, Juno, Mercury, and Ceres; but the noisome and hurtful, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, malign spirits, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, furies; and Ares, that is to say, Mars, whom they detested, as bad and violent, yea, and devised means to appease and qualify their wrath. Moreover, the fourth and fifth place and degree, they attributed unto affairs, passions and affections; namely, love, Venus, lust or desire: and as for affairs, they had hope, justice, good policy and equity. In the sixth place, be those whom the poets have feigned; for 〈◊〉 being minded to set down a father for the gods begotten and engendered, devised and brought in such progenitors as these, 
To wit, 〈◊〉 Ceus and Crius,  
Hyperion, and japetus.  whereupon, all this kind is named Fabulous. But in the seventh place, are those who were adorned with divine honours, in regard of the great benefits and good deeds done unto the common life of mankind, although they were begotten and borne after the manner of men; and such were Hercules, Castor, Pollux, and 〈◊〉; and these, they said, had an human form: for that as the most noble and excellent nature of all, is that of gods; so of living creatures, the most beautiful, is man, as adorned with sundry virtues above the rest, and simply the best, considering the constitution of his mind and soul: they thought it therefore meet and reasonable, that those who had done best, and performed most noble acts, resembled that which was the most beautiful and excellent of all other.   

CHAP. VII. What is God?  
SOme of the philosophers, and namely, Diagor as of the isle of Melos, Theodorus the Cyrenaean, and Euemerus of Tegea, held resolutely, that there were no gods. And verily, as touching Euemerus, the poet Callimachus of Cyrene, writeth covertly in jambique verses, after this manner: 
All in a troop, into that chapel go,  
Without the walls, the city not far fro;  
Whereas sometime that old vainglorious ass,  
When as he had the image cast in brass,  
Of Jupiter, proceeded for to write  
Those wicked books, which shame was to indite.  And what books were they? even those, wherein he discoursed that there were no gods at all. And Euripides the tragedian poet, although he durst not discover & set abroad in open 〈◊〉 the same, for fear of that high court and council of Ariopaguses, yet he signified as much, in this manner; for he brought in Sisyphus as the principal author of this opinion, and afterwards, favourizeth even that sentence of his, himself; for thus he saith: 
The time was, when the life of man was rude,  
And as wild beasts, with reason not endued,  
Disordinate, when wrong was done alway,  
As might and force in each one bare the sway.  But afterwards, these enormities were laid away, and put down, by the bringing in of laws: howbeit, for that the law was able to repress injuries and wicked deeds, which were notorious and evidently seen, and yet many men notwithstanding, offended and sinned secretly; then some wise man there was, who considered and thought with himself, that needful it was always, to blindfold the truth with some devised and forged lies, yea, and to persuade men, that 
A God there is, who lives immortally,  
Who hears, who sees, and knows all woondrously.  For away (quoth he) with vain dreams and poetical fictions, together with Callimachus, who saith: 
If God thou knowest, wot well, his power divine,  
All things can well perform, and bring to fine.  For God is not able to effect all things: for say there be a God, let him make snow, black, fire, cold, him that sitteth or lieth, to stand upright, or the contrary at one instant: and even Plato himself, that speaketh so big, when he saith: That God created and form the world to his own pattern and likeness, smelleth herein very strongly of some old 
*  dotard's foolery: to speak according to the poets of the old comedy: For how could he look upon himself (quoth he) to frame the world according to his own similitude? of how hath he made it round in manner of a globe, being himself lower than a man?  
ANAXAGORAS is of opinion, that the first bodies in the beginning stood still and stirred not: but then the mind and understanding of God, digested and aranged them in order, yea and effected the generations of all things in the universal world.  
PLATO is of a contrary mind, saying: That those first bodies were not in repose but that they moved confusedly and without order: whereupon God (quoth he) knowing that order was much better than disorder and confusion, disposed all these things; but as well the one as the other have herein faulted in common; for that they imagined and devised, that God was entangled and encumbered with human affairs; as also that he framed the world in regard of man, and for the care that he had of him: for surely (living (as he doth) happy & immortal, accomplished with all sorts of good things, and wholly exempt from all evil, as being altogether implored and given to prefer and maintain his own beatitude and immortality) he intermeddleth not in the affairs and occasions of men; for so he should be as unhappy and 〈◊〉 as some 〈◊〉, mason or labouring workman, bearing heavy burdens traveling and sweting about the 〈◊〉 of the world Again this god of who they speak, of necessity either was not before the creation of the world, at what time as those first bodies lay still unmovable, or stirred confusedly; or else if he were before, he either slept or watched, or did neither the one nor the other: but as the former of these we may not admit, for that God is eternal; so the latter we cannot 〈◊〉: for if God slept from all eternity and time out of mind, he was no better than dead: for what is eternal sleep, other than death? but surely God is not subject to death: for the immortality of God, and this vicinity to death, are much distant asunder and cannot stand both together: but if we say, that God was awake all that while; either he was defectuous in his blessed state of felicity; or else he enjoyed the same complete: but in the first condition God is not happy; for whatsoever wanteth aught of felitity cannot be happy: and verily in the second state he is not better: for if he were defective in nothing before, to what purpose busied he himself in such vain enterprises? moreover if there be a God, and that by his prudent care, men's affairs be governed, how cometh it to pass that wicked men prosper in the world, and find fortune their 〈◊〉 mother, but the good and honest suffer the contrary, and feel her to be a cursed stepdame? for king Agamemnon, as the poet faith, 
Aprince right good and gracious,  
A knight with all most 〈◊〉.  was by an adulterer and adulteress surprised and murdered treacherously: and Hercules one of his race and kindred, after he had rid and purged the life of man from so many monsters that troubled his reposewas poisoned by Deianeira, and so by indirect means lost his life.  
THALES saith, that God is the soul of the world.  
ANAXIMANDER is of opinion, that the stars be celestial gods.  
DEMOCRITUS is persuaded, that God is a mind of a fiery nature, and the soul of the world.  
PYTHAGORAS affirmeth, that of the two first principles, Unity was God, and the sovereign good; which is the very nature of one, and is Understanding itself: but the indefinite binarie, is the devil and evil, about which is the multitude material, and the visible world.  
SOCRATES and PLATO do hold, that he is one and of a simple nature, begotten and borne of himself alone, truly good: All which terms and attributes, tend unto a Mind: so that, this mind is God, a form separate apart, that is to say, neither mingled with any matter, nor entangled and joined with any thing passable whatsoever.  
ARISTOTLE supposeth, that this supreme God is an abstract form, settled upon the round sphere of the universal world, which is an heavenly and celestial body, and therefore termed by him, the fifth body or quinta essentia: which celestial body being divided into many spheres coherent by nature, but separate and distinct by reason and understanding, he thinketh each of these spheres to be a kind of animal, composed of body and soul, of which twain, the body is celestial, moving circularly; and the soul, reason, unmooveable in itself, but the cause in effect of motion.  
The Stoics teach after a more general manner, and define God, to be a working and artificial fire, proceeding methodically and in order to the generation of the world, which comprehendeth in itself all the spermaticall proportions and reasons of seed; according to which every thing by fatal destiny, is produced and cometh forth: also to be a spirit piercing and spreading through the whole world; howbeit, changing his denomination throughout the whole matter, as it passeth by transition from the one to the other: Semblably that the world is God, the stars likewise and the earth, yea, and the supreme mind above in heaven.  
Finally, Epicurus conceiveth thus of the gods, that they all have the form of man, and yet be perceptable only, by reason and cogitation, in regard of the subtle parts, and fine nature of their imaginative figures: he also affirmeth, that those other four natures in general be incorruptible, to wit, the atoms, vacuity, infinity, and resemblances, which also be called semblable parcels and elements.   

CHAP. VIII. Of Daemons and demigods, otherwise named, Heroes.  
TO this treatise of the gods, meet it is to adjoin a discourse as touching the nature of Daemons and Heroes.  
THALES, PYTHAGORAS, PLATO, and the STOICS, hold that these Daemons be spiritual substances: and the Hero's soul separate from their bodies; of which sort, there be good and bad: the good Heroes are the good souls, and the bad Heroes the bad souls; but EPICURUS admitteth none of all this.   

CHAP. IX. Of Matter.  
MAtter is the first and principal subject exposed to generation, corruption, and other mutations.  
The Sectaries of THALES and PYTHAGORAS, together with the Stoics, do say, that this Matter, is variable, mutable, alterable and fluxible, all wholly thorough the universal world.  
The disciples and followers of DEMOCRITUS are of opinion, that the first principles be impassable; to wit, the small indivisible body, Atomos, voidness, and Incorporal.  
ARISTOTLE and PLATO do hold, that Matter is corporal, without form, shape, figure and quality, in the own nature and property; but when it hath received forms once, it becometh (as it were) a nurse, a mould, pattern, and a mother. They who set down for this Matter, water, earth, fire or air, do not say, that now it is without form; but that it is a very body: but such as affirm, that these Atoms and indivisible bodies be the said Matter, make it altogether formelesse.   

CHAP. X. Of Idea.  
IDea is a bodiless substance, which of itself hath no subsistence, but giveth figure and form unto shapeless matters, and becometh the very cause that bringeth them into show and evidence.  
SOCRATES and PLATO suppose, that these Ideae be substances separate and distinct from Matter, howbeit, subsisting in the thoughts and imaginations of God, that is to say, of Mind and Understanding.  
ARISTOTLE admitteth verily these forms and Ideae, howbeit, not separate from matter, as being the patterns of all that which God hath made.  
The STOICS, such as were the scholars of Zeno, have delivered, that our thoughts and conceits were the Ideae.   

CHAP. XI. Of Causes.  
A Cause is that whereupon dependeth or followeth an effect, or by which any thing happeneth.  
PLATO hath set down three kinds of Causes, and those are distinguished by these terms; By which, Of which, and For which; but he taketh the most principal to be that, By which; that is to say, the efficient cause, which is the mind or understanding.  
PYTHAGORAS and ARISTOTLE do hold, that the principal Causes be incorporal; and as for other Causes, either by participation or by accident, they are of a corporal substance: and so the world is a body.  
But the STOICS are of opinion, that all Causes are corporal, inasmuch as they be spirits.   

CHAP. XII. Of Bodies.  
A Body is measurable, and hath three dimensions, length, breadth and depth or thickness. Or thus: A Body is a mass that resisteth, touching naturally of itself; or that which occupieth a place.  
PLATO saith, that a Body is neither heavy nor light of itself naturally, so long as it abideth in the own proper place; but being once in a strange place, it hath first an inclination, and upon it a motion and impulsion, either to weight or lightness.  
ARISTOTLE is of opinion, that earth simply is most ponderous, and fire lightest: that air and water be of a middle or doubtful nature between both, sometime heavy and otherwhiles light.  
The STOICS hold, that of the four elements, two be light; namely, Fire and air; other two be heavy; to wit, Water and Earth: for, light is that, which of the own nature, and not by any compulsion or instigation removeth from the proper middle where it is: heavy also is that, which naturally tendeth to the said middle; but the middle itself, is in no wise heavy.  
EPICURUS saith, that Bodies are not comprehensible; that the first Bodies be simple; but all the compositions of them have their weight and ponderosity: also, that the ATOMS do move, some plumb right down; others, at one side; and some again, mount aloft, and that by impulsion and concussion.   

CHAP. XIII. Of the smallest Bodies.  
EMPHDOCLES is of opinion, that before the four elements, there were certain small parcels or fragments, as one would say, elements before elements; and those were of semblable parts, and the same all round.  
HERACLITUS cometh in with (I know not what) petty scrape or shave, exceeding small, and the same not divisible into parts.   

CHAP. XIIII. Of Figures.  
A Figure is the superficies, circumscription, and accomplished lineament of a body.  
The PYTHAGOREANS affirm, that the bodies of the four elements be of a spheric or round figure; only the highest of them (to wit, fire) is pyramidal, or sharp pointed above.   

CHAP. XV. Of Colours.  
A Colour is the visible quality of a body.  
The PYTHAGOREANS called Colour, the outward superficies of the body.  
EMPEDOCLES defined it to be that which is fit and agreeable to the ways and passages of the sight.  
PLATO saith, it is a flame sent from bodies, having certain parcels proportionable to the eyesight.  
ZENO the Stoic holdeth, that Colours be the first figurations of any matter.  
The followers of PYTHAGORAS affirm these to be the kinds of Colours, White, Black, Red, and Yellow; and that the diversity of Colours ariseth from a certain mixture of elements: but in living creatures, the same proceedeth from the variety of their 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, their manners and conditions.  places and sundry airs.   

CHAP. XVI. Concerning the Section of Bodies.  
THe sectaries of THALES and PYTHAGORAS, are of opinion, that bodies be passable and divisible infinitely.  
DEMOCRITUS and EPICURUS hold, that this section stayeth either at the Atoms indivisible, or at those small bodies which have no parts, neither doth this division (say they) pass infinitely.  
ARISTOTLE saith, that divided they be in infinitum, potentially, but actually not.   

CHAP. XVII. Of Mixture and Temperature.  
THe ancient philosophers affirm, that this mixture of Elements is by way of alteration: but ANAXAGORAS and DEMOCRITUS, say, it is done by apposition.  
EMPEDOCLES composeth the Elements of smaller masses, which he supposeth to be the least bodies, and as a man would say, the Elements of Elements.  
PLATO would have the three bodies (for he deigneth not them, either to be called or to be, Elements) to be convertible one into the other, to wit, water, air, and fire: but as for the earth, it cannot be turned into any one of them.   

CHAP. XVIII. Of voidness or Vacuttie.  
THe natural philosophers of THALES his school, all until you come to Plato, have generally disavowed and reproved this Vacuity: As for Empedocles thus he writeth: 
In all the world so spacious,  
Nought is void or superfluous.   
LEUCIPPUS, DEMOCRITUS, DEMETRIUS, METRODORUS, and EPICURUS, hold, that the Atoms be infinite in multitude, and voidness infinite in magnitude.  
The STOICS affirm, that within the world there is no voidness, but without there is infinity.  
ARISTOTLE is of opinion, that without the world there is no such voidness, as that the heaven by the means thereof, may draw breath, for that it is of the nature of fire.   

CHAP. XIX. Of Place.  
PLATO saith, that Place is that which is susceptible of forms, one after another, which is by way of Metaphor or translation, to express the first matter, as a nurse receiving and embracing all.  
ARISTOTLE taketh Place to be the extreme superficies of the continent, conjunct and contiguous to the content.   

CHAP. XX. Of Room or Space.  
THe STOICS, and EPICURUS do hold, that there is a difference between voidness, Place, and Room: for voidness (say they) is the solitude or vacuity of a body: Place, that which is fully occupied and taken up with a body: but Room or Space, that which is occupied but in part; as we may see in a rundlet or barrel of wine.   

CHAP. XXI. Of Time.  
PYTHAGORAS saith, that Time is the sphere of that utmost heaven that compriseth all.  
PLATO thinketh it to be the mooveable image of the eternity, or the interval of the world's motion: but ERATOSTHENES affirmeth it to be the course of the sun.   

CHAP. XXII. Of the Essence of Time.  
PLATO saith, that the Essence of Time is the moving of heaven: but many of the STOICS hold it, to be the moving itself; and most of them affirm, that Time had no beginning of generation.  
PLATO is of opinion, that engendered it is according to our conceit and capacity.   

CHAP. XXIII. Of Motion.  
PYTHAGORAS and PLATO affirm, that Motion is a certain difference and alteration in matter.  
ARISTOTLE giveth out, that it is the actual operation of that which is mooveable.  
DEMOCRITUS saith, that there is but one kind of Motion, to wit, that which tendeth obliquely.  
EPICURUS maintaineth twain, the one direct and plumb, the other sidelong.  
EROPHILUS is of opinion, that there is one Motion perceptible in reason, and another object to sense natural.  
HERACLITUS excluded all station, rest and repose out of the world: For this (quoth he) belongeth unto the dead, but perpetual Motion agreeth to eternal substances; and perishable Motion to substances corruptible.   

CHAP. XXIIII. Of Generation and Corruption.  
PARMENIDES, MELISSUS, and ZENO, rejected wholly all Generation and Corrpution; for they thought the universal world to be unmooveable: but EMPEDOCLES and EPICURUS, and all those who held the world to be made of a mass and heap of small bodies huddled together, bring in and admit certain concretions and dissipations; but in no wise Generations and Corruptions to speak properly, saying, that these come not according to quality by way of alteration, but according to quantity by collection and heaping together.  
PYTHAGORAS, and as many as suppose matter to be passable, hold, that there is properly indeed Generation and Corruption: for they say that this is done by the alteration, mutation and resolution of the elements.   

CHAP. XXV. Of Necessity.  
THALES saith, that Necessity is most potent and forcible, for it is that which ruleth the whole world.  
PYTHAGORAS' held, that the world was possessed and comapssed with Necessity.  
PARMENIDES, and DEMOCRITUS were of opinion, that all things were made by Necessity, and that destiny, justice, providence, and the Creator of the world, were all one.   

CHAP. XXVI. Of the Essence of Necessity.  
PLATO referreth some events to providence, and others he attributeth to Necessity.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that the Essence of Necessity is a cause apt to make use of the principles and elements.  
DEMOCRITUS affirmeth it to be the resistance, the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. some 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, corruption.  lation, motion, and permission of the matter.  
PLATO holdeth it to be one while matter itself, and another while the habitude of that which is agent to the matter.   

CHAP. XXVII. Of Destiny.  
HERACLITUS affirmeth, that all things were done by fatal Destiny, and that it and Necessity be both one.  
PLATO admitteth willingly this Destiny in the souls, lives, and actions of men; but he inferreth withal a cause proceeding from ourselves.  
The STOICS likewise according with the opinion of Plato, do hold, that Necessity is a cause invincible, most violent and enforcing all things: also that Destiny is a connexion of causes interlaced & linked orderly: in which concatenation or chain is therein comprised also that cause which proceedeth from us, in such sort as some events are destined, and others not.   

CHAP. XXVIII. Of the substance of 〈◊〉.  
HERACLITUS saith, that the substance of Destiny is the reason that pierceth throughout the substance of the universal world.  
PLATO affirmeth it to be an eternal reason, and a perpetual law of the nature of the whole world.  
CHRYSIPPUS holdeth it to be a certain puissance spiritual, which by order governeth and administereth all things. And again in his book of definitions he writeth thus: Destiny is the reason of the world, or rather the law of all things in the world, administered and governed by providence: or else the reason whereby things past, have been; things present, are; and future things, shall be.  
The STOICS are of opinion that it is the chain of causes, that is to say, an order and connexion, which cannot be surmounted and transgressed  
POSIDONIUS supposeth it to be the third after Jupiter: for that Jupiter is in the first degree; Nature in the second; and fatal Destiny in the third.   

CHAP. XXIX. Of Fortune.  
PLATO defineth Fortune to be (in things proceeding from man's counsel and election) a cause by accident, and a very casual consequence  
ARISTOTLE holdeth it to be an accidental cause in those things which from some deliberate purpose and impulsion tend to a certain end, which cause is not apparent, but hidden and uncertain. And he putteth a difference between Fortune and rash adventure: for that all Fortune in the affairs and actions of this world is adventurous: but every adventure is not by and by Fortune; for that it consisteth in things without action: again, Fortune is properly in actions of reasonable creatures; but adventure, indifferently in creatures, as well unreasonable as reasonable, yea, and in those bodies which have neither life nor soul.  
EPICURUS saith, that Fortune is a cause, which will not stand and accord with persons, times, and manners.  
ANAXAGORAS and the STOICS affirm it to be a cause unknown, and hidden to human reason: for that some things come by necessity, others by fatal destiny; some by deliberate counsel, others by Fortune, and some again by casuality or adventure.   

CHAP. XXX. Of Nature.  
〈◊〉 holdeth that Nature is nothing; only that there is a mixture and divulsion, or separation of Elements: for in this manner writeth he in the first book of his Physics: 
This one thing more I will yet say, of things that be human  
And Mortal, mature none there is, and death's end is but vain.  
Amixture and divulsion, of Elements and of all,  
Only there is, and this is that, which men do Nature call.   
Semblably ANAXAGORAS saith, that Nature is nothing else but a concretion and dissipation: that is to say, generation and corruption.    

THE SECOND BOOK OF Philosopher's opinions.  

The Prooeme.  
HAving now finished the Treatise of PRINCIPLES, ELEMENTS, and such other matters linked and concurring with them; I will turn my pen unto the discourse as touching their effects and works composed of them, beginning first at that which is most spacious and capable of all things.   

CHAP. I. Of the World.  
PYTHAGORAS' was the first who called the Roundle that containeth and comprehendeth all, to wit, the World. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: for the orderly digestion observed therein.  
THALES and his disciples held, that there is but one World.  
DEMOCRITUS, EPICURUS, and their scholar METRODORUS affirm, that there be innumerable Worlds in an infinite space according to all dimensions and circumstances.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that the course and race of the Sun, is the very circumscription of the bounds and limits of the World; and that it is the very confinement thereof.  
SELEUCUS held the World to be infinite.  
DIOGENES affirmed, the universality to be infinite: but the world finite and determinate.  
The STOICS put a difference between universal and whole: for they say, that the universal together with voidness is infinite: and that the whole without voidnes is the World: so as these terms, the Whole and the World, be not both one.   

CHAP. II. Of the figure and form of the World.  
THe STOICS affirm the World to be round: some say it is pointed or pyramidal: others that it is fashioned in manner of an egg; but EPICURUS holdeth, that his Worlds may be round, and it may be that they are apt beside to receive other forms.   

CHAP. III. Whether the World be animate, or endued with a soul.  
ALL other Philosophers agree, that the World is animate, & governed by providence: but DEMOCRITUS, EPICURUS, and as many as maintain ATOMS, and with all bring in VACUITY, that it is neither animate, nor governed by providence, but by a certain nature void of reason.  
ARISTOTLE holdeth, that it is not animate wholly and throughout all parts; nor sensitive, nor reasonable, nor yet intellectual or directed by providence: True it is (quoth he) that celestial bodies be capable of all these qualities, as being compassed about with spheres both animate and vital; whereas bodies terrestrial and approaching near unto the earth, are endued with none of them: and as for the order and decent composition therein, it came by accident, and not by prepensed reason and counsel.   

CHAP. FOUR Whether the World be incorruptible and eternal.  
PYTHAGORAS and PLATO affirm, that the world was engendered and made by God; and of the own nature (being corruptible) shall perish: for sensible it is, and therefore corporal; howbeit, in regard of the divine providence, which preserveth and maintaineth it, perish it shall never.  
EPICURUS saith, that it is corruptible, for that it is engendered, like as a living creature or a plant.  
XENOPHANES holdeth the world to be eternal, ingenerable, uncreated and incorruptible.  
ARISTOTLE is of opinion, that the part of the world under the moon, is passable; wherein the bodies also adjacent to the earth, be subject to corruption.   

CHAP. V. Whereof the World is nourished.  
ARISTOTLE saith, that if the World be nourished, it is likewise corruptible, and will perish; but so it is, that it hath no need of nouriture, and so by consequence it is eternal.  
PLATO is of opinion, that the world yieldeth unto itself nouriture of that which perisheth, by way of mutation.  
PHILOLAUS affirmeth, that there is a twofold corruption; one while by fire falling from heaven, and another while by water of the moon, powered 〈◊〉 by the 〈◊〉 and turning about of the air; the exhalations whereof become the food of the world.   

CHAP. VI At which element began God the fabric of the world?  
THe Naturalists do hold, that the creation of the world began at earth, as the very centre thereof; for that the beginning of a sphere or ball, is the centre.  
PYTHAGORAS saith, that it began at fire, and the fifth element.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that the first thing separate apart, was the sky or fifth essence, called Aether; the second, Fire; after which, the Earth; of which being thrust close and pressed together by the violence of revolution, sprang Water, from which Air did evaporate: also, that heaven was made of that Sky or Quintessence; the sun, of Fire; and of the other elements, were constipate and felted (as it were) terrestrial bodies, and such as be near the earth.  
PLATO is of opinion, that this visible world was form to the mould and pattern of the intellectual: that of the visible world, the soul was first made; and after it, that which is corpulent: that of the fire and earth, first; that which standeth of water and air, second.  
PYTHAGORAS' affirmed, that of the five solid bodies, which are also called Mathematical; the Cube (that is to say, asquare body, with six faces) went to the making of the earth; of the pointed Pyramid, was made fire; of Octoedra or solid body with eight bases, the earth; of Icosiedra with twenty sides, the water; of Dodecaedra with twelve faces, the supreme sphere of the universal world: and himself herein also doth Pythagorize.   

CHAP. VII. Of the order of the world's fabric.  
PARMENIDES imagineth certain coronets (as it were) interlaced one within another, some of a rare substance, others of a thick, and the same mixed of light and darkness between; also that the body which contained them all together, was as firm and solid as a wall.  
LEUCIPPUS and DEMOCRIRUS enwrapped the world round about with a tunicle or membrane.  
EPICURUS held, that the extremity of some worlds were rare; of others thick; and that of them, some were movable, others immovable.  
PLATO setteth down Fire first; secondly, the Sky; then Air; afterwards, Water; and last of all, Earth; but otherwhiles, he conjoineth the Sky unto Fire.  
ARISTOTLE rangeth in the first place, the impassable Air, which is a certain fifth body; and after it, the Elements passable, to wit, Fire, air, Water, and Earth the last: of all which, unto the celestial bodies he attributeth a circular motion; and (of the others situate beneath them) unto the lighter kind, the ascent or rising upward; unto the weightier, descent or settling downward.  
EMPEDOCLES is of opinion, that the places of the elements are not always steady and certain, but that they all interchange mutually one with another.   

CHAP. VIII. What is the cause that the world bendeth or copeth forward.  
DIOGENES and ANAXAGORAS affirm, that after the world was made, and that living creatures were produced out of the earth, the world bowed (I wot not how) of itself, and of the own accord, to the Southern or Meridional part thereof; haply by the divine providence so ordering all, that some parts of the world should be habitable, others inhabitable, according to excessive cold, extreme heat, and a mean temperature of both.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that by reason that the air gave place to the violence of the Sun, the two Bears or Poles 
* 〈◊〉 and Antarctic.  bended, and inclined: as for those parts which were northerly, they were elevated and mounted aloft; but the southern coasts were depressed and debased as much; and so accordingly the whole world.   

CHAP. IX. Whether without the world, there be any vacuity?  
THe school of Pythagoras holden that there is a voidness without the world, to which, and out of which the world doth draw breath: but the STOICS affirm that into it, the infinite world by way of conflagration is resolved.  
POSIDONIUS admitteth no other infinity, than as much as is sufficient for the dissolution thereof.  
In the first book of vacuity, ARISTOTLE saith, there is voidness.  
PLATO affirmeth, that there is no emptiness at all, either without or within the world.   

CHAP. X. What be the right sides, and which be the left, in regard of the world.  
PYTHAGORAS, PLATO, and ARISTOTLE do take the East for the right part, and the West for the left.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that the right side bendeth toward the summer's Tropic; and the left toward the Tropic of winter.   

CHAP. XI. Of Heaven, and what is the substance thereof.  
ANAXIMENES affirmeth the exterior circumference of Heaven to be earthy.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that Heaven is solid, being made of air condensate by fire, after the manner of crystal; and that it containeth the fiery and airy nature in the one and the other hemisphere.  
ARISTOTLE holdeth, that Heaven is composed of the fifth body above fire, or else of the mixture of heat and cold.   

CHAP. XII. Of the division of Heaven: and namely into how many Circles it is divided.  
THALES, and PYTHAGORAS with his followers do say, that the sphere of the whole Heaven is parted into five circles, which they call certain Zones cinctures or girdles; of which circles, one is called the Arctic, and is always to be seen of us; a second the summer Tropic; a third Equinoctial; the fourth, winter Tropic; and the fifth the Antarctic circle: which is evermore unseen: as atouching the oblique or crooked circle, called the Zodiac, which lieth under the other three middle circles above named, it toucheth them all three as it passeth, and every of them are cut in right angles by the Meridian, which goeth from pole to pole.  
PYTHAGORAS' was the first (men say) that observed the obliquity of the Zodiac: which invention nevertheless Oenopides the Chian, ascribeth to himself, as if he were the author of it.   

CHAP. XIII. What is the substance of the Stars, and how they were made and composed.  
THALES affirmeth them to be terrestrial, and nathlesse fiery and ardent.  
EMPEDOCLES holdeth them to be inflamed by that fire, which the sky containing within itself, did violently strike and send forth at the first excretion. ANAXAGORAS saith, that the sky which environeth, is indeed of the own essence of a fiery nature; but by the violent revolution of itself, snatcheth up stones from the earth, and setting them on 〈◊〉, they become Stars.  
DIOGENES thinketh, that Stars be of the substance of a pumish stone, as be being the breathing holes of the world: and again, the same philosopher saith, that they be certain blinde-stones not apparent; howbeit, falling often to the earth, are there quenched, as it happeneth in a place called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Goats rivers, where there fell sometime a stonestarre in form of fire.  
EMPEDOCLES holdeth, that the fixed Stars which wander not, be fastened to the crystal sky; but the planets are loose and at liberty.  
PLATO giveth out, that for the most part they be of fire, and yet nevertheless they participate with other elements in manner of glue or solder.  
XENOPHANES is of opinion, that they consist of clouds inflamed, which notwithstanding are quenched every day, & afterwards again be fired in the night in manner of coals: as for the rising and setting of Stars, they be nothing else but their catching fire and quenching.  
HFRACLYDES and the PYTHAGOREANS hold, that every Star is a world by itself, containing an earth, an air, and a sky, in an infinite celestial nature; and these opinions go current in the verses of Orpheus, for they make of every Star a world. EPICURUS reproveth none of all this, but holdeth still that old note of his: It may so be.   

CHAP. XIIII. The form and figure of Stars.  
THe STOICS say, that the Stars be spheric or round like as the world, the sun and moon. CLEANTHES holdeth them to be pointed and pyramidal. ANXIMENES saith, they stick fast in the crystalline sky, like a number of nails. Others imagine that they be fiery plates, like unto 〈◊〉 pictures.   

CHAP. XV. Of the order and situation of Stars.  
XENOCRATES supposeth that the Stars move upon one and the same superficies: but other Stoics affirm that there be some afore others in height and depth.  
DEMOCRITUS rangeth the fixed Stars first; next the planets; and after them, the sun, the moon, and the day-star 〈◊〉.  
PLATO after the situation of the fixed Stars, setteth in the first place that which is called Phaenon, to wit, the Star of Saturn; in the second, Phaethon, which is the Star of Jupiter; in the third, Pyroeis, that is to say, fiery or ardent, and it is that of Mars; in the fourth Phosphorus, and that is Venus; in the fifth Stilbon, which is Mercury; in the sixth, the Sun; and last, in the seventh, the Moon. Of the Mathematicians some accord with Plato, others place the Sun in the mids of them all.  
ANAXIMANDER, METRODORUS the Chian, and CRATES affirm, that the Sun is placed highest of all, next to him the Moon, and under him the fixed Stars and the Planets.   

CHAP. XVI. Of the lation and motion of the Stars.  
ANAXAGORAS, DEMOCRITUS, and CLEANTHES, do hold, that all Stars do move from east to west.  
ALCMAEON and the Mathematicians say, that the planets hold an opposite course to the fixed Stars, and namely from the west to the east.  
ANAXIMANDER saith, they be carried by their spheres and circles, upon which they are fastened.  
ANAXIMENES is of opinion, that they roll as well toward the earth, as turn about the earth.  
PLATO and the Mathematicians hold, that the course of the Sun, of Venus, and of Mercury, is the same and equal.   

CHAP. XVII. From whence the Stars have their illumination.  
METRODORUS thinketh, that all the fixed Stars have their light from the sun.  
HERACLITUS, and the Stoics say, that the Stars be nourished by exhalations arising from the earth.  
ARISTOTLE opineth, that the celestial bodies need no nouriture, for that they are not, corruptible but eternal.  
PLATO and the Stoics hold, that all the world and the Stars likewise be nourished of themselves.   

CHAP. XVIII. Of the two Stars named Dioscuri, to wit, Castor and Pollux.  
XENOPHANES doth maintain that the lights like Stars which appear otherwhiles upon ships, are thin and subtle clouds, which after a kind of motion do shine.  
METRODORUS saith, they be certain glittering sparkels glancing and leaping out of their eyes who behold them with fear and astonishment.   

CHAP. XIX. Of the fignification of Stars, and how cometh winter and summer.  
PLATO saith, that the tokens & significations both of Winter and Summer, proceed from the rising and setting of Sun, Moon, and other Stars, as well fixed as wandering.  
ANAXIMENES saith, that none of all this is occasioned by the Moon, but by the Sun only. EUDOXUS and ARATUS affirm them to be in common, by means of all the Stars: and ARATUS showeth as much in these verses: 
These radiant stars and lights so evident,  
As signs, God hath set in the firmament,  
Distinct, in great foresight, throughout the year,  
To show how all the seasons ordered were.    

CHAP. XX. Of the suns substance.  
〈◊〉 affirmeth, that the circle of the Sun is eight and twenty times bigger than the earth, having an hollow apsis about it, like (for all the world) unto a chariot wheel, and the same full of fire 〈◊〉 in one certain place whereof, there is a mouth, at which the fire is seen, as out of the hole of a flute, or such like pipe, and the same is the Sun.  
XENOPHANES holdeth, that there is a certain gathering of small fires, which by occasion of moist exhalations, meet together; and they all (being collected) make the body of the Sun, or else (quoth he) is a cloud set on fire.  
The STOICS say, that the Sun is an inflamed body 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 after some.  intellectual, or humour inflamed, proceeding out of the sea.  
PLATO imagineth it to consist of much 〈◊〉.  
ANAXAGORAS, DEMOCRITUS, and METRODORUS suppose it to be a mass of iron, or a stone inflamed.  
ARISTOTLE is of opinion, that it is a sphere out of the fifth body.  
PHILOLAUS the Pythagorean, is persuaded that it is in manner of a glass, receiving the reverberation of all the fire in the world, and transmitting the light thereof unto us (as it were) thorough a tannise or streiner, in such sort, as that fiery light in heaven resembleth the Sun: then that which proceedeth from it, is in form of a mirror: and thirdly, there is a splendour, which by way of reflection from that mirror, is spread upon us: and this call we the Sun, as it were the image of an image.  
EMPEDOCLES is of this mind, that there be two Suns, the one an original and primitive fire, which is in the other hemisphere of the world; and the same filling this hemisphere of ours, as being always situate full opposite to the reflection of the resplendent light thereof: as for this that we see, it is the light in that other hemisphere, replenished with air mixed with heat, & the same is occasioned by refraxion from the earth, that is more round, entering into the Sun, which is of a Crystalline nature, and yet is trained and carried away together with the motion of that fire. But to speak more plainly and succinctly in fewer words, this is as much to say, as the Sun is nothing else, but the reflection of that light of the fire which is about the earth.  
EPICURUS imagineth the Sun to be a terrestrial spissitude or thickness, yet spungeous (as it were) and hollow in manner of a pumish stone, and in those holes lightened by fire.   

CHAP. XXI. Of the suns magnitude.  
ANAXIMANDER is of opinion, that the Sun is equal in bigness to the earth; but the circle from which he hath his respiration, and upon which he is carried, is eight and twenty times bigger than the whole earth.  
ANAXAGORAS said, it was by many degrees greater than all Peloponnesus.  
HERACLITUS held, that it was a man's foot broad.  
EPICURUS again affirmed, that all abovesaid might be; or that it was as big as it appeared to be, at leastwise a little under or over.   

CHAP. XXII. Of the suns form.  
ANAXIMENES' imagined that the Sun was flat and broad, like unto a thin plate of metal.  
HERACLITUS supposed it to be made like unto a boat, somewhat kerbed downward, and turning up.  
The STOICS suppose it to be round, like unto the whole world and other stars.  
EPICURUS saith, that all this may be well enough.   

CHAP. XXIII. Of the Solsticies or Tropiques of the Sun.  
ANAXIMENES thinketh that the Stars are beaten back by the thick air, and the same making resistance.  
ANAXAGORAS saith, that they are occasioned by the repulse of the air, about the Bears or Poles, which the Sun himself (by thrusting and making thick) causeth to be more powerful.  
EMPEDOCLES ascribeth the reason thereof to the sphere, that containeth and impeacheth him from passing farther; as also to the two Tropic circles.  
DIOGENES imagineth, that the Sun is extinct by the cold, falling opposite upon the heat. The STOICS affirm, that the Sun passeth thorough the tract and space of his food and pasture lying under him, which is the Ocean sea or the earth, upon the vapours and exhalation whereof he feedeth.  
PLATO, PYTHAGORAS and ARISTOTLE hold, that this is occasioned by the obliquity of the Zodiac circle, thorough which the Sun passeth bias; as also, by reason of the Tropic circles, which environ and guard him about: and all this, the very sphere itself doth evidently show.   

CHAP. XXIIII. Of the suns eclipse.  
THALES was the first who observed the suns eclipse, and said, that it was occasioned by the Moon, which is of a terrestrial nature, when as in her race, she cometh to be just and plumb under him; which may be plainly seen as in a mirror, by setting a basin of water underneath.  
ANAXIMANDER said, that the Sun became eclipsed, when the mouth or tunnill (at which the heat of his fire cometh forth) is closed up.  
HERACLITUS is of opinion, that this happeneth, when the body of the Sun which is made like a boat, is turned upside down, so as the hollow part thereof is upward, and the keel downward to our sight.  
XENOPHANES affirmeth, that this cometh by extinction of one Sun, & the rising of another again in the East: he addeth moreover, and reporteth, that there is an eclipse of the Sun, during one whole month; as also one entire and universal eclipse, in such manner, as the day scemeth to be night.  
Others ascribe the cause thereof, to the thickness of clouds, which suddenly and after an hidden manner, overcast the rundle and plate of the Sun.  
ARISTARCHUS reckoneth the Sun among the fixed Stars, saying, that it is the earth which rolleth and turneth round about the suns circle, and according to the inclinations thereof, the suns lightsome body cometh to be darkened by her shade.  
XENOPHANES holdeth, that there be many Suns and Moons, according to the diverse Climates, Tracts, Sections, and Zones of the earth: and at a certain revolution of time, the rundle of the Sun falleth upon some Climate or Section of the earth, which is not of us inhabited; and so marching (as it were) in some void place, he suffereth eclipse: he also affirmeth, that the Sun goeth indeed infinitely forward still, but by reason of his huge distance and retract from us, seemeth to turn round about.   

CHAP. XXV. Of the moons substance.  
ANNAXIMANDER saith, that the Moon is a circle, nineteen. times bigger than the earth, and like as that of the Sun, full of fire; that she suffereth eclipse when her wheel turneth: for that he saith, that circle resembleth the wheel of a chariot, the movature or felly whereof, is hollow and full of fire; howbeit, there is an hole or tunnel, out of which the fire doth exhale.  
XENOPHANES saith, that the Moon is a thick, compact, and felted cloud.  
The STOICS hold, that she is mixed of fire and air.  
PLATO affirmeth, that she standeth more of a fiery substance.  
ANAXAGORAS and DEMOCRITUS do hold, that the Moon is a solid and firm body all fiery, containing in it, champain grounds, mountains and valleys.  
HERACLITUS is of opinion that it is earth overspread with mists.  
PYTHAGORAS' also thinketh that the body of the Moon is of the nature of fire.   

CHAP. XXVI. Of the moons 〈◊〉.  
THe STOICS pronounce flatly that the Moon is bigger than the Earth, like as the Sun also.  
PARMENIDES affirmeth it to be equal in brightness to the Sun, and that of him she hath her light.   

CHAP. XXVII. Of the moons form.  
THe STOICS say, the Moon is round as a globe, like as the Sun.  
EMPEDOCLES would have it to resemble abason or platter.  
HERACLITUS compareth it to a boat; and others to a round cylinder; 
* That which is insetted between these two marks [] I find neuther in the original Greek, nor in the French, but in the Latin only.  [that she is shaped seven manner of ways: at her first birth as it were she appeareth horned or tipped; then divided or quartered; afterwards growing somewhat together; and soon after full: from which time by little and little she waneth by degrees; first bending somewhat close, then quartered, and after that tipped and horned, until at the change she appeareth not at all: and they say this variety of her configurations, is occasioned by the earth shadowing her light more or less, according as the convexity of the earth cometh between.]   

CHAP. XXVIII. Of the moons illuminations.  
ANAXIMANDER saith, that she hath a light of her own, but the same very rare and thin.  
ANTIPHON affirmeth, that she shineth with her own light: and whereas she is otherwhiles hidden, it proceedeth from the opposition of the sun; namely, when a greater fire cometh to darken a less, a thing incident to other stars.  
THALES and his followers hold, that the Moon is lightened by the sun.  
HERACLITUS supposeth, that the case of the sun and Moon is all one, for that both of them being form like a boat, and receiving moist exhalations, they seem in our sight illuminate; the sun brighter of the twain, for that he 〈◊〉 in a more clear and pure air, and the Moon in that which is more troubled, which is the reason that she seemeth more dark and muddy.   

CHAP. XXIX. Of the moons Eclipse.  

* Anaximandes  ANAXIMENES saith, that the Moon is Eclipsed, when the mouth or venting hole whereout issueth her fire, is stopped.  
BEROSUS is of opinion, that it is when that face and side of hers which is not lightened, turneth toward us.  
HERACLITUS would have it to be, when the convexity or swelling part of the boat 〈◊〉 she doth represent, regardeth us directly.  
Some of the PYTHAGOREANS do hold the eclipse of the Moon to be partly a reverberation of light, and in part an obstruction; the one in regard of the earth, the other of the Antipodes, who tread opposite unto us. But the modern writers are of opinion, that it is by occasion of the augmentation of the moons flame, which regularly and by order is lightened by little and little, until it represent unto us the full face of the Moon, and again doth diminish and wane in proportion, until the conjunction, at what time it is altogether extinct.  
PLATO, ARISTOTLE, the STOICS, and MATHEMATICINAS', do all with one accord say, that the occultations of the Moon every month, are occasioned by reason that she falleth in conjunction with the sun; by whose brightness she becometh dim and darkened: but the Eclipses of the Moon be caused when the cometh within the shadow of the earth, situate directly between both Stars, rather for that the Moon is altogether obstructed therewith.   

CHAP. XXX. Of the moons apparition, and why she seemeth to be earthly.  
THe PYTHAGOREANS affirm, that the Moon appeareth terrestrial, for that she is inhabited round about, like as the earth wherein we are, and peopled as it were with the greatest living creatures, and the fairest plants; and those creatures within her, be fifteen times stronger and more puissant than those with us, and the same yield forth no excrements, and the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, night.  day there, is in that proportion so much longer.  
ANAXAGORAS saith, that the inequality which is seen in the face of the Moon, proceedeth from the coagmentation of cold and terrestrity mixed together, for that there is a certain tenebrositie meddled with the fiery nature thereof: whereupon this star is said to be Pseudophores, that it to say, to have a false light.  
The STOICS are of opinion, that by reason of the diversity of her substance, the composition of her body is not subject to corruption.   

CHAP. XXXI. The distance between Sun and Moon.  
EMPEDOCLES thinketh, that the Moon is twice as far off from the Sun as she is from the earth.  
The MATHEMATICIANS say, that the distance is eighteen times as much.  
ERATOSTHENES giveth out, the Sun is from the earth 408. thousand stadia, ten times told: and the Moon from the earth 78. thousand stadia, ten times multiplied.   

CHAP. XXXII. Of the years: And how much the year of every Planet containeth the great year.  
THe revolution or yeeere of Saturn comprehendeth thirty common years: Of Jupiter twelve: of Mars two: of the Sun, twelve months: those of Mercury and Venus be all one, for their course is equal: of the Moon thirty days: for this we count a perfect month, to wit, from the apparition to the conjunction. As for the great year; some say, it compriseth eight years: others nineteen, and others again sixty wanting one. HERACLITUS saith it consisteth of 80000. solare years. DIOGENES of 365. years, such as Heraclitus speaketh of: and others of 7777.    

THE THIRD BOOK OF Philosopher's opinions.  

The Prooeme.  
HAving summarily, and after a cursory manner treated in the former books, of celestial bodies, and resting in the confines thereof, which is the Moon, I will address myself in this third book, to discourse of Meteores, that is to say, of such impressions as be engendered in the air above, to wit, between the circle of the Moon and the situation of the earth: the which men hold generally to be in stead of the prick or centre in that compass of the universal Globe. And hereat will I begin.   

CHAP. I. Of the Milk way or white circle Galaxia.  
THis Galaxia is a cloudy or misty circle, appearing always in the sky; and called it is the Milk way, of the white colour which it doth represent.  
Of the Pythagoreans some say, it is the inflammation or burning out of some star removed, and falling out of his proper place, which hath burnt round about all the way as it passed, from the very time of Phaethon his conflagration.  
Others hold, that in old time the race and course of the Sun was that way. Some are of opinion, that it is a specularie apparition, only occasioned by the reflection of the Sunbeams against the cope of heaven, even as we observe it to fall out between the rainbow and thick clouds.  
METRODORUS affirmeth it to be caused by the passage of the Sun: for that this is the solare circle.  
PARMENIDES is of opinion that the mixture of that which is thick, with the rare or thin, engendereth this milky colour.  
ANAXAGORAS saith, that the shadow of the earth resteth upon this part of heaven, at what time as the Sun being undemeath the earth, doth not illuminate all throughout.  
DEMOCRITUS is persuaded, that it is the resplendent light of many small stars, and those close together, shining one upon another, and so occasioned by their spissitude and astriction.  
ARISTOTLE would have it to be an inflammation of a dry exhalation; the same being great in quantity and continued: and so there is an hairy kind of fire under the sky, and beneath the planets.  
〈◊〉 supposeth it to be a consistence of fire, more clear and subtle than a star, and yet thicker than a splendeur or shining light.   

CHAP. II. Of Comets, or Blazing stars: of Stars seeming to shoot and fall: as also of fiery beams appearing in the air.  
SOme of Pythagoras' scholars affirm, that a Comet is a star of the number of those which appear not always, but at certain prefixed seasons after some periodical revolutions do arise.  
Others affirm it to be the reflection of our sight against the Sun, after the manner of those resemblances which show in mirrors or looking glasses.  
ANAXAGORAS and DEMOCRITUS say, that it is a concourse of two stars or more meeting with their lights together.  
ARISTOTLE is of opinion, that it is a consistence of a dry exhalation inflamed.  
STRATO saith, that it is the light of a star enwrapped within a thick cloud, as we see it ordinarily in our lamps and burning lights.  
HERACLIDES of PONTUS holdeth it to be a cloud heaved and elevated on high, and the same illuminated by some high light also: and the like reason giveth he of the bearded blazing star called Pagonias. Others (like as all the 〈◊〉) affirm, that the beam, the column, and such other meteors or impressions are made after the same manner by diverse configurations of clouds in the air.  
EPIGENES supposeth a Comet to be an elevation of spirit or wind mixed with an earthly substance, and set on fire.  
BOETHUS imagineth it to be an apparition of the air, let loose as it were, and spread at large.  
DIOGENES is persuaded that Comets be stars.  
ANAXAGORAS saith, that the stars which are said to shoot, be as it were sparkles falling from the elementary fire: which is the cause that they are quenched and gone out so quickly.  
METRODORUS supposeth, that when the Sun striketh violently upon a cloud, the beams or rays thereof do sparkle, and so cause this shooting of stars as they term it.  
XENOPHANES would bear us in hand, that all such Meteors and Impressions as these, be constitutions or motions of clouds inflamed.   

CHAP. III. Of thunders, lightnings flashes, presters or fiery blasts, and tempstuous whirlwinds.  
ANAXIMANDER supposeth, that all these come by wind: for when it happeneth that it is conceived & enclosed within a thick cloud, then by reason of the subtlety and lightness thereof, it breaketh forth with violence: and the rupture of the cloud maketh a crack; and the divulsion or cleaving, by reason of the blackness of the cloud, causeth a shining light.  
METRODORUS saith, when a wind chanceth to be enclosed within a cloud gathered thick and close together, the said wind by bursting of the cloud maketh a noise; and by the stroke and breach it shineth; but by the quick motion catching heat of the Sun, it shooteth forth lightning; but if the said lightning be weak, it turneth into a Prester or burning blaze.  
ANAXAGORAS is of opinion, that when ardent heat falleth upon cold, that is to say, when a portion of celestial fire lighteth upon the airy substance; by the cracking noise thereof is caused thunder; by the colour against the blackness of the cloud, a flashing beam; by the plenty and greatness of the light, that which we call lightning: and in case the fire be more gross and corpulent, there ariseth of it a whirlwind; but if the same be of a cloudy nature, it engendereth a burning blast called Prester.  
The STOICS hold thunder to be a combat, and smiting together of clouds: that a flashing beam, is a fire or inflammation proceeding from their attrition: that lightning is a more violent flashing, and Prester, less forcible.  
ARISTOTLE supposeth, that all these meteores come likewise of a dry exhalation, which being gotten enclosed within a moist cloud, seeketh means, and striveth forcibly to get forth: now by attrition and breaking together, it causeth the clap of thunder; by inflammation of the dry substance, a flashing beam; but Presters, Typhons, that is to say, burning blasts and whirlwinds, according as the store of matter is, more or less, which the one and the other draweth to it; but if the same be hotter, you shall see Prester, if thicker, look for Typhon.   

CHAP. FOUR Of Clouds, Rain, snow, and Hail.  
ANAXIMENES saith, that clouds are engendered when the air is most thick, which if they coagulate still more and more, there is expressed from them a shower of rain: but in case this matter as it falleth, do congeal, it turneth to be 〈◊〉; but say it meet with a cold moist wind and be surprised therewith, it proveth hail.  
METRODORUS supposeth, that clouds be composed of a waterish evaporation Epicurus of mere 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, haply it should be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, indivisible bodies.  vapours: also that as well the drops of rain as hailstones, become round by the long way of their descent.   

CHAP. V. Of the Rainbow.  
AMong those meteors or impressions engendered in the air, some there be which have a true substance indeed, as rain and hail: others again, have no more but a bare appearance, without any real subsistence, much like as when we are within a ship, we imagine that the continent and firm land doth move: and among those which are in appearance only, we must range the Rainbow. PLATO saith, that men derive the genealogy of it from Thaumas, as one would say, from wonder, because they marveled much to see it: according as Homer showeth in this verse: 
Like as when mighty Jupiter the purple rainbow bends,  
Thereby to mort all men from heaven, a wondrous token sends,  
Which either tempests terrible, or woeful war pretends.  And hereupon it is, that some have made thereof a fabulous device, and given out, that she having a bulls head, drinketh up the rivers. But how is this Rainbow engendered, and how cometh it so to appear? Certes, we see by lines, either direct and straight, or crooked, or else rebated and broken; which though they be obscure, and appear not evidently, yet are perceived by cogitation and discourse of reason, as being bodiless. Now by rightlines we behold things, some in the air, and others thorough transparent stones and horns; for that all these consist of very subtle parts: by crooked and kerbed lines, we look within the water; for our eyesight doth bend and turn again perforce, by reason that the matter of the water is more thick; which is the cause, that we see the mariners oar in the sea a far off, as it were crooked. The third manner of seeing, is by refraction, and so we behold objects in mirrors; and of this sort is the Rainbow: for we must consider and understand, that a moist vapour being lifted up aloft, is converted into a cloud; and then within a while by little and little, into small dew-drops: whenas therefore, the Sun descendeth Westward, it can not choose, but every Rainbow must needs appear opposite unto it in the contrary part of the sky: and when our sight falleth upon those drops, it is rebated and beaten back; and by that means there is presented unto it a Rainbow: now those drops are not of the form and figure of a bow, but represent a colour only: and verily, the first and principal hue that this bow hath, is a light and bright red; the second, a deep vermilion or purple; the third, blue and green: let us consider then, whether the said red colour appear not, because the brightness of the Sun beating upon the cloud, and the sincere light thereof reflected & driven back, maketh a ruddy or light red hue; but the second part more obscure, and rebating the said splendour through those 〈◊〉 drops, causeth a purple tincture, which is (as it were) an abatement of red; and then as it becometh more muddy still, & darkening that which distinguisheth the sight, it turneth into a green: and this is a thing which may be proved by experience; for if a man take water directly against the Sun beams in his mouth, and spit the same forward, in such sort, as the drops receive a repercussion against the said rays of the Sun, he shall find that it will make (as it were) a Rainbow. The like befalleth unto them that are bleere-eied, when they look upon a lamp or burning light.  
ANAXIMENES supposeth, that the Rainbow is occasioned by the Sunshining full against a gross, thick and black cloud, in such sort, as his beams be not able to pierce and strike thorough, by reason that they turn again upon it, and become condensate.  
ANAXAGORAS holdeth the Rainbow to be the refraction or repercussion of the suns round light against a thick cloud, which ought always to be opposite full against him, in manner of a mirror: by which reason, in nature it is said, that there appear two Suns in the country of 〈◊〉.  
METRODORUS saith, when the Sun shineth thorough clouds, the cloud seemeth blue, but the light looketh red.   

CHAP. VI Of Water-galles or streaks like rods, somewhat resembling Rainbows.  
THese rods and opposite apparitions of Suns, which are seen otherwhiles in the sky, happen through the temperature of a subject matter and illumination; namely, when clouds are seen, not in their natural and proper colour, but by another, caused by a diverse irradiation: and in all these, the like passions fall out both naturally, and also are purchased by accident.   

CHAP. VII. Of Winds.  
ANAXIMANDER is of opinion, that the Wind is a fluxion of the air; when as the most subtle and liquid parts thereof be either stirred, or melted and resolved by the Sun.  
The STOICS affirm, that every blast is a fluxion of the air, and that according to the mutation of regions, they change their names; as for example, that which bloweth from the darkness of the night and Sun setting, is named Zephyrus; from the East and Sun rising, Apeliotes; from the North, Boreas; and from the South, Libs.  
METRODORUS supposeth, that a waterish vapour being inchafed by the heat of the Sun, produceth and raiseth these winds: and as for those that be anniversary, named Etesia, they blow, when the air about the North pole is thickened and congealed with cold, and so accompany the Sun, and flow (as it were) with him, as he retireth from the Summer Tropic, after the 〈◊〉 Solstice.   

CHAP. VIII. Of Winter and Summer.  
EMPEDOCLES and the STOICS do hold, that Winter cometh, when the air is predominant in thickness, and is forced upward; but Summer, when the fire is in that wise predominant, and is driven downward.  
Thus having discoursed of the impressions aloft in the air, we will treat also (by the way) of those which are seen upon and about the earth.   

CHAP. IX. Of the Earth: the substance and magnitude thereof.  
THALES with his followers affirm, there is but one Earth.  
〈◊〉 the Pythagorean, maintaineth twain; one here, and another opposite against it, which the Antipodes inhabit.  
The STOICS say, there is one Earth, and the same finite.  
XENOPHANES holdeth, that beneath it is founded upon an infinite depth; and that compact it is of air and fire.  
METRODORUS is of opinion, that Earth is the very sediment and ground of the water; like as 〈◊〉 Sun is the residence of the air.   

CHAP. X. The form of the Earth.  
THALES, the STOICS and their school affirm the Earth to be round, in manner of a globe or ball.  
ANAXIMANDER resembleth the Earth unto a column or pillar of stone, such as are seen upon the superficies thereof.  
ANAXIMENES compareth it to a flat table; LEUCIPPUS, unto a drum or tabor: DEMOCRITUS saith, that it is in form, broad in manner of a platter, hollow in the mids.   

CHAP. XI. The 〈◊〉 of the Earth.  
THe disciples of THALES maintain, that the Earth is seated in midst of the world.  
XENOPHANES affirmeth, that it was first founded and rooted as it were to an infinite depth.  
PHILOLAUS the Pythagorean saith, that fire is the middle, as being the hearth of the world, in the second place he rangeth the Earth of the Antipodes: and in the third, this wherein we inhabit, which lieth opposite unto that counter earth, and turneth about it: which is the reason (quoth he) that those who dwell there, are not seen by the inhabitants here.  
PARMENIDES was the 〈◊〉 Philosopher, who set out and limited the habitable parts of the Earth, to wit, those which are under the two Zones, unto the Tropics or Solsticiall circles.   

CHAP. XII. Of the bending of the earth.  
PYTHAGORAS is of opinion, that the earth inclineth toward the Meridional parts, by reason of the 〈◊〉 which is in those South coasts: for that the Septentrional tracts are congealed, and frozen with cold, whereas the opposite regions be inflamed and burnt.  
DEMOCRITUS yieldeth this reason; because of the ambient air is weaker toward the South (quoth he) the Earth as it groweth and increaseth, doth bend to that side: for the North parts be 〈◊〉; whereas chose the Southerens parts are temperate: in which regard it weigheth more that way, whereas indeed it is more plentiful in bearing fruits, and those growing to greater augmentation.   

CHAP. XIII. The motion of the Earth.  
SOme hold the Earth to be unmovable and quite: but PHILOLAUS the Pythagorean saith, that it moveth round about the fire, in the oblique circle, according as the Sun and Moon do.  
HERACLIDES of Pontus, and Ecphantus the Pythagorean, would indeed have the Earth to move, howbeit not from place to place, but rather after a turning manner like unto a wheel upon the axle tree, from West to East, round about her own centre.  
DEMOCRITUS saith, that the Earth at first wandered to and fro, by reason as well of smallness as lightness: but waxing in time thick and heavy, it came to rest unmovable.   

CHAP. XIIII. The division of the Earth, and how many Zones it hath.  
PYTHAGORAS saith, that the earth is divided into five Zones proportionably to the sphere of the universal heaven; to wit, the artic circle, the Tropic of Summer, the Tropic of Winter, the Equinoctial and the Antarctic. Of which the middlemost doth determine and set out the very mids and heart of the earth: and for that cause it is named Torrida Zona, that is to say, the burnt climate: but that region is habitable, as being temperate, which lieth in the mids between the summer and the winter Tropic.   

CHAP. XV. Of Earthquakes.  
THALES and DEMOCRITUS attribute the cause of Earthquakes unto water.  
The STOICS thus define and say, Earthquake is the moisture within the earth subtiliated and resolved into the air, and so breaking out perforce.  
ANAXIMENES is of opinion, that rarity and dryness of the earth together, be the causes of Earthquake: whereof the one is engendered by excessive drought, the other by gluts of rain.  
ANAXAGORAS holdeth, that when the air is gotten within the earth, and meeteth with the superficies thereof, which it findeth tough and thick, so as it cannot get forth, it shaketh it in manner of trembling.  
ARITSTOTLE allegeth, the Antiperistasis of the circumstant cold which environeth it about on every side, both above and beneath: for heat endevoreth and maketh haste to mount aloft, as being by nature light. A dry exhalation, therefore finding itself enclosed within and stayed, striveth to make way through the cliffs and thicks of the Earth, in which business it cannot choose but by turning to and fro, up and down disquiet and shake the earth.  
METRODORUS is of mind, that no body being in the own proper and natural place can stir or move, unless some one do actually thrust or pull it. The earth therefore (quoth he) being situate in the own place, naturally moveth not: howsoever some placesthereof may remove into others.  
PARMENIDES and DEMOCRITUS reason in this wise: for that the earth on every side is of equal distance, and confineth still in one counterpoise, as having no cause wherefore it should incline more to the one side than to the other: therefore well it may shake only, but not stir or remove for all that.  
ANAXIMENES saith, that the Earth is carried up and down in the air, for that it is broad and flat.  
Others say, that it floateth upon the water, like as planks or boards, and that for this cause it moveth.  
PLATO affirmeth, that of all motions there be six sorts of circumstances, above, beneath, on the right hand, on the left, before and behind. Also that the earth cannot possibly move according to any of these differences: for that on every side it lieth lowest of all things in the world, and by occasion thereof resteth unmooveable, having no cause why it should incline more to one part than to another, but yet some places of her because of their rarity do jog and shake.  
EPICURUS keepeth his old tune, saying, it may well be, that the earth being shogged, and as it were rocked and beaten by the air underneath, which is gross and of the nature of water, therefore moveth and quaketh. As also, it may be (quoth he) that being hollow and full of holes in the parts below, it is forced to tremble and shake by the air that is gotten within the caves and concavities, and there enclosed.   

CHAP. XVI. Of the Sea, how it was made and cometh to be bitter.  
ANAXIMANDER affirmeth, that the Sea is a residue remaining of the primitive humidity, whereof the Sun having burnt up and consumed a great part, the rest behind he altered and turned from the natural kind by his excessive ardent heat.  
ANAXAGORAS is of opinion, that the said first humidity being diffused and spread abroad in manner of a pool or great mere, was burnt by the motion of the sun about it: and when the oileous substance thereof was exhaled and consumed, the rest settled below, and turned into a brackish and bitter-saltnesse, which is the Sea.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that the Sea is the sweat of the earth, enchafed by the sun, being bathed and washed all over aloft.  
ANTISTON thinketh it to be the sweat of heat, the moisture whereof which was within, being by much seething and boiling sent out, becometh salt; a thing ordinary in all sweats.  
METRODORUS supposeth the Sea to be that moisture, which running through the earth, retained some part of the density thereof, like as that which passeth through ashes.  
The disciples of PLATO imagine, that so much of the elementary water which is congealed of the air by refrigeration, is sweet and fresh; but whatsoever did evaporate by burning and inflammation, became salt.   

CHAP. XVII. Of the Tides, to wit, the ebbing and flowing of the sea, what is the cause thereof?  
ARISTOTLE and HERACLITUS affirm, that it is the sun which doth it, as who stirreth, raiseth, and carrieth about with him the most part of the winds, which coming to blow upon the Ocean, cause the Atlantic sea to swell, and so make the flux or high water; but when the same are allayed and clean down, the sea falleth low, and so causeth a reflux and ebb or low water.  
PYTHEAS of Marseils, referreth the cause of Flowing to the full moon, and of Ebbing to the moon in the wane.  
PLATO attributeth all to a certain rising of the waters, saying, There is such an elevation, that through the mouth of a cave carrieth the Ebb and Flow to and fro, by the means whereof, the seas do rise and flow contrarily.  
TIMAEUS allegeth the cause hereof to be the rivers, which falling from the mountains in Gaul, enter into the Atlantic sea, which by their violent corruptions, driving before them the water of the sea, cause the Flow, and by their ceasing and return back by times, the Ebb.  
SELEUCUS the Mathematician, who affirmed also, that the earth moved, saith, that the motion thereof is opposite and contrary to that of the moon: also that the wind being driven to and fro, by these two contrary revolutions, bloweth and beateth upon the Atlantic ocean, troubleth the sea also (and no marvel) according as it is disquieted itself.   

CHAP. XVIII. Of the round circle called Halo.  
THis Halo is made after this manner: between the body of the moon, or any other star, and our eyesight, there gathereth a gross and misty air, by which air, anon our sight cometh to be reflected and diffused; and afterwards the same incurreth upon the said star, according to the exterior circumference thereof, and thereupon appeareth a circle round about the star, which being there seen is called Halo, for that it seemeth that the apparent impression is close unto that, upon which our sight so enlarged as is before said, doth fall.    

THE FOURTH BOOK OF Philosopher's opinions.  

The Prooeme.  
HAving run through the general parts of the world, I will now pass unto the particulars.   

CHAP. I. Of the rising and inundation of Nilus.  
THALES thinketh that the anniversary winds called Etcsiae blowing directly against Egypt, cause the water of Nilus to swell, for that the sea being driven by these winds, entereth within the mouth of the said river, and hindereth it, that it cannot discharge itself freely into the sea, but is repulsed backward.  
EUTHYMENES of Marseils, supposeth that this river is filled with the water of the ocean, and the great sea lying without the continent, which he imagineth to be fresh and sweet.  
ANAXAGORAS saith, that this happeneth by the snow in Aethiopia, which melteth in summer, and is congealed and frozen in winter.  
DEMOCRITUS is of opinion, that it is long of the snow in the north parts, which about the aestival solstice and return of the sun, being dissolved and dilated, breedeth vapours, and of them be engendered clouds, which being driven by the Etesian winds into Aethiopia and Egypt toward the south, cause great and violent rains, wherewith both lakes, and the river also Nilus, be filled.  
HERODOTUS the Historian writeth, that this river hath as much water from his sources and springs, in winter as in summer; but to us it seemeth less in winter, because the sun being then nearer unto Egypt, causeth the said water to evaporate.  
EPHORUS the Historiographer reporteth, that all Egypt doth resolve and run at it were wholly into sweat in summer time: whereunto Arabia and Libya do confer, and contribute also their waters, for that the earth there is light and sandy.  
EUDOXUS saith, that the priests of Egypt assign the cause hereof to the great rains and the Antiperistasis or contrary occurs of seasons; for that when it is Summer with us, who inhabit within the Zone toward the Summer Tropic, it is Winter with those who dwell in the opposite Zone under the Winter Tropic, whereupon (saith he) proceedeth this great inundation of waters, breaking down unto the river Nilus.   

CHAP. II. Of the Soul.  
THALES was the first that defined the Soul to be a nature moving always, or having motion of itself.  
PYTHAGORAS saith, it is a certain number moving itself; and this number he taketh for intelligence or understanding.  
PLATO supposeth it to be an intellectual substance moving itself, and that according to harmonical number.  
ARISTOTLE is of opinion, that it is the first Entelechia or primitive act of a natural and organical body, having life potentially.  
DICEARCHUS thinketh it to be the harmony and concordance of the four elements.  
ASCLEPIADES the Physician, defineth it to be an exercise in common of all the senses together.   

CHAP. III. Whether the Soul be a body, and what is the substance of it.  
ALl these Philsosophers before rehearsed, suppose that the Soul is incorporal, that of the own nature it moveth and is a spiritual substance, and the action of a natural body, composed of many organs or instruments, and with all having life.  
But the Sectaries of ANAXAGORAS, have given out, that it is of an airy substance, and a very body.  
The STOICS would have the Soul to be an hot spirit or breath.  
DEMOCRITUS holdeth it to be a certain fiery composition of things perceptible by reason, and the same having their forms spherical and round, and the puissance of fire, and withal to be a body.  
EPICURUS saith, it is a mixtion or temperature of four things, to wit, of a certain fire, of (I wot not what) air, of an odd windy substance, and of another fourth matter, I cannot tell what to name it, and which to him was sensible.  
HERACLITUS affirmeth, the Soul of the world to be an evaporation of humours within it: as for the Soul of living creatures, it proceedeth (quoth he) as well from an evaporation of humours without, as an exhalation within itself, and of the same kind.   

CHAP. FOUR The parts of the Soul.  
PYTHAGORAS and PLATO, according to a more general and remote division, hold, that the Soul hath two parts, that is to say, the Reasonable & the unreasonable; but to go more necre and exactly to work, they say, it hath three; for they subdivided the unreasonable part into Concupissible and Irascible.  
The STOICS be of opinion, that composed it is of eight parts, whereof five be the senses natural, to wit, sight, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling; the sixth is the voice; the seventh generative or spermaticall, and the eight, understanding, which guideth and commandeth all the rest by certain proper organs and instruments, like as the Polype fish by her cleys and hairy branches.  
DEMOCRITUS and EPICURUS set down two parts of the Soul; the Reasonable seated in the breast, and the Unreasonable spread and dispersed over all the structure of the body beside.  
As for DEMOCRITUS, he affirmeth, that all things whatsoever, have a certain kind of Soul, even the very dead bodies, for that always they do manifestly participate a kind of heat and sensitive faculty, notwithstanding the most part there of be breathed forth, and yielded up.   

CHAP. V. Which is the Mistress and commanding part of the Soul, and wherein it is.  
PLATO and DEMOCRITUS place it in the head throughout: STRATO between the two eye brows: ERASISTRATUS in the membrane or kell that enfoldeth the brain, and it he calleth Epicranis: HEROPHILUS within the ventricle or concavity of the brain, which also is the basis or foundation of it: PARMENIDES over all the breast, and with him acordeth EPICURUS: the STOICS all with one voice hold it in the whole heart, or else in the spirit about the heart: DIOGENES in the cavity of the great artery of the heart, which is full of vital spirit: EMPEDOCLES in the consistence or mass of blood: others in the very neck of the heart: some in the tunickle that lappeth the heart: and others again in the midriff: some of our modern philosophers hold, that it taketh up & occupieth all the space from the head downward to the Diaphragma or midriff above said: PYTHAGORAS supposeth that the vital part of the Soul is about the heart, but the reason and the intellectual or spiritual part, about the head.   

CHAP. VI The motion of the Soul.  
PLATO is of opinion, that the soul moveth continually; but the intelligence or understanding is immooveable, in regard of local motion from place to place.  
ARISTOTLE saith, that the soul itself moveth not, although it be the author that rules & directeth all motion; howbeit, that by an accident, it is not devoid of motion, according as diverse sorts of bodies do move.   

CHAP. VII. Of the Souls immortality.  
PYTHAGORAS and PLATO affirm the Soul to be immortal; for in departing out of the body, it 〈◊〉 to the Soul of the universal world, even to the nature which is of the same kind.  
The STOICS hold, that the Soul going from the body, if it be seeble and weak, as that is of ignorant persons, settleth downward with the gross consistence of the body; but if it be more firm and puissant, as that is of wise and learned men, it continueth 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Some interpret it thus, it amounteth up to the region of fire.  even unto the conflagration of all.  
DEMOCRITUS and EPICURUS say, that it is corruptible, and perisheth together with the body.  
PYTHAGORAS and PLATO are of opinion, that the reasonable part of the Soul is immortal and incorruptible; for that the Soul, if it be not God, yet the work it is of eternal God: as for the unreasonable part, it is mortal and subject to corruption.   

CHAP. VIII. Of the Senses and sensible objects.  
THe STOICS thus define Sense: Sense (say they) is the apprehension of the sensitive organ. But Sense is taken many ways; for we understand by it, either an habitude or faculty natural, or a sensible action, or else an imagination apprehensive; which all are performed by the means of an instrument sensitive: yea, and the very eighth part of the Soul abovenamed, even that which is principal, to wit, the discourse of reason, by which all the rest do consist: Again, the spirits intellectual, are called sensitive instruments, which from the said principal understanding reach unto all the organs.  
The Sense (quoth EPICURUS) is that parcel of the soul which is the sensitive power it self, and the effect which proceedeth from it, so that he taketh Sense in two sort, for the power, and effect.  
PLATO defineth Sense to be the society of the body and soul, as touching external objects; for the faculty and power of Sense is proper to the soul, the instrument belongeth to the body; but both the one and the other apprehendeth external things, by the means of the imaginative faculty, or the fantasy.  
LEUCIPPUS and DEMOCRITUS doesay, that both Sense and intelligence are actuated by the means of certain images represented from without, unto us, for that neither the one nor the other, can be performed without the occurrence of some such image.   

CHAP. IX. Whether Senses and Fancies be true or no?  
THe STOICS hold, that the Senses be true; but of Imaginations, as some be true, so others are false.  
EPICURUS supposeth that all Senses and Imaginations be true; mary of opinions, some be true, others false: and as for the Sense it is deceived one way only, to wit, in things intelligible: but Imagination after two sorts: for that there is an Imagination as well of sensible things, as of intelligible.  
EMPEDOCLES and HERACLIDES say, that particular Senses are effected according to the proportion of their pores and passages; namely as the proper object of each Sense is well disposed and fitted.   

CHAP. X. How many Senses there be?  
THe STOICS hold, that there be five proper Senses, Sight, Hearing, Smelling, Taste, and Feeling.  
ARISTOTLE saith not, that there is a sixth, howbeit he putteth down one common Sense, which judgeth as touching the compound kinds: whereunto all the other particular and single Senses bring and present their proper imaginations: wherein the transition of the one to the other, as of a figure or motion doth show.  
DEMOCRITUS affirmeth, that there be more Senses in brute beasts, in the gods, and in wise men.   

CHAP. XI. After what manner is effected Sense, Notion and Reason, according to disposition or affection.  
THe STOICS are of opinion and say, that when a man is engendered, he hath the principal part of his soul, which is the understanding, like for all the world unto a parchment or paper ready to be written in; and therein he doth register and record every several Notion and cogitation of his: for those who have perceived any thing by sense, (as for example sake, have seen a white thing) when the same is gone out of their eye, retain it still in memory: now after they have collected together many semblable memories of the same kind, than they say, they have experience; for experience is nothing else but an heap or multitude of like sorts: but of notions and thoughts, some be natural, which are caused in manner aforesaid, without any artificial means; others come by our study, and by teaching, and such alone properly and indeed are called Notions; the other be named rather conceptions or anticipations; and Reason for which we bear the name of Reasonable, is accomplished by those anticipations in the first seven years: and intelligence is the conception in the understanding of a reasonable creature: for fantasy when it lighteth upon the reasonable soul is then called Intelligence, taking the denomination of understanding, which is the cause that these imaginations are not incident unto other creatures; but such as are presented unto gods and us both, those are only and properly imaginations; whereas those which offer themselves unto us, are imaginations in general, and cogitations in special: like as Deniers, Testons, or Crowns being considered apart in themselves, are Deniers, Testons, & Crowns; but if you give them for the hire of a ship, then besides that they are Deniers, etc. they be also the fare, for ferry or passage.   

CHAP. XII. What difference there is between Imagination, Imaginable, Imaginative, and Imagined.  
CHRYSIPPUS saith, there is a difference between all these four: and first, as for 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Imagination, it is a passion or impression in the soul, showing the self same thing that made and imprinted it: as for example; when with our 〈◊〉 we behold a white, it is a passion or affection engendered by the sight in our soul, and we may well say, that the said white is the subject or object that moveth & affecteth us: semblably in smelling and touching, and this is called Fantasy, a word derived of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth light or clearness; for like as the light showeth itself, and all that is comprised in it, so the Fantasy or imagination representeth itself, and that which made it.  

* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Imaginable is that which maketh imagination, as white, cold, and whatsoever is able to move or affect the soul, is called Imaginable.  

* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Fantastic or Imaginative, is a vain attraction; even an affection or passion in the soul, which cometh not from any object imaginable; like as we may observe in him that fighteth with his own shadow, or in vain flingeth forth his hands: for in true fantasy or imagination, there is a subject matter named Imaginable: but in this Fantastic or Imaginative there is no such object or subject at all.  
Phantasm or 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Imagined, is that unto which we are drawn by that vain attraction; a thing usual with those who are either furious, or surprised with the malady of melancholy: for Orestes in the tragedy of 〈◊〉 when he uttereth these speeches, 
O mother mine, against me raise not thus,  
I thee beseech these 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or Women.  wenches furious:  
Whom now I see alas, with bloody eyes,  
And dragon like, how they against merise:  
These me beset, and charge on every part,  
These strike on still, these wound me to the hart.  doth speak them as enraged and in a phranticke fit; for he seeth nothing, but only imagineth and thinketh that he seeth them: and therefore his sister Electra replieth thus upon: 
Lie still poor wretch, restin thy bed, for why?  
Thou seest not that which seems so verily.  The same is the case of Theoclymenus in 
* 〈◊〉. toward the end,  Homer.   

CHAP. XIII. Of Sight, and how we do see.  
DEMOCRITUS, and EPICURUS supposed, that Sight was caused by the intromission of certain images: others by an insinuation of beams, returning to our eyesight, after the occurrence of an object. EMPEDOCLES hath mingled the said images and beams together, call that which is made thereof, the rays of a compound image. HIPPARCHUS holdeth, that the beams sent out and lanced from the one eye, and the other coming to be extended, in their ends meet together, and as it were by the touching and clasping of hands, taking hold of external bodies, carry back the apprehension of them unto the visive power.  
PLATO attributeth it to the corradiation or conjunction of light, for that the light of the eyes reacheth a good way within the air of like nature, & the light likewise issuing from the visible bodies, cutteth the air between, which of itself is liquid and mutable, and so extendeth it together with the fiery power of the eye; and this is it which is called the conjunct light or corradiation of the Platonics.   

CHAP. XIIII. Of the Resemblances represented in mirrors.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that these apparitions come by the means of certain defluxions, gathered together upon the superficies of the mirror, and accomplished by the fire that ariseth from the said Mirror, and withal transmuteth the air that is object before it, into which those fluxions are carried.  
DEMOCRITUS and EPICURUS are of opinion, that these apparences in Mirrors, are caused by the 〈◊〉 and stay of certain images, which passing from us, gather together upon the Mirror by way of rebounding and resultation.  
The PYTHAGOREANS attribute all this to the reflection of the sight: for that the sight is extended and carried as far as to the Mirror of brass or whatsoever, where resting and staying upon the thick solditie thereof, and beaten back by the polished smoothness of the Mirror object against it, the same returneth again upon itself; much like as when our hand is stretched out and brought back again unto the shoulder.  
All these points and opinions may serve very well, and be accommodate to that chapter and question, carrying this title: How we do see.   

CHAP. XV. Whether Darkness be visible.  
THe STOICS hold, that Darkness is visible; for that from the sight there is a splendeure going forth that compasseth the said Darkness; neither doth the eyesight lie and deceive us, for it seeth certainly and in truth that there is Darkness. 
* In one copy I 〈◊〉 thus much more. Furthermore Darkness doth aggregate and 〈◊〉 in the sight, and thereby make it dim: chose, light doth disgregate and convey it as far as to the visible objects, through the air between, and therefore it seeth not in the dark, but is able to see Darkness.   
CHRYSIPPUS saith, that we do see by the tension of the air between, which is pricked by the visual spirit, that passeth from the principal part of the soul into the apple of the eye: and after that it falleth upon the air about it, it extendeth the same in a pyramidal form, namely, when as it meeteth with an air of the same nature with it; for there flow from out of the eyes certain rays resembling fire, and nothing black or misty, and therefore it is that Darkness may be seen.   

CHAP. XVI. Of Hearing.  
EMPRDOCLES is of opinion, that Hearing is performed by the means of a spirit or wind gotten within the concavity of the ear, writhed or turned in manner of a vice or screw, which they say is fitted and framed of purpose within the ear, hanging up aloft, and beaten upon in manner of a clock.  
ALCMAEON affirmeth, that we do Hear by the void place within the ear; for he saith, that this is it that resoundeth, when the said spirit entereth into it; because all empty things do make a sound.  
DIOGENES supposeth, that Hearing is caused by the air within the head, when it cometh to be touched, stirred, and beaten by the voice.  
PLATO and his scholars hold, that the air within the head is sinitten, and that it reboundeth and is carried to the principal part of the soul, wherein is reason, and so is form the sense of Hearing.   

CHAP. XVII. Of Smelling.  
ALCMAEON affirmeth, that reason, the principal part of the soul, is within the brain, and that by it we Smell, drawing in scents and smells by respirations.  
EMPEDOCLES is of this advice, that together with the respiration of the lights, odours also are intromitted and let in; when as then the said respiration is not performed at liberty and ease, but with much ado, by reason of some asperity in the passage, we Smell not at all, like as we observe in them who are troubled with the pose, murr, and such like rheums.   

CHAP. XVIII. Of Taste.  
ALCMAEON saith, that by the moisture and warmth in the tongue, together with the softness thereof, all smacks and objects of taste are distinguished.  
DIOGENES attributeth the same to the spungeous rarity and softness of the tongue; and for that the veins of the body reach up to it, and are inserted and graffed therein, the savours are spread abroad and drawn into the sense and principal part of the soul, as it were with a sponge.   

CHAP. XIX. Of the Voice.  
PLATO defineth the Voice to be a spirit, which by the mouth is brought and directed from the understanding; also a knocking performed by the air, passing through the ears, the brain, and the blood, as far as to the soul; after an unproper manner & abusively we attribute Voice to unreasonable creatures, yea & to such as have no soul or life at all, namely, to the neighing of horses, and to other sounds; but to speak properly, there is no voice but that which is articulate, and called it is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek, for that it declareth that which is in the thought.  
EPICURUS holdeth the Voice to be a fluxion sent forth by such as speak and make a noise, or otherwise do sound; which fluxion breaketh and crumbleth into many fragments of the same form and figure, as are the things from whence they come; as for example, round to round, and triangles whether they have three equal sides or unequal, to the like triangles: and these broken parcels entering into the ears, make the sense of the Voice, which is hearing; a thing that may be evidently seen in bottles that leak and run out, as also in fullers that blow upon their clothes.  
DEMOCRITUS saith, that the very air breaketh into small fragments of the same figure, that is to say, round to round; and roll together with the fragments of the Voice: for according to the old proverb: 
One chough 〈◊〉 to another chough, loves 〈◊〉 for to perch,  
And God hath so appointed 〈◊〉, that all their like should search.  For even upon the shores and sea-sides, stones are evermore found together semblable, to wit, in one place round, in another long; in like manner when as folk do winnow or purge come with the van, those grains always are ranged and sorted together, which be of one and the same form; insomuch as beans go to one side by themselves, & rich pease to another a part by their selves: but against all this it may be alleged and objected: How is it possible that a 〈◊〉 fragments of spirit and wind should fill a 〈◊〉, that receiveth ten thousand men?  
The STOICS say, that the air doth not consist of small fragments, but is continual throughout, and admitteth no voidhesse at all: howbeit, when it is smitten with spirit or wind, it waveth directly in circles infinitely, until it fill up all the air about, much after the manner as we may perceive in a pond or pool, when there is a stone thrown into it; for like as the water in it moveth in flat circles; so doth the air in roundles like to balls.  
ANAXAGORAS faith, that the Voice is form by the incursion and beating of the Voice against the solid air, which maketh resistance, and returneth the stroke back again to the ears, which is the manner also of that reduplication of the Voice or resonance called Echo.   

CHAP. XX. Whether the Voice be incorporal? and how cometh the Echo to be form.  
PYTHAGORAS, PLATO, and ARISTOTLE do hold the Voice to be bodiless: for that it is not the air but a form in the air, & a superficies thereof, & that by a certain beating which be cometh a Voice. Now this is certain that no superficies hath a body. True it is indeed that it moveth and removeth with the body, but of itself without all doubt it hath no body at all: like as in a wand or rod that is bend, the superficies thereof suffereth no alteration, in respect of itself, but it is the very matter and substance that is bowed. How be it the Stoics are of another opinion and say, that the Voice is a body: for whatsoever is operative and worketh aught, is a body: but certain it is that the Voice is active and doth somewhat: for we do hear and perceive when it 〈◊〉 upon our ear, and it giveth a print, no less than a seal upon wax. Moreover, all that moveth or troubleth us, is a body: but who knoweth not that in Music, as good harmony affectth us; so dissonance and discord doth disquiet us; and that which more is; all that stirreth or moveth is a body: but the Voice stirreth and hitteth against smooth and polished solid places, by which it is broken and sent back again, in manner as we do see a tennis ball when it is smitten upon a wall: insomuch as in the Pyramids of Egypt, one Voice delivered within them, rendereth four or five resonances or Echoes for it.   

CHAP. XXI. How the Soul cometh to be sensitive; and what is the principal and predominant part thereof.  
THe STOICS are of opinion, that the supreme and highest part of the Soul is the principal and the guide of the other: to wit, that which maketh imaginations, causeth assents, performeth senses, and moveth apperite: and this is it which they call the discourse of reason. Now of this principal and sovereign part, there be seven others springing from it, and which are spread through the rest of the body, like unto the arms or hairy branches of a poulp fish: of which seven the natural senses make five; namely, Sight, Smelling, Hearing, Tasting, and Feeling. Of these, the Sight is a spirit passing from the chiefest part unto the eyes: Hearing, a spirit reaching from the understand, to the ears: Smelling, a spirit issuing from reason to the nosethirls: Tasting, a spirit going from the foresaid principal part unto the tongue: and last of all Feeling, a spirit stretching and extended from the same predominant part, as far as to the sensible superficies of those objects which are easy to be felt and handled. Of the twain behind, the one is called genetal seed, and that is likewise wise a spirit transmitted from the principal part unto the genitoroes or members of generation: the other which is the seventh and last of all, Zeno calleth Vocal, and we, Voice; a spirit also, which from the principal part passeth to the windpipe, to the tongue and other instruments appropriate for the voice. And to conclude, that mistress herself and lady of the rest is seated (as it were in the midst of her own world) within our round head, and there dwelleth.   

CHAP. XXII. Of Respiration.  
EMPEDOCLES is of opinion, that the first Respiration of the first living creature was occasioned, when the humidity in young ones within the mother's womb retired, and the outward air came to succeed in place thereof, and to enter into the void vessels now open to receive the same: but afterwards the natural heat driving without forth, this aery substance for to evaporate and breathe away, caused expiration: and likewise when the same returned in again, there ensued inspiration, which gave new entrance to that aerious substance. But as touching the Respiration that now is, he thinketh it to be when the blood is carried to the exterior superficies of the body; and by this fluxion doth drive and chase the aery substance through the nosethirls, and cause expiration; and inspiration when the blood returneth inward, and when the air reentreth withal through the rarities which the blood hath left void and empty. And for to make this better to be understood, he bringeth in the example of a Clepsidre or water hourglass.  
ASCLEPIADES maketh the lungs in manner of a tunnel, supposing that the cause of Respiration, is the air, smooth, and of subtle parts which is within the breast, unto which the air without, being thick and gross floweth and runneth; but is repelled back again, for that the breast is not able to receive any more, nor yet to be clean without: Now when as there remaineth still behind, some little of the subtle air within the breast, (for it cannot all be clean driven out) that air without rechargeth again with equal force upon that within, being able to support and abide the weight thereof: and this compareth he to physicians ventoses, or cupping glasses. Moreover as touching voluntary Respiration, he maketh this reason, that the smallest holes within the substance of the lungs are drawn together, and their pipes closed up. For these things obey our will.  
HEROPHILUS leaveth the motive faculties of the body, unto the nerves, arteries and muscles: for thus he thinketh and saith, that the lungs only have a natural appetite to dilation, and contraction, that is to say, to draw in and deliver the breath, and so by consequence other parts. For this is the proper action of the lungs, to draw wind from without; where with when it is filled, there is made another attraction by a second appetition; and the breast deriveth the said wind into it: which being likewise replete therewith, not able to draw any more, it transmitteth back again the superfluity thereof into the lungs, whereby it is sent forth by way of expiration: and thus the parts of the body reciprocally suffer one of another, by way of interchange. For when the lungs are occupied in dilatation, the breast is busied in contraction; and thus they make repletion and evacuation by a mutual participation one with the other; in such sort as we may observe about the lungs four manner of motions. The first, whereby it receiveth the air from without; the second, by which it transfuseth into the breast that air which it drew and received from without; the third, whereby it admitteth again unto itself that which was sent out of the breast; and the fourth, by which it sendeth quite forth that which so returned into it. And of these motions, two be dilatations, the one occasioned from without, the other from the breast: and other two, contractions; the one when the breast draweth wind into it: and the other when it doth expel the air insinuated into it. But in the breast parts there be but two only, the one dilatation when it draweth wind from the lungs, the other contraction, when it rendereth it again.   

CHAP. XXIII. Of the Passion of the body; and whether the soul have a fellow-feelling with it, of pain and dolour.  
THe STOICS say, that affections are in the passable parts, but senses in the principal part of the soul.  
EPICURUS is of opinion, that both the affections and also the senses, are in the passable places: for that reason which is the principal part of the soul, he holdeth to be unpassible.  
STRATO chose affirmeth, that as well the Passions of the soul, as the senses, are in the said principal part, and not in the affected and grieved places; for that in it consisteth patience, which we may observe in terrible and dolorous things, as also in fearful, and maguanimous persons.    

THE FIFTH BOOK OF Philosopher's opinions.  

CHAP. I. Of Divination.  
PLATO and the STOICS bring in a fore-deeming and foreknowledge of things by inspiration or divine instinct, according to the divinity of the soul; namely, when as it is ravished with a fanatical spirit or revelation by dreams: and these admit and allow many kinds of divination.  
XENOPHANES and EPICURUS on the contrary side abolish and annul all Divination whatsoever.  
PYTHAGORAS condemneth that only which is wrought by sacrifices.  
ARISTOTLE & DICEARCHUS receive none but that which cometh by Divine inspiration, or by dreams; not supposing the soul to be immortal, but to have some participation of Divinity.   

CHAP. II. How Dreams are caused.  
DEMOCRITUS is of of opinion, that Dreams come by the representation of images.  
STRATO saith, that our understanding is I wot not how, naturally, and yet by no reason, more sensative in sleep than otherwise, and therefore solicited the rather by the appetit and desire of knowledge.  
HEROPHILUS affirmeth, that Dreams divinely inspired, come by necessity; but natural Dreams by this means, that the soul formeth an image and representation of that which is good and commodious unto it, and of that which must ensue thereupon: as for such as be of a mixed nature of both, they fall out casually by an accidental access of images; namely, when we imagine that we see that which we desire; as it falleth out with those who in their sleep think they have their paramouts in their arms.   

CHAP. III. What is the substance of Natural seed.  
ARISTOTLE defineth Seed to be that which hath power to move in itself for the effecting of some such thing, as it was from whence it came.  
PYTHAGORAS taketh it to be the foam of the best and purest blood, the superfluity and excrement of nouriture; like as blood and marrow.  
ALCMAEON saith, it is a portion of the brain.  
PLATO supposeth it to be a decision or deflux of the marrow in the back bone.  
EPICURUS imagineth it to be an abstract of soul and body.  
DEMOCRITUS holdeth, that it is the geneture of the fleshy nerves proceeding from the whole body, and the principal parts thereof.   

CHAP. FOUR Whether genetal Seed be a body.  
LEUCIPPUS and ZENO take it to be a body; for that it is an abstract parcel of the soul.  
PYTHAGORAS, PLATO, and ARISTOTLE, acknowledge indeed and confess, that the power and force of Seed is bodiless; like as the understanding, which is the author of motion; but the matter thereof say they, which is shed and sent forth, is corporal.  
STRATO and DEMOCRITUS affirm the very puissance thereof to be a body, howbeit, spiritual.   

CHAP. V. Whether females send forth Seed as well as males.  
PYTHAGORAS, EPICURUS, and DEMOCRITUS hold, that the Female likewise dischargeth Seed; for that it hath seminary vessels turned backward; which is the reason that she hath lust unto the act of generation.  
ARISTOTLE and ZENO be of opinion, that the Female delivereth from it a moist matter, resembling the sweat which cometh from their bodies, who wrestle or exercise together: but they will not have it to be Seed.  
HIPPON avoucheth that Females do ejaculate Seed no less than males, howbeit the same is not effectual for generation, for that it falleth without the matrix: whereupon it cometh to pass that some women, though very few, and widows especially, do cast from them Seed without the company of men: and he affirmeth that of the male Seed, are made the bones, & of the female the flesh.   

CHAP. VI The manner of Conception.  
ARISTOTLE thinketh, that Conceptions come in this manner: when as the matrix drawn before from the natural purgation, and there withal the monthly terms fetch some part of pure blood from the whole mass of the body, so that the males genetal may come to it, and so concur to engender: chose, that which hindereth conception is this, namely, when the matrix is impure or full of ventosities; as it maybe by occasion of fear, of sorrow, or weakness of women; yea and by the impuissance and defect in men.   

CHAP. VII. How it cometh that Males are engendered, and how Females.  
EMPEDOCLES supposeth, that Males and Females are begotten by the means of heat and cold accordingly: and hereupon recorded it is in Histories, that the first Males in the world, were procreated and borne out of the earth, rather in the East and Southern parts; but Females toward the North.  
PARMENIDES maintaineth the contrary, and saith; that Males were bred toward the Northern quarters, for that the air there is more gross and thicker than else where: on the other side, Females toward the South, by reason of the rarity and subtility of the air.  
HIPPONAX attributeth the cause hereof unto the seed, as it is either more thick or powerful, or thinner and weaker.  
ANAXAGORAS and PARMENIDES hold, that the seed which cometh from the right side of a man, ordinarily is cast into the right side of the matrix; and from the left side likewise into the same side of the matrix: but if this ejection of seed fall out otherwise clean cross, than Females be engendered.  
LEOPHANES of whom ARISTOTLE maketh mention, affirmeth that the Males be engendered by the right genetory, and females by the left.  
LEUCIPPUS ascribeth it to the permutation of the natural parts of generation, for that according to it, the man hath his yard of one sort, and the woman her matrix of another: more than this he saith nothing.  
DEMOCRITUS saith, that the common parts are engendered indifferently by the one and the other, as it falleth out; but the 〈◊〉 parts that make distinction of sex, of the party which is more prevalent.  
HIPPONAX resolveth thus, that if the seed be predominant, it will be a Male; but if the food and nourishment, a Female.   

CHAP. VIII. How Monsters are engendered.  
EMPEDOCLES affirmeth, that Monsters be engendered either through the abundance of seed, or default thereof; either through the turbulent 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the 〈◊〉.  perturbation of the moving, or the distraction and division of the seed into sundry parts; or else through the declination thereof out of the right way: and thus he seemeth to have preoccupated in manner all the answers to this question.  
STRATO allegeth for this part, addition, or substraction, transposition or inflation and ventosities. And some physicians there be, who say, that at such a time as monsters be engendered, the matrix suffereth distortion, for that it is distended with wind.   

CHAP. IX. What is the reason that a woman though oftentime she companieth with a man doth not conceive.  
DIOCLES the Physician rendereth this reason, for that some do send soorth no seed at all; or less in quantity than is sufficient, or such in quality, which hath no vivificant or quickening power; or else it is for defect of heat, of cold, of moisture, or dryness; or last of all, by occasion of the paralysie or resolution of the privy parts and members of generation.  
The STOICS lay the cause hereof upon the obliquity or crookedness of the man's member, by occasion whereof, he cannot shoot forth his 〈◊〉 directly; or else it is by reason of the disproportion of the parts, as namely when the matrix lieth to far within, that the yard cannot reach unto it.  
ERASISTRATUS findeth fault in this case with the matrix, when it hath either hard callosities; or too much carnosity; or when it is more rare and spungeous, or else smaller than it ought to be.   

CHAP. X. How it cometh that two Twins and three Twins are borne.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that two Twins or three, are engendered by occasioneither of the abundance, or the divulsion of the seed.  
ASCLEPIADES assigneth it unto the difference of bodies, or the excellence of seed: after which manner we see how some barley from one root beareth two or three stalks with their ears upon them, according as the seed was most fruitful and generative.  
ERASISTRATUS 〈◊〉 it unto diverse conceptions and superfetations, like as in brute beasts; for when as the matrix is cleansed, than it cometh soon to conception and superfaetation.  
The 〈◊〉 allege to this purpose the cells or conceptacles within the matrix; for as the seed falleth into the first and second, there follow conceptions and superfetations, and after the same sort may three Twins be engendered.   

CHAP. XI. How cometh it to pass that children resemble their parents or progenitors before them.  
EMPEDOCLES affirmeth, that as similitudes are caused by the exceeding force of the genetal seed; so the dissimilitudes arise from the evaporation of natural hear contained within the same seed.  
PARMENIDES is of opinion, that when the seed descendeth out of the right side of the matrix, the children be like unto the fathers, but when it passeth from the left side, unto the mothers.  
The STOICS opine thus; from the whole body and the soul passeth the seed, and so the similitudes do form of the same kinds, the figures and characters, like as a painter of the like colours draweth the image of that which he seeth before him: also the woman for her part doth confer genetal seed, which if it be prevalent, than the infant is like unto the mother; but if the man's seed be more predominant, it will resemble the father.   

CHAP. XII. How it falleth out that children resemble others, and not their fathers and mothers.  
THe most part of the Physicians affirm this to happen by chance and aventure, but upon this occasion, that the seed, as well of the man as the woman waxeth cold, for then the infants resemble neither the one nor the other.  
EMPEDOCLES attributeth the form and resemblance of young babes in the womb, unto the strong imagination of the woman in time of conception; for many times it hath been known, that women have been enamoured of painted images and statues, and so delivered of children like unto them.  
The STOICS say, that by a sympathy of the mind and understanding, through the insinuation of beams, and not of images, these resemblances are caused.   

CHAP. XIII. How it cometh that some women be barren, and men likewise unable to get children.  
PHYSICIANS hold, that women be barren by reason that the matrix is either too straight, over rare, or too hard; or else by occasion of certain callosities or carnosities: or for that the women themselves be weaklings and heartless, or do not thrive but mislike; or else because they are fallen into some Cachexia and evil habit of body; or by reason that they are distorted, or otherwise in a convulsion.  
DIOCLES saith, that men in this action of generation are impotent, for that some send forth no seed at all, or at leastwise in quantity less than is meet, or such as hath no generative power; or because their genetals be paralytical or relaxed; or by reason that the yard is crooked, that it cannot cast the seed forward; or for that the genetall members be disproportioned and not of a competent length, considering the distance of the matrix.  
The STOICS lay the fault upon certain faculties and qualities, discordant in the parties themselves that come together about this business; who being parted one from another, and conjoined with others, uniting well with their complexion, there followeth a temperature according to nature, and a child is gotten between them.   

CHAP. XIIII. Why Mules be barren.  
ALCMAEON is of opinion, that Mulets, that is to say, male Mules be not able to engender for that their seed or geneture is of a thin substance which procecdeth from the coldness thereof. The Females also, because their shaps do not open wide enough, that is to say, the mouth thereof doth not gape sufficiently; for these be the very terms that he useth.  
EMPEDOCLES blameth exility or smallness, the low positure and the over straight conformation of the matrix, being so turned backward and tied unto the belly, that neither seed can be directly cast into the capacity of it, nor if it were carried thither would it receive the same. Unto whom DIOCLES also beareth witness saying, Many times (quoth he) in the dissection of Anatomies we have seen such matrices of Mules; and it may be therefore, that in regard of such causes some women also be barren.   

CHAP. XV. Whether the Infant lying yet in the mother's womb, is to be accounted a living creature or no?  
PLATO directly pronounceth that such an Infant is a living creature: for that it moveth, and is fed within the belly of the mother.  
The STOCKS say, it is a part of the womb, and not an animal by itself. For like as fruits be parts of the trees, which when they be ripe do fall; even so it is with an Infant in the mother's womb.  
EMPEDOCLES denieth it to be a creature animal, howbeit that it hath life and breath within the belly: mary the first 〈◊〉 that it 〈◊〉 respiration, is at the birth; namely when the superfluous humidity which is in such unborn 〈◊〉 is retired and gone, so that the air from without entereth into the void vessels lying open.  
DIOGENES saith, that such Infants are bred within the matrice inanimate, howbeit in heat: whereupon it cometh that 〈◊〉 hear, so soon as ever the Infant is turned out of the mother's womb, is drawn into the lungs.  
〈◊〉 leaveth to unborn babes a moving natural; but not a respiration; of which motion the 〈◊〉 be the 〈◊〉 cause; but afterwards they become perfect living animal creatures, when being come forth of the womb they take in breath from the air.   

CHAP. XVI. How unborn babes are fed in the womb.  
DEMOCRITUS and EPICURUS hold, that this unperfect fruit of the womb receiveth nourishment at the mouth; and thereupon it cometh, that so soon as ever it is borne it seeketh and nuzzeleth with the mouth for the breast head, or nipple of the pap: for that within the matrice there be certain tears, yea and mouths too, whereby they are nourished.  
The STOICS say, that it is fed by the secundine and the navel; whereupon it is that Midwives presently knit up and tie the navel string fast, but open the Infant's mouth; to the end that it be acquainted with another kind of nourishment.  
ALCMAEON affirmeth, that the Infant within the mother's womb, feedeth by the whole body throughout: for that it sucketh to it and draweth in manner of a sponge, of all the food, that which is good for nourishment.   

CHAP. XVII. What part of the Child is first made perfect within the mother's belly.  
THe STOICS are of opinion that the most parts are form all at once; but ARISTOTEE saith the back bone and the loins are first framed, like as the keel in a ship.  
ALCMAEON affirmeth, that the head is first made, as being the seat of reason.  
PHYSICIANS will have the heart to be the first, wherein the veins and arteries are.  
Some think the great toe is framed first, and others the navel.   

CHAP. XVIII. What is the cause that Infants borne at seven months end, be livelike.  
EMPEDOCLES thinketh, that when mankind was first bred of the earth, one day then, by reason of the slow motion of the Sun was full as long, as (in this age of ours) ten months: and that in process of time, and by succession it came to be of the length of seven months: And therefore (quoth he) infants borne either at ten or seven months end, do ordinarily live: the nature of the world being so accustomed in one day to bring that fruit to maturity after that night, wherein it was committed into the womb thereof.  
TIMAEUS saith, that they be not ten months, but are counted nine, after that the monthly purgations stay upon the first conception: and so it is thought that infants be of seven month whichs are not: for that he knew how after conception many women have had their menstrual flux.  
POLYBUS, DIOCLES and the EMPIRICS know, that the eight months child also is vital; howbeit in some sort feeble, for that many for feebleness have died so borne: in general and for the most part ordinarily, none are willing to rear and feed the children borne at the seven month; and yet many have been so borne and grown to man's estate.  
ARISTOTLE and HIPPOCRATES report, that if in seven months the matrix be grown full, than the infant 〈◊〉 to get forth; and such commonly live and do well enough: but if it incline to birth, and be not sufficiently nourished, for that the navel is weak, then in regard of hard travel, both the mother is in danger, and her fruit becometh to mislike and thriveth not: but in case it continue nine months within the matrix, than it cometh forth accomplished and perfect.  
POLYBUS affirmeth it to be requisite and necessary for the vitality of infants, that there should be 182, days and a half, which is the time of six months complete; in which space the sun cometh from one Solstice or Tropic to another: but such children are said to be of seven months, when it falleth out that the odd days left in this month, are taken to the seventh month. But he is of opinion, that those of eight months live not; namely, when as the infant hasteneth indeed out of the womb, and beareth downward, but for the most part the navel is thereby put to stress and reatched, & so cannot feed, as that should, which is the cause of food to the infant.  
The MATHEMATICIANS bear us in hand and say, that eight months be dissociable of all generations, but seven are sociable. Now the dissociable signs are such as meet with such stars and constellations which be lords of the house: for if upon any of them falleth the lot of man's life and course of living, it signifieth that such shall be unfortunate and short lived. These dissociable signs be reckonned eight in number: namely, Aries with 〈◊〉 is insociable; Taurus with Scorpius is sociable; Gemini with Capricorn; Cancer with Aquarius; Leo with Pisces; and Virgo with Aries: And for this cause infants of seven months and ten months be livelike, but those of eight months for the insociable dissidence of the world, perish and come to nought.   

CHAP. XIX. Of the generation of animal creatures; after what manner they be engendered; and whether they be corruptible.  
THey who hold that the world was created, are of opinion, that living creatures also had their creation or beginning, and shall likewise perish and come to an end.  
The EPICUREANS according unto whom Animals had no creation, do suppose that by mutation of one into another, they were first made; for they are the substantial parts of the world: like as ANAXAGORAS and EURIPIDES affirm in these terms: Nothing dieth, but in changing as they do one for another, they show sundry forms.  
ANAXIMANDER is of opinion, that the first Animals were bred in moisture, and enclosed within pricky and sharp pointed barks; but as age grew on, they became more dry, and in the end, when the said bark burst and clavae in sunder round about them, a small while after they survived.  
EMPEDOCLES thinketh, that the first generations as well of living creatures as of plants, were not wholly complete and perfect in all parts, but disjoined, by reason that their parts did not cohaere and unite together: that the second generations when the parts begun to combine and close together, seemed like to images: that the third generations were of parts growing and arising mutually one out of another: and the fourth were no more of semblable, as of earth and water, but one of another; and in some the nourishment was incrassate and made thick, as for others the beauty of women provoked and pricked in them a lust of spermaic motion. Moreover, that the kinds of all living creatures were distinct and divided by certain temperatures; for such as were more familiarly inclined to water, went into water; others into the air, for to draw and deliver their breath to and fro, according as they held more of the nature of fire; such as were of a more heavy temperature were bestowed upon the earth; but those who were of an equal temperature, uttered voice with their whole breasts.   

CHAP. XX. How many sorts of living creatures there be? whether they be all sensitive and endued with reason.  
THere is a treatise of ARISTOTLE extant, wherein he putteth down four kinds of Animals, to wit, Terrestrial, aquatical, Volatile, and Celestial: for you must think, that he calleth heavens, stars, and the world, Animals; even as well as those that participate of earth: yea and God he defineth to be a reasonable Animal and immortal.  
DEMOCRITUS and EPICURUS do say, that heavenly Animals are reasonable.  
〈◊〉 holdeth, that all Animals are endued with active reason, but want the passive understanding, which is called the interpreter or truchment of the mind.  
PYTHAGORAS and PLATO do affirm, that the souls even of those very Animals which are called unreasonable & brute beasts, are endued with reason; howbeit they are not operative with that reason, neither can they 〈◊〉 it, by reason of the distempered composition of their bodies, and because they have not speech to declare and expound themselves: as for example, apes and dogs which utter a babbling voice, but not an express language and distinct speech.  
DIOGENES supposeth that they have an intelligence; but partly for the gross thickness of their temperature, and in part for the abundance of moisture, they have neither discourse of reason nor sense, but fare like unto those who be furious; for the principal part of the soul, to wit, Reason is defectuous and impeached.   

CHAP. XXI. Within what time are living creatures form in the mother's womb.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that men begin to take form after the thirty sixth day; and are finished and knit in their parts within 50. days wanting one.  
ASCLEPIADES saith, that the members of males, because they be more hot, are jointed, and receive shape in the space of 26. days, and many of them sooner; but are finished and complete in all limbs within 50. days: but females require two months ere they be fashioned, and four before they come to their perfection; for that they want natural heat. As for the parts of unreasonable creatures, they come to their accomplishment sooner or later, according to the temperature of the elements.   

CHAP. XXII. Of how many elements is composedech of the general parts which are in us.  
EMPEDOCLES thinketh, that flesh is engendered of an equal mixture and temperature of the four elements; the sinews, of earth and fire, mingled together in a duple proportion; the nails and cleies in living creatures come of the nerves refrigerat and made cold in those places where the air toucheth them; the bones, of water and earth within: and of these four meddled and contempered together, sweat and tears proceed.   

CHAP. XXIII. When and how doth man begin to come to his perfection.  
HERACLITUS and the STOICS suppose, that men do enter into their perfection about the second septimane of their age, at what time as their natural seed doth move and run: for even the very trees begin then, to grow unto their perfection; namely, when as they begin to engender their 〈◊〉; for before then, unperfect they are, namely, so long as they be unripe and fruitless: and therefore a man likewise about that time is perfect: and at this septenary of years he beginneth to conceive and understand what is good and evil, yea, and to learn the same.  

* This I find in the 〈◊〉 translation.  Some think that a man is consummate at the end of the third septimane of years, what time as he maketh use of his full strength.   

CHAP. XXIIII. In what manner Sleep is occasioned or death?  
ALCMEON is of this mind, that Sleep is caused by the return of blood into the confluent veins; and Waking is the diffusion and spreading of the said blood abroad: but Death the utter departure thereof.  
EMPEDOCLES holdeth that Sleep is occasioned by a moderate cooling of the natural heat of blood within us: and Death by an extreme coldness of the said blood.  
DIOGENES is of opinion, that if blood being diffused and spread throughout, fill the veins, and withal drive back the air settled 〈◊〉 into the breast, and the interior belly under it, then ensueth Sleep, and the breast with the precordiall parts are 〈◊〉 thereby: but if that aereous substance in the 〈◊〉 expire altogether, and exhale forth, presently 〈◊〉 Death.  
PLATO and the 〈◊〉 affirm, that the 〈◊〉 of Sleep is the 〈◊〉 of the spirit sensitive, not by way of 〈◊〉 and to the earth; 〈◊〉 by elevation aloft, namely, when it is carried to the 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 between the 〈◊〉, the very 〈◊〉 of reason: but when there is an 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of the 〈◊〉 sensitive, 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 Death doth ensue.   

CHAP. XXV. Whether of the twain it is, that 〈◊〉 or dieth, the Soul or the Body?  
ARISTOTLE vorely 〈◊〉 that Sleep is common to Body and Soul both: and the cause thereof is a certain humidity which doth steam and arise in manner of a vapour out of the stomach and the food therein, up into the region of the head, and the natural heat about the heart cooled thereby. But death he deemeth to be an entire and total refrigeration; and the same of the Body only, and in no wise of the Soul, for it is immortal.  
ANAXAGORAS saith, that Sleep belongeth to corporal action; as being a passion of the Body and not of the Soul: also that there is 〈◊〉 wife a certain death of the Body, to wit, the separation of it and the Body 〈◊〉.  
LEUCIPPUS is of opinion, that Sleep pertaineth to the Body only, by concretion of that which was of subtle parts; but the excessive excretion of the animal heat is Death: which both (saith he) be passions of the Body, and not of the Soul.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that Death is a separation of those elements whereof man's Body is compounded: according to which position, Death is common to Soul and Body: and Sleep a certain dissipation of that which is of the nature of fire.   

CHAP. XXVI. How Plants come to grow and whether they be animate.  
PLATO and EMPEDOCLES hold, that Plants have life, yea and be animal creatures which appeareth (say they) by this, that they wag to and fro, and stretch forth their boughs like arms; also, that when they be violently strained and bend, they yield; but if they be let loose they return again, yea in their growth are able to overcome weight laid upon them.  
ARISTOTLE granteth that they be living creatures, but not animal: for that animal creatures have motions and appetites, are sensitive and endued with reason.  
The STOICS and the EPIGUREANS hold, that they have no soul or life at all: for of animallcreatures some have the appetitive & concupsicible soul, others the reasonable: but Plants grow after a sort casually of their own accord, and not by the means of any soul.  
EMPEDOCLES saith, that Trees sprang and grew out of the ground before animal creatures; to wit, ere the Sun desplaied his beams, and before that day and night were distinct. Also that according to the proportion of temperature, one came to be named, Male, another, Female; that they 〈◊〉 up and grow by the power of heat within the earth; in such sort, as they be parts of the earth, like as unborn fruits in the womb, be parts of the matrice. As for the fruits of trees, they are the superfluous excrements of water and fire: but such as have defect of that humidity, when it is dried up by the heat of the Summer, lose their leaves: whereas they that have plenty thereof, keep their leaves on still, as for example, the Laurel, Olive, and Date tree. Now as touching the difference of their juices and sapours, it proceedeth from the diversity of that which nourisheth them, as appear in Vines: for the difference of Vine trees, maketh not the goodness of Vines for to be drunk, but the nutriment that the territory and soil doth afford.   

CHAP. XXVII. Of 〈◊〉 and Growth.  
EMPEDOCLES is of opinion, that animal creatures are nourished by the substance of that which is proper and familiar unto them; that they grow by the presence of natural heat; that they diminish, 〈◊〉 and perish through the default both of the one and the other. And as for men now a days living, in comparison of their auncestos, they be but babes new borne.   

CHAP. XXVIII. How 〈◊〉 creatures came to have appetite and pleasure.  
EMPEDOCLES supposeth, that Lust and Appetites are incident to animal creatures, through the defect of those elements which went unto the framing of each one: that pleasures arise from humidity: as for the motions of perils and such like, as also troubles and hindrances, etc. ****   

CHAP. XXIX. After what sort a Fever is engendered, and whether it is an accessary to another malady?  
ERASISTRATUS defineth a Fever thus: A Fever (quoth he) is the motion of blood, which is entered into the veins or vessels proper unto the spirits, to wit, the arteries; and that against the will of the patient; for like as the sea when nothing troubleth it, lieth still and quiet; but if a boisterous and violent wind be up and bloweth upon it, contrary unto nature it surgeth and riseth up into billows even from the very bottom; so in the body of man, when the blood is moved, it invadeth the vital and spiritual vessels, and being set on fire, it enchafeth the whole body. And according to the same physician's opinion, a Fever is an accessary or consequent coming upon another disease.  
But DIOCLES affirmeth, that Symptones apparent without forth, do show that which lieth hidden within: Now we see that an Ague followeth upon those accidents that outwardly appear; as for example, wounds, inflammations, impostumes, biles and botches in the share and other emunctories.   

CHAP. XXX. Of Health, Sickness, and old age.  
ALCMAEON is of opinion, that the equal dispensing and distribution of the faculties in the body, to wit, of moisture, heat, dryness, cold, bitter, sweet, and the rest, is that which holdeth & maintaineth Health: chose, the monarchy, that is to say, the predominant sovereignty, of any of them causeth sickness: for the predomination and principality of any one, bringeth the corruption of all the other, and is the very cause of maladies: the efficient in regard of excessive heat or cold; and the material in respect of superabundance, or defect of humours; like as in some there is want of blood or brain; whereas Health is a proportionable temperature of all these qualities.  
DIOCLES supposeth, that most diseases grow by the inequality of the elements, and of the habit and constitution of the body.  
ERASISTRATUS saith, that sickness proceedeth from the excess of feeding, from crudities, indigestions, and corruption of meat: whereas good order and suffisance is Health.  
The STOICS accord hereunto and hold, that Old age cometh for want of natural heat; for they who are most furnished therewith, live longest, and be old a great time.  
ASCLEPIADES reporteth, that the Aethiopians age quickly, namely, when they be thirty years old; by reason that their bodies be overheat, and even burnt again with the sun: whereas in England and all 〈◊〉, folk in their age continue 120. years; for that those parts be cold, and in that people the natural heat by that means is united and kept in their bodies: for the bodies of the Aethiopians are more open and rare, in that they be relaxed and resolved by the suns heat. chose their bodies who live toward the North pole, be more compact, knit and fast, and therefore, such are long lived.     

ROMAN questions, THAT IS TO SAY, AN ENQUIRIE INTO THE CAUSES OF MANY FASHIONS AND CUSTOMS OF ROME.  
A Treatise fit for them who are conversant in the reading of Roman histories and antiquities, giving a light to many places otherwise obscure and hard to be understood.  

1  
What is the reason that new wedded wives are bidden to touch fire and water?  
1 IS it because that among the elements and principles, whereof are composed natural bodies, the one of these twain, to wit, fire is the male, and water the female, of which, that infuseth the beginning of motion, and this affordeth the property of the subject and matter?  
2 Or rather, for that, as the fire purgeth, and water washeth; so a wise aught to continue pure, chaste and clean all her life.  
3 Or is it in this regard, that as fire without humidity yieldeth no nourishment, but is dry; and moisture without heat is idle, fruitless and barren; even so the male is feeble, and the female likewise, when they be apart and severed a sunder: but the conjunction of two married folk yieldeth unto both, their cohabitation and perfection of living together.  
4 Or last of all, because man and wife ought not to forsake and abandon one another, but to take part of all fortunes; though they had no other good in the world common between them, but fire and water only.   

2  
How is it, that they use to light at weddings five torches, and neither more nor less, which they call Wax-lights.  
1 WHether is it as Varro saith, because the Praetours or generals of armies use three, and the Aediles two: therefore it is not meet that they should have more than the Praetours and Aediles together: considering that new married folk go unto the Aediles to light their fire?  
2 Or, because having use of many numbers, the odd number seemed unto them as in all other respects better, and more perfect than the even: so it was fitter and more agreeable for marriage: for the even number implieth a kind of discord and division, in respect of the equal parts in it, meet for siding, quarrel, and contention: whereas the odd number cannot be divided so just & equally, but there will remain somewhat still in common for to be parted. Now among all odd numbers, it seemeth that Cinque is most nuptial, & best beseeming marriage; for that 〈◊〉 is the first odd number, & Deuz the first even; of which twain, five is compounded, as of the male and the female.  
3 〈◊〉 is 〈◊〉, because light is a sign of being and of life: and a woman may bear at the most five children at one burden; and so they used to carry five tapers or wax candles?  
4 Or lastly, for that they thought, that those who were married had need of five gods and goddesses: namely, Jupiter 
* Or, 〈◊〉.  genial, Juno genial, Venus, Suade, and above all Diana; whom (last named) women in their labour and travel of childbirth, are wont to call upon for help.   

3  
What is the cause that there being many Temples of Diana in Rome, into that only which standeth in the 〈◊〉 street, men enter not.  
1 IS it not because of a tale which is told in this manner: In old time a certain woman being come thither for to adore and worship this goddess, chanced there to be abused and suffer violence in her honour: and he who forced her, was torn in pieces by hounds: upon which accident, ever after, a certain superstitious fear possessed men's heads, that they would not presume to go into the said temple.   

4  
Wherefore is it, that in other temples of Diana men are wont ordinarily to set up and fasten Hearts horns; only in that which is upon mount Aventine; the horns of oxen and other beeves are to be seen.  
MAy it not be, that this is respective to the remembrance of an ancient occurrent that sometime befell? For reported it is that long since in the Sabines country, one Antion Coratius had a cow, which grew to be exceeding fair and wonderful big withal above any other: and a certain wizard or soothfaier came unto him and said: How predestined it was that the city which sacrificed that cow unto Diana in the mount Aventine, should become most puissant and rule all Italy: This Coratius therefore came to Rome of a deliberate purpose to sacrifice the said cow accordingly: but a certain household servant that he had, gave notice secretly unto king Servius Tullius of this prediction delivered by the abovesaid soothfaier: whereupon Servius acquainted the priest of Diana, Cornelius, with the matter: and therefore when Antion Coratius presented himself for to perform his sacrifice, Cornelius advertised him, first to go down into the river, there to wash; for that the custom and manner of those that sacrificed was so to do: now whiles Antion was gone to wash himself in the river, Servius steps into his place, prevented his return, sacrificed the cow unto the goddess, and nailed up the horns when he had so done, within her temple. Juba thus relateth this history, and Varro likewise, saving that Varro expressly setteth not down the name of Antion, neither doth he write that it was Cornelius the priest, but the sexton only of the church that thus beguiled the Sabine.   

5  
Why are they who have been 〈◊〉 reported dead in a strange country, although they return home alive, not received nor suffered to enter directly at the doors, but forced to climb up to the tiles of the house, and so to get down from the rouse into the house?  
VArro rendereth a reason hereof, which I take to be altogether fabulous: for he writeth, that during the Sicilian war, there was a great battle fought upon the sea, and immediately upon it, there ran a rumour of many that they were dead in this fight; who notwithstanding, they returned home safe, died all within a little while after: howbeit, one there was among the rest, who when he would have entered into his own house, found the door of the own accord fast shut up against him; and for all the forcible means that was made to open the same, yet it would not prevail: whereupon this man taking up his lodging without, just before his door, as he slept in the night, had a vision which advertised and taught him how he should from the roof of the house let himself down by a rope, and so get in: now when he had so done, he became fortunate ever after, all the rest of his life; and he lived to be a very aged man: and hereof arose the foresaid custom, which always afterwards was kept and observed.  
But haply this fashion may seem in some fort to have been derived from the Greeks: for in Greece they thought not those pure and clean who had been carried forth for dead to be interred; or whose sepulchre and funerals were 〈◊〉 or prepared: neither were such allowed to frequent the company of others, nor suffered to come near unto their sacrifices. And there goeth a report of a certain man named Aristinus, one of those who had been possessed with this superstition, how he sent unto the oracle of Apollo at Delphos, for to make supplication and prayer unto the god, for to be delivered out of this perplexed anxiety that troubled him by occasion of the said custom or law then in force: and that the prophetess Pythia returned this answer: 
Look what soever women do in childbed newly laid,  
Unto their babes, which they brought forth, the very same I say  
See that be done to thee again: and after that be sure,  
Unto the blessed gods with hands to sacrifice, most pure.  Which oracle thus delivered, Aristinus having well pondered and considered, committed himself as an infant new borne unto women for to be washed, to be wrapped in swaddling clothes, and to be suckled with the brest-head: after which, all such others, whom we call Hysteropotmous, that is to say, those whose graves were made, as if they had been dead, did the semblable. Howbeit, some do say, that before Aristinus was borne, these creremonies were observed about those Histropotmi, and that this was a right ancient custom kept in the semblable case: and therefore no marvel it is, that the Romans also thought, that such as were supposed to have been once buried, and ranged with the dead in another world, ought not to enter in at the same porch, out of which they go, when they purpose to sacrifice unto the gods, or at which they re-enter when they return from sacrifice: but would have them from above to descend through the tiles of the roof into the close house, with the air open over their heads: for all their purifications ordinarily they performed without the house abroad in the air.   

6  
Why do women kiss the lips of their kinsfolks?  
IS it as most men think, for that women being forbidden to drink wine, the manner was brought up: That whensoever they met their kinsfolk, they should kiss their lips, to the end they might not be unknowen, but convicted if they had drunk wine? or rather for another reason, which Aristotle the philosopher hath alleged? for as touching that occasion, which is so famous and commonly voiced in every man's mouth, yea, and reported of diverse and sundry places; it was no doubt the hardy attempt executed by the dames of troy, and that upon the coasts of Italy; for when the men upon their arrival were landed; the women in the mean while set fire upon their ships, for very desire that they had to see an end once, one way or other of their long voyage, & to be delivered from their tedious travel at sea: but fearing the fury of their men, when they should return, they went forth to meet their kinsfolk and friends upon the way, and welcomed them with amiable embracing & sweet kisses of their lips: by which means having appeased their angry mood, and recovered their favours, they continued ever after, the custom of kindgreeting and loving salutation in this manner.  
Or was not this a privilege granted unto women for their greater honour and credit; namely, to be known and seen for to have many of their race and kindred, and those of good worth and reputation?  
Or because it was not lawful to espouse women of their blood and kindred, therefore permitted they were to entertain them kindly and familiarly with a kiss, so they proceeded no farther; insomuch as this was the only matke and token left of their consanguinity. For before time, they might not marry women of their own blood; no more than in these days their aunts by the mother's side, or their sisters: and long it was ere men were permitted to contract marriage with their cousin germans; and that upon such an occasion as this. There was a certain man of poor estate and small living, howbeit otherwise of good and honest carriage, and of all others that managed the public affairs of State most popular and gracious with the commons: who was supposed to keep as his espoused wife a kinswoman of his and cousin german, an inheritress; by whom he had great wealth, and became very rich: for which he was accused judicially before the people; but upon a special favour that they bore unto him, they would not inquire into the cause in question; but not only suppressed his bill of inditement, and let her go as quit of all crime, but also even they, enacted a statute; by virtue whereof, lawful it was for all men from that time forward to marry, as far as to their cousin germans, but in any higher or nearer degree of consanguinity, they were expressly forbidden.   

7  
Wherefore is it not lawful either for the husband to receive a gift of his wife, or for the wife of her husband.  
MAy it not be, for that, as Solon ordained that the donations and bequests, made by those that die shall stand good, unless they besuch as a man hath granted upon necessity, or by the inducement and flattery of his wife: in which proviso, he excepted necessity, as forcing and constraining the will; and likewise pleasure, as deceiving the judgement; even so have men suspected the mutual gifts passing between the husband and the wife, and thought them to be of the same nature.  
Or was it not thought, that giving of presents was of all other the least & worst sign of amity and good will (for even strangers and such as bear no love at all use in that sort to be giving) and in that regard they would banish out of marriage such kind of pleasing and curring favour; to the end that the 〈◊〉 love and affection between the parties should be free and without respect of 〈◊〉 and gain, even for itself and nothing else in the world.  
Or because women commonly admit and entertain strangers, as corrupted by receiving of presents and gifts at their hands, it was thought to stand more with honour and reputation, that 〈◊〉 should love their own husbands, though they gave them nothing by way of gift.  
Or rather, for that it was meet and requisite, that the goods of the husband should be common to the wife, and to the wife likewise of the husband: for the party who receiveth a thing in gift, doth learn to repute that which was not given, to be none of his own, but belonging to 〈◊〉 so that man and wife in giving never so little one to another, despoil and defraud themselves of all that is beside.   

8  
What might be the cause that they were forbidden to receive any gift either of 
* Daughter's husband.  Son in law, or 
* 〈◊〉 father.  Father in law?  
OF Son in law, for fear lest the gift might be thought by the means of the Father to pass about the return unto the wife: and of the Father in law, because it was supposed meet and just, that he who gave not, should not likewise receive aught. 
* This may 〈◊〉 to have some 〈◊〉 to .    

9  
What should be the reason that the Romans when they returned from some voyage out of a far and foreign country, or only from their farm into the city; if their wives were at home, used to send a messenger unto them before, for to give warning and advertisement of their coming?  
EIther it was because this is a token of one that believeth and is verily persuaded that his wife intendeth no lewdness, nor is otherwise busied than well: whereas to come upon her at unwares and on a sudden, is a kind of forlaying and surprise. Or for that they make haste to send them good news of their coming, as being assured that they have a longing desire, and do expect such tidings.  
Or rather because themselves would be glad to hear from them some good news, to wit, whether they shall find them in good health when they come, and attending affectionately and with great devotion, their return.  
Or else because women ordinarily, when their husbands be away and from home, have many petty businesses and house affairs: and other whiles there fall out some little jars and quarrels within doors with their servants, men or maidens: to the end therefore all such troubles and inconveniences might be overblowen, and that they might give unto their husbands a loving and amiable welcome home, they have intelligence given unto them before hand of their arrival and approach.   

10  
What is the cause that when they adore and worship the gods, they cover their heads: but chose when they meet with any honourable or worshipful persons, if their heads haply were then covered with their cover, they discover the same, and are bare headed.  
FOr it seemeth that this fashion maketh the former doubt and branch of the question more difficult to be 〈◊〉: and if that which is reported of Aeneas be true; namely, that as Diomedes passed along by him whiles he sacrificed, he covered his head, and so performed his sacrifice; there is good reason and consequence, that if men be covered before their enemies, they should be bare when they encounter either their friends, or men of worth and honour: for this manner of being covered before the gods, is not properly respective unto them, but occasioned by accident, and hath, since that example of Aeneas, been observed and continued.  
But if we must say somewhat else beside, consider whether it be not sufficient to inquire only of this point; namely, why they cover their heads when they worship the gods, seeing the other consequently dependeth hereupon: for they stand bare before men of dignity and authority, not to do them any more honour thereby, but chose to diminish their envy, for fear they might be thought to require as much reverence and the same honour as is exhibited to the gods, or suffer themselves, and take pleasure to be observed and reverenced equally with them: as for the gods they adored them after this sort; either by way of lowliness and humbling themselves before their majesty, in covering and hiding their heads; or rather because they feared lest as they made their prayers, there should come unto their hearing, from without, any sinister voice or inauspicate and ominous osse: and to prevent such an object they drew their hood over their ears: And how true it is that they had 〈◊〉 eye and regard to meet with all such accidents, it may appear by this, that when they went to any oracle for to beresolved by answer from thence upon a scrupulous doubt, they caused a great noise to be made all about them, with ringing of pans or brazen basons.  
Or it may well be, (as Castor saith, comparing in concordance the Roman fashions with the 〈◊〉 of the Pythagoreans) for that the Daemon or good angel within us, hath need of the gods help without, and maketh supplication with covering the head, giving thus much 〈◊〉 to understand thereby, that the soul is likewise covered and hidden by the body.   

11  
Why sacrifice they unto Saturn bareheaded.  
IS it because Aeneas first brought up this fashion of covering the head at sacrifice; and the sacrifice to Saturnus is much more ancient than his time?  
Or, for that they used to be covered unto the celestial gods: but as for Saturn he is reputed a Subterranean or terrestrial god?  
Or, in this respect, that there is nothing hidden, covered, or shadowed in Truth? For among the Romans, Saturn was held to be the father of Verity.   

12  
Why do they repute Saturn the father of Truth.  
IS it for that (as some Philosophers deem) they are of opinion that 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Saturn is 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Time? and Time you know well findeth out and revealeth the Truth.  
Or, because as the Poet's fable, men lived under Saturn's reign in the golden age: and if the life of man was then most just and righteous, it followeth consequently that there was much truth in the world.   

13  
What is the reason that they sacrificed likewise unto the god whom they termed Honour, with bare head? now a man may interpret Honour to be as much as Glory and Reputation.  
IT is haply because Honour and glory is a thing evident, notorious, and exposed to the knowledge of the whole world: and by the same reason that they veil bonnet before men of worship, dignity, and honour, they adore also the deity that beareth the name of Honour, with the headbare.   

14  
What may be the cause, that sons carry their Fathers and Mothers forth to be interred, with their heads hooded and covered: but daughters bore headed, with their hairs detressed and hanging down loose.  
IS it for that Fathers ought to be honoured as gods by their male children, but lamented and bewailed as dead men by their daughters, and therefore the law having given and granted unto either sex that which is proper, hath of both together made that which is beseeming and convenient.  
Or, it is in this regard, that unto sorrow and heaviness, that is best beseeming which is extraordinary and unusual: now more ordinary it is with women to go abroad with their heads veiled and covered: and likewise with men, to be discovered and bore headed. For even among the Greeks when there is befallen unto them any public calamity, the manner and custom is, that the women should cut off the hairs of their head, and the men wear them long: for that otherwise it is usual that men should poll their heads, and women keep their hair long. And to prove that sons were wont to be covered; in such a case, and for the said cause, a man may allege that which Varro hath written; namely, that in the solemnity of funerals, and about the tombs of their fathers, they carry themselves with as much reverence and devotion as in the temples of the gods: in such sort, as when they have burnt the corpse in the funeral fire, so soon as ever they meet with a bone, they pronounce, that he who is dead, is now become a god. On the contrary side, women were no wise permitted to vail and cover their heads. And we find upon record, that the first man who put away and divorced his wife was Spurius Carbilius, because she bore him no children; the second, Sulpitius Gallus, for that he saw her to cast a rob over her head: and the third Publius Sempronius, for standing to behold the solemnity of the funeral games.   

15  
How it cometh to pass, that considering the Romans esteemed Terminus a god, and therefore in honour of him celebrated a feast called thereupon Terminalia, yet they never killed any beast in sacrifice unto him?  
IT is because Romulus did appoint no bonds and limits of his country, to the end that he might lawfully set out & take in where pleased him, and repute all that land his own so far as, (according to that saying of the Lacedaemonian) his spear or javelin would reach? But Numa 〈◊〉 a just man and politic withal, one who knew well how to govern, and that by the rule of Philosophy, caused his territory to be confined between him and his neighbour nations, and called those frontier bonds by the name of Terminus as the superintendant, overseer and keeper of peace and amity between neighbours; and therefore he supposed, that this Terminus ought to be preserved pure and clean from all blood, and impollute with any murder.   

16  
What is the reason that it is not lawful for any maid servants to enter into the temple of the goddess 
* Or 〈◊〉.  Leucothea? and the Dames of Rome, bringing in thither one alone and no more with them, fall to cuffing and boxing her about the ears and cheeks.  
AS for the wench that is thus buffeted, it is a sufficient sign and argument, that such as she, are not permitted to come thither: now for all others they keep them out in regard of a certain poetical fable reported in this wise: that lady Jno being in times past jealous of her husband, and suspecting him with a maid servant of hers, fell mad, and was enraged against her own son: this servant the Greeks say, was an Aetolian borne, and had to name Antiphera; and therefore it is that here among us in the city of Chaeronea, before the temple or chapel of Matuta, the sexton taking a whip in his hand crieth with a loud voice: No man servant or maid servant be so hardy as to come in here; no Aetolian he or she presume to enter into this place.   

17  
What is the cause that to this goddess, folk pray not for any blessings to their own children, but for their nephews only, to wit, their brothers or sister's children?  
MAy it not be that Ino being a lady that loved her sister wondrous well, in so much as she suckled at her own breast a son of hers: but was infortunate in her own children?  
Or rather, because the said custom is otherwise very good and civil, inducing and moving folks hearts to carry love and affection to their kindreds.   

18  
For what cause, were many rich men wont to consecrate and give unto Hercules the Disme or tenth of all their goods?  
WHy may it not be upon this occasion, that Hercules himself being upon a time at 
* By 〈◊〉, meaning the place where afterwards Rome stood.  Rome, sacrifice the tenth 〈◊〉 of all the drove which he had taken from Gerton?  
Or for that he freed and delivered the Romans from the tax and tribute of the Dimes which they were wont to pay out of their goods unto the Tuskans.  
Or in case this may not go current for an authentical history, and worthy of credit; what and if we say that unto Hercules as to some great belly god, and one who loved good cheer, they offered and sacrificed plenteously and in great liberality?  
Or rather, for that by this means they would take down and diminish alittle, their excessive riches which ordinarily is an eyesore and odious unto the citizens of a popular state, as if they meant to abate and bring low (as it were) that plethorical plight and corpulency of the body, which being grown to the height is dangerous: supposing by such cutting off, and abridging of superfluities, to do honour and service most pleasing unto Hercules, as who joied highly in frugality: for that in his life time he stood contented with a little, and regarded no delicacy or excess whatsoever.   

19  
Why begin the Romans their year at the month Januarie?  
FOr in old time the month of March was reckoned first, as a man may collect by many other conjectures, and by this especially, that the fifth month in order after March was called Quintilis, and the sixth month Sextilis, and all the rest consequently one after another until you come to the last, which they named December, because it was the tenth in number after March: which giveth occasion unto some for to think & say, that the Romans (in those days) determined and accomplished their complete year, not in twelve months but in ten: namely, by adding unto every one of those ten months certain days over and above thirty. Others write, that December indeed was the tenth month after March; but Januarie was the eleventh, and February the twelfth: in which month they used certain expiatory and purgatory sacrifices, yea, and offered oblations unto the dead (as it were) to make an end of the year. How be it afterwards they transposed this order, and ranged Januarie in the first place, for that upon the first day thereof, which they call the Calends of Januarie; the first Consuls that ever bare rule in Rome were installed, immediately upon the deposition and expulsion of the kings out of the city. But there seemeth to be more probability & likelihood of truth in their speech, who say, that Romulus being a martial prince, and one that loved war and feats of arms, as being reputed the son of Mars, set before all other months, that which carried the name of his father: how be it Numa who succeedednext after him, being a man of peace, and who endeavoured to withdraw the hearts and minds of his subjects and citizens from war to agriculture, gave the prerogative of the first place unto Januarie, and honoured Janus most, as one who had been more given to politic government, and to the husbandry of ground, than to the exercise of war and arms.  
Consider moreover, whether Numa chose not this month for to begin the year withal, as best sorting with nature in regard of us; for otherwise in general, there is no one thing of all those that by nature turn about circularly, that can be said first or last, but according to the several institutions and ordinances of men, some begin the time at this point, others at that. And verily they that make the Winter solstice or hibernall Tropic the beginning of their year, do the best of all others: for that the Sun ceasing then to pass farther, beginneth to return and take his way again toward us: for it seemeth, that both according to the course of nature, and also in regard of us, this season is most 〈◊〉 to begin the year: for that it increaseth unto us the time of day light, and diminisheth the darkness of night, and causeth that noble star or planet to approach nearer and come toward us, the lord governor and ruler of all substance transitory and fluxible matter whatsoever.   

20  
Why do women when they dress up and adorn the chapel or shrine of their feminine goddess, whom they call Bona, never bring home for that purpose any branches of Myrtle tree: and yet otherwise have a delight to employ all sorts of leaves and flowers?  
MAy it not be, for that, as some fabulous writers tell the tale, there was one 
* Or Phaulius.  Flavius a soothsayer had a wife, who used secretly to drink wine, and when she was surprised and taken in the manner by her husband, she was well beaten by him which myrtle rods: and for that cause they bring thither no boughs of myrtle: marry they offer libations unto this goddess of wine, but forsooth they call it Milk.  
Or is it not for this cause, that those who are to celebrate the ceremonies of this divine service, aught to be pure and clean from all pollutions, but especially from that of Venus or lechery? For not only they put out of the room where the service is performed unto the said goddess Bona, all men, but also whatsoever is beside of masculine sex; which is the reason that they so detest the myrtle tree, as being consecrated unto Venus, insomuch as it should seem they called in old time that Venus, Myrtea, which now goeth under the name, of Murcia.   

21  
What is the reason that the Latins do so much honour and reverence the Woodpecker, and forbear altogether to do that bird any harm?  
IS it for that Picus was reported in old time by the enchantments and forceries of his wife, to have changed his own nature, and to be metamorphozed into a Woodpecker; under which form he gave out oracles, and delivered answers unto those who propounded unto him any demands?  
Or rather, because this seemeth a mere fable, and incredible tale: there is another story reported, which carrieth more probability with it, and soundeth nearer unto truth. That when Romulus and Remus were cast forth and exposed to death; not only a female wolf gave them her teats to suck, but also a certain Woodpecker flew unto them, and brought them food in her bill, and so fed them: and therefore haply it is, that ordinarily in these days we may see, as Nigidius hath well observed; what places soever at the foot of an hill covered and shadowed with oaks or other trees a Woodpecker haunteth, thither customably you shall have a wolf to repair.  
Or peradventure, seeing their manner is to consecrate unto every god one kind of bird or other, they reputed this Woodpecker sacred unto Mars, because it is a courageous and hardy bird, having a bill so strong, that he is able to overthrow an oak therewith, after he hath jobbed and pecked into it as far as to the very marrow and heart thereof.   

22  
How is it that they imagine Janus to have had two faces,, in which manner they use both to paint and also to cast him in mould.  
IS it for that he being a Grecian borne, came from 〈◊〉, as we find written in histories; and passing forward into Italy, dwelled in that country among the Barbarous people, who there lived, whose language and manner of life he changed?  
Or rather because he taught and persuaded them to live together after a civil and honest sort, in husbandry and tilling the ground; whereas before time their manners were rude, and their fashions savage without law or justice altogether.   

23  
What is the cause that they use to sell at Rome all things pertaining to the furniture of 〈◊〉, within the temple of the goddess Libitina, supposing her to be Venus.  
THis may seem to be one of the sage and philosophical inventions of king Numa, to the end that men should learn not to abhor such things, not to 〈◊〉 from them, as if they did pollute and defile them?  
Or else this reason may be rendered, that it serveth for a good record and memorial, to put us in mind, that whatsoever had a beginning by generation, shall likewise come to an end by death; as if one and the same goddess were superintendant and governess of nativity and death: for even in the city of Delphos there is a pretty image of Venus, surnamed Epitymbia; that is to say sepulchral: before which they use to raise and call forth the ghosts of such as are departed, for to receive the libaments and sacred liquors powered forth unto them.   

24  
Why have the Romans in every month three beginnings as it were, to wit, certain principal and prefixed or preordained 
* That is to say, 〈◊〉, Nones & Ides.  days, and regard not the same interval or space of days between?  
IS it because as Juba writeth in his chronicles, that the chief magistrates were wont upon the first day of the month to call and summon the people; whereupon it took the name of Calends: and then to denounce unto them that the Nones should be the fifth day after; and as for the Ides they held it to be an holy and sacred day?  
Or for that they measuring and determining the time according to the differences of the moon, they observed in her every month three principal changes and diversities: the first, when she is altogether hidden, namely during her conjunction with the sun; the second when she is somewhat removed from the beams of the sun, & beginneth to show herself croissant in the evening toward the West whereas the sun setteth; the third, when she is at the full: now that occultation and hiding of hers in the first place, they named Calends, for that in their tongue whatsoever is secret & hidden, they say it is [Clam] and to hide or keep close, they express by this word [Celare;] and the first day of the moons illumination, which we here in Greece term Noumenia, that is to say, the new-moon, they called by a most just name Nonae, for that which is new and young, they term Novum, in manner as we do 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. As for the Ides, they took their name of this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that signifieth beauty; for that the moon being then at the full, is in the very perfection of her beauty: or haply they derived this denomination of Dios, as attributing it to Jupiter: but in this we are not to search out exactly the just number of days, nor upon a small default to slander and condemn this manner of reckoning, seeing that even at this day, when the science of Astrology is grown to so great an increment, the inequality of the motion, and course of the moon surpasseth all experience of Mathematicians, and cannot be reduced to any certain rule of reason.   

25  
What is the cause that they repute the morrows after Calends, Nones, and Ides, disastrous or dismal dates, either for to set forward upon any journey or voyage, or to march with an army into the field?  
IS it because as many think, and as Titus Livius hath recorded in his story; the Tribunes military, at what time as they had consular and sovereign authority, went into the field with the Roman army the morrow after the Ides of the month Quintilis, which was the same that July now is, and were discomfited in a battle by the Gauls, near unto the river Allia: and consequently upon that overthrow, lost the very city itself of Rome: by which occasion the morrow after the Ides, being held and reputed for a sinister and unlucky day; superstition entering into men's heads, proceeded farther, (as she loveth always so to do) and brought in the custom for to hold the morrow after the Nones yea, and the morrow after the Calends, as unfortunate, and to be as religiously observed in semblable cases.  
But against this there may be opposed many objections: for first and foremost, they lost that battle upon another day, and calling it Alliensis, by the name of the river Allia, where it was strucken, they have it in abomination for that cause. Again, whereas there be many days reputed dismal and unfortunate, they do not observe so precisely and with so religious fear, other days of like denomination in every month, but each day apart only in that month wherein such and such a disaster, happened: and that the infortunity of one day should draw a superstitious fear simply upon all the morrows after Calends, Nones, and Ides, carrieth no congruity at all, not appearance of reason.  
Consider moreover and see, whether, as of months they used to consecrate the first to the gods celestial; the second to the terrestrial, or infernal, wherein they perform 〈◊〉 expiatory ceremonies and sacrifices of purification, and presenting offerings and services to the dead: so of the days in the month, those which are chief and principal, as hath been said, they would not have to be kept as sacred and festival holidays; but such as follow after, as being dedicated unto the spirits, called Daemons, and those that are departed; they also have esteemed consequently as unhappy, & altogether unmeet either for to execute or to take in hand any business: for the Greeks adoring and serving the gods upon their new moons and first days of the month, have attributed the second days unto the demigods and Daemons: like as at their feasts also they drink the second cup unto their demigods, and demi-goddesses. In sum, Time is a kind of number, and the beginning of number is (I wot not what,) some divine thing, for it is Unity: and that which cometh next after it is Deuz or two, clean opposite unto the said beginning, and is the first of all even numbers: as for the even number it is defective, unperfect, and indefinite, whereas chose, the uneven or odd number itself is finite, complete, and absolute: and for this cause like as the Nones succeed the Calends five days after; so the Ides follow the Nones nine days after them; for the uneven and odd numbers do determine those beginnings, or principal days; but those which presently ensue after the said principal days being even, are neither ranged in any order, nor have power and puissance: and therefore men do not enterprise any great work, nor set forth voyage or journey upon such days: and hereto we may to good purpose annex that pretty speech of Themistocles: For when the morrow (quoth he) upon a time quarreled with the festival day which went next before it, saying, that herself was busied and took a great deal of pains, preparing & providing with much travel those goods which the feast enjoyed at her ease, with all repose, rest, and leisure: the Festival day made this answer: Thou saidst true indeed; but if I were not, where wouldst thoube? This tale Themistocles devised, and delivered unto the Athenian captains, who came after him; giving them thereby to understand, that neither they nor any acts of theirs would ever have been seen, unless he before them had saved the city of Athens. Forasmuch then, as every enterprise and voyage of importance hath need of provision, and some preparatives; and for that the Romans in old time upon their festival days, dispensed nothing, nor took care for any provision; being wholly given and devoted at such times to the service & worship of God, doing that, & nothing else; like as even yet at this day, when the priests begin to sacrifice, they pronounce with a loud voice before all the company there assembled HOCAGE, that is to say, Mind this, and do no other thing: very like it is, and standeth to great reason, that they used not to put themselves upon the way for any long voyage, nor took in hand any great affair or business presently after a festival day, but kept within house all the morrow after, to think upon their occasions, and to provide all things necessary for journey or exploit: or we may conjecture, that as at this very day the Romans after they have adored the gods, and made their prayers unto them within their temples, are wont to stay there a time, and sit them down; even so they thought it not reasonable to cast their great affairs so, as that they should immediately follow upon any of their festival days; but they allowed some respite and time between, as knowing full well, that businesses carry with them always many troubles and hindrances, beyond the opinion, expectation, and will of those who take them in hand.   

26  
What is the cause that women at Rome, when they mourn for the dead, put on white robes, and likewise wear whitecawles, coifs and kerchiefs upon their heads.  
MAy it not be that for to oppose themselves against hell and the darkness thereof, they conform their raiment and attire to that colour which is clear and bright?  
Or do they it not rather for this: that like as they clad and bury the dead corpse in white clothes, they suppose, that those who are next of kin, and come nearest about them, ought also to wear their livery? Now the body they do in this wise deck, because they cannot adorn the soul so; and it they are willing to accompany as lightsome, pure and net, as being now at the last delivered and set free, and which hath performed a great a variable combat.  
Or rather, we may guess thus much thereby: that in such cases, that which is most simple and least costly, is best beseeming; whereas clothes of any other colour died, do commonly bewray either superfluity or curiosity: for we may say even aswell of black, as of purple: These robes are deceitful; these colours also are counterfeit. And as touching that which is of itself black, if it have not that tincture by dyer's art, surely it is so coloured by nature, as being mixed and compounded with obscurity: and therefore there is no colour else but white, which is pure, unmixed, and not stained and sullied with any tincture, and that which is inimitable; in which regard, more meet and agreeable unto those who are interred, considering that the dead is now become simple, pure, exempt from all mixtion, and in very truth, nothing else but delivered from the body, as a stain and infection hardly scoured out and rid away. Semblably, in the 〈◊〉 of Argos, whensoever they mourned, the manner was to wear white garments, washed (as Socrates said) in fair and clear water.   

27  
What is the reason that they esteem all the walls of the city sacred and inviolable, but not the gates.  
IS it (as Varro saith) because we ought to think the walls holy, to the end that we may fight valiantly, and die generously in the defence of them? for it seemeth that this was the cause, why Romulus killed his own brother Remus, for that he presumed to leap over 〈◊〉 holy and inviolable place: whereas chose, it was not possible to consecrate and hollow the gates, thorough which there must needs be transported many things necessary, and namely, the bodies of the dead. And therefore, they who begin to found a city, environ and compass first with a plough all that pourprise and precinct wherein they meant to build, drawing the said plough with an ox and a cow coupled together in one yoke: afterwards, when they have traced out all the said place where the walls should stand, they measure out as much ground as will serve for the gates, but take out the ploughshare, and so pass over that space with the bare plough, as if they meant thereby, that all the furrow which they cast up and eared, should be sacred and inviolable.   

28  
What is thereason, that when their children are to swear by Hercules, they will not let them do it within doors, but cause them to go forth of the house, and take their oath abroad?  
IS it because (as some would have it) that they think Hercules is not delighted with keeping close within house and sitting idly, but taketh pleasure to live abroad and lie without?  
Or rather, for that of all the gods, Hercules is not (as one would say) homebred, but a stranger, come amongst them from afar? For even so they would not swear by Bacchus, under the roof of the house, but went forth to do it; because he also is but a stranger among the gods.  
Or haply, this is no more but a word in game and sport, given unto children: and beside (to say a truth) it may be a means to withhold and restrain them from swearing so readily and rashly, as Phavorinus saith: for this device causeth a certain premeditate preparation, and giveth them (whiles they go out of the house) leisure and time to consider better of the matter. And a man may conjecture also with Phavorinus, and say with him: That this fashion was not common to other gods, but proper to Hercules: for that we find it written, that he was so religious, so respective and precise in his oath, that in all his life time he never swore but once, and that was only to Phileus the son of Augias'. And therefore, the prophetess at Delphos, named Pythia, answered thus upon a time to the Lacedæmonians: 
When all these oaths you once forfend,  
Your state (be sure) shall daily mend.    

29  
What should be the reason, that they would not permit the new wedded bride to pass of herself over the doore-sill or threshold, when she is brought home to her husband's house, but they that accompany her, must lift her up between them from the ground, and so convey her in.  
IS it in remembrance of those first wives whom they ravished perforce from the Sabines, who entered not into their houses of themselves with their good will, but were carried in by them, in this manner?  
Or is it perhaps, because they would be thought to go against their wills into that place where they were to lose their maidenhead?  
Or haply it may be, that a wedded wife ought not to go forth of her doors, and abandon her house, but perforce, like as she went first into it by force. For in our country of Boeotia, the manner is, to burn before the door where a new married wife is to dwell, the axle tree of that chariot or coach in which she road when she was brought to her husband's house. By which ceremony, thus much she is given to understand, that will she nill she, there she must now tarry, considering that it which brought her thither, is now gone quite and consumed.   

30  
Wherefore do they at Rome, when they bring a new espoused bride home to the house of her husband, force her to say these words unto her spouse: Where you are Cajus, I will be Caja?  
IS it to testify by these words, that she entereth immediately to communicate with him in all goods, and to be a governess and commander in the house as well as he? for it implieth as much, as if she should say; where you are lord and master, I will be lady and mistress. Now these names they used as being common, and such as came first to hand, and for no other reason else: like as the Civil lawyers use ordinarily these names, Cajus, Seius, Lucius, and 〈◊〉: the Philosophers in their schools, Dion and Theon.  
Or per adventure it is in regard of Caia Cacilia a beautiful and virtuous lady, who intimes past espoused one of the sons of king Tarqvinius: of which dame there is yet to be seen even at this day one image of brass, within the temple of the god Sanctus: and there likewise in old time, her slippers, her distaff and spindels laid up for to be seen: the one to signify that she kept the house well, and went not ordinarily abroad; the other to show how she busied herself at home.   

31  
How cometh it, that they use to chant ordinarily at weddings, this word so much divulged, Talassio?  
IS it not of Talasia, the Greek word, which signifieth yarn: for the basket wherein women use to put in their rolls of carded wool, they name Talasos in Greek, and Calathus in Latin? Certes they that lead the bride home, cause her to sit upon a fleece of wool, then bringeth she forth a distaff and a spindle, and with wool all to hangeth and decketh the door of her husband's house.  
Or rather, if it be true which historians report: There was sometime a certain young gentleman, very valiant and active in feats of arms, and otherwise of excellent parts and singular well conditioned, whose name was Talasius: and when they ravished and carried away the daughters of the Sabines who were come to Rome, for to behold the solemnity of their festival games and plays: certain mean persons, such yet as belonged to the train & retinue of Talasius aforesaid, had chosen forth & were carrying away, one damosel above the rest most beautiful of visage, and for their safety and security as they passed along the streets, cried out aloud Talasio, Talasio, that is to say, for Talasius, for Talasius; to the end that no man should be so hardy as to approach near unto them, nor attempt to have away the maiden from them, giving it out, that they carried her for to be the wife of Talasius; and others meeting them upon the way, joined with them in company for the honour of Talasius, and as they followed after, highly praised their good choice which they had made, praying the gods to give both him and her joy of their marriage, and contentment to their hearts desire. Now for that this marriage proved happy and blessed, they were wont ever after in their wedding songs to rechant and resound this name, Talasius, like as the manner is among the Greeks to sing in such carols, Hymenaeus.   

32  
What is the reason that in the month of May, they use at Rome to cast over their wooden bridge into the river, certain images of men, which they call Argeos?  
IS it in memorial of the Barbarians who sometimes inhabited these parts, and did so by the Greeks, murdering them in that manner as many of them as they could take? But Hercules who was highly esteemed among them for his virtue, abolished this cruel fashion of killing of strangers, and taught them this custom to counterfeit their ancient superstitions, and to fling these images in stead of them: now in old time our ancestors used to name all Greeks of what country so ever they were, Argeos: unless haply a man would say, that the Arcadians reputing the Argives to be their enemies, for that they were their neighbour borderers, such as fled with Evander out of Arcadia, and came to inhabit these quarters, retained still the old hatred and rancour, which time out of mind had taken root, and been settled in their hearts against the said Argives.   

33  
What is the cause that the Romans in old time never went forth out of their houses to supper, but they carried with them their young sons, even when they were but in their very infancy and childhood.  
WAs not this for the very same reason that Lycurgus instituted and ordained, that young children should ordinarily be brought into their halls where they used to eat in public, called Phiditia, to the end that they might be enured and acquainted betimes, 〈◊〉 to use the pleasures of eating and drinking immoderately, as brutish and ravenous beasts are wont to do; considering that they had their elders to oversee them, yea, and to control their demeanour: and in this regard haply also, that their fathers themselves should in their carriage be more sober, honest, and frugal, in the presence of their children: for look where old folk are shameless, there it can not choose but (as Plato saith) children and youth will be most graceless and impudent.   

34  
What might the reason be, that where as all other Romans made their offerings, ceremonies, and sacrifices for the dead, in the month of February: Decimus Brutus as Cicero saith, was went to do the same in the month of December: now this Brutus was he who first invaded the country of Portugal, and with an army passedover the river of Lethe, that is to say, oblivion.  
MAy it not be, that as the most part of men used not to perform any such services for the dead, but toward the end of the month, and a little before the shutting in of the evening; even so it seemeth to carry good reason, to honour the dead at the end of the year; and you wot well that December was the the last month of all the year.  
Or rather, it is because this was an honour exhibited to the deities terrestrial: and it seemeth that the proper season to reverence and worship these earthly gods, is when the fruits of the earth be fully gathered and laid up.  
Or haply, for that the husband men began at this time to break up their grounds against their seedness: it was meet and requisite to have in remembrance those gods which are under the ground.  
Or haply, because this month is dedicated and consecrated by the Romans to Saturn; for they counted Saturn one of the gods beneath, and none of them above: and withal, considering the greatest and most solemn feast, which they call Saturnalia, is holden in this month, at what time as they seem to have their most frequent meeting, and make best cheer, he thought it meet and reasonable that the dead also should enjoy some little portion thereof.  
Or it may be said, that it is altogether untrue that Decimus Brutus alone sacrificed for the dead in this month: for certain it is that there was a certain divine service performed to Acca Larentia, and solemn effusions and libaments of wine and milk were powered upon her sepulchre in the month of December.   

35  
Why honoured the Romans this Acca Larentia so highly, considering she was no better than a strumpet or courtesan?  
FOr you must think, that the histories make mention of another Acca Larentia, the nurse of Romulus, unto whom they do honour in the month of April. As for this courtesan Larentia, she was (as men say) surnamed Fabula, and came to be so famous and renowned by such an occasion as this. A certain sexton of Hercules his temple, having little else to do, and living at ease (as commonly such fellows do) used for the most part to spend all the day in playing at dice and with cokall bones: and one day above the rest, it fortuned, that meeting with none of his mates and play-fellows who were wont to bear him company at such games, and not knowing what to do nor how to pass the time away, he thought with himself to challenge the god whose servant he was, to play at dice with him, upon these conditions: That if himself won the game, Hercules should be a means for him of some good luck and happy fortune; but in case he lost the game, he should provide for Hercules a good supper, and withal, a pretty wench and a fair, to be his bed fellow: these conditions being agreed upon and set down, he cast the dice, one chance for himself, and another for the god; but his hap was to be the loser: whereupon minding to stand unto his challenge, and to accomplish that which he had promised, he prepared a rich supper for Hercules his god, and withal, sent for this Acca Larentia, a professed courtesan and common harlot, whom he feasted also with him, and after supper bestowed her in a bed within the very temple, shut the doors fast upon, and so went his way. Now the tale goes forsooth, that in the night, Hercules companied with her, not after the manner of men, but charged her, that the next morning betimes she should go into the market place, and look what man she first met withal, him she should entertain in all kindness, and make her friend especially. Then Larentia got up betimes in the morning accordingly, and chanced to encounter a certain rich man and a stale bachelor, who was now past his middle age, and his name was Taruntius; with him she became so familiarly acquainted, that so long as he lived, she had the command of his whole house; and at his death, was by his last will and testament instituted inheritress of all that he had. This Larentia likewise afterward departed this life, and left all her riches unto the city of Rome; whereupon this honour abovesaid was done unto her.   

36  
What is the cause, that they name one gate of the city Fenestra, which is as much to say, as window; near unto which adjoineth the bedchamber of Fortune?  
IS it for that king 〈◊〉 a most fortunate prince, was thought & named to lie with Fortune, who was wont to come unto him by the window? or is this but a devised tale? But in truth, after that king Tarqvinius Priscus was deceased, his wife Tanaquillis being a wise lady, and endued with a royal mind, putting forth her head, and bending forward her body out of her chamber window, made a speech unto the people, persuading them to elect Servius for their king. And this is the reason that afterwards the place retained this name, Fenestra.   

37  
What is the reason that of all those things which be dedicated and 〈◊〉 to the gods, the custom is at Rome, that only the spoils of enemies conquered in the wars, are neglected and suffered to run to decay in process of time: neither is there any reverence done unto them, nor repaired be they at any time, when they wax old?  
WHether is it, because they (supposing their glory to fade and pass away together with these first spoils) seek evermore new means to win some fresh marks and monuments of their virtue, and to leave them same behind them.  
Or rather, for that seeing time doth waste and consume these signs and tokens of the enmity which they had with their enemies, it were an odious thing for them, and very invidious, if they should refresh and renew the remembrance thereof: for even those among the Greeks, who first erected their trophies or pillars of brass and stone, were not commended for so doing.   

38  
What is the reason that Quintus Metellus the high priest, and reputed be sides a wise man and a politic, for bad to observe 〈◊〉, or to take presages by flight of birds, after the month Sextilis, now called August.  
IS it for that, as we are wont to attend upon such observations about noon or in the beginning of the day, at the entrance also and toward the middle of the month: but we take heed and beware of the days declination, as inauspicate and unmeet for such purposes; even so Metellus supposed, that the time after eight months was (as it were) the evening of the year, and the latter end of it, declining now and wearing toward an end.  
Or haply, because we are to make use of these birds, and to observe their flight for presage, whiles they are entire, perfect and nothing defective, such as they are before Summer time. But about Autumn some of them moult, grow to be sickly and weak; others are over young and too small; and some again appear not at all, but like passengers are gone at such a time into another country.   

39  
What is the cause, that it was not lawful for them who were not priest soldiers by oath and enroled, although upon some other occasions they conversed in the camp, to strike or wound an enemy? And verily Cato himself the elder of that name signified thus much in a letter missive which he wrote unto his son: wherein he straightly charged him, that if he had accomplished the full time of his service, and that his captain had given him his congee and discharge, he should immediately return: or in case he had leifer stay still in the camp, that he should obtain of his captain permission and licence to hurt and kill his enemy.  
IS it because there is nothing else but necessity alone, doth warrantise the kill of a man: and he who unlawfully and without express commandment of a superior (unconstrained) doth it, is a 〈◊〉 homicide and manslayer. And therefore Cyrus commended Chrysantas, for that being upon the very point of killing his enemy, as having lifted up his cemiter for to give him a deadly wound, presently upon the sound of the retreat by the trumpet, let the man go, and would not smite him, as if he had been forbidden so to do.  
Or may it not be, for that he who presenteth himself to fight with his enemy, in case he shrink, and make not good his ground, ought not to go away clear withal, but to be held faulty and to suffer punishment: for he doth nothing so good service that hath either killed our wounan enemy, as harm and damage, who reculeth back or flieth away: now he who is discharged from warfare, and hath leave to depart, is no more obliged and bound to military laws: but he that hath demanded permission to do that service which sworn and enroled soldiers perform, putteth himself again under the subjection of the law and his own captain.   

40  
How is it, that the priest of Jupiter, is not permitted to anoint himself abroad in the open air?  
IS it for that in old time it was not held honest and lawful for children to do off their clothes before their fathers; nor the son in law in the presence of his wife's father; neither used they the stouph or 〈◊〉 together: now is Jupiter reputed the priests or Flamines father: and that which is done in the open air, seemeth especially to be in the very eye and sight of Jupiter?  
Or rather, 〈◊〉 as it was thought a great sin and exceeding irreverence, for a man to turn himself out of his apparel naked, in any church, chapel, or religious and sacred place; 〈◊〉 so they carried a great respect unto the air and open sky, as being full of gods, demigods, and saints. And this is the very cause, why we do many of our necessary businesses within 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 and covered with the 〈◊〉 of our houses, and so removed from the eyes as it were of the deity. 〈◊〉, somethings there be that by law are commanded and enjoined unto the priest only; and others again unto all men, by the priest: as for example, here with us in 〈◊〉 to be crowned with chaplets of flowers upon the head; to let the hair grow long; to wear a sword, and not to set foot within the limits of Phocis, pertain all to the office and duty of the captain general and chief ruler: but to taste of no new fruits before the Autumnal equinox be past; nor to cut and prune a vine but before the Acquinox of the Spring, be intimated and declared unto all by the said ruler or captain general: for those be the very seasons to do both the one & the other. In like case, it should seem in my judgement that among the Romans it properly belonged to the priest; not to mount on horseback; not to be above three nights out of the city; not to put off his cap, whereupon he was called in the Roman language, Flamen. But there be many other offices and duties, notified and declared unto all men by the priest, among which this is one, not to be enhuiled or anointed abroad in the open air: For this manner of anointing dry without the bath, the Romans mightily suspected and were afraid of: and even at this day they are of opinion, that there was no such cause in the world that brought the Greeks under the yoke of servitude and bondage, and made them so tender and effeminate, as their halls and public places where their young men wrestled & exercised their bodies naked: as being the means that brought into their cities, much loss of time, engendered idleness, bred lazy sloth, and ministered occasion & opportunity of lewdness and villainy; as namely, to make love unto fair boys, and to spoil and mar the bodies of young men with sleeping, with walking at a certain measure, with stirring according to motions, keeping artificial compass, and with observing rules of exquisite diet. Through which fashions, they see not, how (ere they be aware) they befallen from exercises of arms, and have clean forgotten all military discipline: loving rather to be held and esteemed good wrestlers, fine dancers, conceited pleasants, and fair minions, than hardic footmen, or valiant men of arms. And verily it is an hard matter to avoid and decline these inconveniences, for them that use to discover their bodies naked before all the world in the broad air: but those who anoint themselves closely within doors, and look to their bodies at home are neither faulty nor offensive.   

41  
What is the reason that the ancient coin and money in old time, carried the stamp of one side of janus with two faces: and on the other side, the prow or the poop of a boat engraved 〈◊〉.  
WAs it not as many men do say, for to honour the memory of Saturn, who passed into Italy by water in such a vessel? But a man may say thus much as well of many 〈◊〉: for Janus, Evander, and Aeneas, came thither likewise by sea; and therefore a man may peradventure guess with better reason; that whereas some things serve as goodly ornaments for cities, others as necessary implements: among those which are decent and seemly ornaments, the principal is good government and discipline, and among such as be necessary, is reckoned, plenty and abundance of victuals: now for that Janus instituted good government, in 〈◊〉 wholesome laws, and reducing their manner of life to civility, which before was rude and brutish, and for that the river being navigable, furnished them with store of all neceslary commodities, whereby some were brought thither by sea, others from the land; the coin carried for the mark of a lawgiver, the head with two faces, like as we have already said, because of that change of life which he brought in; and of the river, a ferry boat or barge: and yet there was another kind of money currant among them, which had the figure portrayed upon it, of a beef, of a sheep, and of a swine; for that their riches they raised especially from such cattle, and all their wealth and substance consisted in them. And hereupon it cometh, that many of their ancient names, were Ovilij, Bubulci and 〈◊〉, that is to say, Sheepe-reeves, and Neatherds, and Swineherds according as Fenestella doth report.   

42  
What is the cause that they make the temple of Saturn, the chamber of the 〈◊〉, for to keep therein the public treasure of gold and silver: as also their arches, for the custodic of all their writings, rolls, contracts and evidences whatsoever.  
IS it by occasion of that opinion so commonly received, and the speech so universally currant in every man's mouth, that during the reign of Saturn, there was no avarice nor injustice in the world; but loyalty, truth, faith, and righteousness carried the whole sway among men.  
Or for that he was the god who found out fruits, brought in agriculture, and taught husbandry first; for the hook or sickle in his hand signifieth so much, and not as Antimachus wrote, following therein and believing Hesiodus: 
Rough Saturn with his hairy skin, against all law and right,  
Of Haemon son, sir Ouranus, or Coelus sometime height,  
Those privy members which him got, with hook a-slant off-cut.  
And then anon in father's place of reign, himself did put.   
Now the abundance of the fruits which the earth yieldeth, and the vent or disposition of them, is the very mother that bringeth forth plenty of money: and therefore it is that this same god they make the author and maintainer of their felicity: in testimony whereof, those assemblies which are holden every ninth day in the common place of the city, called Nundinae, that is to say, Fairs or markets, they esteem consecrated to Saturn: for the store & foison of fruits is that which openeth the trade & commerce of buying and selling. Or, because these reasons seem to be very antic; what and if we say that the first man who made (of Satur's temple at Rome) the treasury or chamber of the city, was Valerius Poplicola, after that the kings were driven out of Rome, and it seemeth to stand to good reason that he made choice thereof, because he thought it a safe and secure place, eminent and conspicuous in all men's eyes, and by consequence hard to be surprised and forced.   

43  
What is the cause that those who come as ambassadors to Rome, from any parts whatsoever, go first into the temple of Saturn, and there before the Questors or Treasurers of the city, enter their names in their registers.  
IS it for that Saturn himself was a stranger in Italy, and therefore all strangers are welcome unto him?  
Or may not this question besolved by the reading of histories? for in old time these Questors or public Treasurers, were wont to send unto ambassadors certain presents, which were called Lautia: and if it fortuned that such ambassadors were sick, they took the charge of them for their cure; and if they chanced to die, they interred them likewise at the cities charges. But now in respect of the great resort of ambassadors from out of all countries, they have cut off this expense: howbeit the ancient custom yet remaineth, namely, to present themselves to the said officers of the treasure, and to be registered in their book.   

44  
Why it is not lawful for Jupiter's priest to swear?  
IS it because an oath ministered unto free borne men, is as it were the rack and torture tendered unto them? for certain it is, that the soul as well as the body of the priest, aught to continue free, and not be forced by any torture whatsoever.  
Or, for that it is not meet to distrust or discredit him in small matters, who is believed in great and divine things?  
Or rather because every oath endeth with the detestation and malediction of perjury: and considering that all maledictions be odious and abominable; therefore it is not thought good that any other priests whatsoever, should curse or pronounce any malediction: and in this respect was the priestresse of Minerva in Athens highly commended, for that she would never curse 〈◊〉, notwithstanding the people commanded her so to do: For I am (quoth she) ordained a priestresse to pray for men, and not to curse them.  
Or last of all, was it because the peril of perjury would reach in common to the whole common wealth, if a wicked, godless and forsworn person, should have the charge and superintendance of the prayers, vows, and sacrifices made in the behalf of the city.   

45  
What is the reason that upon the festival day in the honour of Venus, which solemnity they call Veneralia, they use to power forth a great quantity of wine out of the temple of Venus.  
IS it as some say upon this occasion, that Mezentius sometime captain general of the Tuscans, sent certain ambassadors unto Aeneas, with commission to offer peace unto him, upon this condition, that he might receive all the wine of that 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or, a 〈◊〉 quantity of wine 〈◊〉, as some interpret it.  years vintage. But when Aeneas refused so to do, Mezentius (for to encourage his soldiers the Tuskans to fight manfully) promised to bestow wine upon them when he had won the field: but Aeneas understanding of this promise of his, consecrated and dedicated all the said wine unto the gods: and in truth, when he had obtained the victory, all the wine of that year, when it was gotten and gathered together, he powered forth before the temple of Venus.  
Or, what if one should say, that this doth symbolise thus much: That men ought to be sober upon festival days, and not to celebrate such solemnities with drunkenness; as if the gods take more pleasure to see them shed wine upon the ground, than to power overmuch thereof down their throats?   

46  
What is the cause that in ancient time they kept the temple of the goddess Horta, open always.  
WHether was it (as Antistius Labeo hath left in writing) for that, seeing Hortart in the Latin tongue signifieth to incite and exhort, they thought that the goddess called Horta, which stirreth and provoketh men unto the enterprise and execution of good exploits, aught to be evermore in action, not to make delays, not to be shut up and locked within doors, ne yet to sit still and do nothing?  
Or rather, because as they name her now a days Hora, with the former syllable long, who is a certain industrious, vigilant and busy goddess, careful in many things: therefore being as she is, so circumspect and so watchful, they thought she should be never idle, nor reckless of men's affairs.  
Or else, this name Hora (as many others besides) is a mere Greek word, and signifieth a deity or divine power, that hath an eye to overlook, to view and control all things; and therefore since she never sleepeth, nor layeth her eyes together, but is always broad awake, therefore her church or chapel was always standing open.  
But if it be so as Labeo saith, that this word Hora is rightly derived of the Greek verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth to incite or provoke; consider better, whether this word Orator also, that is to say, one who stirrith up, 〈◊〉, encourageth, and adviseth the people, as a prompt and ready counsellor, be not derived likewise in the same sort, and not of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, prayer and supplication, as some would have it.   

47  
Wherefore founded Romulus the temple of Vulcan without the city of Rome?  
IS it for the jealousy (which as fables do report) Vulcan had of Mars, because of his wife Venus: and so Romulus being reputed the son of Mars, would not vouchsafe him to inhabit and dwell in the same city with him? or is this a mere foolery and senseless conceit?  
But this temple was built at the first, to be a chamber and parlour of privy counsel for him and Tatius who reigned with him; to the end that meeting and sitting there in consultation together with the Senators, in a place remote from all troubles and hindrances, they might deliberate as touching the affairs of State with ease and quietness.  
Or rather, because Rome from the very first foundation was subject to fire by casualty, he thought good to honour this god of fire in some sort, but yet to place him without the walls of the city.   

48  
What is the reason, that upon their festival day called Consualia, they adorned with garlands of flowers aswell their asses as horses, and gave them rest and repose for the time?  
IS it for that this solemnity was holden in the honour of Neptune surnamed Equestris, that is to say, the horseman? and the ass hath his part of this joyful feast, for the horses sake?  
Or, because that after navigation and transporting of commodities by sea was now found out and showed to the world, there grew by that means (in some sort) better rest and more case to poor labouring beasts of draft and carriage.   

49  
How cometh it to pass, that those who stood for any office and magistracy, were wont by anold custom (as Cato hath written) to present themselves unto the people in a single rob or loose gown, without any coat at all under it?  
WAs it for fear lest they should carry under their robes any money in their bosoms, for to corrupt, bribe, and buy (as it were) the voices and suffrages of the people?  
Or was it because they deemed men worthy to bear public office and to govern, not by their birth and parentage, by their wealth and riches, ne yet by their show and outward reputation, but by their wounds and searres to be seen upon their bodies. To the end therefore, that such scars might be better exposed to their sight whom they met or talked withal, they went in this manner down to the place of election, without inward coats in their plain gowns.  
Or haply, because they would seem by this nudity and nakedness of theirs, in humility to debase themselves, the sooner thereby to curry favour, and win the good grace of the commons, even aswell as by taking them by the right hand, by suppliant craving, and by humble submission on their very knees.   

50  
What is the cause that the Flamen or priest of Jupiter, when his wife was once dead, used to give up his Priesthood or Sacer dot all dignity, according as Ateius hath recorded in his history.  
WAs it for that he who once had wedded a wife, and afterwards buried her, was more infortunate, than he who never had any? for the house of him who hath married a wife, is entire and perfect, but his house who once had one, and now hath none, is not only unperfect, but also maimed and lame?  
Or might it not be that the priests wife was consecrated also to divine service together with her husband; for many rites and ceremonies there were, which he alone could not perform, if his wife were not present: and to espouse a new wife immediately upon the decease of the other, were not peradventure possible, nor otherwise would well stand with decent and civil honesty: whereupon neither in times past was it lawful for him, nor at this day as it should seem, is he permitted to put away his wife: and yet in our age Domitian at the request of one, gave licence so to do: at this dissolution and breach of wedlock, other priests were present and assistant, where there passed among them many strange, hideous, horrible, and monstrous ceremonies.  
But haply a man would less wonder at this, if ever he knew and understood before, that when one of the Censors died, the other of necessity must likewise quit & resign up his office. Howbeit, when Livius Drusus was departed this life, his companion in office Aemylius Scaurus, would not give over and renounce his place, until such time as certain Tribunes of the people, for his contumacy commanded, that he should be had away to prison.   

51  
What was the reason that the idols Lares, which otherwise properly be called Praestites, had the images of a dog standing hard by them, and the Lar themselves were portrated cladin dogs skins?  
IS it because this word Praestites signifieth as much as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Precedents, or standing before as keepers: and verily such Precedents ought to be good housekeepers, and terrible unto all strangers, like as a dog is; but gentle and loving to those of the house.  
Or rather, that which some of the Romans write is true, like as Chrysippus also the philosopher is of opinion; namely, that there be certain evil spirits which go about walking up and down in the world; and these be the butchers and tormentors that the gods employ to punish unjust and wicked men: and even so these Lar are held to be malign spirits, & no better than devils, spying into men's lives, and prying into their families; which is the cause that they now be arrayed in such skins, and a dog they have sitting hard by them, whereby thus much in effect is given to understand, that quick scented they are, and of great power both to hunt out, and also to chastise lewd persons.   

52  
What is the cause that the Romans sacrifice a dog unto the goddess called Genita-Mana, and withal make one prater unto her, that none borne in the house might ever come to good?  
IS it for that this Genita-Mana is counted a Daemon or goddess that hath the procuration and charge both of the generation and also of the birth of things corruptible? for surely the word implieth as much, as a certain fluxion and generation, or rather a generation fluent or fluxible: and like as the Greeks sacrificed unto Proserpina, a dog, so do the Romans unto that Genta, for those who are borne in the house. Socrates also saith, that the Argives sacrificed a dog unto Ilithya, for the more easy and safe deliverance of childbirth. Furthermore, as touching that Prayer, that nothing borne within the house might ever prove good, it is not haply meant of any persons, man or woman, but of dogs rather which were whelped there; which ought to be, not kind and gentle, but cursed and terrible.  
Or peradventure, for that they 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  that die (after an elegant manner of speech) be named Good or quiet: under these words they covertly pray, that none borne in the house might die. And this need not to seem a strange kind of speech; for Aristotle writeth, that in a certain treaty of peace between the Arcadians & Lacedemmonians, this article was comprised in the capitulations: That they should make none 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  of the Tegeates, Good, for the aid they sent, or favour that they bore unto the Lacedæmonians; by which was meant, that they should put none of them to death.   

53  
What is the reason, that in a solemn procession exhibited at the Capitoline plays, they proclaim (even at this day) by the voice of an herald, port-sanle of the Sardians? and before all this solemnity and pomp, there is by way of mockery and to make a laughing stock an old man led in a show, with a jewel or brooch pendant about his neck, such as noble men's children are wont to wear, and which they call Bulla?  
IS it for that the Veientians, who in times past being a puissant State in Tuscan, made war a long time with Romulus: whose city being the last that he won by force, he made sale of many prisoners and captives, together with their king, mocking him for his stupidity and gross folly. Now for that the Tuscans in ancient time were descended from the Lydians, and the capital city of Lydia is Sardis, therefore they proclaimed the sale of the Veientian prisoners under the name of the Sardians; and even to this day in scorn and mockery, they retain still the same custom.   

54  
Whence came it, that they call the shambles or butchery at Rome where flesh is to be sold, Macellum?  
IS it for that this word Macellum, by corruption of language is derived of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that in the Greek tongue signifieth a cook? like as many other words by usage and custom are come to be received; for the letter C. hath great affinity with G. in the Roman tongue: and long it was ere they had the use of G. which letter Spurius Carbtlius first invented. Moreover, they that maffle and stammer in their speech, pronounce ordinarily L. in stead of R.  
Or this question may be resolved better by the knowledge of the Roman history: for we read therein, that there was sometime a violent person and a notorious thief at Rome, named Macellus, who after he had committed many outrages and robberies, was with much ado in the end taken and punished: and of his goods which were forfeit to the State, there was built a public shambles or market place to sell fleshmeats in, which of his name was called Macellum.   

55  
Why upon the Ides of Januarie, the minstrels at Rome who played upon the haut boys, were permitted to go up and down the city disguised in women's apparel?  
A Rose this fashion upon that occasion which is reported? namely, that king Numa had granted unto them many immunities and honourable privileges in his time, for the great devotion that he had in the service of the gods? and for that afterwards, the Tribunes military who governed the city in Consular authority, took the same from them, they went their way discontented, and departed quite from the city of Rome: but soon after, the people had a miss of them, and beside, the priests made it a matter of conscience, for that in all the sacrifices throughout the city, there was no sound of flute or hautboys. Now when they would not return again (being sent for) but made their abode in the city Tibur; there was a certain afranchised bondslave who secretly undertook unto the magistrates, to find some means for to fetch them home. So he caused a sumptuous feast to be made, as if he meant to celebrate some solemn sacrifice, and invited to it the pipers and players of the hautboys aforesaid: and at this feast he took order there should be diverse women also; and all night long there was nothing but piping, playing, singing and dancing: but all of a sudden this master of the feast caused a rumour to be raised, that his lord and master was come to take him in the manner; whereupon making semblant that he was much troubled and affrighted, he persuaded the minstrels to mount with all speed into close coaches, covered all over with skins, and so to be carried to Tibur. But this was a deceitful practice of his; for he caused the coaches to be turned about another way, and unawares to them; who partly for the darkness of the night, and in part because they were drowsy and the wine in their heads, took no heed of the way, he brought all to Rome betimes in the morning by the break of day, disguised as they were, many of them in light coloured gowns like women, which (for that they had over-watched and over-drunke themselves) they had put on, and knew not thereof. Then being (by the magistrates) overcome with fair words, and reconciled again to the city, they held ever after this custom every year upon such a day: To go up and down the city thus foolishly disguised.   

56  
What is the reason, that it is commonly received, that certain matrons of the city at the first founded and built the temple of Carmenta, and to this day honour it highly with great reverence?  
FOr it is said, that upon a time the Senate had forbidden the dames and wives of the city to ride in coaches: whereupon they took such a stomach and were so despighteous, that to be revenged of their husbands, they conspired altogether not to conceive or be with child by them, nor to bring them any more babes: and in this mind they persisted still, until their husbands began to bethink themselves better of the matter, and let them have their will to ride in their coaches again as before time: and then they began to breed and bear children a fresh: and those who soon conceived and bore most and with greatest ease, founded then the temple of Carmenta. And as I suppose this Carmenta was the mother of Evander, who came with him into Italy; whose right name indeed was Themis, or as some say Nicostrata: now for that she rendered prophetical answers and oracles in verse, the Latins surnamed her Carmenta: for verses in their tongue they call Carmina. Others are of opinion, that Carmenta was one of the Destinies, which is the cause that such matrons and mother's sacrifice unto her. And the Etymologic of this name Carmenta, is as much as Carens mente, that is to say, beside her right wits or distraught, by reason that her senses were so ravished and transported: so that her verses gave her not the name Carmenta, but chose; her verses were called Carmina of her, because when she was thus ravished and carried beside herself, she chanted certain oracles and prophecies in verse.   

57  
What is the cause that the women who sacrifice unto the goddess Rumina, do power and cast store of milk upon their sacrifice, but no wine at all do they bring thither for to be drunk?  
IS it, for that the Latins in their tongue call a pap, Ruma? And well it may so be, for that the wild fig tree near unto which the she wolf gave suck with her teats unto Romulus, was in that respect called Ficus Rumtnalis. Like as therefore we name in our Greek language those milk nurses that suckle young infants at their breasts, Thelona, being a word derived of 〈◊〉, which signifieth a pap; even so this goddess Rumina, which is as much to say, as Nurse, and one that taketh the care and charge of nourishing and rearing up of infants, admitteth not in her sacrifices any wine; for that it is hurtful to the nouriture of little babes and sucklings.   

58  
What is the reason that of the Roman Senators, some are called simply, Patres; others with an addition, Patres conscripti?  
IS it for that they first, who were instituted and ordained by Romulus, were named Patres & 〈◊〉, that is to say, Gentlemen or Nobly borne, such as we in Greece, term Eupatrides?  
Or rather they were so called, because they could avouch and show their fathers; but such as were adjoined afterwards by way of supply, and enroled out of the Commoners houses, were Patres conscripti, thereupon?   

59  
Wherefore was there one altar common to Hercules and the Muses?  
MAy it not be, for that Hercules taught Evander the letters, according as Juba writeth? Certes, in those days it was accounted an honourable office for men to teach their kinsfolk and friends to spell letters, and to read. For a long time after it, and but of late days it was, that they began to teach for hire and for money: and the first that ever was known to keep a public school for reading, was one named Spurius Carbilius, the freed servant of that Carbilius who first put away his wife.   

60  
What is the reason, that there being two altars dedicated unto Hercules, women are not partakers of the greater, nor taste one whit of that which is offered or sacrificed thereupon?  
IS it, because as the report goes Carmenta came not soon enough to be assistant unto the sacrifice: no more did the family of the Pinarij, whereupon they took that name? for in regard that they came tardy, admitted they were not to the feast with others who made good cheer; and therefore got the name Pinarij, as if one would say, pined or famished?  
Or rather it may allude unto the tale that goeth of the shirt empoisoned with the blood of Nessus the Centaur, which lady Deianira gave unto Hercules.   

61  
How cometh it to pass, that it is expressly for bidden at Rome, either to name or to demand aught as touching the Tutelar god, who hath in particular recommendation and patronage, the safety and preservation of the city of Rome: nor so much as to inquire whether the said deity be male or female? And verily this prohibition proceedeth from a superstitious fear that they have; for that they say that Valerius Soranus died an ill death, because he presumed to utter and publish so much.  
IS it in regard of a certain reason that some latin historians do allege; namely, that there be certain evocations and enchanting of the gods by spells and charms, through the power whereof they are of opinion, that they might be able to call forth and draw away the Tutelar gods of their enemies, and to cause them to come and dwell with them: and therefore the Romans be afraid left they may do as much for them? For, like as in times past the Tyrians, as we find upon record, when their city was besieged, enchained the images of their gods to their shrines, for fear they would abandon their citieand be gone; and as others demanded pledges and fureties that they should come again to their place, whensoever they sent them to any bath to be washed, or let them go to any expiation to be cleansed; even so the Romans thought, that to be altogether unknowen and not once named, was the best means, and surest way to keep with their Tutelar god.  
Or rather, as Homer very well wrote: 
The earth to men all, is common great and small:   
That thereby men should worship all the gods, and honour the earth; seeing she is common to them all: even so the ancient Romans have concealed and suppress the god or angel which hath the particular guard of their city, to the end that their citizens should adore, not him alone but all others likewise.   

62  
What is the cause that among those priests whom they name Faeciales, signifying as much as in geeke 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Officers going between to make treatre of peace; or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Agents for truce and leagues, he whom they call Pater Patratus is esteemed the chiefest? Now Pater Patratus is he, whose father is yet living who hath children of his own: and in truth this chief Faecial or Herald hath still at this day a certain prerogative, & special credit above the rest. For the emperors themselves, and general captains, if they have any persons about them who in regard of the prime of youth, or of their beautiful bodies had need of a faithful, diligent, and trusty guard, commit them ordinarily into the hands of such as these, for safe custody.  
IS it not, for that these Patres Patrati, for reverend fear of their fathers of one side, and for modest shames to scandalise or offend their children on the other side, are enforced to be wise and discreet?  
Or may it not be, in regard of that cause which their very denomination doth minister and declare: for this word PATRATUS signifieth as much as complete, entire and accomplished, as if he were one more perfect and absolute every way than the rest, as being so happy, as to have his own father living, and be a father also himself.  
Or is it not, for that the man who hath the superintendance of treaties of peace, and of oaths, aught to see as Homer saith, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, before and behind. And in all reason such an one is he like to be, who hath a child for whom, and a father with whom he may consult.   

63  
What is the reason, that the officer at Rome called Rex sacrorum, that is to say, the king of sacrifices, is debarred both from exercising any magistracy, and also to make a speech unto the people in public place?  
IS it for that in old time, the kings themselves in person performed the most part of sacred rites, and those that were greater, yea and together with the priests offered sacrifices; but by reason that they grew insolent, proud, and arrogant, so as they became intollcrable, most of the Greek nations, deprived them of this authority, and left unto them the pre-eminence only to offer public sacrifice unto the gods: but the Romans having clean chased and expelled their kings, established in their stead another under officer whom they called King, unto whom they granted the oversight and charge of sacrifices only, but permitted him not to exercise or execute any office of State, nor to intermeddle in public affairs; to the end it should be known to the whole world, that they would not suffer any person to reign at Rome, but only over the ceremonies of sacrifices, nor endure the very name of Royalty, but in respect of the gods. And to this purpose upon the very common place near unto 〈◊〉 they use to have a solemn sacrifice for the good estate of the city; which so soon as ever this king hath performed, he taketh his legs and runs out of the place, as fast as ever he can.   

64  
Why suffer not they the table to be taken clean away, and voided quite, but will have somewhat always remaining upon it?  
GIve they not hereby covertly to understand, that we ought of that which is present to reserve evermore something for the time to come, and on this day to remember the morrow.  
Or thought they it not a point of civil honesty and elegance, to repress and keep down their appetite when they have before them enough still to content and satisfy it to the full; for less will they desire that which they have not, when they accustom themselves to abstain from that which they have.  
Or is not this a custom of courtesy and humanity to their domestical servants, who are not so well pleased to take their victuals simply, as to partake the same, supposing that by this means in some sort they do participate with their masters at the table.  
Or rather is it not, because we ought to suffer no sacred thing to be empty; and the board you wot well is held sacred.   

65  
What is the reason that the Bridegroom cometh the first time to lie with his new wedded bride, not with any light but in the dark?  
IS it because he is yet abashed, as taking her to be a stranger and not his own, before he hath companied carnally with her?  
Or for that he would then acquaint himself, to come even unto his own espoused wife with shamefacedness and modesty?  
Or rather, like as Solon in his Statutes ordained, that the new married wife should eat of a quince before she enter into the bride bedchamber, to the end that this first encounter and embracing, should not be odious or unpleasant to her husband? even so the Roman lawgiver would hide in the obscurity of darkness, the deformities and imperfections in the person of the bride, if there were any.  
Or haply this was instituted to show how sinful and damnable all unlawful company of man and woman together is, seeing that which is lawful and allowed, is not without some blemish and note of shame.   

66  
Why is one of the races where horses use to run, called the Cirque or Flaminius.  
IS it for that in old time an ancient Roman named Flaminius gave unto the city, a certain piece of ground, they employed the rent and revenues thereof in run of horses, and chariots: and for that there was a surplusage remaining of the said lands, they bestowed the same in paving that high way or causey, called Via Flaminia, that is to say, Flaminia street?   

67  
Why are the Sergeants or officers who carry the knitches of rods before the magistrates of Rome, called Lictores.  
IS it because these were they who bound malefactors, and who followed after Romulus, as his guard, with cords and leather thongs about them in their bosoms? And verily the common people of Rome when they would say to bind or tie fast, use the word Alligare, and such as speak more pure and proper Latin, Ligare.  
Or is it, for that now the letter C is interjected within this word, which before time was Litores, as one would say 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, officers of public charge; for no man there is in a manner, ignorant, that even at this day in many cities of Greece, the commonwealth or public state is written in their laws by the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   

68  
Wherefore do the Luperci at Rome sacrifice a Dog? Now these Luperci are certain persons who upon a festival day called Lupercalia, run through the city all naked, save that they have aprons only before their privy parts, carrying leather whips in their hands, where with they flap and scourge whom soever they meet in the streets.  
IS all this ceremonial action of theirs a purification of the city? whereupon they call the month wherein this is done Februarius, yea, and the very day itself Febraten, like as the manner of squitching with a leather scourge Februare, which verb signifieth as much as to purge or purify?  
And verily the Greeks, in manner all, were wont in times past, and so they continue even at this day, in all their expiations, to kill a dog for sacrifice. Unto Hecate also they bring forth among other expiatory oblations, certain little dogs or whelps: such also as have need of cleansing and purifying, they wipe and scour all over with whelps skins, which manner of purification they term Periscylacismos.  
Or rather is it for that Lupus signifieth a wolf, & Lupercalia, or Lycaea, is the feast of wolves: now a dog naturally, being an enemy to wolves, therefore at such feasts they facrificed a dog.  
Or peradventure, because dogs bark and bay at these Luperci, troubling and disquieting them as they run up and down the city in manner aforesaid.  
Or else last of all, for that this feast and sacrifice is solemnised in the honour of god Pan; who as you wot well is pleased well enough with a dog, in regard of his flocks of goats.   

69  
What is the cause that in ancient time, at the feast called Septimontium, they observed precisely not to use any coaches drawn with steeds, no more than those do at this day, who are observant of old institutions and do not despise them. Now this Septimontium is a festival solemnity, celebrated in memorial of a seventh mountain, that was adjoined and taken into the pourprise of Rome city, which by this means came to have seven hills enelosed within the precinct thereof?  
WHether was it as some Romans do imagine, for that the city was not as yet conjunct and composed of all her parts? Or if this may seem an impertinent conjecture, and nothing to the purpose: may it not be in this respect, that they thought they had achieved a great piece of work, when they had thus amplified and enlarged the compass of the city, thinking that now it needed not to proceed any further in greatness and capacity: in consideration whereof, they reposed themselves, and caused likewise their labouring beasts of draft and carriage to rest, whose help they had used in finishing of the said enclosure, willing that they also should enjoy in common with them, the benefit of that solemn feast.  
Or else we may suppose by this, how desirous they were that their citizens should solemnize and honour with their personal presence all feasts of the city, but especially that which was ordained and instituted for the peopling and augmenting thereof: for which cause they were not permitted upon the day of the dedication, and festival memorial of it, to put any horses in gears or harness for to draw; for that they were not at such a time to ride forth of the city.   

70  
Why call they those who are deprehended or taken in theft, pilfery or such like servile trespasses, Furciferos, as one would say, Fork bearers.  
IS not this also an evident argument of the great diligence and careful regard that was in their ancients? For when the master of the family had surprised one of his servants or slaves, committing a lewd and wicked prank, he commanded him to take up and carry upon his neck between his shoulders a 〈◊〉 piece of wood, such as they use to put under the spire of a chariot or wain, and so to go withal in the open view of the world throughout the street, yea and the parish where he dwelled, to the end that every man from thence forth should take heed of him. This piece of wood we in Greek call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and the Romans in the Latin tongue Furca, that is 〈◊〉 say, a forked prop or supporter: and therefore he that is forced to carry such an one, is by reproach termed Furcifer.   

71  
Wherefore use the Romans to tie a wisp of 〈◊〉 unto the bornes of kine, and other beeves, that are wont to boak and be cursed with their heads, that by the means thereof folk might take heed of them, and look better to themselves when they come in their way?  
IS it not for that beeves, horses, asses, yea and men become fierce, insolent, and dangerous, if they be highly kept and pampered to the full? according as Sophocles said: 
Like as the colt or jade doth wince and kick,  
In case he find his provender to prick:  
Even so dost thou: for lo, thy paunch is full  
Thy cheeks be puffed, like to some greedy gull.   
And thereupon the Romans gave out, that Marcus Crassus carried hey on his horn: for howsoever they would seem to let fly and carp at others, who dealt in the affairs of State, and government, yet be aware they would how they commersed with him as being a dangerous man, and one who carried a revenging mind to as many as meddled with him. Howbelt it was said afterwards again on the other side, that Caesar had plucked the hey from Crassus his horn: for he was the first man that opposed himself, and made head against him in the management of the State, and in one word set not a straw by him.   

72  
What was the cause that they thought those priests who observed bird flight, such as in old time they called Aruspices, and now a days Augurs, aught to have their lanterns and lamps always open, and not to put any lidor cover over them?  
MAy it not be, that like as the old Pythagorean Philosophers by small matters signified and implied things of great consequence, as namely, when they forbade their disciples to sit upon the measure Chaenix; and to stir fire, or rake the hearth with a sword; even so the ancient Romans used many aenigmes, that is to say, outward signs and figures betokening some hidden and secret mysteries; especially with their priests in holy and sacred things, like as this is of the lamp or lantern, which symbolizeth in some sort the body that containeth our soul. For the soul within resembleth the light, and it behoveth that the intelligent and reasonable part there of should be always open, evermore intentive and seeing, and at no time enclosed and shut up, nor blown upon by wind. For look when the winds be aloft, fowls in their flight keep no certainty, neither can they yield assured presages, by reason of their variable and wandering instability: and therefore by this ceremonial custom they teach those who do divine and foretell by the flight of birds, not to go forth for to take their auspexes and observations when the wind is up, but when the air is still, and so 〈◊〉, that a man may carry a lanteme open and uncovered.   

73  
Why were these Soothsayers or Augurs forbidden to go abroad, for to observe the flight of birds, in case they had any sore or 〈◊〉 upon their bodies?  
WAs not this also a significant token to put them in mind, that they ought not to deal in the divine service of the gods, nor meddle with holy and sacred things if there were any secret matter that gnawed their minds, or so long as any private ulcer or passion settled in their hearts: but to be void of sadness and grief, to be sound and sincere, and not distracted by any trouble whatsoever?  
Or, because it standeth to good reason; that if it be not lawful nor allowable for them to offer unto the gods for an oast or sacrifice any beast that is scabbed, or hath a sore upon it, nor to take presage by the flight of such birds as are maungie, they ought more strictly and precisely to look into their own persons in this behalf, and not to presume for to observe celestial prognostications and signs from the gods, unless they be themselves pure and holy, undefiled, and not defective in their own selves: for surely an ulcer seemeth to be in manner of a mutilation and pollution of the body.   

74  
Why did king Servius Tullus found and build a temple of little Fortune which they called in Latin Brevis fortunae, that is to say, of Short fortune?  
WAs it not think you in respect of his own self, who being at the first of a small and base condition, as being borne of a captive woman, by the favour of Fortune grew to so great an estate that he was king of Rome?  
Or for that this change in him showeth rather the might and greatness, than the debility and smallness of Fortune. We are to say, that this king 〈◊〉 deified Fortune, & attributed unto her more divine power than any other, as having entitled and imposed her name almost upon every action: for not only he erected temples unto Fortune, by the name of Puissant, of Diverting ill luck, of Sweet, Favourable to the first borne and masculine; but also there is one temple beside, of private or proper Fortune; another of Fortune returned; a third of confident Fortune and hoping well; and a fourth of Fortune the virgin. And what should a man reckon up other furnames of hers, seeing there is a temple dedicated (forsooth) to glueing Fortune, whom they called Viscata; as if we were given thereby to understand, that we are caught by her afar off, and even tied (as it were) with birdlime to business and affairs.  
But consider this moreover, that he having known by experience what great power she hath in human things, how little soever she seem to be, and how often a small matter in happening or not happening hath given occasion to some, either to miss of great exploits, or to achieve as great enterprises, whether in this respect, he built not a temple to little Fortune, teaching men thereby to be always studious, careful and diligent, and not to despise any occurrences how small soever they be.   

75  
What is the cause that they never put forth the light of a lamp, but suffered it to go out of the own accord?  
WAs it not (think you) upon a certain reverend devotion that they bore unto that fire, as being either cousin germane, or brother unto that inextinguible and immortal fire.  
Or rather, was it not for some other secret advertisement, to teach us not to violate or kill any thing whatsoever that hath life, if it hurt not us first; as if fire were a living creature: for need it hath of nourishment and moveth of itself: and if a man do squench it, surely it uttereth a kind of voice and scricke, as if a man killed it.  
Or certainly this fashion and custom received so usually, showeth us that we ought not to mar or spoil, either fire or water or any other thing necessary, after we ourselves have done with it, and have had sufficient use thereof, but to suffer it to serve other men's turns who have need, after that we ourselves have no employment for it.   

76  
How cometh it to pass that those who are descended of the most noble and ancient houses of Rome, carried little moons upon their shoes.  
IS this (as Castor saith) a sign of the habitation which is reported to be within the body of the moon?  
Or for that after death, our spirits and ghosts shall have the moon under them?  
Or rather, because this was a mark or badge proper unto those who were reputed most ancient, as were the Arcadians descended from Evander, who upon this occasion were called Proseleni, as one would say, borne before the moon?  
Or, because this custom as many others, admonisheth those who are lifted up too high, and take so great pride in themselves, of the incertitude and instability of this life, and of human affairs, even by the example of the moon, 
Who at the first doth new and young appear,  
Where as before she made no show at all;  
And so her light increaseth fair and clear,  
Until her face be round and full withal:  
But then anon she doth begin to fall,  
And backward wane from all this beauty gay,  
Until again she vanish clean away.   
Or was not this an wholesome lesson and instruction of obedience, to teach and advise men to obey their superiors, & not to think much for to be under others: but like as the moon is willing to give 〈◊〉 (as it were) and apply herself to her better, content to be ranged in a second place, and as Parmenides saith, 
Having aneie and due regard  
Always the bright Sun beams toward;  even so they ought to rest in a second degree, to follow after, and be under the conduct and direction of another, who sitteth in the first place, and of his power, authority and honour, in some measure to enjoy a part.   

77  
Why think they the years dedicated to Jupiter, and the months to Juno?  
MAy it not be for that of God's invisible and who are no otherwise seen but by the eyes of our understanding: those that reign as princes be Jupiter and Juno; but of the visible, the Sun and Moon? Now the Sun is he who causeth the year, and the Moon maketh the month. Neither are we to think, that these be only and simply the figures and images of them: but believe we must, that the material Sun which we behold, is Jupiter, and this material Moon, Juno. And the reason why they call her Juno, (which word is as much to say as young or new) is in regard of the course of the Moon: and otherwhiles they surname her also Juno-Lucina, that is to say; light or shining: being of opinion that she helpeth women in travel of childbirth, bike as the Moon doth, according to these verses: 
By stars that turn full round in Azure sky:  
By Moon who helps childbirths right speedily.  For it seemeth that women at the full of the moon be most easily delivered of childbirth.   

78  
What is the cause that in observing bird-flight, that which is presented on the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉.  left hand is reputed lucky and prosperous?  
IS not this altogether untrue, and are not many men in an error by ignorance of the equivocation of the word Sinistrum, & their manner of Dialect; for that which we in Greek call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, on the auke or left hand, they say in Latin, Sinistrum; and that which signifieth to permit, or let be, they express by the verb Sinere, and when they will a man to let a thing alone, they say unto him, Sine; whereupon it may seem that this word Sinistrum is derived. That presaging bird then, which permitteth and suffereth an action to be done, being as it were Sinisterion; the vulgar sort suppose (though not aright) to be Sinistrum, that is to say, on the left hand, and so they term it.  
Or may it not be rather as Dionysius saith, for that when Ascanius the son of Aeneas wan a field against Mezentius as the two armies stood arranged one affronting the other in battle ray, it thundered on his left hand; and because thereupon he obtained the victory, they deemed even then, that this thunder was a token presaging good, and for that cause observed it, ever after so to fall out. Others think that this presage and foretoken of good luck happened unto Aeneas: and verily at the battle of Leuctres, the Thebans began to break the ranks of their enemies, and to discomfit them with the left wing of their battle, and thereby in the end achieved a brave victory; whereupon ever after in all their conflicts, they gave preference and the honour of leading and giving the first charge, to the left wing.  
Or rather, is it not as Juba writch, because that when we look toward the sun rising, the North side is on our left hand, and some will say, that the North is the right side and upper part of the whole world.  
But consider I pray you, whether the left hand being the weaker of the twain, the presages coming on that side, do not fortify and support the defect of puissance which it hath, and so make it as it were even and equal to the other?  
Or rather considering that earthly and mortal things they supposing to be opposite unto those that be heavenly and immortal, did not imagine consequently, that whatsoever was on the left in regard of us, the gods sent from their right side.   

79  
Wherefore was it lawful as Rome, when a noble parsonage who sometime had entered triumphant into the city, was dead, and his corpse burned (as the manner was) in a funeral fire, to take up the relics of his bones, to 〈◊〉 the same into the city, and there to strew them, according as Pyrrho the Lyparean hath left in writing.  
WAs not this to honour the memory of the dead? for the like honourable privilege they had granted unto other valiant warriors and brave captains; namely, that not only themselves, but also their posterity descending lineally from them, might be interred in their common market place of the city, as for example unto 〈◊〉 and Fabricius: and it is said, that for to continue this prerogative in force, when any of their posterity afterwards were departed this life, and their bodies brought into the market place accordingly, the manner was, to put a burning torch under them, and do no more but presently to take it away again; by which ceremony, they 〈◊〉 still the due honour without envy, and confirmed it only to be lawful if they would take the benefit thereof.   

80  
What is the cause that when they feasted at the common charges, any general captain who made his 〈◊〉 into the city with 〈◊〉, they never admitted the Consuls to the feast; but that which more is, sent 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 hand messengers of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 them not to come unto the 〈◊〉?  
WAs it for that they thought it meet and convenient to yield unto the triumpher, both the highest place to sit in, and the most costly cup to drink out of, as also the honour to be attended upon with a train home to his house after supper? which prerogatives no other might enjoy but the Consuls only, if they had been present in the place.   

81  
Why is it that the Tribune of the commons only, weareth no embroidered purple rob, considering that all other magistrates besides 〈◊〉 wear the same.  
IS it not, for that they (to speak properly) are no magistrates? for in truth they have no ushers or vergers to carry before them the knitches of rods, which are the ensigns of magistracy; neither sit they in the chair of estate called Sella 〈◊〉, to determine causes judicially, or give audience unto the people; nor enter into the administration of their office at the beginning of the year, as all other magistrates do: neither are they put down and deposed after the election of a dictator: but whereas the full power and authority of all other magistrates of State, he transferreth from them upon himself: the Tribunes only of the people continue still, and surcease not to execute their function, as having another place & degree by themselves in the commonweal: and like as foam orators and lawyers do hold, that exception in law is no action, considering it doth clean contrary to action; for that action intendeth, commenseth, and beginneth a process or suit; but exception or inhibition, dissolveth, undooeth, and abolisheth the same: semblably, they think also, that the Tribunate was an impeachment, inhibition, and restraint of a magistracy, rather than a magistracy itself: for all the authority and power of the Tribune, lay in opposing himself, and crossing the jurisdiction of other magistrates, and in diminishing or repressing their excessive and licentious power.  
Or haply all these reasons and such like, are but words, and devised imaginations to maintain discourse: but to say a truth, this Tribuneship having taken originally the first beginning from the common people, is great and mighty in regard that it is popular; and that the Tribunes themselves are not proud nor highly conceited of themselves above others, but equal in apparel, in port, fare, and manner of life, to any other citizens of the common sort: for the dignity of pomp and outward show, appertaineth to a Consul or a Praetour: as for the Tribune of the people, he ought to be humble and lowly, and as M. 〈◊〉 was wont to say; ready to put his hand under every man's foot; not to carry a lofty, grave, and stately countenance, nor to be hard of access, nor strange to be spoken with, or dealt withal by the multitude; but howsoever he behave himself to others, he ought to the simple and common people, above the rest, for to be affable, gentle, and tractable: and hereupon the manner is, that the door of his house should never be kept shut, but stand open both day and night, as a safe harbour, sure haven, and place of refuge, for all those who are distressed and in need: and verily the more submiss that he is in outward appearance, the more groweth he and increaseth in puissance; for they repute him as a strong hold for common recourse and retreat, unto all comers, no less than an altar or privileged sanctuary. Moreover, as touching the honour that he holdeth by his place, they count him holy, sacred, and inviolable, insomuch as if he do but go forth of his house abroad into the city, and walk in the street, 
* I suspect this place to be 〈◊〉 in the original.  the manner was of all, to cleanse and sanctify the body, as if it were stained and polluted.   

82  
What is the reason that before the Prators, general Captains and head Magistrates, there be carried bundles of rods, together with hatchets or axes fastened unto them?  
IS it to signify, that the anger of the magistrate ought not to be prompt to execution, nor lose and at liberty?  
Or, because that to undo and unbind the said bundles, yieldeth sometime and space for choler to cool, and ire to assuage, which is the cause otherwhiles that they change their minds, and do not proceed to punishment?  
Now forasmuch as among the faults that men commit, some are curable, others remediless: the rods are to reform those who may be amended; but the hatchets to cut them off who are incorrigible.   

83  
What is the cause that the Romans having intelligence given unto them, that the Bletonesians, a barbarous nation, had sacrificed unto their gods, a man; sent for the magistrates peremptorily, as intending to 〈◊〉 them: but after they once understood, that they had so done according to an ancient law of their country, they let them go again without any hurt done unto them; charging them only, that from thence forth they should not obey such a law; and yet they themselves, not many years before, had caused for to be buried quick in the place, called the Beast Market, two men and two women, that is to say, two greeks, and two Gallogreekes or Galatians? For this seemeth to be very absurd, that they themselves should do those things, which they reproved in others as damnable.  
MAy it not be that they judged it an execrable superstition, to sacrifice a man or woman unto the gods, marry unto devils they held it necessary?  
Or was it not for that they thought those people, who did it by a law or custom, offended highly: but they themselves were directed thereto by express commandment out of the books of Sibylla. For reported it is, that one of their votaries or Vestal nuns named Helbia, riding on horseback, was smitten by a thunderbolt or blast of lightning; and that the horse was found lying along all bare bellied, and herself likewise naked, with her 〈◊〉 and petticoat turned up above her privy parts, as if she had done it of purpose: her shoes, her rings, her coif and head attire cast here and there apart from other things, and withal lilling the tongue out of her head. This strange occurrent, the soothsayers out of their learning interpreted to signify, that some great shame did betide the sacred virgins, that should be divulged and notoriously known; yea, and that the same infamy should reach also as far, as unto some of the degree of gentlemen or knights of Rome. Upon this there was a servant belonging unto a certain Barbarian horseman, who detected three Vestal virgins to have at one time forfeited their honour, & been nought of their bodies, to wit, Aemilia, 〈◊〉, & Martia; and that they had companied too familiarly with men a long time; and one of their names was Butetius, a Barbarian knight, and master to the said enformer. So these vestal Votaries were punished after they had been convicted by order of law, and found guilty: but after that this seemed a fearful and horrible accident; ordained it was by the Senate, that the priests should peruse over the books of 〈◊〉 prophecies, wherein were found (by report) those very oracles which denounced and foretold this strange occurrent, and that it portended some great loss and calamity unto the commonwealth: for the avoiding and diverting whereof, they gave commandment to abandon unto (I wot not what) malign and devilish strange spirits, two greeks, and two Galatians likewise; and so by burying them quick in that very place, to procure propitiation at God's hands.   

84  
Why began they their day at midnight?  
WAs it not, for that all policy at the first had the beginning of military discipline? and in war, and all expeditions the most part of worthy exploits are enterprised ordinarily in the night before the day appear?  
Or because the execution of designs, howsoever it begin at the sun rising; yet the preparation thereto is made before daylight: for there had need to be some preparatives, before a work be taken in hand; and not at the very time of execution, according as Myson (by report) answered unto Chilo, one of the seven sages, when as in the winter time he was making of a van.  
Or haply, for that like as we see, that many men at noon make an end of their business of great importance, and of State affairs; even so, they supposed that they were to begin the same at midnight. For better proof whereof a man may frame an argument hereupon, that the Roman chief ruler never made league, nor concluded any capitulations and covenants of peace after midday.  
Or rather this may be, because it is not possible to set down 〈◊〉, the beginning and end of the day, by the rising and setting of the sun: for if we do as the vulgar sort, who distinguish day and night by the sight and view of eye, taking the day then to begin when the sun ariseth; and the night likewise to begin when the sun is gone down, and hidden under our horizon, we shall never have the just Acquinox, that is to say, the day and night equal: for even that very night which we shall esteem most equal to the day, will prove shorter than the day, by as much as the body or bigness of the sun 〈◊〉. Again, if we do as the Mathematicians, who to remedy this absurdity and 〈◊〉, set down the confines and limits of day and night, at the very instant point when the 〈◊〉 seemeth to touch the circle of the horizon with his centre; this were to overthrow all evidence: for fall out it will, that while there is a great part of the suns light yet under the earth (although the sun do shine upon us) we will not confess that it is day, but say, that it is night still. Seeing then it is so hard a matter to make the beginning of day and night, at the rising or going down of the sun, for the absurdities abovesaid, it remaineth that of necessity we take the beginning of the day to be, when the sun is in the mids of the heaven above head, or under our feet, that is to say, either noontide or midnight. But of twain, better it is to begin when he is in the middle point under us, which is just midnight, for that he 〈◊〉 then toward us into the East; whereas chose after midday he goeth from us Westward.   

85  
What was the cause that in times past they would not suffer their wives, either to grind corn, or to lay their hands to dress meat in the kitchen?  
WAs it in memorial of that accord and league which they made with the Sabines? for after that they had ravished & carried away their daughters, there arose sharp wars between them: but peace ensued thereupon in the end; in the capitulations whereof, this one article was expressly set down, that the Roman husband might not force his wife, either to turn the querne for to grind corn, nor to exercise any point of cookery.   

86  
Why did not the Romans marry in the month of May?  
IS it for that it cometh between April and June? whereof the one is consecrated unto Venus, and the other to Juno, who are both of them the goddesses which have the care and charge of wedding and marriages, and therefore think it good either to go somewhat before, or else to stay a while after.  
Or it may be that in this month they celebrate the greatest expiatory sacrifice of all others in the year? for even at this day they fling from off the bridge into the river, the images and portraitures of men, whereas in old time they threw down men themselves alive? And this is the reason of the custom now a days, that the priestresse of Juno named Flamina, should be always sad and heavy, as it were a mourner, and never wash nor dress and trim herself.  
Or what and if we say, it is because many of the Latin nations offered oblations unto the dead in this month: and peradventure they do so, because in this very month they worship Mercury: and in truth it beareth the name of Maja, Mercury's mother.  
But may it not be rather, for that as some do say, this month taketh that name of Majores, that isto say, ancients: like as June is termed so of Juniores, that is to say yonkers. Now this is certain that youth is much meeter for to contract marriage than 〈◊〉 age: like as Euripides saith very well: 
As for old age it Venus bids farewell,  
And with old folk, Venus is not pleasdwell.   
The Romans therefore married not in May, but stayed for June which immediately followeth after May.   

87  
What is the reason that they divide and part the hair of the new bride's head, with the point of a javelin?  
IS not this a very sign, that the first wives whom the Romans espoused, were compelled to marriage, and conquered by force and arms.  
Or are not theinwives hereby given to understand, that they are espoused to husbands, martial men and soldiers; and therefore they should lay away all delicate, wanton, and costly imbelishment of the body, and acquaint themselves with simple and plain attire; like as Lycurgus for the same reason would that the doors, windows, and roofs of houses should be framed with the saw and the axe only, without use of any other tool or instrument, intending thereby to chase out of the commonweal all curiosity and wasteful superfluity.  
Or doth not this parting of the hairs, give covertly to understand, a division and separation, as if marriage & the bond of wedlock, were not to be broken but by the sword and warlike force?  
Or may not this signify thus much, that they referred the most part of ceremonies concerning marriage unto Juno: now it is plain that the javelin is consecrated unto Juno, insomuch as most part of her images and statues are portrayed resting and leaning upon a lance or javelin. And for this cause the goddess is surnamed Quiritis, for they called in old time a spear Quiris, upon which occasion Mars also (as they say) is named Quiris.   

88  
What is the reason that the money employed upon plays and public shows is called among them, Lucar?  
MAy it not well be that there were many groves about the city consecrated unto the gods, which they named 〈◊〉: the revenues whereof they bestowed upon the setting forth of such solemnities?   

89  
Why call they Quirinalia, the Feast of fools?  
WHether is it because (as Juba writeth) they attribute this day unto those who knew not their own lineage and tribe? or unto such as have not sacrificed, as others have done according to their tribes, at the feast called Fornacalia. Were it that they were hindered by other affairs, or had occasion to be forth of the city, or were altogether ignorant, and therefore this day was assigned for them, to perform the said feast.   

90  
What is the cause, that when they sacrifice unto Hercules, they name no other God but him, nor suffer a dog to be seen, within the purprise and 〈◊〉 of the place where the sacrifice is celebrated, according as Varro hath left in writing?  
IS not this the reason of naming no god in their sacrifice, for that they esteem him but a demigod; and some there be who hold, that whiles he lived here upon the earth, Evander erected an altar unto him, and offered sacrifice thereupon. Now of all other beasts he could worst abide a dog, and hated him most: for this creature put him to more trouble all his life time, than any other: witness hereof, the three headed dog Cerberus, and above all others, when Oeonus the son of Licymnius was slain 
* Or about a dog by the Hippocoontides.  by a dog, he was enforced by the Hippocoontides to give the battle, in which he lost many of his friends, and among the rest his own brother Iphicles.   

91  
Wherefore was it not lawful for the Patricians or nobles of Rome to dwell upon the mount Capitol?  
MIght it not be in regard of M. Manlius, who dwelling there attempted and plotted to be king of Rome, and to usurp tyranny; in hatred and detestation of whom, it is said, that ever after those of the house of Manlij, might not have Marcus for their fore-name?  
Or rather was not this an old fear that the Romans had (time out of mind)? For albeit Valerius Poplicola was a parsonage very popular and well affected unto the common people; yet never ceased the great and mighty men of the city to suspect and traduce him, nor the mean commoners and multitude to fear him, until such time as himself caused his own house to be demolished and pulled down, because it seemed to overlook and command the common market place of the city.   

〈◊〉  
What is the reason, that he who saved the life of a citizen in the wars, was rewarded with a coronet made of oak branches?  
WAs it not for that in every place and readily, they might meet with an oak, as they matched in their warlike expeditions.  
Or rather, because this manner of garland is dedicated unto Jupiter and Juno, who are reputed protectors of cities?  
Or might not this be an ancient custom proceeding from the Arcadians, who have a kind of consanguinity with oaks, for that they report of themselves, that they were the first men that issued out of the earth, like as the oak of all other trees.   

93  
Why observe they the Vultures or Geirs, most of any other fowls, in taking of presages by bird-flight?  
IS it not because at the foundation of Rome, there appeared twelve of them unto Romulus?  
Or because, this is no ordinary bird nor familiar; for it is not so easy a matter to meet with an airy of Vultures; but all on a sudden they come out of some strange country, and therefore the sight of them doth prognosticke and presage much.  
Or else haply the Romans learned this of Hercules, if that be true which Hero dot us reporteth: namely, that Hercules took great contentment, when in the enterprise of any exploit of his, there appeared Vultures unto him: for that he was of opinion, that the Vulture of all birds of prey was the justest: for first and foremost never toucheth he aught that hath life, neither killeth he any living creature, like as eagles, falcons, hawks, and other fowls do, that prey by night, but feedeth upon dead carrions: over and beside, he forbeareth to set upon his own kind: for never was there man yet who saw a Vulture eat the flesh of any fowl, like as eagles and other birds of prey do, which chase, pursue and pluck in pieces those especially of the same kind, to wit, other fowl. And verily as Aeschylus the poet writeth: 
How can that bird, which bird doth eat,  
Be counted cleanly, pure andneat.  And as for men, it is the most innocent bird, and doth least hurt unto them of all other: for it destroyeth no fruit nor plant whatsoever, neither doth it harm to any tame creature. And if the tale be true that the Egyptians do tell, that all the kind of these birds be females; that they conceive and be with young, by receiving the Eastwind blowing upon them, like as some trees by the Western wind, it is very profitable that the signs and prognostics drawn from them, be more sure and certain, than from any others, considering that of all, besides their violence in treading and breeding time; their eagerness in flight when they pursue their prey; their flying away from some, and chase of others, must needs cause much trouble and uncertainty in their prognostications.   

94  
Why stands the temple of Aesculapius without the city of Rome?  
IS it because they thought the abode without the city more wholesome, than that within? For in this regard the greeks ordinarily built the temples of Aesculapius upon high ground, wherein the air is more pure and clear.  
Or in this respect, that this god 〈◊〉 was sent for out of the city Epidaurus. And true it is that the Epidaurians founded his temple; not within the walls of their city, but a good way from it.  
Or lastly, for that the serpent when it was landed out of the galley in the Isle, and then vanished out of sight, seemed thereby to tell them where he would that they should build the place of his abode.   

95  
Why doth the law for 〈◊〉 them that are to live chaste, the eating of pulse?  
AS touching beans, is it not in respect of those very reasons for which it is said: That the Pythagoreans counted them abominable? And as for the richling and rich pease, whereof the one in Greek is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and the other 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which words seem to be derived of Erebus, that signifieth the darkness of hell, and of Lethe, which is as much as oblivion, and one beside of the rivers infernal, it carrieth some reason that they should be abhorred therefore.  
Or it may be, for that the solemn suppers and banquets at funerals for the dead, were usually served with pulse above all other viands.  
Or rather, for that those who are desirous to be chaste, and to live an holy life, aught to 〈◊〉 their bodies pure and slender; but so it is that pulse be flateous and windy, breeding superfluous excrements in the body, which had need of great purging and evacuation.  
Or lastly, because they prick and provoke the fleshly lust, for that they be full of ventosities.   

96  
What is the reason that the Romans panish the holy Vestal virgins (who have suffered their bodies to be abused and defiled) by no other means than by interring them quick under the ground?  
IS this the cause, for that the manner is to burn the bodies of them that be dead: and to bury (by the means of fire) their bodies who have not devoutly and religiously kept or preserved the divine fire, seemed not just nor reasonable?  
Or haply, because they thought it was not lawful to kill any person who had been consecrated with the most holy and religious ceremonies in the world; nor to lay violent hands upon a woman consecrated: and therefore they devised this invention of suffering them to die of their own selves; namely, to let them down into a little vaulted chamber under the earth, where they left with them a lamp burning, and somebread, with a little water and milk: and having so done, cast earth and covered them aloft. And yet for all this, can they not be exempt from a superstitious fear of them thus interred: for even to this day, the priests going over this place, perform (I wot not what) anniversary services and rites, for to appease and pacify their ghosts.   

97  
What is the cause that upon the thirteenth day of December, which in Latin they call the Ides of December, there is exhibited a game of chariots running for the prize, and the horse drawing on the right hand that winneth the vistorie, is sacrificed and consecrated unto Mars, and at the time thereof there comes one behind, that cutteth off his 〈◊〉, which he carrieth immediately into the temple called Regia, and there with imbrueth the altar with blood: and for the head of the said horse, one troop there is coming out of the street called Viasacra, and another from that which they name Suburra, who encounter and try out by fight who shall have it?  
MAy not the reason be (as some do allege) that they have an opinion, how the city of Troy was sometime won by the means of a wooden horse; and therefore in the memorial thereof, they thus punished a poor horse?  

As men from blood of noble Troy descended,  
And by the way with Latins issue blended.   
Or because an horse is a courageous, martial and warlike beast; and ordinarily, men use to present unto the gods those sacrifices which are most agreeable unto them, and sort best with them: and in that respect, they sacrifice that horse which won the prize, unto Mars, because strength and victory are well beseeming him.  
Or rather because the work of God is firm and stable: those also be victorious who keep their rank and vanquish them, who make not good their ground but fly away. This beast therefore is punished for running so swift, as if celerity were the maintenance of cowardice: to give us thereby covertly to understand, that there is no hope of 〈◊〉 for them who seek to escape by flight.   

98  
What is the reason that the first work which the Censors goin hand with, when they be installed in the posse ssion of their magistracy, is to take order upon a certain price for the keeping and feeding of the sacred geese, and to cause the painted statues and images of the gods to be refreshed?  
WHether is it because they would begin at the smallest things, and those which are of least dispense and difficulty?  
Or in commemoration of an ancient benefit received by the means of these creatures, in the time of the Gauls war: for that the geese were they who in the the night season descried the Barbarians as the scaled and mounted the wall that environed the Capitol for't (where as the dogs slept) and with their gaggling raised the watch?  
Or because, the Censors being guardians of the greatest affairs, and having that charge and office which enjoineth to be vigilant and careful to preserve religion; to keep temples and public edifices; to look into the manners and behaviour of men in their order of life; they set in the first place the consideration and regard of the most watchful creature that is: and in showing what care they take of these geese, they incite and provoke by that example their citizens, not to be negligent and reckless of holy things. Moreover, for refreshing the colour of those images and statues, it is a necessary piece of work; for the lively red vermilion, where with they were wont in times past to colour the said images, soon fadeth and passeth away.   

99  
What is the cause that among other priests, when one is condemned and banished, they degrade and deprive him of his prtesthood, and choose another in his place: only an Augur, though he be convicted and condemned for the greatest crimes in the world, yet they never deprive in that sort so long as he liveth? Now those prtests they call Augurs, who observe the flights of birds, and foreshowed things thereby.  
IS it as some do say, because they would not have one that is no priest, to know the secret mysteries of their religion and their sacred rites?  
Or because the Augur being obliged and bound by great oaths, never to reveal the secrets pertaining to religion, they would not seem to free and absolve him from his oath by degrading him, and making him a private person.  
Or rather, for that this word Augur, is not so much a name of honour and magistracy, as of art and knowledge. And all one it were, as if they should seem to disable a musician for being any more a musician; or a physician, that he should be a physician no longer; or prohibit a prophet or soothsayer, to be a prophet or soothsayer: for even so they, not able to deprive him of his sufficiency, nor to take away his skill, although they bereave him of his name and title, do not subordaine another in his place: and by good reason, because they would keep the just number of the ancient institution.   

100  
What is the reason that upon the thirteenth day of August, which now is called the Ides of August, and before time the Ides of Sextilis, all servants as well maids, as men make holy day and women that are wives love then especially 〈◊〉 and cleanse 〈◊〉 heads?  
MIght not this be a cause, for that king 〈◊〉 upon such a day was borne of a captive woman, and therefore slaves and bondservants on that day have liberty to play and disport themselves? And as for washing the head; haply at the first the wenches began so to do in regard of that sestivall day, and so the custom passed also unto their mistresses and other women free borne?   

101  
Why do the Romans adorn their children with jewels pendant at their necks, which they call Bullae?  
PEradventure to honour the memory of those first wives of theirs, whom they ravished: in favour of whom they ordained many other prerogatives for the children which they had by them, and namely this among the rest?  
Or it may be, for to grace the prowess of Tarqvinius? For reported it is that being but a very child, in a great battle which was fought against the Latins and Tuskanes together, he road into the very throng of his enemies, and engaged himself so far, that being dismounted and unhorsed; yet notwithstanding he 〈◊〉 withstood those who hotly charged upon him, and encouraged the Romans to stand to it, in such sort as the enemies by them were put to plain flight, with the loss of 16000 men whom they left dead in the place: and for a reward of this virtue and valour, received such a jewel to hang about his neck, which was given unto him by the king his father.  
Or else, because in old time it was not reputed a shameful and villainous thing, to love young boys wanton, for their beauty in the flower of their age, if they were slaves borne, as the Comedies even at this day do testify: but they forbore most precisely, to touch any of them who were freeborn or of gentle blood descended. To the end therefore man might not pretend ignorance in such a case, as if they knew not of what condition any boys were, if they met with them naked, they caused them to wear this badge and mark of nobility about their necks.  
Or peradventure, this might be also as a preservative unto them of their honour, continence and chastity, as one would say, a bridle to restrain wantonness and incontinency, as being put in mind thereby to be abashed to play men's parts, before they had laid off the marks and signs of childhood. For there is no appearance or probability, of that which Varro allegeth, saying: That because the Acolians in their Dialect do call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Counsel, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, therefore such children for a sign and presage of wisdom and good counsel, carried this jewel, which they named 〈◊〉.  
But see whether it might not be in regard of the moon that they wear this device? for the figure of the moon when she is at the full, is not round as a bal or bowl, but rather flat in manner of a lentil or resembling a dish or plate; not only on that side which appeareth unto us, but also (as Empedocles saith) on that part which is under it.   

102  
Wherefore gave they for e-names to little infants, if they were boys upon the ninth day after their birth, but if they were girls, when they were eight days old?  
MAy there not be a natural reason rendered hereof, that they should impose the names sooner upon daughters than sons: for that females grow apace, are quickly ripe, and come betimes unto their perfection in comparison of males; but as touching those precise days, they take them that immediately follow the seventh: for that the seventh day afterchildrens be borne is very dangerous, as well for other occasions, as in regard of the navill-string: for that in many it will unknit and be loose again upon the seventh day, and so long as it continueth so resolved and open, an infant resembleth a plant rather than any animal creature?  
Or like as the Pythagoreans were of opinion, that of numbers the even was female and the odd, male; for that it is generative, and is more strong than the even number, because it is compound: and if a man divide these numbers into unities, the even number showeth a void place between, whereas the odd, hath the middle always fulfilled with one part thereof: even so in this respect they are of opinion, that the even number eight, resembleth rather the female and the even number nine, the male.  
Or rather it is because of all numbers, nine is the first square coming of three, which is an odd and perfect number: and eight the first cubic, to wit foursquare on every side like a die proceeding from two, an even number: now a man ought to be quadrat odd (as we say) and singular, yea and perfect: and a woman (no less than a die) sure and steadfast, a keeper of home, and not easily removed. Hereunto we must adjoin thus much more also, that eight is a number cubic, arising from two as the base and foot: and nine is a square quadrangle having three for the base: and therefore it seemeth, that where women have two names, men have three.   

103  
What is the reason, that those children who have no certain father, they were 〈◊〉 to terms Spurios?  
FOr we may not think as the Greeks hold, and as orators give out in their pleas, that this word Spurius, is derived of Spora, that is to say, natural seed, for that such children are begotten by the seed of many men mingled and confounded together.  
But surely this Spurius, is one of the ordinary forenames that the Romans take, such as Sextus, Decimus, and Caius. Now these forenames they never use to write out at full with all their letters, but mark them sometime with one letter alone, as for example, Titus, Lucius, and Marcius, with T, L, M; or with twain, as Spurius and Cneus, with Sp. and Cn. or at most with three as Sextus & Servius, with Sex. and Ser. Spurius then is one of their forenames which is noted with two letters S. and P. which signify as much, as Sine Patre, that is to say, without a father; for S. standeth for Sine, that is to say, without; and P. for patre, that is to say a father. And hereupon grew the error, for that Sine patre, and Spurius be written both with the same letters short, Sp. And yet I will not stick to give you another reason, though it be somewhat fabulous, and carrieth a greater absurdity with it: forsooth they say that the Sabines in old time named in their language the nature or privities of a woman, Sporios: and thereupon afterwards as it were by way of reproach, they called him Spurius, who had to his mother a woman unmarried and not lawfully espoused.   

104  
Why is Bacchus called with them, Liber Pater?  
IS it for that he is the author and father of all liberty unto them who have taken their wine well; for most men become audacious and are full of bold and frank broad speech, when they be drunk or cupshotten?  
Or because he it is that ministered libations first, that is to say, those effusions and offerings of wine that are given to the gods?  
Or rather (as Alexander said) because the Greeks called Bacchus, Dionysos Eleuthereus, that is to say, Bacchus the Deliverer: and they might call him so, of a city in 〈◊〉, named 〈◊〉.   

105  
Wherefore was it not the custom among the Romans, that maidens should be wedded upon any days of their public feasts; but widows might be remarried upon those days?  
WAs it for that (as Varro saith) virgins be 
* Or, 〈◊〉 pain: alluding haply ad rupturam Hymenis.  ill-apaid and heavy when they be first wedded; but such as were wives before, 
* Or take delight & pleasure.  be glad and joyful when they marry again? And upon a festival holiday there should be nothing done with an ill will or upon constraint.  
Or rather, because it is for the credit and honour of young damosels, to be married in the view of the whole world; but for widows it is a dishonour and shame unto them, to be seen of many for to be wedded a second time: for the first marriage is lovely and desirable; the second, odious and abominable: for women, if they proceed to marry with other men whiles their former husbands be living, are ashamed thereof; and if they be dead, they are in mourning state of widowhood: and therefore they choose rather to be married closely and secretly in all silence, than to be accompanied with a long train and solemnity, and to have much ado and great stirring at their marriage. Now it is well known that festival holidays divert and distract the multitude diverse ways, some to this game and pastime, others to that; so as they have no leisure to go and see weddings.  
Or last of all, because it was a day of public solemnity, when they first ravished the Sabines daughters: an attempt that drew upon them, bloody war, and therefore they thought it ominous and presaging evil, to suffer their virgins to wed upon such holidays.   

106  
Why do the Romans honour and worship Fortune, by the name of Primigenia, which a man may interpret First begottenor first borne?  
IS it for that (as some say) Servius being by chance borne of a maid-servant and a captive, had Fortune so favourable unto him, that he reigned nobly and gloriously, king at Rome? For most Romans are of this opinion.  
Or rather, because Fortune gave unto the city of Rome her first original and beginning of so mighty an empire.  
Or lieth not herein some deeper cause, which we are to fetch out of the secrets of Nature and Philosophy; namely, that Fortune is the principle of all things, insomuch, as Nature consisteth by Fortune; namely, when to some things concurring casually and by chance, there is some order and dispose adjoined.   

107  
What is the reason that the Romans call those who act comedies and other theatrical plays, Histriones?  
IS it for that cause, which as Claudius Rufus hath left in writing? for he reporteth that many years ago, and namely, in those days when Cajus Sulpitius and Licinius Stolo were Consuls, there reigned a great pestilence at Rome, such a mortality as consumed all the stage players indifferently one with another. Whereupon at their instant prayer and request, there repaired out of Tuscan to Rome, many excellent and singular actors in this kind: among whom, he who was of greatest reputation, and had carried the name longest in all theatres, for his rare gift and dexterity that way, was called Hister; of whose name all other afterwards were termed Histriones.   

108  
Why espoused not the Romans in marriage those women who were near of kin unto them?  
WAs it because they were desirous to amplify and increase their alliances, and acquire more kinsfolk, by giving their daughters in marriage to others, and by taking to wife others than their own kindred?  
Or for that they feared in such wedlock the jars and quarrels of those who be of kin, which are able to extinguish and abolish even the very laws and rights of nature?  
Or else, seeing as they did, how women by reason of their weakness and infirmity stand in need of many helpers, they would not have men to contract marriage, nor dwell in one house with those who were near in blood to them, to the end, that if the husband should offer wrong and injury to his wife, her kinsfolk might succour and assist her.   

109  
Why is it not lawful for Jupiter's priest, whom they name Flamen Dialis to handle or once touch meal or leaven.  
FOr meal, is it not be because it is an unperfect and raw kind of nourishment? for neither continueth it the same that it was, to wit, wheat, etc. nor is that yet which it should be, namely bread: but hath lost that nature which it had before of seed, and withal hath not gotten the use of food and nourishment. And hereupon it is, that the poet calleth meal (by a Metaphor or borrowed speech) Mylephaton, which is as much to say, as killed and marred by the mill in grinding: and as for leaven, both itself is engendered of a 〈◊〉 corruption of meal, and also corrupteth (in a manner) the whole lump of dough, wherein it is mixed: for the said dough becometh less firm and fast than it was before, it hangeth not together; and in one word the leaven of the paste seemeth to be a very putrefaction and tottennesse thereof. And verily if there be too much of the leaven put to the dough, it maketh it so sharp and sour that it cannot be eaten, and in very truth spoileth the meal quite.   

110  
Wherefore is the said priest likewise forbidden to touch raw flesh?  
IS it by this custom to withdraw him far from eating of raw things?  
Or is it for the same cause that he abhorreth and detesteth meal? for neither is it any more a living animal, nor come yet to be meat: for by boiling and roasting it groweth to such an alteration, as changeth the very form thereof: whereas raw flesh and newly killed is neither pure and impolluted to the eye, but hideous to see to; and beside, it hath (I wot not what) resemblance to an ugly sore or filthy ulcer.   

111  
What is the reason that the Romans have expressly commanded the same priest or Flamen of Jupiter, not only to touch a dog or a goat, but not so much as to name either of them?  
TO speak of the Goat first, is it not for detestation of his excessive lust and lechery; and beside for his rank and filthy savour? or because they are afraid of him, as of a diseased creature and subject to maladies? for surely, there seemeth not to be a beast in the world so much given to the falling sickness, as it is; nor infecteth so soon those that either eat of the flesh or once touch it, when it is surprised with this evil. The cause whereof some say to be the straightness of those conduits and passages by which the spirits go and come, which oftentimes happen to be intercepted and stopped. And this they conjecture by the small and slender voice that this beast hath; & the better to confirm the same, we do see ordinarily, that men likewise who be subject to this malady, grow in the end to have such a voice as in some fort resembleth the 〈◊〉 of goats. Now, for the Dog, true it is haply that he is not so lecherous, nor smelleth altogether so strong and so rank as doth the Goat; and yet some there be who say, that a Dog might not be permitted to come within the castle of Athens, nor to enter into the Isle of Delos, because forsooth he lineth bitches openly in the sight of every man, as if bulls, boars, and stallions had their secret chambers, to do their kind with females, and did not leap and cover them in the broad field and open yard, without being abashed at the matter.  
But ignorant they are of the true cause indeed: which is, for that a Dog is by nature fell, and 〈◊〉, given to are and war upon a very small occasion: in which respect men banish them from sanctuaries, holy churches, and privileged places, giving thereby unto poor afflicted suppliants, free access unto them for their safe and sure refuge. And even so very probable it is, that this Flamen or priest of Jupiter whom they would have to be as an holy, sacred, and living image for to fly unto, should be accessible and easy to be approached unto by humble futers, and such as stand in need of him, without any thing in the way to impeach, to put back, or to 〈◊〉 them: which was the cause that he had a little bed or pallet made for him, in the very porch or entry of his house; and that servant or slave, who could find means to come and fall down at his feet, and lay hold on his knees was for that day freed from the whip, and past danger of all other punishment say he were a prisoner with irons, and bolts at his feet that could make shift to approach near unto this priest, he was let loose, and his giveth and fetters were thrown out of the house, not at the door, but flung over the very roof thereof.  
But to what purpose served all this, and what good would this have done, that he should show himself so gentle, so affable, and human, if he had a cursed dog about him to keep his door, and to affright, chase and scar all those away who had recourse unto him for succour. And yet so it is, that our ancients reputed not a dog to be altogether a clean creature: for first and foremost we do not find that he is consecrated or dedicated unto any of the celestial gods; but being sent unto terrestrial & infernal Proserpina into the quarresires and cross high ways to make her a supper, he seemeth to serve for an expiatory sacrifice to divert and turn away some calamity, or to cleanse some filthy 〈◊〉, rather than otherwise: to say nothing, that in Lacedaemon, they cut and slit dogs down along the mids, and so sacrifice them to Mars the most bloody god of all others. And the Romans themselves upon the feast Lupercalia, which they celebrate in the lustral month of Purification, called February, offer up a dog for a sacrifice: and therefore it is no absurdity to think, that those who have taken upon them to serve the most sovereign and purest god of all others, were not without good cause forbidden to have a dog with them in the house, nor to be acquainted and familiar with him.   

112  
For what cause was not the same priest of Jupiter permitted, either to touch an ivy tree, or to pass thorough a way covered over head with a vine growing to a tree, and spreading her branches from it?  
IS not this like unto these precepts of Pythagoras: Eat not your meat from a chair: Sat not upon a measure called Choenix: Neither step thou over a broom or 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  besoome. For surely none of the Pythagoreans feared any of these things, or made scruple to do, as these words in outward show, and in their literal sense do pretend: but under such speeches they did covertly and figuratively forbid somewhat else: even so this precept: Go not under a vine, is to be referred unto wine, and implieth this much; that it is not lawful for the said Priest to be drunk; for such as over drink themselves, have the wine above their heads, and under it they are depressed and weighed down, whereas men and priests especially aught to be evermore superiors and commanders of this pleasure, and in no wise to be subject unto it. And thus much of the vine.  
As for the ivy, is it not for that it is a plant that beareth no fruit, nor any thing good for man's use: and moreover is so weak, as by reason of that feebleness it is not able to sustain itself, but had need of other trees to support and bear it up: and beside, with the cool shadow that it yields, and the green leaves always to be seen, it dazzleth, and as it were be witcheth the 〈◊〉 of many that look upon it: for which causes, men thought that they ought not to nourish or entertain it about an house, because it bringeth no profit; nor suffer it to clasp about any thing, considering it is so hurtful unto plants that admit it to creep upon them, whiles it sticketh fast in the ground: and therefore banished it is from the temples and sacrifices of the celestial gods, and their priests are debarred from using it: neither shall a man ever see in the sacrifices or divine worship of Juno at Athens, nor of Venus at Thebes, any wild ivy brought out of the woods. Mary at the sacrifices and services of 〈◊〉, which are performed in the night and darkness, it is used.  
Or may not this be a covert and figurative prohibition, of such blind dances and fooleries in the night, as these be, which are practised by the priests of Bacchus? for those women which are transported with these furious motions of Bacchus, run immediately upon the ivy, and catching it in their hands, pluck it in pieces, or else chew it between their teeth; in so much as they speak not altogether absurdly, who say, that this ivy hath in it a certain spirit that stirreth and moveth to madness; turneth men's minds to fury; driveth them to ecstasies; troubleth and tormenteth them; and in one word maketh them drunk without wine, and doth great pleasure unto them, who are otherwise disposed and inclined of themselves to such fanatical ravishments of their wit and understanding.   

113  
What is the reason that these Priests and Flamens of Jupiter were not allowed, either to take upon them, or to sue for any government of State? but in regard that they be not capable of such dignities, for honour sake and in some sort to make some recompense for that defect, they have an usher or verger before them carrying a knitch of rods, yea and a curall chair of estate to 〈◊〉?  
IS it for the same cause, that as in some cities of Greece, the sacerdotal dignity was equivalent to the royal majesty of a king, so they would not choose for their priests, mean persons and such as came next to hand.  
Or rather, because Priests having their functions determinate and certain, and the kings, undeterminate and uncertain, it was not possible, that when the occasions and times of both concurred together at one instant, one and the same person should be sufficient for both: for it could not otherwise be, but many times when both charges pressed upon him and urged him at ones, he should pretermit the one or the other, and by that means one while offend and fault in religion toward God, and another while do hurt unto citizens and subjects.  
Or else, considering, that in governments among men, they saw that there was otherwhiles no less necessity than authority; and that he who is to rule a people (as Hypocrates said of a physician, who seeth many evil things, yea and handleth many also) from the harms of other men, reapeth grief and sorrow of his own: they thought it not in policy good, that any one should sacrifice unto the gods, or have the charge and superintendence of sacred things; who had been either present or precedent at the judgements and condemnations to death of his own citizens; yea and otherwhiles of his own kinsfolk and allies, like as it befell sometime to Brutus.    

DEMANDS AND QUESTIONS AS TOUching Greek Affairs: THAT IS TO SAY, A Collection of the manners, and of diverse customs and fashions of certain persons and nations of Greece: which may serve their turn very well, who reading old Authors, are desirous to know the particularities of Antiquity.  

1  
Who are they that in the city Epidaurus be called Conipodes and Artyni?  
THere were an hundred and fourscore men, who had the managing and whole government of the Common weal: out of which number they chose Senators, whom they named Artyni: but the most part of the people abode and dwelled in the country, and such were termed Conipodes, which is as much to say, as Dusty-feets; for that when they came down to the city (as a man may conjecture) they were known by their dusty feet.   

2  
What was she, who in the city of Cumes they named Onobatis?  
WHen there was any woman taken in adultery, they brought her in to the public marketplace, where they set her upon an eminent stone to the end that she might be seen of all the people: and after she had stood there a good while, they mounted her upon an ass, and so led her round about the city: which done, they brought her back again into the marketplace, where she must stand as she did before upon the same stone: and so from that time forward she led an infamous and reproachful life, called of every one by the name of Onobatis that is to say, she that hath ridden upon the ass back. But when they had so done, they reputed that stone polluted, and detested it as accursed and abominable.  
There was likewise in the same city a certain office of a gaoler, whom they called Phylactes: and look who bore this office, had the charge of keeping the prison at all other times: only at a certain assembly and session of the counsel in the night season, he went into the Senate, and brought forth the kings, leading them by the hands, and three held them still, during the time that the Senate had made inquisition and decreed whether they had deserved ill and ruled unjustly or no: giving thus their suffrages and voices privily in the dark.   

3  
What is she, whom they name in the city of Soli, Hypeccaustria?  
SO call they the priestresse of Minerva, by reason of certain sacrifices (which she celebrateth) and other divine ceremonies and services, to put by and divert shrewd turns, which otherwise might happen: the word signifieth as much as a chaufeure.   

4  
Who be they in the city Gnidos, whom they call Amnemones? as also who is Aphester among them?  
THere are three score elect men out of the better sort and principal citizens, whom they employed as overseers of men's lives and behaviour, who also were consulted first, and gave their sentence as touching affairs of greatest importance: and Amnemones they were named, for that they were not, (as a man may very well conjecture) called to any account, nor urged to make answer for any thing that they did: unless haply they were so named, quasi Polymnemones, because they remembered many things and had so good a memory. As for Aphester, he it was who in their scrutinies, demanded their opinions and gathered their voices.   

5  
Who be they, whom the Arcadians and Lacedæmonians term, Chrestos?  
THe Lacedæmonians having concluded a peace with the Tegeates, did set down expressly the articles of agreement in writing, which they caused to be engraven upon a square column, common to them both, the which was erected upon the river 〈◊〉: in which among other covenants this was written: That they might 〈◊〉 the Messenians out of their countries; 
〈◊〉 supra in quest. Rom. 52. where this is somewhat otherwise reported.  howbeit, lawful it should not be to make them Chrestos, which Aristotle expoundeth thus and saith; That they might kill none of the Tegeates who during the war had taken part with the Lacedæmonians.   

6  
What is he whom the Opuntians call, Crithologos.  
THe greatest part of the Greeks in their most ancient sacrifices use certain barley, which the citizens, of their first fruits did contribute: that officer therefore who had the rule and charge of these sacrifices, and the gathering and bringing in of these first fruits of barley, they named Crithologos, as one would say the collector of the barley. Moreover, two priests they had beside, one superintendant over the sacrifices and ceremonies for the gods; another for the devils.   

7  
Which be the clouds called Ploïades.  
THose especially which are 〈◊〉 and disposed to rain, and withal wandering too and fro, and carried here and there in the air; as Theophrastus in the fourth book of Meteors or impressions gathered above in the region of the air, hath put it down word for word in this manner: Considering that the clouds Ploïades (quoth he) and those which be gathered thick, and are settled unmooveable, and beside very white, show a certain diversity of matter, which is neither converted into water, nor resolved into wind.   

8  
Whom do the Boeotians mean by this word, Platychaetas?  
THose whose houses join one to another, or whose lands do border and confinetogether, in the Aeolique language they called so, as if they would say, being near neighbours: to which purpose one example among many I will allege out of our law Thesmophylacium, etc. ****   

9  
What is he who among the Delphians is called Hosioter, and why name they one of the months, Bysios.  
THey name Hosioter that sacrificer who offereth a sacrifice when he is declared Hosios, that is to say, holy; and five there be who are all their life time accounted Hosioi, and those do and execute many things together with their prophets, and join with them in diverse ceremonies of divine service, and gods worship, inasmuch as they are thought to be descended from Deucalion. And for the month called Bysis, many have thought it to be as much as Physius: that is to say, the springing or growing month; for that then, the spring beginneth, and many plants at that time do arise out of ground and bud. But the truth is not so: for the Delphians never use B. instead of Ph. like as the Macedonians do, who for Philippus, Phalacros, and Pheronice, say, Bilippus Balacros, and Beronice: indeed they put B. for P. and it as ordinary with them, to say Batein, for Patein, Bicron, for Picron: and so Bysius, is all one with Pysius, that is to say, the month in which they consult with their god Apollo, and demand of him answers and resolutions of their doubts: for this is the custom of the country, because in this month they propounded their demands unto the Oracle of Apollo, and they supposed the seventh day of the same to be his birthday, which they surnamed also, Polypthous, not as many do imagine, because they then do bake many cakes, which are called Phthois, but for that it is a day wherein diverse do resort unto the Oracle for to be resolved, and many answers are delivered: for it is but of late days that folk were permitted to consult with the Oracle when they list in every month; but before time the religious priestresse of Apollo, named Pythia; opened not the Oracle, nor gave answer but at one time in the year, according as Callistenes and Alexandrides have recorded in writing.   

10  
What signifieth Phyximelon?  
LIttle plants there be, which when they burgeon and shoot out first, the beasts love passing well their first buds and sprouts which they put forth; but in brouzing and cropping them, great injury they do unto the plants and hinder their growth: when as therefore they are grown up to that height that beasts grazing thereabout, can do them no more harm, they be called Phyximela, that is as much to say, as having escaped the danger of cattle, as witnesseth Aeschylus.   

11  
Who be they that are named Aposphendoneti?  
IN times past the Eretrians held the Island Corcyra, until Charicrates arrived there with a fleet from Corinth and vanquished them: whereupon the Eretrians took sea again, and returned toward their natural country: whereof their fellow-citizens being advertised, such I say as stirred not but remained quiet, repelled them, and kept them off from landing upon their ground by charging them with shot from slings. Now when they saw they could not win them by any fair language, nor yet compel them by force of arms, being as they were inexorable, and besides many more than they in number, they made sail to the coasts of Thracia, where they possessed themselves of a place: wherein they report, Methon, one of the predecessors and progenitors of 〈◊〉 sometime dwelled: and there having built a city, they named it Methone; but themselves were surnamed Aposphendoneti, which is as much to say, as repelled and driven back by slings.   

12  
What is that which the Delphians call, Charila?  
THe citizens of Delphos do celebrate continually three Enneaterides, that is to say, feasts celebrated every ninth year, one after another successively. Of which, the first they name, Septerion; the second, Herois; and the third, Charila. As touching the first, it seemeth to be a memorial representing the fight or combat that Phoebus had against Python; and his flight after the conflict, and pursuit after him into the valley of Tempe. For as some do report he fled by occasion of a certain manslaughter and murder that he had committed, for which he sought to be purged: others say that when Python was wounded, and fled by the way which we call, Holy, Phoebus made hot pursuit after him, insomuch as he went within a little of overtaking him, and finding him at the point of death: (for at his first coming he found that he was newly dead of the wounds which he had received in the foresaid fight) also, that he was interred and buried by his son, (who as they say) was named Aix: this novenarie feast therefore, called Septerion, is a representation of this history, or else of some other like unto it. The second named Herois, containeth (I wot not what) hidden ceremonies and fabulous secrets, which the professed priests (in the divine service of Bacchus called Thyades) know well enough: but by such things as are openly done and practised, a man may conjecture, that it should be a certain exaltation or assumption of Semele up into heaven. Moreover, as concerning Charila, there goeth such a tale as this. It fortuned upon a time, that after much drought, there followed great famine in the city of Delphos, insomuch as all the inhabitants came with their wives and children to the court gates, crying out unto their king, for the extreme hunger that they endured. The king thereupon caused to be distributed among the better sort of them, a dole of meal, and certain pulse, for that he had not sufficient to give indifferently to them all: and when there came a little young wench, a siely orphan, fatherless and motherless, who instantly besought him to give her also some relief; the king smote her with his shoe, and flung it at her face. The girl (poor though she was, forlorn and destitute of all worldly succour; howbeit carrying no base mind with her; but of a noble spirit) departed from his presence, and made no more a do, but undid her girdle from her waist and hanged herself therewith. Well, the famine daily increased more and more, and diseases grew thereupon: by occasion whereof, the king went in person to the Oracle of Apollo, supposing to find there some meed and remedy: unto whom Pythia the prophetess made this answer: That the ghost of Charila should be appeased and pacified, who had died a voluntary death. So after long search and diligent enquiry, hardly found in the end it was, that the young maiden whom he had so beaten with his shoe, was named Charila: whereupon they offered a certain sacrifice mixed with expiatory oblations, which they celebrate and perform from nine years to nine, even to this day. For at this solemnity, the king sitting in his chair, dealeth certain meal and pulse among all comers, as well strangers as citizens: and the image of this Charila is thither brought, resembling a young girl: now after that every one hath received part of the dole, the king beateth the said image about the ears with his shoe: and the chief governess of the religious women called, Thyades, taketh up the image, and carrieth it into a certain place full of deep caves, where after they have hung an halter about the neck of it, they enterre it under the ground in that very place where they buried the corpse of Charila, when she had strangled herself.   

21  
What is the meaning of that which they call among the Aeneians, Begged-flesh.  
THE Aeneians in times past had many transmigrations from place to place: for first they inhabited the country about the Plain called Dotion: out of which they were driven by the Lapithae, and went to the Aethicae; and from thence into a quarter of the province Molossis, called Arava, which they held, and thereof called they were Paravae. After all this they seized the city Cirrha: wherein after that they had stoned to death their king Onoclus, by warrant and commandment from Apollo; they went down into that tract that lieth along by the river Inachus, a country inhabited then by the Inachiens and Achaeans. Now they had the answer of an oracle on both sides, to wit, the Inachiens and Achaeans, that if they yielded and gave away part of their country, they should lose all: and the Aeneians, that if they could get once any thing at their hands with their good wills, they should for ever possess and hold all. Things standing in these terms, there was a notable parsonage among the Aeneians, named Temon, who putting on ragged clothes, and taking a wallet about his neck, disguised himself like unto a beggar, and in this habit went to the Inachiens to crave their alms. The king of the Inachiens scorned and laughed at him, and by way of disdain and mockery, took up a clod of earth and gave it him; the other took it right willingly and put it up into his budget: but he made no semblance, neither was he seen to embrace this gift, and to joy therein; but went his way immediately without begging any thing else, as being very well content with that which he had gotten already. The elders of the people wondering hereat, called to mind the said oracle, and presenting themselves before the king, advertised him not to neglect this occurrent, nor to let this man thus to escape out of his hands. But Temon having an inkling of their design, made haste and fled apace, insomuch as he saved himself, by the means of a great sacrifice, even of an hundred oxen which he vowed unto Apollo. This done, both kings, to wit, of the Inachiens and the Aeneians sent defiance one to the other, and challenged combat to fight hand to hand. The king of the Aeneians Phemius, seeing Hyperochus king of the Inachiens coming upon him with his dog, cried out and said: That he dealt not like a just and righteous man, thus to bring an assistant and helper with him: whereat as Hyperochus turned his head about, and looked back for to chase away his dog, Phemius reached him such a rap with a stone upon the side of his head, that he felled him to the ground and killed him outright therewith in the very place. Thus the Aenians having conquered the country, and expelled the Inachiens and the Achaeans, adored ever after that stone as a sacred thing, and sacrificed unto it, and within the fat of the beast sacrificed, enwrap it very charily. Afterwards, whensoever they have according to their vow offered a magnificent sacrifice of an hundred oxen to Apollo, and killed likewise an ox unto Jupiter; the send the best and most daintiest piece of the said sacrifice, unto those that are lineally descended from Temon, which at this day is called among them, The Begged flesh, or the Beggers-flesh.   

41  
Who be those whom the inhabitants of Ithaca, named Coliades? and who is Phagilus among them?  
AFter that Ulysses had killed those who wooed his wife in his absence, the kinsfolk and friends of them being now dead, rose up against him to be revenged: but in the end they agreed on both sides to send for Neoptolemus, to make an accord and atonement between them: who having undertaken this arbitrement, awarded that Ulysses should depart out of those parts, and quit the Isles of Cephalenia, Ithaca and Zacynthus, in regard of the bloodshed that he had committed. Item, that the kinsfolk and friends of the said wooers, should pay a certain fine every year unto Ulysses in recompense, for the riot, damage, and havoke they had made in his house. As for Ulysses, he withdrew himself and departed into Italy: but for the mulct or fine imposed upon them, which he had consecrated unto the gods; he took order that those of Ithaca should tender the payment thereof unto his son: and the same was a quantity of meal and of wine, a certain number of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 haply hony-combs.  wax-lights or tapers, oil, salt, and for sacrifices the bigger sort and better grown of Phagili: now Phagilus, Aristotle interpreteth to be a lamb.  
Moreover, as touching Eumaeus, Telemachus enfranchised him and all his posterity; yea, and endued them with the right of free burgeosie. And so the progeny of Eumaeus are at this day the house and family, called Coliadae, like as Bucolij be those who are descended from Philaetius.   

15  
What is the wooden 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 i. a pillar, as the Latin interpreteth it.  dog among the Locrians?  
LOcrus was the son of Physcius, who had to his father Amphyction. This Locrus had by Cabya a son named likewise Locrus: with him his father was at some variance; who having gathered a number of citizens to him, consulted with the oracle about a place where he should build a new city, and people it in the nature of a colony. The oracle returned unto him this answer: That in what place a dog of wood did bite him, there he should found a city. And so when he had passed over to the other side of the sea, and was landed, he chanced to tread as he walked along upon a brier, which in Greek is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and was so pricked therewith, that he was constrained there to sojourn certain days: during which time, after he had well viewed and considered the country, he founded these towns, to wit, Physces and Hyanthia, and all those beside, which were afterwards inhabited by the Locrians, surnamed Ozolae, that is to say, Stinking: which surname some say was given unto these Locrians, in regard of Nessus; others in respect of the great dragon Python, which being cast up a land by the sea, putrefied upon the coast of the Locrians: others report, that by occasion of certain sheeps fells and goats skins, which the men of that country used to wear; and because that for the most part they conversed among the flocks of such cattle, and smelled rank, and carried a strong stinking savour about them, thereupon they were cleped Ozolae. And some there be who hold the clean contrary, and say that the country being full of sweet flowers, had that name of the good smell; among whom is Architas of Amphissa, for thus he writeth: 
Atract with crown of grapes, full lively dight:  
Scenting of flowers like spice Macyna height.    

16  
What is it which the Megarians call Aphabroma?  
NIsus, of whom the city Nisaea took the name being king of Megaris, espoused a wife out Boeotia named Abrota, the daughter of Onchestus, and sister to Megareus, a dame of singular wisdom, and for chastity and virtue incomparable: when she was dead the Megarians for their part willingly and of their own accord mourned: and Nisus her husband desirous to eternize her name and remembrance by some memorial, caused her bones to be set together, and the same to be clad with the very same apparel that she was wont to wear in her life time: and of her name he called that habit and vesture Aphabroma. And verily it seemeth that even god Apollo himself did favourize the glory of this lady: for when the wives of Megara were minded many times to change these robes and habiliments, they were always forbidden and and debarred by this oracle.   

17  
Who is Doryxenus; among the Megarians  
THe province Megaris was in old time inhabited by certain towns and villages; and the citizens or inhabitants being divided into five parts, were called Heraens, Pyraens, Megarians, Cynosuriens, and Tripodissaeans: now the Corinthians their next neighbours, and who spied out all occasions, and sought means to reduce the proovince Megarica under their obedience, practised to set them together by the ears, and wrought it so, that they warred one upon another: but they carried such a moderate hand, and were so respective in their wars, that they remembered evermore they were kinsfolk and of a blood: and therefore warred after a mild and gentle manner; for no man offered any injury or violence to the husbandmen that tilled the ground on either side: and look whosoever chanced to be taken prisoners, were to pay for their ransom a certain piece of money, set down between them: which sum of money was received ever after they were delivered, and not before, because no man would demand it: for look who had taken a captive in the war, he would bring him home with him into his house, and make him good cheer at his own table, consult together, and then send him home in peace: and the party thus set free, when he came duly and brought his ransom aforesaid with him, was commended and thanked for it, yea, and continued ever after unto his dying day, friend unto him received the money: and thus in stead of Doryalotos', which signifieth a prisoner taken in war, he was called Doryxenus, that is to say, a friend made by war; for he who kept back the said money, and defrauded the right master thereof; became all his life time infamous, not only among enemies, but also among his own fellow-citizens, as being reputed a wicked, perfidious, and false wretch.   

18  
What is Palintocia among the Megarians?  
THe Megarians when they had expelled their tyrant Theagenes, for a pretty while after, used good and moderate government in their commonwealth: but when as their flattering orators and clawback's of the people began unto them once (as Plato very well said) in a cup of the mere and undelaied wine of liberty, that is to say, commended unto them excessive licentiousness, they came to be exceeding saucy and malapert, and were utterly corrupt and marred, insomuch as they committed all insolent outrages that could be devised against the substantial and wealthy burgesses: and among other bold parts, the poor and needy would presume to go into their houses, and command them for to entertain them with great cheer, & to feast them sumptuously: if they refused so to do, they would make no more ado, but take away perforce whatsoever they could lay hands on in the house, & in one word, abuse them all most villainously. In conclusion, they made a statute and ordinance, by virtue whereof it might be lawful for them to demand back again at the hands of those usurers, who had let them have money before time, all the interest and consideration for use which they had paid before, and this they called Palintocia.   

19  
What city or country is that Anthedon, whereof the prophetess Pythia spoke in these verses. 
Drink out thy wine, the lees the dregs and all;  
Anthedon thou thy country canst not call.   
FOr that Anthedon which is in Boeotia, is not so plentiful of good wines; Calauria indeeds as fables make report, was sometime called Irene, by the name of a lady so cleped, the daughter of Neptune and Melanthia, who was the daughters of Alpheus; but afterwards being held and inhabited by Anthes and Hyperes, surnamed it was, Anthedonia and Hyperia: for the answer of the oracle, as Aristotle testifieth, went in this manner: 
Drink out thy wine, with lees, with dregs and all,  
Anthedon thou thy country canst not call;  
Nor Hypera that sacred isle, for there  
Thou mightst it drink without dregs pure and clear.  Thus (I say) writeth Aristotle: but Mnasigiton saith, that Anthos being brother of Hyperes, was lost when he was but a very child; and when his brother Hyperes for to search him out, traveled and wandered to and fro all about, he came at length to Pheres, unto Acastus or Adrastus, where by goodfortune Anthos served in place of cupbearer, and had the charge of the wine cellar: now as they sat feasting at the table, the boy Anthos when he offered a cup of wine unto his brother, took knowledge of him, and said softly in his ear: 
Drink now your wine, with lees, with dregs and all;  
Anthedon you can not your country call.    

20  
What is the meaning of this byword in Priene: Darkness about the oak?  
THe Samians and Prienians warred one against the other, doing and suffering harm reciprocally, but so, as the damages and losses were tolerable, until such time as in one great battle fought between them, those of Priene put to the sword in one day, a thousand Samians: but seven years after in another conflict which the Prienians had against the Milesians near unto a place called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, Oak, they lost the most valiant & principal citizens they had; which happened at the very time when sage Bias being sent ambassador unto Samos, wan great honour and reputation: this was a woeful day and a pitiful, and heavy calamity to all the dames of Priene in general; for there was not one of them but this common loss in some measure touched; insomuch as this byword was taken up amongst them afterwards, in form of a cursed malediction or solemn oath, in their greatest affairs to bind them withal, By that Darkness at the oak; for that either their fathers, brethren, husbands, or children, were then and there slain.   

21  
What were they among the Candiots, who were called Catacautae?  
IT is reported that certain Tyrthenians having ravished & carried away by force, a number of the Athenians daughtes & wives out of Brawron, at what time as they inhabited the Island Imbros and Lemnos, were afterwards chased out of those quarters and landed upon the coast of Laconia, which they inhabited; where they entered into such acquaintance with the women of the country, that they begat children of them; whereupon in the end they grew to be suspected and ill spoken of by the natural inhabitants, so that they were forced to abandon Laconia, and to return again into Candy under the conduct of polis and his brother Crataidas: where, warring upon them that held the country, they left many of their bodies who died in sundry skirmshes lying upon the land neglected and unburied: at the first because they had no time and leisure to inter them, by reason of the sore war which they maintained continually, & the danger that would have ensued, in case they had gone to take up their bodies: but afterwards because they abhorred to touch those dead carcases that lay stinking and putrefying with the heat of the sun, for that they had continued so long above ground: polis therefore one of their leaders devised certain honours, privileges, exemptions, & immunities, to bestow partly upon the priests of the gods, and in part upon those who buried the dead; and consecrated solemnly these prerogatives unto some terrestrial deities, to the end they might be more durable and remain inviolate: afterwards he parted with his brother by lot. Now the one sort were named Sacrificers, and the other Catacautae; who governed a part, with their own laws and particular discipline: by virtue whereof among other good orders and civil customs, they were not subject to certain crimes and enormities, whereunto other Candiots are commonly given; namely to rob, pill and spoil one another secretly: for these did no wrong one to another; they neither did steal, nor pilfer, nor carry away other men's goods.   

22  
What meaneth the Sepulchre of children among thy Chalcidians?  
COthus and Aeclus the sons of Xuthus arrived at Euboea, to seek them a place of habitation; the which Isle was for the most part possessed and occupied by the Aeolians. Now Cothus had a promise by oracle, that he should prosper in the world, and have the upper had of his enemies, in case he bought or purchased that land: wherefore being come a shore with some few of his men, he found certain young children playing by the sea side; with whom he joined, disported with them, made much of them, showing unto them many pretty gauds and toys that had not been before time seen in those parts: and when he perceived that the children were in love thereof, and desirous to have them; he said that he would not give them any of his sine things, unless by way of exchange he might receive of them some of their land: the children therefore taking up a little of the mould with both hands, gave the same unto him, and having received from him the foresaid gauds, went their ways. The Aeolians hearing of this, and withal discovering their enemies under sail directing their course thither, and ready to invade them, taking counsel of anger and sorrow together, killed those children: who were entombed along that great high way, by which men go from the city to the straight or frith called Euripus. Thus you see wherefore that place was called the children's sepulchre.   

23  
What is he whom in Argos they call Mixarchagenas? and who be they that are named Elasians?  
AS for Mixarchagenas, it was the surname of Castor among them; and the Argives believe verily that buried he was in their territory. But Pollux his brother they reverenced and worshipped as one of the heavenly gods.  
Moreover, those who are thought to have the gift to divert and put by, the fits of the Epilepsy or falling sickness, they name Elasiae, and they are supposed to be descended from Alexidas, the daughter of Amphiaraiis.   

24  
What is that which the Argives call Encnisma?  
THose who have lost any of their near kinsfolks in blood, or a familiar friend, were wont presently after their mourning was past, to sacrifice unto Apollo, and thirty days after unto Mercury: for this they thought, that like as the earth receiveth the bodies of the dead, so doth Mercury the souls. To the minister of Apollo they give barley, and receive of him again in am thereof, a piece of flesh of the beast killed for sacrifice. Now after that they have quenched the former fire as polluted and defiled, they go to seek for others elsewhere, which after they have kindled, they roast the said flesh with it, and then they call that flesh, Encnisma.   

25  
Who is Alastor, Aliterios and Palamnaeus?  
FOr we must not believe it is, as some bear us in hand, that they be Alitery, who in time of famine, go prying and spying those who 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 He saith otherwise in the end of his treause concerning Curiosity.  grind corn in their houses, and then carry it away by violence: but we are to think that Alastor is he who hath committed acts that be Alasta, that is to say, not to be forgotten, and the remembrance whereof will continue a long time after. And Aliterius is he who for his wickedness deserveth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, to be shunned and avoided of all men; and such an one is otherwise called Palamnaeus: and thus much saith Socrates, was written in tables of brass.   

26  
What should the meaning of this be, that the Virgins who accompanied the men that drive the beef from Aenus, toward the city Cassiopaea, go all the way even unto the very borders chanting this ditty: 
Would God, return another day,  
To native soil you never may?   
THe Aenians being driven out of their own country by the Lapithae, inhabited first about Aethacia; and afterwards in the province of Molossis near unto Cassiopaea. But seeing by experience little good or none growing unto them out of that country, and withal finding the people adjoining to be ill neighbours unto them; they went into the plain of Cirrha, under the leading of their king Onoclus: but being surprised there, with a wonderful drought, they sent unto the oracle of Apollo; who commanded them to stone their king Onoclus to death, which they did: and after that put themselves in their voyage again, to seek out a land where they might settle and make their abode; and so long traveled they until at the last they came into those parts which they inhabit at this day, where the ground is good and fertile, and bringing forth all fruitful commodities. Reason they had therefore you see to wish and pray unto the gods, that they might never return again unto their ancient country, but remain there for ever in all prosperity.   

27  
What is the reason that it is not permitted at Rhodes for the her ault or public crier, to enter into the temple of Ocridion?  
IS it for that Ochimus in times past affianced his daughter Cydippe unto Ocridion, but Cercaphus the brother of Ochimus being enamoured of his niece Cydippe, persuaded the herald (for in those days the manner was to demand their brides in marriage, by the means of heralds, and to receive them at their hands) that when he had Cydippe once delivered unto him, he should bring her unto him: which was effected accordingly. And this Cercaphus being possessed of the maiden fled away with her: but in process of time when Ochimus was very aged, Cercaphus returned home. Upon which occasion the Rhodians enacted a law, that from thence forth, there should never any herald set foot within the temple of Ocridion, in regard of this injury done unto him.   

28  
What is the cause that among the Tenedians, it is not lawful for a piper or player of the fluit to come within the temple of Tenes: neither is it permitted to make any mention there of Achilles?  
IS it not because when the stepmother of Tenes had accused him, for that he would have lain with her, Malpus the minstrel avouched it to be true, and most falsely bare witness against him: whereupon he was forced to fly with his sister unto Tenedos?  
Furthermore it is said, that Thet is the mother of Achilles, gave express commandment unto her son, and charged him in any wise not to kill Tenes; for that he was highly beloved of Apollo. Whereupon she commanded one of his servants to have a careful eye unto him, and eftsoons to put him in mind of this charge that he had from her; lest haply he might forget himself, and at unwares take away his life: but as he overran Tenedos, he had a sight of Tenes sister, a fair and beautiful lady and pursued her: but Tenes put himself between, for to defend and save the honour of his sister; during which conflict she escaped and got away: but her brother's fortune was to be slain: but Achilles perceiving that it was Tenes, when he lay dead upon the ground, killed his servant outright, for that being present in place during the fray, he did not admonish him according as he was commanded: but Tenes he buried in that very place where now his temple standeth. Lo, what was the cause that neither a piper is allowed to go into his temple, nor Achilles may be once named there.   

29  
Who is that, whom the Fpidamnians call Polletes?  
THe Epidamnians being next neighbours unto the Illyrians, perceived that their citizens who conversed, commerced, and traded in traffic with them, became nought, and fearing beside some practice for the alteration of state: they chose every year one of the best approved men of their city, who went to and fro for to make all contracts, bargains, and exchanges, that those of Epidamnus might have with the Barbarians, and likewise dealt reciprocally in these affairs and negotiations, that the Illyrians had with them: now this factor that thus bought and sold in their name, was called Poletes.   

30  
What is that, which in Thracia they call Araeni Acta, that is to say, the Shore of Araenus?  
THe Andrians and Chalcidians having made a voyage into Thrace, for to choose out a place to inhabit: surprised jointly together the city Sana, which was betrayed and delivered into their hands. And being advertised that the Barbarians had abandoned the town Achantus, they sent forth two spies to know the truth thereof: these spies approached the town so near, that they knew for certain, that the enemies had quit the place and were gone. The party who was for the Chalcidians ran before to take the first possession of it in the name of the Chalcidians: but the other, who was for the Andrians, seeing that he could not with good footmanship overtake his fellow; flung his dart or javelin from him which he had in his hand: and when the head thereof stuck in the city gate, he cried out aloud, that he had taken possession thereof in the behalf of the Andrians, with his javelin head. Hereupon arose some variance and controversy between these two nations, but it broke not out to open war: for they agreed friendly together, that the Erythraeans, Samians, and Parians should be the indifferent judges to arbitrate and determine all their debates and suits depending between them. But for that the Erythraeans and Samians awarded on the Andrians side, and the Parians for the Chalcidians: the Andrians in that very place took a solemn oath, and bound the same with inprecations, curses, and maledictions, that they would never either take the daughters of the Parians in marriage, or affiance their own unto them: and for this cause they gave this name unto the place, and called it the Shore or bank of Araenus, where as before it was called, the Port of of the Dragon.   

31  
Why do the wives of the Eretrians at the solemn feast of Ceres, roast their flesh meat not at the fire, but against the Sun, and never call upon her by the name of Calligenia?  
IT is for that the dames of Troy whom the king led away captive, were celebrating this feast in this place: but because the time served to make sail, they were enforced to haste away and leave their sacrifice unperfect and unfinished?   

32  
Who be they whom the Milessians call Ainautae?  
AFter that the tyrants Thoas and Damasenor, had been defaited, there arose within the city two factions that maintained their several sides: the one named Plontis & the other Cheiromacha. In the end, that of Plontis (who were indeed the richest & mightiest persons in the city) prevailed, and having gotten the upper hand, seized the soveregne authority & government: and because when they minded to sit in consultation of their weightiest affairs, they went a shipboard, and launched into the deep a good way off from the land; and after they had resolved and decreed what to do, returned back again into the haven, therefore they were surnamed Ainautae, which is as much to say, as alway sailing.   

33  
What is the cause that the Chalcidians name one place about Pyrsophion; The assembly of lusty gallants?  
NAuplius (as the report goeth) being chased and pursued by the Achaeans, fled for refuge like an humble suppliant to the Chalcidians; where partly he answered to such imputations which were laid against him, and in part by way of recrimination, recharged them with other misdemeanours and outrages: whereupon the Chalcidians being not purposed to deliver him into their hands, and yet fearing lest by treachery and privy practice he should be made away and murdered, allowed him for the guard of his person, the very flower of the lustiest young gallants in all their city, whom they lodged in that quarter where they might always converse and meet together, and so keep Nauplius out of danger.   

34  
What was he who sacrificed an ox unto his benefactor?  
THere hovered sometime a ship of certain men of war, or rovers, and ankered about the coast of Ithacestia, within which there was an old man who had the charge of a number of earthen pots, containing Amphors a piece, with pitch in them: now it fortuned that a poor mariner or bargeman named Pyrrhias, who got his living by ferrying and transporting passengers, approached the said ship, and delivered the old man out of the rovers hands, and saved his life, not for any gain that he looked for, but only at his earnest request, and for very pure pity and compassion: now in recompense hereof, albeit he expected none, the old man pressed instantly upon him to receive some of those pots or pitchers aforesaid: the rovers were not so soon retired and departed out of the way, but the old man seeing him at liberty, and secure of danger, brought Pyrrhias to these earthen vessels, and showed unto him a great quantity of gold and silver mingled with the pitch: Pyrrhtas hereby growing of a sudden to be rich and full of money, entreated the old man very kindly in all respects, otherwise and beside sacrificed unto him a bees: and hereupon as they say arose this common proverb: No man ever sacrificed an ox unto his benefactor but Pyrrhias.   

35  
What is the cause that it was a custom among the maidens of the Bottiaeans in their dancing to sing as it were the faburden of a song: Go we to Athens.  
THe Candiots by report upon a vow that they had made, sent the first borne of their men unto Delphos; but they that were thus sent, seeing they could not find sufficient means there to live in plenty, departed from thence to seek out some convenient place for a colony to inhabit: and first they settled themselves in Japigia, but afterwards arrived to this very place of Thracia, where now they are, having certain Athenians mingled among them: for it is not like that Minos had caused those young men to be put to death whom the Athenians had sent unto him by way of tribute, but kept them for to do him service: some therefore of their issue, & descended from them, being reputed natural Candiots, were with them sent unto the city of Delphos; which is the reason that the young daughters of the Bottiaeans in remembrance of this their original descent, went singing in their festival dances: Go we to Athens.   

36  
What should be the reason that the aliens wives, when they chaum hymns to the honour of Bacchus, pray him to come unto them, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, with his bull foot; for the hymn runneth in this form: pleaseth it thee right worthy lord Bacchus to come unto this holy maritime temple of thine, accompanied with the Graces, 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  〈◊〉 I say to this temple with an ox or beef foot: then for the faburden of the song, they redouble; O worthy bull, o worthy bull?  
IS it for that some name this god, The son or begotten of a cow; and others term him, Bul; or is the meaning of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 with thy great foot, like as Homer when he calleth Juno or any other 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifieth her to have a big and large eye, and by the epithit 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 meaneth one that braggeth and boasteth of great matters?  
Or rather because that the foot of a beef doth no harm, howsoever horned beasts otherwise be hurtful and dangerous; therefore they invocate thus upon him, and beseech him to come loving and gracious unto them.  
Or lastly, for that many are persuaded, that this is the god who taught men first to plough the ground and to sow corn.   

37  
Why have the Tanagraeans a place before their city called Achilleum? for it is said, that Achilles in his life time bore more hatred than love unto this cicy, as who ravished and stole away Stratonicon the mother of Poemander, and killed Acestor the son of Ephippus.  
POEmander the father of Ephippus, at what time as the province of Tanagra, was peopled and inhabited by tenors and villages only, being by the Achaeans besieged in a place called Stephon, for that he would not go forth with them to war, abandoneth the said fort in the night time, and went to build the city Poemandria, which he walled about. The architect or master builder Polycrithus was there, who dispraised all his work, and derided it, in so much as in a mockery he leapt over the trench; whereat Poemander took such displeasure, and was so highly offended, that he meant to fling at his head a great stone, which lay there hidden of old upon the nightly sacrifices of Bacchus. But Poemander notknowing so much, pulled it up by force, and threw it at him; and missing Polycrithus, hit his son Leucippus, and killed him outright. Hereupon according to the law and custom then observed, there was no remedy but needs he must depart out of Boeotia, in manner of an exiled man; and so as a poor suppliant and stranger to converse, wandering abroad in another country, which was neither safe nor easy for him to do at that time, considering that the Achaeans were up in arms and entered into the country of Tanagra. He sent therefore his son Ephippus unto Achilles, for to request his favour; who by earnest supplications and prayers prevailed so much, that he entreated both him, and also Tlepolemus the son of Hercules; yea and Peneleus the son of Hippalcmus, who were all of their kindred: by whose means Poemander had safe conduct, and was accompanied as far as the city of Chalcis, where he was assoiled, absolved and purged by Elpenor, for the murder which he had committed. In remembrance of which good turn by those princes received, he ever after honoured them, and to them all erected temples; of which that of Achilles continueth unto this day, and according to his name is called Achilleum.   

38  
Who be they, whom the Boeotians call Psoloes, and who be Aeolies.  
THE report goeth that Leucippe, Arsinoe and Alcathie, the daughters of Minyas, being enraged and bestraight of their right wits, longed exceedingly to eat man's flesh, and cast lots among themselves, which of them should kill their own children for that purpose. So the lot falling upon Leucippe, she yielded her son Hippasus to be dismembered and cut in pieces; by occasion whereof, their husbands simply arrayed, and in mourning weeds for sorrow and grief were called Psoloes, as one would say, foul and smoky; and the women 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, distracted and troubled in their minds, or Oconoloae: so as even at this day the Orchomenians, call those women who are descended from them by those names: and every second year during the festival days called Agrionia, the priest of Bacchus runneth after them with a sword drawn in his hand, coursing and chase them: yea and lawful it is for him to kill any one of them that he can reach and overtake. And verily in our days Zoilus the priest killed one; but such never come to any good after: for both this Zoilus himself upon a certain little ulcer or sore that he had, fell sick; and after he had a long time pined away and consumed therewith, in the end died thereof: and also the Orchomenians being fallen into public calamities, and held in general for condemned persons, translated the priesthood from that race and lineage, and conferred it upon the best and most approved person they could choose.   

39  
What is the cause that the Arcadians stone them to death, who willingly and of purpose enter within the pourprise and precincts of Lycaeum: but if any come into of ignorance and unawares, than they send to Eleutherae?  
AS for these, may it not be that they are held free and absolved who do it upon ignorance: and by reason of this their absolution, this manner of speech arose, to send them to Eleutherae, which signifieth Deliverance: much like as when we say thus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, into the region of the secure; or thus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, thou shalt go to the Manor of the Pleasant.  
Or haply it alludeth to the tale that goeth in this wise; that of Lycaon's sons there were but two only, to wit, Eleuther and Lebadus, who were not partakers of the horrible crime, that their father committed in the sight of Jupiter, but fled into Boeotia; in token whereof, the Lebadians enjoy still their burgeosie in common with the Arcadians: and therefore to Eleutherae they send those, who against their wills or unawares are entered within that pourprise consecrat unto Jupiter, into which it is not lawful for any man to go.  
Or rather, as Architemus writeth in his Chronicles of Arcadia, for that there were some who being ignorantly entered, into the said place, were delivered and yielded unto the Phliasians, who put them over to the Megarians, and from the Megarians they were carried to Thebes: but as they were transported and conveyed thither, they were stayed about Eleutherae, by means of violent rain, terrible thunder, and other prodigious tokens; by occasion whereof, some would have the city to take the name Eleutherae.  
Moreover, whereas it is said that the shadow of him who cometh within this precinct of Lycaeum, never falleth upon the ground: it is not true, howbeit it goeth generally currant, and is constantly believed for an undoubted truth. But is it not think you, for that the air turneth presently into dark clouds, and looketh obscure and heavy (as it were) when any enter into it: or because, that whosoever cometh into it incontinently, suffereth death. And you know what the Pythagoreans say, namely, that the souls of the dead, cast no shadow nor wink at all.  
Or rather, for that it is the sun that maketh shadows, and the law of the country bereaveth him that entereth into it, of the sight of the sun; which covertly and enigmatically they would give us to understand under these words: For even he who cometh into this place is called Elaphos, that is to say a Stag; and therefore Cantharion the Arcadian, who fled unto the Elians of his own accord to side with them, at what time as they warred upon the Arcadians; and as he passed with his booty that he had gotten, went through this sacred place: when after the war was ended, he returned to Lacedaemon; was by the Lacedæmonians delivered up to the Arcadians, by direction and commandment of the oracle, which enjoined them to render the Stag.   

40  
What is that Demigod in Tanagra, known by the name of Eunostus? And what is the reason that women may not enter within the groave dedicated unto him?  
THis Eunostus was the son of Elieus, the son of Cephisus and Scias; so named of Eunosta a certain nymph that nourished and brought him up: who being fair and just withal, was also chaste, continent and of an austere life. Howbeit the report goeth, that one of the daughters of Collonus named Ochna, being his cousin german became enamoured upon him: but when she had tempted him and assayed to win his love; Eunostus repulsed and rejected her with reproachful terms, and went his way intending to accuse her unto her brethren: which the maiden suspecting and fearing, prevented him and slandered him first before her brethren Ochemus, Leon, and Bucolus, whom she incensed against Eunostus, that they would kill him, as one who by force had deflowered their sister. These brethren then having lain in ambush for the young man, murdered him treacherously: for which fact Elieus cast them in prison; and 〈◊〉 herself repenting of that which she had done, was much troubled and tormented in mind therefore, being desirous beside to deliver herself from the grief and agony which she endured by reason of her love, and withal pitying her brethren imprisoned for her sake, discovered the whole truth unto Elicus: and Elicus again unto Collonus: by whose accord and judgement, these brethren of Ochna fled their country and were banished: but she cast herself voluntarily down headlong from an high rock, according as Myrtis the poetresse hath left in verse. And this is the cause, that both the temple of Eunostus, and also the grave about it remained ever after, inaccessible, and not to be appoched by women: insomuch as many times when there happen any great earthquakes, extraordinary droughts, and other fearful and prodigious tokens from heaven, the Tanagrians make diligent search and inquisition, whether there have not been some one woman or other, who secretly hath presumed to come near unto the said place. And some have reported (among whom was one Clidamus a noble and honourable parsonage) that they met with Eunostus upon the way, going to wash and cleanse himself in the sea, for that there was one woman who had been so bold as to enter into his sanctuary And verily Diocles himself in a treatise that he made of Demigods, or such worthy men as had been deified, maketh mention of a certain edict, or decree of the Tanagrians, touching those things which Clidamus had related unto them.   

41  
How cometh it that in the country of Boeotia, the river that runneth by Eleon, is called Scamander?  
DEimachus the son of Eleon, being a familiar companion with Hercules, was with him at the Trojan war: during the time whereof, continuing as it did very long, he entertained the love of Glaucia the daughter of Scamander, who was first enamoured of him, and so well they agreed together, that in the end she was with child by him. Afterwards it fortuned, so that in a skirmish with the Trojans he lost his life: and Glaucia fearing that her belly would tell tales and bewray what she had done, fled for succour unto Hercules, and of her own accord declared unto him, how she had been surprised with love, and what familiar acquaintance there had passed between her and Deimachus late deceased. Hercules as well in pity of the poor woman, as for his own joy and contentment of mind, that there was like to remain some issue of so valiant a man, and his familiar friend beside, had Glaucta with him to his ships: and when she was delivered of a fair son, carried her into the country of Boeotia, where he delivered her and her son into the hands of Eleon. The child than was named Scamander, and became afterwards king of that country; who surnamed the river Inachus after his own name Scamander, and a little riveret running thereby, Glaucta, by the name of his mother: as for the fountain Acidusa it was so cleped according to his wife's name; by whom he had three daughters, who are even unto this day honoured in that country, and called by the name of the virgins.   

42  
Whereupon arose this proverbial speech, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, these things shall stand or prevail?  
DIno the captain general of the Tarentines, being a right valiant and hardy warrior, when as the citizens by their voices and suffrages denied a sentence which he had delivered as the herald or crier proclaimed and published with a loud voice that opinion which prevailed, lifting up his own right hand himself: Yea but this (quoth he) shall carry it away when all is done. Thus Theophrastus reporteth this narration: but Apollidorus relateth moreover in his Rhytinus that when the herald had proclaimed thus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, these be more in number, meaning the voices of the people: Yea but (quoth he) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, these be better; and in so doing, confirmed the resolution of those who were in number the fewer.   

43  
Upon what occasion was the city of the Ithacesians, named Alalcomenae?  
MOst writers have recorded, that Anticlia being yet a virgin, was forced by Sisyphus, and conceived Ulysses. But Hister of Alexandria hath written moreover in his Commentaries, that she being given in marriage unto Laertes, and brought into the city Alalcomenium in Boeotia, was delivered there of Ulysses; and therefore he (to renew the memory of that city where he was borne and which was the head city standing in the heart of that country) called that in Ithaca by the name thereof.   

44  
Who be they in the city Aegina, which are called Monophagi?  
OF those Aeginets, who served in the Trojane war many died in fight, howbeit more were drowned by means of a tempest in their voyage at sea. But those few who returned were welcomed home, and joifully received by their kinsfolk and friends: who perceiving all their other fellow-citizens to mourn and be in heaviness, thought this with themselves, they ought not to rejoice nor offer sacrifice unto the gods openly, but in secret: and so, every man a part in his private house, entertained those who were escaped and came home safe with feasts and banquets: and served at the table in their own persons, unto their fathers, their brethren, cousins and friends, without admitting any stranger whatsoever: in imitation whereof they do yet every year sacrifice unto Neptune in secret assemblies, which sacrifices they call Thyasi; during which solemnity they do feast one another privately for the space of sixteen days together with silence, and there is not a servant or slave there present to wait at the board: but afterwards for to make an end of their feasting, they celebrate one solemn sacrifice unto Venus. And thus you may see why they be called Monophagi, that is to say, Eating alone, or by themselves.   

45  
What is the cause that in the country of Caria, the image of Jupiter Labradeus is made, holding aloft in his hand an axe, and neither a sceptre nor a thunder bolt, or lightning?  
FOr that Hercules having slain Hippolyta the Amazon, and among other arms of hers won her battle axe, and gave it as a present unto Omphale: this axe, all the kings that reigned in Lydia after Omphale, carried as an holy and sacred monument; which they received successively from hand to hand of their next progenitors, until such time as Candaules disdaining to bear it himself, gave it unto one of his friends to carry. Afterwards, it chanced that Gyges put himself in arms against Candaules, and with the help of Arcelis, who brought a power of men to aid him out of Mylei, both defeated him, and also killed that friend of his from whom he took away the said axe, and put the same into the image of Jupiter's hand, which he had made. In which respect he surnamed Jupiter, Labradeus, for that the Lydians in their language call an axe Labra.   

46  
Wherefore do the Trallians call the pulse Ervil Catharter, that is to say, the purger: and use it more than any other in their expiatory sacrifices of Purification?  
IS it for that the Minyans and Lelegians, having in old time dizseized the said Trallians of their cities and territories, inhabited and occupied the same themsalves? but the Trallians made head afterwards, and prevailed against them, insomuch as those Lelegians who were neither slain in battle, nor escaped by flight, but either for feebleness, or want of means otherwise to live, remained still, they made no reckoning of, whether they died or lived; enacting a law, that what Trallian soever killed either a Lelegian or Minyan, he should be absolved and held quit, in case he paid unto the next kinsfolk of the dead party; a measure called Medimnis, of the said Ervill.   

47  
What is the reason that it goeth for an ordinary byword among the Elians to say thus; To suffer more miseries and calamities than Sambicus?  
THere was one Sambicus of the city Elis, who by report having under him many mates and complices at command, brake and defaced sundry images and statues of brass within the city Olympia, and when he had so done, sold the brass and made money of it: in the end he proceeded so far as to rob the temple of Diana surnamed Episcopos, that is to say, a vigilant patroness and superintendent. This temple standeth within the city Elis, and is named Aristarchium. After this notorious sacrilege he was immediately apprehended, and put to torture a whole year together to make him for to bewray and reveal all his companions and confederates: so as in the end he died in these torments, and thereupon arose the said common proverb-   

48  
What is the reason that at Lacedaemon the monument of Ulysses, standeth close to the temple of the Leucippidae?  
HErgiaeus one of the race descended from Diomedes, by the motionam linstigation of Temenus induced, robbed out of Argos the renowned image of Minerva, called Palladium, and that with the privity and assistance of Leaguer in this sacrilege: now this Leaguer was one of the familiars and inward companions of Temenus: who being fallen out afterwards with Temenus, in a fit of anger, departed to Lacedaemon with the said Palladium: which the kings there received at his hands right joifully and placed it near unto the temple of the Leucippides: but afterwards they sent to the oracle at Delphos, to know by what means they might keep and preserve the said image in safety: the oracle made this answer, that they should commit the keeping of it unto one of them who had stolen it away: whereupon they built in that very place a monument in memorial of Ulysses, where they shrined Palladium; and beside, they had the more reason so to do, because in some sort Ulysses was allied to their city, by this wife's side lady Penelope.   

49  
What is the the reason that the Chalcedonian dames have a custom among them, that whensoever they meet with any men that be strangers unto them, but especially if they be rulers or magistrates, to cover and hide one of their cheeks.  
THe men of Chalcedon warred sometime against their neighbours the Bithynians, provoked thereto by all light injuries, and wrought that might minister matter and occasion thereof: insomuch as in the days of king Zeipoetus who reigned over the Bithynians, they assembled all their forces, and with a puissant power (beside of the Thracians, who joined to aid them) they invaded their country with fire and sword, spoiling all before them: until in the end king Zeipoetus gave them battle near unto a place named Phalium, where they lost the day, as well in regard of their presumptuous boldness, as of the discorder among them, insomuch as there died of them in fight 8000. men. Howbeit utterly they were not deteated, for that Zeipoetus in favour of the Bizantines, was contenred to grow unto some agreement & composition. Now for that their city was by this means very much dispeopled and naked of men, many women there were among them, who were constrained to be remarried unto their enfranchised servants, others to aliens and strangers coming from other cities: but some again, choosing rather to continue widows still and never to have husbands, than to yield to such marriages, followed their own causes themselves what matter soever they had to be tried or dispatched in open court before the judges or public magistrates; only they withdrew one part of their veil, and opened their face on one side: the other wives also who were married again, for modesty and womanhood, following them as better women than themselves, used the same fashion also, and brought it to be an ordinary custom.   

50  
Wherefore do the Argives drive their 〈◊〉 unto the sacred grove of Agenor, when they would have the rams to leap them?  
IS it not for that Agenor whiles he lived, was very expert and skilful about sheep; and of all the kings that ever were among them, had the most and fairest flocks of them?   

51  
Why do the Argives children, at a certain festival time that they keep, call one another in play and sport Ballachrades?  
IS it because, the first of that nation, who were by Inachus brought out of the mountains into the plain and champain country, made their chief food (by report) of wild hedge-peares? Now these chok-peares, some say, were found in Peloponesus, before they were seen in any other part of Greece, even whiles that region was called Apta. And hereupon also it came that these wild pears commonly called Achrades, changed their name into Apiot.   

52  
What is the cause that the aliens, when their mares be hot after the horse, lead them, out of their own confines to be covered by the stallions?  
IS it for that Oenomaus was a prince, who of all others loved best a good race of horses, & took greatest pleasure in these kind of beasts; & cursed with all manner of execrations, those stallions which covered his mares in Elis? And therefore they fearing to fall into any of these maledictions, avoid them by this manner.   

53  
What was the reasons of this custom among the Gnosians, that those who took up any money at any interest, snatched it and ran away with all?  
WAS it to this end, that if they should deny the debt, and seem to defraud the usurers, they might lay an action of felony, and violent wrong upon them: and the other by this means might be more punished?   

54  
What is the cause that in the city of Samos they invocate Venus of Dexicreon?  
IS it for that, that when in times past the women of Samos were exceedingly given to enormous wantonness & lechery, so that the broke out into many lewd acts: there was one Dexicreon, a mountebank or cozening juggler, who by (I wot not what) ceremonies and expiatory sacrifices, cured them of their unbridled lust?  
Or because this, Dexicreon being a merchant-venturer who did traffic and trade by sea, went into the Isle of Cyprus; & when he was ready to load or charge his ship with merchandise, Venus commanded him to freight it with nothing else but water, and then immediately to hoist up sail: according to which he did, and having put a great quantity of water within his vessel, he set sail and departed. Now by that time they were in the main sea, they were very much becalmed, so as for want of a gale of wind many days together, the rest of the mariners and merchants a ship board, thought verily they should all die for very thirst: whereupon he sold unto them his water which he had aboard, and thereby got a great quantity of silver; of which afterwards he caused to be made an image of Venus, which he called after his own name, Dexicreon his Venus. Now if this be true, it seemeth that the goddess purposed thereby, not only to enrich one man, but to save also the lives of many.   

55  
How cometh it to pass, that in the Isle of Samos, when they sacrifice unto Mercury surnamed Charidotes, it is lawful for whosoever will, to rob and rifle all passengers?  
BEcause in times past according to the commandment and direction of a certain oracle, the ancient inhabitants departed out of Samos and went into Mycale, where they lived and maintained themselves for ten years space by piracy and depredation at sea; and afterwards being returned again into Samos, obtained a brave victory against their enemies.   

56  
Why is there one place within the Isle Samos called Panaema?  
IS it for that the Amazons to avoid the fury of Bacchus, fled out of the Ephesians country into Samos and there saved themselves? But he having caused ships to be built and rigged, gathered together a great fleet, and gave them battle, where he had the kill of a great number of them about this very place, which for the carnage and quantity of bloodshed there, they who saw it, marveled thereat, and called it Panaema. But of them who were slain in this conflict, there were by the report of some, many that died about Phloeon, for their bones are there to be seen. And there be that say, that Phloeon also clavae in sunder, and became broken by that occasion; their cry was so loud, and there voice so piercing and forcible.   

57  
How cometh it that there is a public hall at Samos, called Pedetes?  
AFter that Damoteles was murdered, and his monarchy overthrown, so that the nobles or Senators Geomori, had the whole government of the State in their hands; the Megarians took arms, and made war upon the Perinthians (a colony drawn and descended from Samos) carrying with them into the field, fetters and other irons, to hang upon the feet of their captive prisoners: the said Geomori having intelligence thereof, sent them aid with all speed, having chosen ten captains, manned also and furnished thirty ships of war; whereof twain ready to sail, caught fire by lightning, and so consumed in the very mouth of the haven: howbeit the foresaid captains followed on in their voyage with the rest, vanquished the Megarians in battle, and took six hundred prisoners: Upon which victory, being puffed up with pride, they intended to ruinate the oligarchy of those noble men at home, called Geomori, and to depose them from their government: and verily those rulers themselves ministered unto them occasion, for to set in hand with this their design; namely by writing unto them, that they should lead those Megarians prisoners, fettered with the same gives which they themselves had brought; for no sooner had they received these letters, but they did impart and show them secretly unto the said Megarians, persuading them to band & combine with them, for to restore their city unto liberty. And when they devised and consulted together about the execution of this complotted conspiracy: agreed it was between them to knock the rings off, or lockers of the fetters open, and so to hang them about the Megarians legs, that with leather thongs they might be fastened also to their girdles about the waste, for fear that being slack, as they were, they should fall off and be ready to drop from their legs as they went. Having in this wise set forth and dressed these men, and given every one of them a sword, they made all the haste they could to Samos; where being arrived and set aland, they led the Megarians through the market place to the Senate house, where all the nobles called Geomori were assembled and sat in consultation: hereupon was the signal given, and the Megarians fell upon the Senators, and massacred them every one. Thus having received the freedom of the city, they gave unto as many of the Megarians as would accept thereof, the right of free burgeosie: and after that built a fair town hall, about which they hung and fastened the said bolts and fetters of irons, calling it upon this occasion Pedetes, that is to say, the Hall of Fetters.   

58  
What is the reason that in the Isle of Coos, within the city Antimachia, the priest of Hercules being arrated in the habit of a woman, with a mitre on his head, beginneth to celebrate the sacrifice?  
Hercules', when he was departed from Troy with six ships, was overtaken with a mighty tempest, and with one ship alone (for that all the other was lost) was cast by the winds upon the Isle of Coos, and landed at a place called Laceter: having saved nothing else but his armour and the men that were with him in the ship; where finding a flock of sheep, he desired the shepherd who tended them, to give him a ram. The shepherd's name was Antagoras; who being a lusty, tall and strong man, would needs challenge Hercules to wrestle with him, upon this condition, that if Hercules could overthrow him and lay him along on the ground, the ram should be his. Hercules' accepted the offer; and when they were close at handgripes, the Meropians, certain inhabitants of the Isle came in to succour Antagoras, and the greeks likewise to aid Hercules, in such sort, as there ensued a sharp and cruel fight: wherein Hercules finding himself to be overlaid and pressed with the multitude of his enemies, retired and fled (as they say) unto a Thracian woman, where for to hide and save his life, he disguised himself in woman's apparel. But afterwards having gotten the upper hand of those Meropians, and being purged, he espoused the daughter of Alciopus, and put on a fair rob and goodly stole. Thus you may see whereupon his priest sacrificeth in that very place where the battle was fought; and why new married spouses being arrayed in the habit of women, receive their brides?   

50  
Whereof cometh it, that in the city of Megara, there is a lineage or family named Hamaxocylysta?  
IN the time that the dissolute and insolent popular State of government, called Democraty (which ordained that it might be lawful to recover and arrest all moneys paid for interest and in consideration of use, out of the usurers hands, & which permitted sacrilege) bare sway in the city: it happened there were certain pilgrims, named Theori of Peloponesus, sent in commissizzon to the oracle of Apollo at Delphos, who passed thorough the province of Megaris, and about the city Aegiri, near unto the lake there, lay and tumbled themselves upon their chariots here and there, together with their wives and children, one with another as it fell out: where certain Megarians, such as were more audacious than the rest, as being thoroughly drunk, full of insolent wantonness and cruel pride, were so lusty as to overturn the said chariots, and thrust them into the lake; so as, many of the said Theori or commissioners were drowned therein. Now the Megarians (such was the confusion and disorder in their government in those days) made no reckoning at all to punish this injury and outrage: but the counsel of the Amphyctiones, because the pilgrimage of these Theori was religious and sacred, took knowledge thereof and sat upon an inquisition about it; yea and chastised those who were found culpable in this impiety; some with death, others with banishment: and hereupon the whole race descending from them, were called afterwards Hamaxocylysta.    

THE PARALLELS, OR A BRIEF COLLATION OF ROMAN NARRATIONS, WITH THE SEMBLABLE REPORTED OF THE GREEKS.  
In the margin of an old manuscript copy, these words were found written in Greek: This book was never of PLUTARCH'S making, who was an excellent and most learned Author; but penned by some odd vulgar writer, altogether ignorant both of 
* or Learning.  Poetry, and also of Grammar.  
MAny do think, that ancient histories be but fables and tales devivised for pleasure. For mine own part having found many accidents in our days, semblable unto those occurrents which in times past fell out among the Romans in their age: I have collected some of them together; and to every one of those ancient Narrations, annexed another like unto it, of later time, and therewith alleged the Authors who have put them down in writing.  
1 Datys lieutenant general under the king of Persia, being come down into the plain of Marathon within the country of Attica, with a puissant power of three hundred thousand fight men, there pitched his camp, and proclaimed war upon the inhabitants of those parts. The Athenians making small account of this so great a multitude of Barbarians, sent out nine thousand men, under the conduct of these four captains; namely, Cynegyrus, Pollizelus, Callimachus, and Miliiades. So they struck a battle, during which conflict, Polyzelus chanced to see the vision of one represented unto him surpassing man's nature, and thereupon lost his sight and became blind; Callimachus wounded through diverse parts of his body with many pikes and javelins, dead though he was, stood upon his feet; and Cynegyrus, as he stayed a Persian ship which was about to retire back, had both his hands smitten off.  
Asdrubal the king being possessed of Sicily, denounced war againg the Romans: and Metellus being chosen lord general by the Senate, obtained a victory in a certain battle against him; in which battle lord Glauco a noble man of Rome, as he held the admirall-ship of Asdrubal lost both his hands: as Aristides the Milesian writeth in the first book of the annals of Sicily, of whom Diodorus Siculus hath learned the matter and subject argument of his history.  
2 Xerxes being come to lie at anchor near the cape Artemsium with five hundred thousand fight men, proclaimed war upon the people of that country: whereat the Athenians being much astonished, sent as a spy (for to view & survey his forces) Agesilaus the brother of Themistocles; albeit his father Neocles had a dream in the night, and thought that he saw his son dismembered of both his hands; who entering the camp of the Barbarians in habit of a Persian, slew Mardonius one of the captains of the king's corpse de guard, supposing he had been Xerxes' himself: and being apprehended by them that were about him, was brought tied and bound before the king, who was then even ready to offer sacrifice upon the altar of the Sun: into the fire of which altar, Agesilaus thrust his right hand, and endured the force of the torment, without crying or groaning at all; whereupon the king commanded him to be unbound: and then said Agesilaus unto him: We Athenians be all of the like mind and resolution, and if you will not believe me, I will put my left hand also into the fire: whereat Xerxes being mightily afraid, caused him to be kept safely with a good guard about him. This writeth Agatharsides the Samian, in his second book of the Persian Chronicles.  
Porsena king of the Tuscans, having encamped on the further side of the river Tiber, warred upon the Romans, and by cutting off the victuals and all provision that was wont to be brought to Rome, distressed the said Romans with famine: and when the Senate hereupon was wonderfully troubled; Mucius a noble man of the city (taking with him four hundred other brave gentlemen of his own age, by commission from the Consuls, in poor and simple array) passed over the river: and casting his eye upon the captain of the king's guard, dealing among other captains, victuals and other necessaries, supposing he had been Porsena, killed him: whereupon he was presently taken and brought before the king, who put his right hand likewise into the fire, and enduring the pains thereof whiles it burned, most stoutly seemed to smile thereat and said: Thou barbarous king, lo how I am loose and at liberty even against thy will; but note well this beside, that we are four hundred of us within thy camp that have undertaken to take away thy life: with which words Porsena was so affrighted, that he made peace with the Romans: according as Aristides the Milesian writeth, in the third book of his story.  
3 The Argives and the Lacedæmonians, being at war one with another about the possession of the country Thyreatis, the Amphictyones gave sentence that they should put it to a battle, and look whether side won the field, to them should the land in question appertain. The Lacedæmonians therefore chose for their captain Othryades; and the Argives, Thersander: when the battle was done, there remained two only alive of the Argives, to wit, Agenor and Chromius, who carried tidings to the city, of victory. Mean while, when all was quiet, Othryades not fully dead but having some little life remaining in him, bearing himself, and leaning upon the truncheons of broken lances, caught up the targets and shields of the dead, and gathered them together, and having erected a trophy, he wrote thereupon with his own blood: To Jupiter Victor and guardian of Trophies. Now when as both those parties maintained still the controversy about the land, the Amphictyones went in person to the place to be eie-judges of the thing, and adjudged the victory on the Lacedæmonians side: this writeth Chrysermus in the third book of the Peloponnesiack history.  
The Romans levying war against the Samnites chose for their chief commander Posthumius Albinus, who being surprised by an ambush within a straight between two mountains, called Furcae Caudinae, a very narrow pass, lost three of his Legions, and being himself deadly wounded, fell and lay for dead: howbeit about midnight, taking breath, was quick again, and somewhat revived, he arose, took the targets from his enemy's bodies that lay dead in the place, and erected a trophy, and drenching his hand in their blood, wrote in this manner: The Romans, to Jupiter Victor, guardian of Trophies, against the Samnites: but Marius surnamed Gurges, that is to say, the glutton, being sent thither as general captain, and viewing upon the very place, the said trophy so erected: I take this gladly (quoth he) for a sign and presage of good fortune; and thereupon gave battle unto his enemies and won the victory, took their king prisoner, and sent him to Rome, according as Aristides writeth in his third book of the Italian history.  
4 The Persians entered Greece with a puissant army of 500000. men; against whom Leonidas was sent by the Lacedæmonians with a band of three hundred, to guard the straits of Thermophylae, and impeach his passage: in which place as they were merry at their meat, and taking their refection, the whole main power of the Barbarians came upon them. Leonidas seeing his enemies advancing forward, spoke unto his own men and said: Sat still sirs and make an end of your dinner hardly, so as you may take your suppers in another world: so he charged upon the Barbarians, and notwithstanding he had many a dart sticking in his body, yet he made a lane through the press of the enemies until he came to the very person of Xerxes, from whom he took the diadem that was upon his head, and so died in the place. The Barbarians king caused his body to be opened when he was dead, and his heart to be taken forth, which was found to be all overgrown with hair; as writeth Aristides in the first book of the Persian history.  
The Romans warring against the Cathaginians, sent a company of three hundred men under the leading of a captain named Fabius Maximus, who bade his enemy's battle, and lost all his men; himself being wounded to death, charged upon Hannibal with such violence, that he took from him the regali diadem or frontal that he had about his head, and so died upon it, as writeth Aristides the Milesian.  
5 In the city of Celaenae in Phrygia, the earth opened and clavae a sunder, so as there remained a mighty chink, with a huge quantity of water issuing thereout, which carried away and drew into the bottomless pit thereof, a number of houses with all the persons great and small within them. Now Midas the king was advertised by an oracle, that if he cast within the said pit the most precious thing that he had, both sides would close up again, and the earth meet and be firm ground. So he caused to be thrown into it a great quantity of gold and silver: but all would do no good. Then Anchurus his son, thinking with himself, that there was nothing so precious as the life & soul of man, after he had lovingly embraced his father, and bid him farewell, and with all taken his leave of his wife Timothea, mounted on horseback, and cast himself horse and all into the said chink. And behold, the earth immediately closed up: whereupon Midas made a golden altar, of Jupiter Idaeus, touching it only with his hand. This altar about that time, when as the said breach or chink of earth was, became a stone: but after a certain prefixed time passed, it is seen all gold: this writeth calisthenes in his second book of Transformations.  
The river Tiber running through the mids of the market place at Rome, for the anger of Jupiter Tarsius caused an exceeding great chink within the ground, which swallowed up many dwelling houses. Now the oracle rendered this answer unto the Romans, that this should cease in case they flung into the breach some costly and precious thing: and when they had cast into it both gold and silver, but all in vain: Curtius a right noble young gentleman of the city, pondering well the words of the oracle, and considering with himself that the life of man was more precious than gold, cast himself on horseback into the said chink, and so delivered his citizens and countrymen from their calamity: this hath Aristides recorded in fortieth book of Italian histories.  
6 Amphtaraus was one of the princes and leaders that accompanied Polynices: and when one day they were feasting merrily together, an eagle soaring over his head, chanced to catch up his javelin and carry it up aloft in the air, which afterwards when she had let fall again, stuck fast in the ground and became a laurel. The morrow after, as they joined battle, in that very place, 〈◊〉 with his chariot was swallowed up within the earth: and there standeth now the city Harma so called of the chariot: as Trismachus reporteth in the third book of his Foundations.  
During the wars which the Romans waged against Pyrrhus' king of the Epirotes, Paulus Acmylius was promised by the oracle that he should have the victory, if he would set up an altar in that very place where he should see one gentleman of quality and good mark, to be swallowed up alive in the earth, together with his chariot. Three days after Valerius 
* Or Torquatus.  Conatus, when in a dream he thought that he saw himself adorned with his priestly vestments (for skilful, he was in the art of divination) led forth the army, and after he had slain many of his enemies, was devoured quick within the ground. Then Paulus Aemylius caused an altar to be reared and won the battle, wherein he took alive an hundred and threescore elephants carrying turrets upon their backs, whom he sent to Rome. This altar useth to give answer as an oracle about that time that Pyrrhus was defeated: according as Critolaus writeth in the third book of the Epirotick history.  
7 Pyraichnes' king of the Euboeans, whom Hercules being yet but a young man vanquished, and tying him between two horses, caused his body to be plucked and torn in pieces; which done, he cast it forth for to lie unburied: now the place where this execution was performed, is called at this day, Pyratchmes his horses, situate upon the rriver Heraclius: and whensoever there be any horses wattered there, a man shall sensibly hear a noise as if horses neighed: thus we find written inthe third book entitled, Of rivers.  
Tullius Hostilius king of the Romans, made war upon the Albans, who had for their king Metius Sufetius: and many times he seemed to retire and lie off, as loath to encounter and join battle; insomuch as the enemies supposing him to be discomfited, betook themselves to mirth and good cheer; but when they had taken their wine well, he set upon them with so hot a charge that he defeated them: and having taken their king prisoner, he set him fast tied between two steeds and dismembered him, as Alexarchus writeth in the fourth book of the Italian histories.  
8 Philip intending to force and sack the cities of Methone and Olynthus as he laboured with much a do to pass over the river Sandanus, chanced to be shot into the eye with an arrow by an Olynthian, whose name was Aster, and in it was this verse written: 
Philip beware, have at thine eye:  
After this deadly shaft lets sly.   
Whereupon Philip perceiving himself to be overmatched, swum back again unto his own company, and with the loss of one eye escaped with life, according as calisthenes reporteth in the third book of the Macedonian Annals.  
Porsena king of the Tuskans lying encamped on the other side of Tiber, warred upon the Romans and intercepted their victuals, which were wont to be conveyed to Rome, whereby he put the city to great distress in regard of famine: but Horatius Cocles being by the common voice of the deople chosen captain, planted himself upon the wooden bridge, which the Barbarians were desirous to gain, and for a good while made the place good, and put back the whole multitude of them pressing upon him to pass over it; in the end finding himself overcharged with the enemies, he commanded those who were ranged in battell-ray behind him, to cut down the bridge: mean while he received the violent charge of them all, and impeached their entrance, until such time as he was wounded in the eye with a dart; whereupon he leapt into the river, and swum over unto his fellows: thus Theotinus reporteth this narration in the third book of Italian histories.  
9 There is a tale told of Icarius, by whom Bacchus was lodged and entertained, as Eratosthenes in Erigone hath related in this wise. Saturn upon a time was lodged by an husbandman of the country, who had a fair daughter named Entoria: her he deslowred and begat of her four sons, Janus, Hymnus, Faustus and Foelix; whom he having taught the manner of drinking wine, and of planting the vine, enjoined them also to impart that knowledge unto their neighbours, which they did accordingly: but they on the other side: having taken upon a time more of this drink than their usual manner was, fell a sleep, and slept more than ordinary: when they were awake, imagining that they had drunk some poison, stoned Icarius the husbandman to death: whereat his nephews or daughters children took such a thought and conceit, that for very grief of heart, they knit their necks in halters, and strangled themselves. Now when there was a great pestilence that reigned among the Romans, the oracle of Apollo gave answer; that the mortality would stay, in case they had once appeased the ire of Saturn; and likewise pacified their ghosts, who unjustly lost their lives. Then Lutatius Catulus, a noble man of Rome, built a temple unto Saturn, which standeth near unto the mount Tarpeius, and erected an altar with four faces; either in remembrance of those four nephews above said, or respective to the four seasons and quarters of the year; and withal instituted the month januarie. But Saturn turned them all four into stars, which be called the foretunners of the Vintage: among which that of Janus ariseth before others, and appeareth at the feet of Virgo, as Critolaus testifieth in his fourth book of Phaenomena, or Apparitions in the heaven.  
10 At what time as the Persians overranne Greece, and wasted all the country before them: Pausanias' general captain of the Lacedæmonians, having received of Xerxes five hundred talents of gold, promised to betray Sparta: but his treason being discovered, Agesilaus his father pursued him into the temple of Minerva called Chalcioecos, whither he fled for sanctuary; where he caused the doors of the temple to be mured up with brick, & so famished him to death. His mother took his corpse, and cast it forth to dogs, not suffering it to be buried: according to Chrysermus in the second book of his story.  
The Romans warring against the Latins, chose for their captain Publius Decius. Now there was a certain gentleman of a noble house, howbeit poor, named Cessius Brutus, who for a certain sum of money which the enemies should pay unto him, intended in the night season to set the gates of the city wide open for them to enter in. This treachery being detected, he fled for sanctuary into the temple of Minerva, surnamed Auxiliaria; where Cassius his father, named also Signifer, shut him up and kept him so long, that he died for very famine; and when he was dead, threw his body forth, and would not allow it any sepulture: as writeth Clitonymus in his Italian histories.  
11 Darius king of Persia having fought a field with Alexander the Great, and in that conflict lost seven of his great lieutenants & governors of Provinces, besides five hundred and two war chariots armed with trenchant scythes, would notwithstanding bid him battle again: but Ariobarzanes his son, upon a pitiful affection that he carried to Alexander, promised to betray his father into his hands; whereat his father took such displeasure and indignation, that he caused his head to be smitten off. Thus reporteth Aretades the Gnidian in his third book of Macedonian histories.  
Brutus being chosen Consul of Rome by the general voice of the whole people, chased out of the city, Tarqvinius Superbus who reigned tyrannically; but he retiring himself unto the Tuskanes, levied war upon the Romans. The sons of the said Brutus conspiring to betray their father, were discovered, and so he commanded them to be beheaded: as Aristides the Milesian writeth in his Annals of Italy.  
12 Epaminondas captain of the Thebans, warred against the Lacedæmonians: and when the time was come that magistrates should be elected at Thebes, himself in person repaired thither, having given order and commandment in the mean while unto his son Stesimbrotus, in no wise to fight with the enemy. The Lacedæmonians having intelligence given them, that the father was absent, reproached and reviled this young gentleman, and called him coward; wherewith he was so galled, that he fell into a great fit of choler, and forgetting the charge that his father had laid upon him, gave the enemy's battle, and achieved the victory. His father upon his return, was highly offended with his son, for transgressing his will and commandment: and after he had set a victorious crown upon his head, caused it to be strooken off, as Ctesiphon recordeth in the third book of the Boeotian histories.  
The Romans during the time that they maintained war against the Samnites, chose for their general captain, Manlius surnamed Imperious; who returning upon a time from the camp to Rome, for to be present at the election of Consuls, straightly charged his son not to fight with the enemies in his absence. The Samnites hereof advertised, provoked the young gentleman with most spiteful and villainous terms, reproaching him likewise with cowardice: which he not able to endure, was so far moved in the end, that he gave them battle and defeated them: but Manlius his father when he was returned, cut him shorter by the head for it: as testifieth Aristides the Milesian.  
13 Hercules being denied marriage with the Lady jole, took the repulse so near to heart, that he forced and sacked the city Oechalia. But jole flung herself headlong down from the wall into the trench under it: howbeit so it fortuned that the wind taking hold of her garments as she fell, bore her up so, as in the fall she caught no harm, as witnesseth Nicias of Malea.  
The Romans whiles they warred upon the Tuskans, chose for their commander Valerius Torquatus; who having a sight of Clusia their king's daughter, fancied her, and demanded her of him in marriage: but being denied and rejected, he won the city, and put it to the saccage. The lady Clusia flung herself down from an high tower; but through the providence of Venus, her habiliments were so heaved up with the wind, that they broke the fall, and albeit she light upon the ground, she escaped alive. Then the captain before named, forced her and abused her body: in regard of which dishonour and villainy offered unto her, by a general decree of all the Romans, confined he was into the Isle of Corsica, which lieth against Italy: as witnesseth Theophilus in the third book of his Italian history.  
14 The Carthaginians and Sicilians, being entered into league, banded themselves against the Romans, and prepared with their joint forces to war upon them: whereupon Metellus was chosen captain, who having offered sacrifice unto all other gods and goddesses, left out only the goddess Vesta; who thereupon raised a contrary wind to blow against him in his voyage. Then Caius Julius the soothsayer said unto him, that the wind would lie, in case before he embarked and set sail, he offered in sacrifice his own daughter unto Vesta. Metellus being driven to this hard exigent, was constrained to bring forth his daughter to be sacrificed: but the goddess taking pity of him & her, in stead of the maiden substituted a young heifer, and carried the virgin to Lavintum, where she made her a religious priestresse of the Dragon, which they worship and have in great reverence within that city: as writeth Pythocles in his third book of Italian affairs.  
In like manner is the case of Iphigenia which happened in Aulis a city of Boeotia: reported by Meryllus in the third book of Boeotian Chronicles.  
15 Brennus a king of the Galatians or Gallogreekes, as he forraied and spoiled Asia, came at length to Ephesus, where he fell in love with a young damosel, a commoners daughter; who promised to lie with him, yea and to betray the city unto him, upon condition that he would give unto her carquanets, bracelets, and other jewels of gold, wherewith ladies are wont to adorn and set out themselves. Then Brennus requested those about his person to cast into the lap of this covetons wench, all the golden jewels which they had; which they did in such quantity, that the maiden was overwhelmed under them quick, & pressed to death with their weight: as Clitipho writeth in the first book of the Galatian history.  
Tarpeia a virgin, and young gentlewoman of a good house, having the keeping of the Capitol, during the time that the Romans warred against the Albans, promised unto their king Tatius, for to give him entrance into the castle of mount Tarpeius, if in recompense of her good service, he would bestow upon her such bracelets, rings, and carquanets, as the Sabine dames used to wear when they trimmed up themselves in best manner: which when the Sabines understood, they heaped upon her so many, that they buried her quick underneath them: according as Aristides the Milesian reporteth in his Italian history.  
16 The inhabitants of Tegea and Phenea two cities, maintained a lingering war one against the other so long, until they concluded in the end to determine all quarrels and controversies by the combat of three brethren, twins of either side. And the men of Tegea put soorth into the field for their part, the sons of one of their citizens, named Reximachus: and those of Phinea for themselves, the sons of Damostratus. When these champions were advanced forth into the plain, to perform their devoir, it fortuned that two of Reximachus his sons were killed outright in the place; and the third whose name was Critolaus, wrought such a stratagem with his three concurrents that he overcame them all: for making semblance as though he fled, he turned suddenly back, & slew them one after another, as he espied his advantage, when they were singled and severed asunder in their chase after him. At his return home with this glorious victory; all his citizens did congratulate and rejoice with him, only his own sister named Demodice, was nothing glad therefore, because one of the brethren whom he had slain, was espoused unto her, whose name was Demoticus Critolaus taking great indignation hereat, killed her out of hand. The mother to them both sued him for this murder, and required justice; howbeit he was acquit of all actions and inditements framed against him: as writeth Demaratus in the second book of Arcadian acts.  
The Romans and the Albans having warred a long time together, chose for their champions to decide all quarrels, three brethren twins, both of the one side and the other. For the Albans were three Curiatij, and for the Romans as many Horain. The combat was no sooner begun, but those of Alba laid two of their adversaries dead in the dust; the third helping himself with a feigned flight, killed the other three one after the other, as they were divided asunder in pursuit after him: for which victory, all other Romans made great joy; only his own sister Horatia showed herself nothing well pleased herewith, for that to one of the other side she was betrothed in marriage: for which he made no more ado, but stabbed his sister to the heart: this is reported by Aristides the Milesian, in his Annals of Italy.  
17 In the city Ilium, when the fire had taken the temple of Minerva, one of the inhabitants named Ilus ran thither, and caught the little image of Minerva named Palladium, which was supposed to have fallen from heaven, and therewith lost his sight, because it was not lawful that the said image should be seen by any man: howbeit afterwards when he had appeased the wrath of the said goddess, he recovered his eye sight again: as writeth Dercyllus in the first book of Foundations.  
Metellus a noble man of Rome, as he went toward a certain house of pleasure that he had near unto the city, was slaied in the way by certain ravens that slapped and beat him with their wings: at which ominous accident being astonished, and presaging some evil to be toward him, he returned to Rome: and seeing the temple of the goddess Vesta on fire, he ran thither and took away the petty image of Pallas, named Palladium, and so likewise suddenly sell blind: howbeit afterwards being reconciled unto her, he got this sight again: this is the report of Aristides in his Chronicles.  
18 The Thracians warring against the Athenians, were directed by an oracle which promised them victory, in case they saved the person of Codrus king of Athens: but he disguising himself in the habit of a poor labourer, and carrying a bill in his hand, went into the camp of the enemies, and killed one, where likewise he was killed by another, and so the Athenians obtained victory: as Socrates writeth in the second book of Thracian affairs.  
Publius' Decius' a Roman, making war against the Albans, dreamt in the night, and saw a vision which promised him, that if himself died, he should add much to the puissance of the Romans: whereupon he charged upon his enemies where they were thickest arranged; and when he had killed a number of them, was himself slain. Decius also his son, in the war against the Gauls, by that means saved the Romans: as saith Aristides the Milesian.  
19 Cyanttpus a Syracusan borne, sacrificed upon a time unto all other gods, but unto Bacchus: whereat the god being offended, haunted him with drunkenness; so as in a dark corner he deflowered forcibly his own daughter, named Cyane: but in the time that he dealt with her, she took away the ring off his finger, and gave it unto her nurse to keep, for to testify another day who it was that thus abused her. Afterwards the pestilence reigned fore in those parts: and Apollo gave answer by oracle, that they were to offer in sacrifice unto the gods that turned away calamities, a godless and incestuous person: all others wist not whom the oracle meant; but Cyane knowing full well the will of Apollo, took her father by the hair, and drew him perforce to the altar, and when she had caused himto be killed, sacrificed herself after upon him: as writeth Dositheus in the third book of the Chronicles of Sicily.  
Whiles the feast of Bacchus called Bacchanalia was celebrated at Rome, there was one Aruntius who never in all his life had drunk wine but water only, and always despised the power of god Bacchus who to be revenged of him, caused him one time be so drunk that he forced his own daughter Medullina, & abused her body carnally; who having knowledge by his ring who it was that did the deed, and taking to her a greater heart than one of her age, made her father one day drunk, and after she had adorned his head with garlands & chaplets of flowers, led him to aplace called the altar of Thunder, where with many tears she sacrificed him who had surprised her, & taken away her virginity, as writeth Aristides the Milesian in his third book of Italian Chronicles.  
20 Erechiheus warring upon Eumolpus, was advertised that he should win the victory, if before he went into the field he sacrificed his own daughter unto the gods: who when he had imparted this matter unto his wife Praxithea, he offered his daughter in sacrifice before the battle; hereof Euripides maketh mention in his tragedy Erechtheus.  
Marius' maintaining war against the Cimbrians, and finding himself too weak, saw a vision in his sleep, that promised him victory, if before he went to battle, he did sacrifice his daughter named Calpurnis: who setting the good of the weal public, and the regard of his countrymen, before the natural affection to his own blood, did accordingly and won the field: and even at this day, two altars there be in Germany, which at the very time and hour that this sacrifice was offered, yield the sound of trumpets: as Dorotheus reporteth in the third book of the Annals of Italy.  
21 Cyanippus a Thessalian borne, used ordinarily to go on hunting; his wife a young gentle woman entertained this fancy of jealousy in her head, that the reason why he went forth so often, and stayed so long in the forest, was because he had the company of some other woman whom beloved: whereupon she determined with herself to lie in espial: one day therefore she followed and traced Cyanippus, and at length lay close within a certain thicket of the forest, waiting and expecting what would fall out and come of it. It chanced that the leaves and branches of the shrubs about her stirred: the hounds imagining that there was some wild beast within, seized upon her, and so tore in pieces this young dame (that loved her husband so well) as if she had been a savage beast. Cyanippus then seeing before his eyes, that which he never would have imagined or thought in his mind, for very grief of heart killed himself: as Parthenius the Poet hath left in writing.  
In Sybaris a city of Italy, there was sometime a young gentleman named Aemilius, who being a beautiful person, and one who loved passing well the game of hunting, his wife who was young also, thought him to be enamoured of another lady: and therefore got herself close within a thicket, and chanced to stir the boughs of the shrubs and bushes about her. The hounds thereupon that ranged and hunted thereabout, light upon her and tore her body in pieces: which when her husband saw, he killed himself upon her, as Clytonimus reporteth in his second book of the Sybaritick history.  
22 Smyrna the daughter of Cinyras having displeased and angered Venus, became enamoured of her own father, and declared the vehement heat of her love unto her nurse. She therefore by a wily device went to work with her master, and bore him in hand that there was a fair damosel a neighbour's daughter, that was in love with him, but abashed and ashamed to come unto him openly, or to be seen at all with him: the master believed this & lay with her: but one time above the rest, desirous to know who she was with whom he companied, called for a light; and so soon as he knew it was his own daughter, he drew his sword, and followed after this most villainous and and incestuous filth, intending to kill her: but by the providence of Venus, transformed she was into a tree, bearing her name, to wit, Myrtle, as Theodorus reporteth in his Metamorphoses or transmutations.  
Valeria Tusculanaria, having incurred the displeasure of Venus; became amorous of her own father, and communicated this love of hers unto her nurse: who likewise went cunningly about her master, and made him believe that there was a young maiden a neighbous child, who was in fancy with him, but would not in regard of modesty be known unto him of it nor be seen when she should frequent his company. Howbeit her father, one night being drunk called for a candle: but the nurse prevented him, and in great haste wakened her: who fled thereupon into the country great with child: where she cast herself down from the pitch of a steep place, yet the fruit of her womb lived; for notwithstanding that fall she did not miscarry, but continued still with her great belly: and when her time was come, delivered she was of a son, such an one as in the Roman language is named Sylvanus, and in Greek Aegipanes. Valerius the father took such a thought thereupon, that for very anguish of mind he threw himself down headlong from a steep rock: as recordeth Aristides the Milesian in the third book of Italian histories.  
23 After the destruction of Troy, Diomedes by a tempest was cast upon the coast of Libya, where reigned a king named Lycus: whose manner and custom was to sacrifice unto his own father god Mars, all those strangers that arrived and were set a land in his country. But Callirohone his daughter casting an affection unto Diomedes, betrayed her father, and saved Diomedes by delivering him out of prison. And he again not regarding her accordingly, who had done him so good a turn, departed from her and sailed away: which indignity she took so near to the heart, that she hanged herself, and so ended her days: this writeth Juba in the third book of the Libyan history.  
Calpurnius Crassus a noble man of Rome, being abroad at the wars together with Regulus, was by him sent against the Massilians, for to seize a strong castle, and hard to be won, named Garaetion; but in this service being taken prisoner and destined to be killed in sacrifice unto Saturn, it fortuned that Bysatia the king's daughter fancied him, so as she betrayed her father, and put the victory into her lover's hand; but when this young knight was retired and gone, the damsel for sorrow of heart cut her own throat: as writeth Hesianax in the third book of the Libyan history.  
24 Priamus king of Troy, fearing that the city would be lost, sent his young son Polydorus into Thrace, to his son in law Polymester who married his daughter, with a great quantity of gold: Polymester for very covetousness, after the destruction of the city, murdered the child, because he might gain the gold: but Hecuba being come into those parts, under a colour and pretence that she should bestow that gold upon him, together with the help of other dames prisoners with her, plucked with her own hands both eyes out of his head: witness Euripides the tragedian poet.  
In the time that Hannibal overran and wasted the country of Campania in Italy; Lucius 
* Or, Thrym  Jmber bestowed his son Rustius for safety, in the hands of a son in law whom he had, named Valerius Gestius, and left with him a good sum of money. But when this Campanian herd that Hannibal had won a great victory, for very avarice he broke all laws of nature, and murdered the child. The father Thymbris as he traveled in the country lighting upon the dead corpse of his own son, sent for his son in law aforesaid, as if he meant to show him some great treasure: who was no sooner come, but he plucked out both his eyes, and afterwards crucified him: as Aristides testifieth in the third book of his Italian histories.  
25 Aeacus begat of Psamatha one son named Phocus, whom he loved very tenderly: but Telamonius his brother not well content therewith, trained him forth one day into the forest a hunting, where having roused a wild boar, he lanced his javelin or boar-spear against the child whom he hated, and so killed him: for which fact, his father banished him: as Dorotheus telleth the tale, in the first book of his Metamorphoses.  
Cajus Maximus had two sons, Similius and Rhesus: of which two, Rhesus he begat upon Ameria, who upon a time as he hunted in the chase, killed his brother, and being come home again, he would have persuaded his father that it was by chance, and not upon a propensed malice that he slew him: but his father when he knew the truth, exiled him: as Aristocles hath recorded in the third book of Italian Chronicles.  
26 Mars had the company of Althaea, by whom she was conceived and delivered of Meleager: as witnesseth Euripides in his tragedy Meleager.  
Septimtus Marcellus, having married Syluta, was much given to hunting, and ordinarily went to the chase: then Mars taking his advantage, disguising himself in habit of a shepherd; forced this new wedded wife, and got her with child; which done, he bewrayed unto her who he was, and gave her a lance or spear, saying unto her: That the generosity and descent of that issue which she should have by him, consisted in that lance: now it happened that Septimius slew Tusquinus: and Mamercus when he sacrificed unto the gods for the good increase of the fruits upon the earth, neglected Ceres only; whereupon she taking displeasure for this contempt, sent a great wild boar into his country: then he assembled a number of hunters to chase the said beast and killed him; which done, the head and the skin he sent unto his espoused wife: Scimbrates and Muthias her uncle's by the mother-side, offended hereat, would have taken all away from the damosel: but he took such displeasure thereat, that he slew his kinsmen: and his mother for to be revenged of her brethren's death, buried that cursed spear: as Menylus reporteth in the third book of the Italian histories.  
27 Telamonius the son of Aeacus and Endeis, fled by night from his father, and arrived in the isle of Euboea, ** The father perceiving it, and supposing him to be one of his subjects, gave his daughter to one of his guard, for to be cast into the sea; but he for very commiseration and pity, sold her to certain merchants; and when the ship was arrived at Salamis, Telamonius chanced to buy her at their hands, and she bore unto him Ajax: witness Aretadoes the Gnidian, in the second book of his Insular affairs.  
Lucius Trocius had by his wife Patris, a daughter named Florentia: her Calphurnius a Roman deflowered: whereupon he commanded the young maid-childe which she bore, to be cast into the sea; but the soldier who had the charge so to do, took compassion of her, and chose rather to sell her unto a merchant; and it fortuned so, that the ship of a certain merchant arrived in Italy, where Calphurinus bought her, and of her body begat Contruscus.  
28 Aeolus king of Tuscan, had by his wife Amphithea six daughters, and as many sons; of whom Macareus the youngest, for very love deflowered one of his sisters, who when the time came brought forth a child: when this came once to light, her father sent unto her a sword, and she acknowledging the fault which she had committed, killed herself therewith, and so did afterwards her brother Macareus: as Sostratus reporteth in the second book of the Tuscan story.  
Papyrius Volucer, having espoused Julia Pulchra, had by her six daughters, and as many sons; the eldest of whom named Papyrius Romanus, was enamoured of Canulia, one of his sisters so as she was by him with child: which when the father understood, he sent unto her likewise a sword, wherewith she made away herself; and Romanus also did as much: thus Chrysippus relateth in the first book of the Italian Chronicles.  
29 Aristonymus the Ephesian, son of Demostratus, hated women, but most unnaturally he had to do with a she ass; which when time came, brought forth a most beautiful maid child, surnamed Onoscelis: as Aristotle writeth in the second book of his Paradoxes or strange accidents.  
Fulvius Stellus was at war with all women, but yet he dealt most beastly with a mare, and she bore unto him after a time, a fair daughter, named Hippona: and this is the goddess forsooth that hath the charge and overseeing of horses and mares: as Agesilaus hath set down in the third book of Italian affairs.  
30 The Sardians warred upon a time against the Smyrneans, & encamped before the walls of their city; giving them to understand by their ambassadors, that raise their siege they would not, unless they sent unto them their wives to lie withal: the Smyrneans being driven to this extremity, were at the point to do that which the enemies demanded of them: but a certain waiting maiden there was, a fair and well-favoured damosel, who ran unto her master Philarchus and said unto him, that he must not fail but in any case choose out the fairest wenches that were maide-servants in all the city, to dress them like unto citizens wives, and free borne women, and so to send them unto their enemies in stead of their mistresses, which was effected accordingly; and when the Sardians were wearied with dealing with these wenehes, the Smyrneans issued forth, surprised and spoiled them: whereupon it cometh that even at this day in the city of Smyrna there is a solemn feast named Eleutheria: upon which day, the maide-servants wear the apparel of their mistresses which be free women: as saith Dositheus in the third book of Lydian chronicles.  
Antepomarus king of the Gauls, when he made war upon the Romans, gave it out flatly and said, that he would never dislodge and break up his camp before they sent unto them their wives, for to have their pleasure of them: but they by the counsel of a certain chamber maid, sent unto them their maidservants: the Barbarians meddled so long with them, that they were tired, and fell sound asleep in the end: then Rhetana (for that was her name who gave the said counsel) took a branch of a wild fig tree; and mounting up to the top of a rampire wall, gave a signal thereby to the Consuls, who sallied forth and defeated them; whereupon there is a festival day of chambermaids: for so saith Aristides the Milesian, in the first book of the Italian history.  
31 When the Athenians made war upon Eumolpus, and were at some default of victuals, Pyrander who had the charge of the munition & was treasurer of the State (for to make spare of the provision) diminished the ordinary measure, and cut men short of their allowances: the inhabitants, suspecting him to be a traitor to his country in so doing, stoned him to death as Callistratus testifieth in the third book of the Thracian history.  
The Romans warring upon the Gauls, and having not sufficient store of victuals, Cinna abridged the people of their ordinary measure of corn: the Romans suspecting thereupon that he made way thereby to be king, stoned him likewise to death: witness Aristides in his third book of Italian histories.  
32 During the Peloponnesiack war, Pisistratus the Orchomenian hated the nobles and affected men of base and low degree; whereupon the Senators complotted and resolved among themselves to kill him in the Counsel house, where they cut him in pieces, and every one put a gobbet of him in his bosom, and when they had so done they scraped and cleansed the floor where his blood was shed. The common people having some suspicion of the matter rushed into the Senate house: but Tlesimachus the kings youngest son, who was privy to the foresaid conspiracy, withdrew the multitude from the common place of assembly; and assured them that he saw his father Pisistratus carrying a more stately majesty in his countenance than any mortal man, ascending, up with great celerity the top of mount Pisaeus, as Theophilus recordeth in the second of his Peloponnesiackes.  
In regard of the wars so near unto the city of Rome, the Roman Senate cut the people short of their allowances in corn: whereat Romulus being not well pleased, allowed it them a gain, rebuked, yea and chastised many of the great men: who thereupon banded against him and in the midst of the Senate house made him away among them, cut him in pieces, and bestowed on every man a slice of him in his bosom. Whereupon, the people ran immediately with fire in their hands to the Senate house minding to burn them all within; but Proculus a noble man of the city assured them, that he saw Romulus upon a certain high mountain, and that he was bigger than any man living and become a very god. The Romans believed his words, (such authority the man carried with him) and so retired back, as Aristobulus writeth in the third book of his Italian Chronicles.  
33 Pelops the son of Tantalus and Eurianassa, wedded Hippodamia who bore unto him Atreus and Thyestes: but of the Nymph Danais a concubine, he begat Chrysippus, whom he loved better, than any of his legitimate sons: him Laius the Theban being enamoured stole away by force; and being attached and intercepted by Atreus and Thyestes, obtained the good grace and favour of Pelops to enjoy him, for his love sake. Howbeit Hippodamia persuaded her two sons Atreus and Thyestes to kill him, as if she knew that he aspired to the kingdom of their father: which they refusing to do, she herself employed her own hands to perpetrate this detestable fact: for one night as Layus lay sound asleep, she drew forth his sword, and when she had wounded Chrysippus as he slept, she left the sword sticking in the wound: thus was Laius suspected for the deed because of his sword: but the youth being now half dead, discharged and acquit him and revealed the whole truth of the matter: whereupon Pelops caused the dead body to be interred, but Hippodamia he banished: as Dositheus recordethin his book Pelopidae.  
Hebius Tolieix having espoused a wife named Nuceria, had by her two children: but of an enfranchised bond woman he begat a son named Phemius Firmus a child of excellent beauty, whom he loved more dearly than the children by his lawful wife. Nuceria detesting this base son of his, solicited her own children to murder him; which when they (having the fear of God before there eyes) refused to do, she enterprised to execute the deed herself. And in truth she drew forth the sword of one of the squires of the body in the night season, and with it gave him a deadly wound as he lay fast asleep: the foresaid squire was suspected and called in question for this act, for that his sword was there found; but the child himself discovered the truth: his father then commanded his body to be buried; but his wife he banished: as Dositheus recordeth in the third book of the Italian Chronicles.  
34 Theseus being in very truth the natural son of Neptune, had a son by Hippolyta a princess of the Amazons whose name was Hippolytus: but afterwards married again, and brought into the house a stepmother named Phaedra, the daughter of Minos: who falling in love with her sonneinlaw Hippolytus, sent her nurse for to solicit him: but he giving no ear unto her, left Athens and went to Troezen, where he gave his mind to hunting. But the wicked and unchaste woman seeing herself frustrate and disappointed of her will, wrote shrewd letters unto her husband against this honest and chaste young gentleman, informing him of many lies, and when she had so done, strangled herself with an halter, and so ended her days. Theseus giving credit unto her letters, besought his father Neptune of the three requests, whereof he had the choice, this one; namely, to work the death of Hippolytus. Neptune to satisfy his mind, sent out unto Hippolytus as he road along the sea slde, a monstrous bull, who so affrighted his coach horses, that they overthrew Hippolytus, and so he was crushed to death.  
Comminius Super the Laurentine, having a son by the nymph Aegeria, named Comminius, espoused afterwards Gidica, and brought into his house a stepmother, who became likewise amorous of her son-in law; and when she saw that she could not speed of her desire, she hanged herself, and left behind her certain letters devised against him containing many untruths. Comminius the father having read these slanderous imputations within the said letters, and believing that which his jealous head had once conceived, called upon Neptune, who presented unto Commintus his son as he road in his chariot, a hideous bull: which set his steeds in such a fright, that they fell a flinging, and so haled the young man that they dismembered and killed him: as Dositheus reporteth in the third book of the Italian history.  
35 When the pestilence reigned in Lacedaemon; the oracle of Apollo delivered this answer: That the mortality would cease, in case they sacrificed yearly, a young virgin of noble blood. Now when it fortuned that the lot one year fell upon Helena, so that she was led forth all prepared and set out ready to be killed; there was an eagle came flying down, caught up the sword which lay there, and carried it to cerraine droves of beasts, where she laid it upon an heifer: whereupon ever after they forbore to sacrifice any more virgins; as Aristodemus reporteth in the third Collect of fables.  
The plague was sore in Falerij, the contagion thereof being very great, there was given out an oracle, That the said affliction would stay and give over, if they sacrificed yearly a young maiden unto Juno: and this superstition continuing always still Valeria Luperca was by lot called to this sacrifice: now when the sword was ready drawn, there was an eagle came down out of the air and carried it away: and upon the altar where the fire was burning laid a wand, having at one end in manner of a little mallet: as for the sword, she laid upon a young heifer, feeding by the temple side; which when the young damsel perceived, after she had sacrificed the said heifer, and taken up the mallet, she went from house to house, and gentl knocking therewith all those that lay sick, raised them up and said to every one: Be whole and receive health: whereupon it cometh that even at this day this mystery is still performed and observed: as Aristides hath reported in the 919. book of his Italian histories.  
36 Phylonome the daughter of Nyctimus and Arcadia, hunted with Diana; whom Mars disguised like a shepherd, got with child. She having brought forth two twins, for fear of her father threw them into the river Erymanthus: but they by the providence of the gods, were carried down the stream without harm or danger, and at length the current of the water cast them upon an hollow oak, growing up on the bank side, whereas a she wolf having newly kennelled had her den. This wolf turned out her whelps into the river, and gave suck unto the two twins above said: which when a shepherd named Tyliphus, once perceived and had a sight of, he took up the little infants, and caused them to be nourished as his own children, calling the one Lycastus, and the other Parrhasius, who successively reigned in the realm of Arcadia.  
Amulius bearing himself insolently and violently like a tyrant, to his brother Numitor; first killed his son Aenitus as they were hunting; then his daughter Sylvia he cloistered up as a religious nun to serve Juno. She conceived by Mars; and when she was delivered of two twins, confessed the truth unto the tyrant: who standing in fear of them, caused them both to be cast into the river Tiber; where they were carried down the water unto one place, whereas a she wolf had newly kennelled with her young ones: and verily her own whelps she abandoned and cast into the river; but the babes she suckled. Then Faustus the shepherd chancing to espy them, took them up and nourished as his own; calling the one Remus, and the other Romulus: and these were the founders of Rome city: according to Artstides the Milesian in his Italian histories.  
37 After the destruction of Troy, Agamemnon together with Cassandra was murdered: but Orestes who had been reared and brought up with Strophius, was revenged of those murderers of his father: as Pyrander saith in his fourth book of the Peloponnesian history.  
Fabius Fabricianus, descended lineally from that great Fabius Maximus, after he had won and sacked Tuxium, the capital city of the Samnites, sent unto Rome the image of Venus' Victoresse. which was so highly honoured and worshipped among the Samnites. His wife Fabta had committed adultery, with a fair and well favoured young man, named Petronius Valentinus, and afterwards treacherously killed her husband. Now had Fabia his daughter saved her brother Fabricianus, being a very little one, out of danger, and sent him away secretly to be nourished and brought up. This youth when he came to age, killed both his mother and the adulterer also; for which act ofhi, acquit he was by the doom of the Senate: as Dositheus delivereth the story in the third book of the Italian Chronicles.  
38 Busiris the son of Neptune, and Anippe daughter of Nilus, under the colour of pretended hospitality, and courteous receiving of strangers, used to sacrifice all passengers: but divine justice met with him in the end, and revenged their death: for Hercules set upon him and killed him with his club: as Agathon the Samian hath written.  
Hercules as he drove before him thorough Italy, Geryons kine, was lodged by king Faunus the son of Mercury, who used to sacrifice all strangers and guests to his father: but when he meant to do so unto Hercules, was himself by him slain: as writeth Dercyllus in the third book of the Italian histories.  
39 Phalaris the tyrant of the Agrigentines (a merciless prince) was wont to torment & put to exquisite pain such as passed by or came unto him: and Perillus (who by his profession) was a skilful brasse-founder, had framed an heifer of brass, which he gave unto this king, that he might burn quick in it the said strangers. And verily in this one thing did this tyrant show himself just; for that he caused the artificer himself to be put into it: and the said heifer seemed to low, whiles he was burning within: as it is written in the third book of Causes.  
In Aegesta a city of Sicily, there was sometime a cruel tyrant, named Aemilius Censorinus, whose manner was to reward with rich gifts those who could invent new kinds of engines to put men to torture: so there was one named Aruntius Paterculus, who had devised and forged a brazen horse, and presented it unto the foresaid tyrant, that he might put into it whom he would. And in truth the first act of justice that ever he did was this, that the party himself, even the maker of it gave the first handsel thereof; that he might make trial of that torment himself, which he had devised for others. Him also he apprehended afterwards, and caused to be thrown down headlong from the hill Tarpeius. It should seem also that such princes as reigned with violence, were called of him Aemylii: for so Aristides reporteth in the fourth book of Italian Chronicles.  
40 Euenus the son of Mars & Sterope, took to wife Alcippe daughter of Oenomaus, who bore unto him a daughter, named Marpissa, whom he minded to keep a virgin still: but Aphareus seeing her, carried her away from a dance, and fled upon it. The father made suce after, but not able to recover her: for very anguish of mind, he cast himself into the river of Lycormas, and thereby was immortalised: as saith Dositheus in the fourth book of his Italian history.  
Anius king of the Tuskans, having a fair daughter, named Salia; looked straightly unto her that she should continue a maiden: but Cathetus one of his nobles, seeing this damosel upon a time as she disported herself was enamoured of her, and not able to suppress the furious passion of his love, ravished her and brought her to Rome. The father pursued after; but seeing that he could not overtake them, threw himself into the river, called in those days Pareüsuis, and afterwards of his name Anio. Now the said Cathetus lay with Salia, and of her body begat Salius and Latinus; from whom are descended the noblest families of that country: as Aristides, the Milesian, and Alexander Polyhistor, write in the third book of the Italian history.  
41 Egestratus an Ephesian borne, having murdered one of his kinfmen, fled into the city Delphi, and demanded of Apollo in what place he should dwell? who made him this answer, that he was to inhabit there, whereas he saw the peasants of the country dancing, and crowned with chaplets of olive branches. Being arrived therefore at a certain place in Asia, where he found the rural people crowned with garlands of olive leaves, and dancing; even there he founded a city, which he called Elaeus: as Pythocles the Samian writeth in the third book of his Georgics.  
Telegonus the son of Ulysses by Circe, being sent for to seek his father, was advised by the oracle to build a city there, where he should find the rustical people and husbandmen of the country, crowned with chaplets and dancing together: when he was arrived therefore at a certain coast of Italy, seeing the peasants adorned with boughs & branches of the wild olive tree, passing the time merrily, and dancing together: he built a city, which upon that occurrent he named Prinesta; and afterwards the Romans altering the letters a little, called it Preneste: as Aristotle hath written in the third book of the Italian history.   

THE LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS.  

The Summarie.  
IN these lives compendiously descibed, Plutarch showeth in part, the government of the Athenian commonweal which flourished by the means of many learned persons; in the number of whom we are to reckon those under written; namely, Antipho, Andocides, Lysias, Isocrates, Isaeus, Aeschines, Lycurgus, Demosthenes, Hyperides, and Dinarchus: but on the other side he discovereth sufficiently the indiscretion of cretaine orators, how it hath engendered much confusion; ruined the most part of such personages themselves; and finally overthrown the public estate: which he seemeth expressly to have noted and observed, to the end that every one might see, how dangerous (in the management of State affairs) he is, who hath no good parts in him but only a fine and nimble tongue. His meaning therefore is, that lively virtue indeed should be joined unto eloquence: mean while, we observe also the lightness, vanity, and ingratitude of the Athenian people in many places: and in the diverse complexions of these ten men here depainted; evident it is, how much availeth in any person, good in struction from his infancy, and how powerful good teachers be, for to frame and fashion tender minds unto high matters, and important to the weal public. In perusing and passing through this treatise, a man may take knowledge of many points of the ancient popular government, which serve very well to the better understanding of the Greek history, and namely, of that which concerneth Athens: As also by the recompenses both demanded, and also decreed in the behalf of virtuous men, we may perceive and see among the imperfections of a people which had the sovereignty in their hands, some moderation from time to time: which ought to make us magnify the wisdom and providence of God, who amid so great darkneffe, hath maintained so long as his good pleasure was, so many States and governors in Greece, which afterwards fell away and came to nothing, so as at this present that goodly country is become subject, and made thrall to the most violent, wicked and wretched nation under heaven.   

THE LIVES OF THE ten orators.  

ANTIPHON. I.  
ANtipho the son of Saphilus, and borne in the borough and corporation of Karannum, was brought up as a scholar under his own father, who kept a Rhetoric school, whereunto Alcibiades also (by report) was wont to go and resort when he was a young boy, who having gotten sufficiency of speech and eloquence, as some think, himself, (such was the quickness of his wit, and inclination of of his nature) he betook himself to affairs of State: and yet he held a school nevertheless, where he was at some difference with Socrates the Philosopher in matter of learning and oratory, not by way of contention and emulation, but in manner of reprehension & finding fault with some points, as Xenophon testifieth in the first book of his Commentaries, as touching the deeds and sayings of Socrates. He penned orations for some citizens at their request for to be pleaded and pronounced in judicial courts: and as it is given out by some, was the first who gave himself to this course, and professed so to do: for there is not extant one oration written in manner of a plea, by any orators who lived before his time, no more by those that flourished in his days (for it was not the manner yet and custom to compose oraions for others) Themistocles (I mean) Pericles, and Aristides; notwithstanding that the time presented unto them many occasions, yea and mere necessiries so to do: neither was it upon their insufficiency, that they thus abstained, as it may appear by that which Historians have written of every one of these men above mentioned. Moreover if we look into the most ancient orators whom we can call to mind, to wit, Alcibiades, Critias, Lysius and Archilochus, who have written one & the same style, and exercised the same form & manner of pleading; it willbe found that they all conversed and conferred with Antiphon, being now very aged and far stepped in years: for being a man of an excellent quick and ready wit, he was the first that made and put forth the Institutions of oratory; so as, for his profound knowledge he was surnamed Nestor. And Cecilius in a certain treatise which he compiled of him, conjectureth, that he had been sometime schoolmaster to Thucydides the Historiographer; for that Antipho is so highly commended by him. In his speeches and orations he is very exquisite and full of persuasion, quick and subtle in his inventions: in difficult matters very artificial; assailing his adversary after a covert manner; turning his words and sayings respective to the laws, and to move affections withal, aiming always to that which is decent & seemly, and carrying the best appearance & show with it.  
He lived about the time of the Persian war, when Gorgias Leontinus the great professor in Rhetoric flourished, being somewhat younger than he was: and he continued to the subversion of the popular state and government, which was wrought by the 400 conspirators, wherein himself seemed to have had a principal hand, for that he had the charge and command of two great galleys at sea, and was beside a captain and had the leading of certain forces: during which time he won the victory in diverse battles, and procured unto them the aid of many allies: also he moved the young and lusty able man of war to take arms; he rigged, manned, and set out sixty galleys, and in all their occasions was sent ambassador to the Lacedæmonians, when as the city Ectionia was fortified with a wall: but after that those 400 before said were put down and overthrown, he was together with Archiptolemus one of the 400, accused for the conspiracy, condemned and adjudged to the punishment which is due unto traitors. His corpse was cast forth without sepulture; himself and all his posterity registered for infamous persons upon record: and yet some there be who report, that he was put to death by the 30 tyrants, and namely among the rest, Lysias testifieth as much in an oration which he made for Antipho's daughter; for a little daughter he had, unto whom Calleschrus made claim in right for his wife: and that the thirty tyrants we they who put him to death, Theopompus beareth witness in the fifteenth of his Philippics. But more modern surely was this man, and of a later time, yea and the son of one 
* or Simonides.  Lysidonides, of whom 〈◊〉 maketh mention, as of no wicked man in his comedy called Pytine. For how should he who before was executed by those 400 return to life again in the time of the thirty usurpers or tyrants: but his death is reported otherwise; namely, that being very aged he sailed into Sicily, when as the tyranny of the former Denys was at the highest: and when the question was proposed at the table, which was the best, brass? as some said this, and others that: he answered, that for his part he thought that brass was best, whereof the statues of Harmodius and Aristogiton were made: which when Denys heard, he imagining that the speech imported thus much covertly, as to set on the Syracusians, for to attempt some violence upon his person, commanded him to be put to death. Others report, that the said tyrant gave order that he should be made away, upon indignation that he skoffed at his tragoedies.  
There be extant in this orators name three score orations; whereof as Cecilius saith 25 are untruly reported to be his. Noted he is and taxed by Plato the comical poet, together with Pysander, for avarice & love of money. It is said moreover, that he composed certain tragoedies alone, and others with Dionysius the tyrant, who joined with him. At the same time also when he gave his mind unto Poetry, he devised the art of curing the griefs and maladies of the mind, like as physicians pretend skill for to heal the diseases and pains of the body. Certes, having built a little house at Corinth in the market place, he set up a bill on the gate, wherein he made profession: That he had the skill to remedy by words, those who were vexed and grieved in spirit: and he would demand of those who were amiss, the causes of their sorrow, and according thereto, apply his comforts and consolations. Howbeit afterwards supposing this art and profession to be too base and mean for him, he turned his study to Rhetoric, and taught it. Some there be who attribute unto Antipho the book of Glaucus the Rhegine as touching poets: but principally is that treatise commended which he made unto Herodotus; as also that which is dedicated to Erasistratus touching the Ideas; and the oration of Message which he penned for his own self; & another against Demosthenes the captain, which he named Paranomon, for that he charged him to have broken the laws. Also another oration he wrote against Hypocrates the general commander, & caused him to be condemned for his contumacy, in that he failed to answer at the day assigned for his trial, that very year when Theopompus was Provost of the city, under whom the four hundred conspirators and usurpers of the commonweal were put down and overthrown. Now the decree of the Senate, by virtue whereof ordained it was: That Antiphon should be judicially tried and condemned, Cecilius hath put down in these terms. The one and twentieth day of Prytaneia, when Demonicus of Alopece, was secretary or public notary, Philostratus of Pellene chief commander, upon the proposition or bill-preferred of Andron the Senate, hath ordained as touching these persons; namely Archiptolemus, Onomacles and Antiphon, whom the captains have declared against; that they went in embassage unto Lacedaemon, to the loss and detriment of the city of Athens, and departed from the camp, first in an enemy's ship, and so passed by land by Decelia; that their bodies should be attached and cast into prison, for to abide justice and punishment according to law. Item, that the captains themselves, with certain of the Senate, to the number of ten, such as it pleased them to choose and nominate, should make presentment and give in evidence, that upon the points alleged and proved, judgement might pass according. Item that the Thesmothetes should call for the said persons judicially, the very next morrow after they were committed, and convent them before the judges, after that they be chosen by lot: when and where they should accuse the captains with the orators abovesaid, of treason; yea & whosoever else would come in, he should be heard. Item, when sentence is concluded and pronounced against them, than the judgement of condemnation shall be executed according to the form and tenure of the law established, in case of traitors. Under the instrument of this decree, was subscribed the condemnation of treason in this manner: Condemned there were of treason, Archiptolemus the son of Hippodamus of Agryle, present; Antiphon the son of Sophilus, of Rhamus', likewise present: and awarded it was by the court, that these two should be delivered over into the hands of the eleven executors of justice; their goods to be confiscate; the disme whereof to be consecrate unto the goddess Minerva; their houses to be demolished and pulled down to the very ground; and upon the borders of the plots wherein they stood, this superscription to be written: Here stood the houses of Archiptolemus and of Antiphon, two traitors of the State *** Also, that it might not be lawful to enter or bury the body of Archiptolemus and of Antiphon within the city of Athens, nor in any part belonging to their domain or territory. That their memory should be infamous, and all their posterity after them, as well hastards as legitimate: and that whosoever adopted any one of Archiptolemus or Antiphons' children for his son, himself should be held infamous. Finally, that all this should be engrossed and engraven in a column of brass, wherein also should be set down the sentence and decree which passed as concerning Phrynichus.   

ANDOCIDES. II.  
ANdocides was the son of that Leagoras, who sometime made a peace between the Athenians and the Lacedæmonians; borne in the tribe of Cydathene or Thurie, descended from a noble house, and as Hellanicus saith, even from Mercury; for the race of the Ceryces, that is, Heralds pertaineth unto him: and therefore chosen he was upon a time with Glaucon, for to go with a fleet of twenty sail, to aid the Corcyreans, who warred upon the Corinthians. But after all this, accused he was of impiety and irreligion; for that he with others had mangled and defaced the images of Mercury, that stood within the city: also for that he had trespassed against the holy mysteries and sacred ceremonies of Ceres; in as much as being before time a wild youth and loosely given, he went in a mask one night, and broke certain images of the god Mercury; whereupon (I say) he was judicially convented. And because he would not deliver and bring forth to be examined upon torture, that servant of his, whom his accusers called for, he was held attaint & convict of that crime which was laid to his charge; yea & for the second imputation charged upon him very deeply suspected: for which also he was called into question, not long after the setting forth of the great Armada at sea which went into Sicily, when the Corinthians had sent certain Aegesians and Leontines, into the city of Athens, unto whom the Athenians privately were to yield aid & succour, in the night season they broke all the images of Mercury which stood about the market place, as Cratippus saith. Well, being suspected for offending against the sacred mysteries of Ceres, & thereupon judicially called to his answer, he escaped judgement of condemnation, and was acquit; so that he would discover and declare the delinquents and offenders indeed. Now having employed his whole study & endever there about, he wrought so, that he found out those who were faulty as touching the sacred mysteries aforesaid, among whom was his own father. As for all the rest when they were convicted, he caused them to be put to death: only his father's life he saved, although he was already in prison; promising with all that he would do much good service unto the commonweal, wherein he failed not of his word. For Leagoras accused many who had robbed and embezilled the city's treasure, and committed other wicked parts, by the means whereof he was absolved.  
Now albeit Andocides was in great name and reputation for managing the affairs of commonweal; yet nevertheless he set his mind to traffic and merchandise at sea; whereby he got amity, and entered into league of hospitality, which many princes and great potentates, but principally with the king of Cyprus: and it was than, that he stole and carried away a citizens child, the daughter of Aristides and his own niece, without the privity and consent of her friends, and sent her closely for a present to the said king of Cyprus: but when he was upon the point to be called in question judicially for this fact, he stole her privily away again out of Cyprus, and brought her home to Athens. Hereupon the king of Cyprus caused hands to be laid upon him, where he was kept in prison; but he broke loose and escaped to Athens, at the very time when the four hundred conspirators and usurpers governed the State: and being by them cast into prison, he got away again when the said Olygarchie was dissolved. Howbeit he was drawn out of the city, when the thirty tyrants ruled all and usurped their government. During which time of his exile, he abode in the city of Elis: but when Thrasibulus and his adherents returned into the city, he also repaired thither, and was sent in an embassage to Lacedaemon; where being taken again in a trip, he was for his ill demeanour banished.  
All these premises appear evidently by his orations which he hath written; for in some of them we find how he answereth to those imputations which were charged upon him for violating of the foresaid holy mysteries: in others, he generally craveth for the favour of the judges and standeth upon the terms of mercy: there is an oration also of his extant, as touching the appeaching or discovery of those, who were faulty for those sacred ceremonies: as also his Agologie or defence against Phaeax, and concerning peace. He flourished at the very same time that Socrates the Philosopher was in so great name. But borne he was in the 
* 〈◊〉 68  78 Olympias that year wherein Theagenides was provost or chief ruler of Athens; so that by this computation he must needs be more ancient than Lysias by some hundred years. There was one of the Hermes that carried his name, and was called Hermes of Andocides, for that this image being dedicated by the tribe or lineage Aegeiss, stood near unto the house where Andocides dwelled. This Andocides defrayed the charges of a solemn round dance in the name of the line or kindred Aegeiss, which contended for the prize in the honour of Dithyrambicus at the feast of Bacchus: where having obtained the victory, he consecrated a trefeets, and set it up an high, just against Porinus Selinus.  
His style is plain and simple, without all art, bare and naked without any figures whatsoever.   

LYSIAS. III.  
LYsias the son of Shafalus, the son of Lysanias, who had likewise for his father Shafalus, borne in Syracuse, but he went to dwell at Athens, partly for the affection that he bore to the city, and in part through the persuasion of Pericles the son of Xantippus, who being his friend & guest, persuaded him thereto, and the rather for that he was a mighty man there, and exceeding rich: or as some think, he came to Athens by occasion that he was banished out of Syracuse, at what time as the city was tyrannically oppressed by Gelon: so he arrived at Athens that year, wherein Philocles was provost next after Phrasicles, in the second year of the 82 Olympias: at his first coming brought up he was, & taught with the noblest Athenians; but after that the city sent out the colony of Sybaris, which afterwards was named Thurij, he went with his eldest brother Polemarchus: (for he had besides him 2. other brethren, Eudemus & Brachillus their father being now departed this life) to have his part set out & allotted unto him out of his father's lands, being not fifteen years old, that very year when as Praxiteles was provost: where he remained, and was instructed by Nicias, & Tisias, two Syracusans. Now having bought him an house, with the portion of land which fell unto his share, he lived there, in state of a citizen, and was called to government of common weal, when his lot came, for the space of 63 years, until the time that Clearchus was provost of Athens: but the year next following when Callias was provost; namely, in the 92 Olympias, when as the Sicilians and Athenians fought a field, by reason whereof many of their, allies stirred and revolted, and especially those who dwelled in Italy and coasted thereupon, accused he was to have favoured the Athenians and sided with them, and thereupon was banished with three other. Now being arrived at Athens in the year wherein Callias was provost next after Cleoritus, while the four hundred usurpers were possessed of the State, he there rested: but after the naval battle was stricken near to a place called the Goat's rivers, when as the thirty tyrants had the administration of the common weal in their hands, banished he was from thence for the space of seven years; lost his goods and his brother Polemarchus; himself escaped with life narrowly out of the house at a postern gate or backdoor; in which house he had been beset with a full purpose that he should end his life there: and then he retired himself to the city Megara, where he abode. When as those of Phila had made a reentry into the city, and chased out the tyrants; for that he showed himslefe (above all others) most forward in this enterprise, as having contributed (for the exploiting of this service) two thousand drams weight in silver, and two hundred targuets: and being sent beside with Herman, waged three hundred and two soldiers, and wrought so effectually with Thrasylaeus the Elian, his friend and old host, that he helped him unto certain talents of silver: in regard whereof, Thrasibulus (upon his return and re-entry into the city) proposed unto the people: That for and in consideration of these good services, the right of free burgeosie should be granted unto him. This happened in the year of the Anarchy, when there was no provost elected, next before the provostship of Euclides. This was granted and ratified by the people: only there was one Archinus stood up, and impeached the proceeding thereof, as being against the law, because it was proposed unto the people, before it was consulted upon in the Senate: so the foresaid decree was annulled and revoked. Thus being disappointed of his ritht of burgeosie, he remained nevertheless (during his life) as a citizen, and enjoyed the same rights, franchises and privileges that other burgesses did; & so died in the end, when he had lived the space of four score and three years, or as some say, three score and sixteen; and as others write, four score: so that he lived to see Demosthenes a child. It is said. that he was borne the year that Philocles was provost. There go in his name four hundred orations; of which number (according to Dionysius and Cecilius) two hundred and thirty be of his own making in deed: in the pronouncing of all which, he failed but twice, and had the foil. There is extant also, that very oration which he made against Archinus, in the maintenance and defence of the said decree; by virtue whereof, the right of burgeosie was given unto him: also another, against the thirty tyrants. Apt he was to persuade; and in those orations which he gave out to others, very brief and succinct. There be found likewise of his making, certain introductions to Rhetoric, and speeches delivered publicly before the people; letters missive; solemn praises; funeral orations; discourses of love; and one defence of Socrates, which directly seemed to touch the judges to the quick. His style was thought to be plain and easy, howbeit, inlmitable. Demosthenes in one oration which he made against Neaera, saith: That he was enamoured of one Metaneira, servant with Neaera; but afterwards he espoused and took to wise the daughter of his brother Brachyllus. Plato himself maketh mention of him in his book entitled Phaedrus, as of an orator passing eloquent, and more ancient than Isocrates. Philiscus who was familiar with Isocrates, and the companion of Lysias, made an Epigram upon him, whereby it appeareth, that he was more ancient, (as also it is evident by that which Plato hath said) & the Epigram is to this effect: 
Now show Callippes daughter, thou that art so eloquent;  
If aught of witty spirit thou hast, and what is excellent:  
For meet it is that thou shouldst bring, some little Lysias forth:  
To blaze his father's name abroad, for virtuous deeds of worth.  
Who (now transformed, and having caught a body strange to see  
In other worlds for Sapience should now immortal Bee)  
My loving heart to friend now dead, likewise to notify;  
And to declare his virtuous life unto posterity.  He composed likewise an oration for Iphicrates, which he pronounced against Harmodius as also another wherein he accused Timotheus of treason, and both the one and the other he overthrew: but afterwards when Iphicrates took upon him again to inquire into the doings of Timotheus, calling him to account for the revenues of the State which he had managed, and set in hand again with this accusation of treason, he was brought into question judicially, and made answer in his own defence by an oration that Lysias penned for him. And as for himself he was acquit of the crime and absolved; but Timotheus was condemned and fined to pay a great sum of money. Moreover, he rehearsed in the great assembly and solemnity at the Olympic games, a long oration, wherein he persuaded the greeks, that they should be reconciled one to another, and join together for to put down the tyrant Dionysius.   

ISOCRATES. FOUR  
ISocrates was the son of one Theodorus, an Erechthian, a man reckoned in the number of mean citizens, one who kept a sort of servants under him, who made flutes and hautboys; by whose workmanship he became so rich, that he was able to bring up and set out his children in worshipful manner. For other sons he had beside, to wit, Telesippus and Diomnestus; and also a little daughter unto them. Hereupon it is that he was twitted and flouted by the comical poets Aristophanes and Stratis, in regard of those flutes. He lived about the 86. Olympias elder than Lysimachus the Myrrhinusian by two and twenty years, and before Plato some seven years. During his childhood, he had as good bringing up as any Athenian whatsoever, as being the disciple & scholar of Prodicus the Chian, of Gorgias the Leontine, of Tysias the Syracusian, & Theramenes the processed Rhetorician: who being at the point to be apprehended & taken by the 30. tyrants, & flying for refuge to the altar of Minerva the Counsellor, when all other friends were affrighted and amazed: only Isocrates arose and showed himself for to assist and succour him, and at the first continued a long time silent. But Theramenes himself began and prayed him to desist; saying, that it would be more dolorous and grievous unto him, than his own calamity, in case he should see any of his friends to be troubled and endangered for the love of him. And it is said, that he helped him to compile certain Institutions of Rhetoric, at what time as he was maliciously and falsely slandered before the judges in open court: which Institutions are gone under the name and title of Boton.  
When he was grown to man's estate, he forbore to meddle in State matters, and in the affairs of commonweal; as well for that he had by nature a small and feeble voice, as because naturally he was fearful and timorous: and beside, his state was much impaired, by reason that he lost his patrimony in the war against the Lacedæmonians. It appeareh that to other men he had been assistant in counsel, and giving testimony for them in places of judgement: but it is not known that he pronounceed above one only oration, to wit, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, concerning counterchange of goods. And having set up a public school, he gave himself to the study of philosophy, and to write; where he composed his Panegyrique oration, and certain others of the Deliberative kind: and those that he wrote himself, some he read, some he penned for others; thinking thereby to exhort and stir up the greeks to devise and perform such duties as beseemed them to do. But seeing that he miss of his purpose and intention, he gave over that course, and betook himself to keep a school: first, as some say, in Chios, having nine scholars that came unto him: where when he saw that his scholars paid him down in money his Minervals for their schooling, he wept and said: I see well now that I am sold unto these youths. He would confer willingly with those that came to devise and talk with him, being the first that put difference between wrangling pleas or contentious orations, and serious politic discourses of commonweal, in which he rather employed himself. He ordained magistrates in Chios, erecting the same form of government there, which was in his own country. He gathered more silver together by teaching school, than ever any professor in Rhetoric or schoolmaster was known to have done; so that he was well able to defray the charges of a galley at sea. Of scholars he had to the number of one hundred: and among many others, Timotheus the son of Conon; with whom he traveled abroad, and visited many cities: he penned all those letters which Timotheus sent unto the Athenians; in regard whereof he bestowed upon him a talon of silver, the remainder of that money due by composition from Samos. There were beside of his scholars Theopompus the Chian, and Ephorus of Cumes; Asclepiades also who composed tragical matters and arguments; and Theodectes, who afterwards wrote tragoedies (whose tomb or sepulchre is as men go toward Cyamite, even in the sacred way or street that leadeth to Eleusis, now altogether ruinate and demolished: in which place he caused to be erected and set up the statues of famous poets together with him, of all whom there remaineth none at this day but Homer alone;) also Leodamus the Athenian; Lacritus the lawgiver unto the Athenians, and as some say, Hyperides and Isaeus. And it is said that Demosthenes also came unto him whiles he yet taught a Rhetoric school, with an earnest purpose to learn of him, using this speech: that he was not able to pay him a thousand drachms of silver, which was the only price that he made and demanded of every scholar; but means he would make to give him two hundred drachms, so he might learn of him but the fifth part of his skill, which was a proportionable rate for the whole; unto whom Isocrates made this answer: We use not, Demosthenes, to do our business by piecemeal; but like as men are wont to sell fair fishes all whole; even so will I, if you purpose to be my scholar, teach and deliver you mine art full and entire, and not by halves or parcels.  
He departed this life the very year that Chaeronides was Provost of Athens; even when the news came of the discomfiture at Chaeronea, which he heard being in the place of Hypocrates public exercises: and voluntarily he procured his own death, in abstaining from all food and sustenance the space of four days, having pronounced before this abstinence of his, these three first verses which begin three tragoedies of Euripides: 

1 King Danaus, who fifty daughters had.  
2 Pelops the son of Tantalus, when he to Pisa came.  
3 Cadmus whilom, the city Sidon left.   He lived 98 years, or as some say, a full hundred, & could not endure for to see Greece four times brought into servitude: the year before he died, or as some write, four years before he wrote his Panathenaick oration: as for his Panegyrik oration, he was in penning it ten years, and by the report, of some, fifteen, which he is thought to have translated and borrowed out of Gorgias the Leontine and Lysias: and the oration concerning the counterchange of goods, he wrote when he was fourscore years old & twain: but his Philippike oration he set down a little before his death: when he was far stepped in years, he adopted for his son, Aphareus, the youngest of the three children of Plathane his wife, the daughter of Hippias the orator, and professed Rhetorician. He was of good wealth, as well for that he called duly for money of his scholars, as also because he received of Nicocles king of Cypress, who was the son of Euagoras, the sum of twenty talents of silver for one oration which he dedicated unto him: by occasion of this riches, he became envied, and was thrice chosen and enjoined to be the captain of a galley, and to defray the charges thereof: for the two first times he feigning himself to be sick, was excused by the means of his son; but at the third time he rose up and took the charge, wherein he spent no small sum of money. There was a father, who talking with him about his son whom he kept at school, said: That he sent with him no other to be his guide and governor, but a slave of his own: unto whom Isocrates answered: Go your ways then, for one slave you shall have twain. He entered into contention for the prize at the solemn games which queen Artemisia exhibited at the funerals and tomb of her husband Mausolus: but this enchomiasticall oration of his which he made in the praise of him, is not extant: another oration he penned in the praise of Helena; as also a third in the commendation of the counsel Ariopaguses. Some write, that he died by abstaining nine days together from all meat: others report but four; even at the time that the public obsequies were solemnised for them who lost their lives in the battle at Chaeronea. His adopted son Aphareus composed likewise certain orations: interred he was together with all his lineage and those of his blood, near unto a place called Cynosarges, upon a bank or knap of a little hill on the left hand, where were bestowed, the son, and father Theodorus; their mother also and her sister Anaco, aunt unto the orator; his adopted son likewise Aphareus, together with his cousin german Socrates, son to the a foresaid aunt Anaco Isocrates mother's sister: his brother Theodorus who bore the name of his father, his nephews, or children of his adopted son Aphareus, and his natural Theodorus; moreover, his wife Plathane mother to his adopted son Aphareus: upon all these bodies there were six tables or tombs erected of stone, which are not to be seen as this day: but there stood upon the tomb of Isocrates himself, a mighty great ram engraven, to the height of thirty cubits, upon which there was a siren or meremaid seven cubits high, to signify under a figure his mild nature and eloquent style: there was beside near unto him, a table containing certain poets and his own schoolmasters: among whom was Gorgias looking upon an astrological sphere, and Isocrates himself standing close unto him: furthermore, there is erected a brazen image of his in Eleusin, before the entry of the gallery Stoa, which Timotheus the son of Charon caused to be made, bearing this epigram or inscription: 
Timotheus upon a loving mind,  
And for to honour mutual kindnesses,  
This image of Isocrates his friend,  
Erected hath unto the goddesses.  This statue was the handiwork of Leochares. There go under his name threescore orations; of which five and twenty are his indeed, according to the judgement of Dionysius: but as Cecilius saith, eight and twenty; all the rest are falsely attributed unto him. So far was he off from ostentation, and so little regard had he to put forth himself and show his sufficiency, that when upon a time there came three unto him, of purpose to hear him declaim and discourse, he kept two of them with him, and the third he sent away, willing him to return the next morrow: For now (quoth he) I have a full theatre in mine auditory. He was wont to say also unto his scholars and familiars: That himself taught his art for ten pounds of silver; but he would give unto him that could put into him audacity, and teach him good utterance, ten thousand. When one demanded of him it was possible that he should make other men sufficient orators, seeing himself was nothing eloquent: Why not (quoth he) seeing that whetstones which can not cut at all, make iron and steel sharp enough and able to cut. Some say, that he composed certain books as touching the art of rhetoric; but others are of opinion, that it was not by any method, but exercise only, that he made his scholars good orators: this is certain, that he never demanded any money of natural citizens borne, for their teaching. His manner was to bid his scholars to be present at the great assemblies of the city, and to relate unto him what they heard there spoken and delivered. He was wonderful heavy and sorrowful out of measure for the death of Socrates, so as the morrow after he mourned & put on black for him. Again, unto one who asked him what was Rhetoric? he answered: It is the art of making great matters of small, & small things of great. Being invited one day to Nicocreon the tyrant of Cypress; as he sat at the table, those that were present, requested him to discourse of some theme; but he answered thus: For such matters wherein I have skill the time will not now serve; and in those things that sit the time, I am nothing skilful. Seeing upon a time Sophocles the tragical poet, following wanton and hunting with his eye, a young fair boy; he said: O Sophocles an honest man ought to contain not his hands only, but his eyes also. When Ephorus of Cunes went from his school non proficiens, and able to do nothing, by reason whereof his father Demophilus sent him again with a second salary or minervall; Isocrates smiled thereat, and merrily called him Diphoros, that is to say, bringing his money twice: so he took great pains with the man, and would himself prompt him, and give him matter and invention for his declamatory exercise.  
Inclined he was and naturally given unto the pleasures of wanton love; in regard whereof he used to lie upon a thin and hard short mattress, and to have the pillow and bolster under his head perfumed, and wet with the water of saffron. So long as he was in his youth he married not; but being now stricken in age and grown old, he kept a quean or harlot in his house, whose name was Lagisca, by whom he had a little daughter, who died before she was married, when she was about twelve years old. After that, he espoused Plathane, the wife of the rhetorician 
* Hippias.  Gorgias, who had three children before, of whom he adopted Aphareus for his own son, as hath been said before, who caused his statue to be cast in brass, and erected it near unto the image of Jupiter Olympius, as it were upon a column, with this Epigram: 
This portrait of Isocrates in brass,  
His son adopted, Aphareus, who was,  
Erected hath to Jupiter, in view  
Of all the world thereby to make a show,  
That unto gods he is religious,  
And honoureth his father virtuous.  It is said, that whiles he was but a young boy, he ran a course on horseback; for he is to be seen all in brass in the castle or citadel of the city, sitting and riding his horse, in form and proportion of a boy within the tenise court of those priests of Minerva, which attend there, to tarry the sacred secrets, not to be revealed, as some have reported. In all his life time there were two only suits commenced against him: the former, for the exchange of his goods, being challenged and provoked by Megaclides; for the trial whereof, he appeared not personally at his day, by reason of sickness: the second action was framed against him by Lysimachus, for the exchange of his goods, with charge to defray the expenses of maintaining a galley at sea: in which process he was cast, and forced to set out a galley. There was also a painted image of his in the place called Pompeium. And Aphareus composed verily orations, though not many, both judicial and also deliberative. He made also tragoedies, to the number of seven and thirty; whereof there be two which were contradicted. And he began to have his works openly heard in public place, from the year wherein Lysistratus was provost, unto that year wherein Sosicles was in place; to eight and twenty years: in which time he caused six civil plays to be acted, and twice gained the prize of victory, having set them forth by a principal actor or player, named Dionysius: and by other actors he exhibited two more, of the Lenaick kind, that is to say, full of mirth, and to move laughter.  
There were the statues also to be seen within the citadel, of the mother of Isocrates and of Theodorus, as also of Anaco her sister; of which, that of his mother is yet extant; and it standeth near unto the image of Hygta, that is to say Health; only the inscription is changed: but the the other of Anaco is not to be found. This Anaco had two sons, Alexander by Coenes, and Usicles by Lysias.   

IS A US. V.  
ISaeus was borne in Chalcis: and being come to Athens, he studied the works of Lysias, whom he did so nearly imitate, aswell in the apt couching of his words, as in the witty device & subtlety of his inventions; that if a man were not very well practised & perfect in the style and manner of wtiting of these two orators, hardly he should be able to discern many of their orations, and distinguish one from another. He was in greatest name, about the time of the Peloponnesiacke war, as may be conjectured by his orations; and continued unto the reign of king Philip. He gave over his public school, and went to teach Demosthenes privately at home, for the sum of ten thousand drachmas of silver; whereby he became very famous: and as some say, he it was that composed for Demosthenes certain exhortatory orations. He left behind him three score and four orations going in his name; whereof fifty are his indeed: also some particular introductions of his own, and rules of Rhetoric. He was the first who began both to form and to turn the sense of his style unto the politic management of affairs; a thing that Demosthenes doth most of all imitate. Of this orator, Theopompus the comical poet maketh mention in his Theseus.   

AESCHINES. VI  
A Eschines was the son of Atrometus, (a man who being banished in the time of the thirty tyrants, was a means to aid the people, and to set up the popular state again) and his mother's name was Glaucothea. He was of the burrow or tribe Cothocis: so that his parents were neither for nobility of race, nor yet for wealth and riches renowned in the city: but being young, and of a lusty and able constitution, he fortified and confirmed the same more by bodily exercise: and finding himself to have a strong breast and clear voice; thereupon afterwards he made profession to act tragoedies; but (as Demosthenes said of him by way of reproach) he went after others, and could never proceed higher than to act the third and last parts in the solemnities of the Bacchanal plays under one Aristodemus. When he was but a boy, he taught petties the letters; namely, to spell and read together with his father: and being of some growth, he served as a common soldier in the wars. The scholar and auditor he was (as some think) of Isocrates & Plato; but according to Cecilius, of Leodamas. Being entered into the managing of State affires, and that not without credit & reputation; because he made head & sided against the faction of Demosthenes, employed he was in many embassages; and namely unto K. Philip, for to treat of peace: for which, accused he was by Demosthenes, and charged to have been the cause that the nation of the Phocaeans was rooted out, and for that he kindled war between the Amphyctions and the Amphissians, what time as he was chosen one of the deputies to be present in the assembly or diet of the Amphyctions, who made also an haven, whereby it happened withal, that the Amphyctions put themselves into protection of Philip, who being wrought by Aeschines, took the matter in hand, and conquered all the territory of Phocis: howbeit, through the port and favourable countenance of Eubulus the son of Spintharus a Proballusian, who was of great credit and reputation among the people, and spoke in his behalse, he escaped, and was found unguilty, and carried it by thirty voices; although others say, that the orators had penned their orations, and were at the point to plead; but upon the news of the overthrow at Cheronaea, which impeached the proceeding of law, the matter was not called for, nor the cause pleaded.  
A certain time after, when king Philip was dead, and his son Alexander gone forward in his expedition into Asia, he accused Ctestiphon judicially, for that he had passed a decree contrary unto the laws, in the honour of Demosthenes; but having on his side not the sift part of the suffrages and the voices of the people, he was banished out of Athens, and fled to Rhodes, because he would not pay the fine of a thousand drachines', in which he was condemned, upon his overthrow at the bar. Others say, that over & beside, he was noted with infamy, because he would not depart out of the city; and that he retired himself to Ephesus unto Alexander. But upon the decease of Alexander, when there was great troubles towards, he returned to Rhodes, where he kept a school, and began to teach the art of Rhetoric. He read otherwhiles unto the Rhodians (and that with action and gesture) the oration which he had pronounced against Ctesiphon; whereat, when all the hearers marveled, and namely, how possibly he could be cast, if he acted such an oration: You would never wonder at the matter (quoth he) my masters of Rhodes, if you had been in place and heard Demosthenes impleading against it. He left behind him a school at Rhodes, which afterwards was called the Rhodian school. From thence he sailed to Samos, and when he had stayed a time in the Isle, within a while after, he died. A pleasant and sweet voice he had, as may appear both by that which Demosthenes hath delivered of him, and also by an oration of Demochares.  
There be found four orations under his name; one against Timarchus; another as touching false embassage; and a third against Ctesiphon, which in truth be all three his: for the fourth entitled Deliaca, was never penned by Aeschines. True it is indeed, that appointed and commanded he was to plead judicially the causes of the temple of Delos: but he pronounced no such oration; for that Hyperides was chosen in stead of him, as saith Demosthenes. And by his own saying two brethren he had, Aphobus and Demochares. He brought unto the Athenians the first tidings of the second victory which they obtained at Tamyne, for which he was rewarded with a crown. Some give it out that Aeschines was scholar to none, and never learned his Rhetoric of any master; but being brought up to writing, and a good penman, he became a clerk or notary; and so grew up to knowledge of himself by his own industry, for that he ordinarily conversed in judicial courts, and places of judgement. The first time that ever he made public speech before the people, was against king Philip: and having then audience with with great applause and commendation, he was presently chosen ambassador, and sent to the Arcadians; whither when he was come, he raised a power of ten thousand men against Philip. He presented and indicted Timarchus for maintaining a brothel house; who fearing to appear judicially, and to have the cause heard, hung himself, as after a sort Demosthenes in some place saith. Afterwards elected he was to go in embassage unto Philip with Ctesiphon & Demosthenes, about a treaty of peace, wherein he carried himself better than Demosthenes. A second time was he chosen the teuth man in an embassage, for to go and conclude a peace upon certain capitulations and covenants; for which service he was judicially called to his answer and acquit, as hath been said before.   

LYCURGUS. VII.  
Lycurgus' was the son of Lycophron, the son of Lycurgus; him I mean whom the thirty tyrants did to death, by the procurement & instigation of one Aristodemus that came from Bata; who having been treasurer general of Greece, was banished during the popular government. Of the borough or tribe he was named Buta, and of the family or house of the Eteobutades. At the beginning, the scholar he was of Plato the philosopher, and made profession of philosophy: but afterwards being entered into familiar acquaintance with Isocrates, he became his scholar, and dealt in affairs of State where he won great credit, as well by his deeds, as words; and so put in trust he was with the management of the cities revenues: for treasur our general he was the space of fifteen years; during which time, there went thorough his hands forty millions of talents, or as some say, fourscore millions six hundred and fifty talents. And it was the orator Stratocles who preferred him to this honour, by propounding him unto the people. Thus I say at the first was he himself chosen treasurour in his own name; but afterwards he nominated some one of his friends; and yet nevertheless managed all, and had the whole administration of it in his own hands; for that there was a Statute enacted and published, that none might be chosen to have the charge of the public treasure above five years. He continued always an overseer of the city works both winter and summer: and having the office and charge committed unto him for provision of all necessaries for the wars, he reform many things that were amiss in commonwealth. He caused to be built for the city four hundred galleys. He made the common hall or place for public exercises in Lyceum, and planted the same round about with trees: He reared also the wrestling hall, and finished the theatre which is at the temple of Bacchus, being himself in person to oversee and direct the workmen. He was reputed a man of such fidelity and so good a conscience, that there was committed upon trust into his hands, to the sum of two hundred and fifty talents of silver, by diverse and sundry private persons to be kept for their use. He caused to be made many fair vessels of gold and silver to adorn and beautify the city: as also sundry images of Victory in gold. And finding many public works unperfect and half done, he accomplished and made an end of them all: as namely the Arsenals, the common hals for armour and other utensiles and implements, serving for the cities uses. He founded a wall round about the spacious cloisture, called Panathenaike, which he finished up to the very cape and batilments; yea and laid level and even, the great pit or chink in the ground: for that one Dinius, whose plot of ground it was, gave away the propriety which he had in it unto the city, in favour especially of Lycurguss, and for his sake. He had the charge and custody of the city, and commission to attach and apprehend malefactors, whom he drove all quit out of the city; insomuch that some of the orators and subtle sophisters would say, that Lycurgus dipped not his pen in black ink, but in deadly blood, when he drew his writs against malefactors: In regard of which benefit unto the commonweal, so well beloved he was of the people, that when king Alexander demanded to had him delivered into his hands, the people would not forego him. But when as king Philip made war upon the Athenians the second time, he went in embassage with Polycuctus and Demosthenes, as well into Peloponnesus, as to other States and cities. All his time he lived in good estimation among the Athenians, reputed evermore for a just and upright man, in such sort that in all courts of justice, if Lycurgus said the word, it was held for a great prejudice & good foredoom in his behalf, for whom he spoke. He proposed & brought in certain laws; the one to this effect, that there should be exhibited a solemnity of plays or comedies at the feast Chytrae, wherein the poets should do their best, and strive a vie within the theatre for the prize; and whosoever obtained victory, should therewith have the right and freedom of burgeosie, a thing that before was not lawful nor granted unto poets; and thus he brought unto use and practise again, a solemn game which he had discontinued. Another, that there should be made at the public charges of the city, statues of brass for the poets Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides; that their tragoedies should be exemplified and engrossed fair, for to be kept in the chamber of the city; and that the public notary of the city should read them unto the players, for otherwise unlawful it was to act them. A third there was, that no citizen, nor any other person resiant and inhabitant within the city of Athens, should be permitted to buy any prisoners taken in war, such as were of free condition before, to make them slaves, without the consent of their first masters. Item, that within the haven Pyraecum, there should be exhibited a solemn play or game unto Neptune, consisting of round dances, no fewer than three: and that unto those who won the first prize, there should be given for a reward no fewer than ten pound of silver; to the second, eight at the least; and to the third, not under six, according as they should be adjudged by the Umpiers. Item, that no dame of Athens might be allowed to ride in a coach to Eleusin; for fear that the poor might be debased by the rich, and herein reputed their inferiors: but in case any of them were so taken riding in a coach, she should be fined and pay six thousand drachms: now when his own wife obeyed not his law, but was surprised in the manner by the sycophants and promoters, he himself gave unto them a whole talon, with which afterwards when he was charged, and accused before the people: You see yet (quoth he) my masters of Athens that I am overtaken for giving, and not for taking silver.  
He met one day as he went in the street, a publican or farmer of the foreign taxes and tributes for the city, who had laid hands upon the philosopher Xenocrates, and would have led him to prison in all haste, because he paid not the duties imposed upon strangers; for which he gave the publican a rap on the head with the rod or walking staff which he had in his hand, and recovered the philosopher out of his clutches; which done, he cast the said officer himself into prison for his labour, as having committed a great indignity unto such a parsonage: a few days after, the same philosopher meeting him with the children of Lycurgus: I have (quoth he unto them) my good children rendered thanks unto your father, and that right speedily, in that he is so praised and commended of all men for succouring and rescuing me. He proposed and published certain public decrees, using the help herein of one Euclides an Olynthian, who was thought to be a very sufficient man in framing and penning such acts; and albeit he was a wealthy person, yet he never ware but one and the same kind of garment both winter and summer, yea, and the same shoes he went in every day, what need soever was He exercised himself continually in declaiming both night and day, for that he was not so sit to speak of a sudden and unprovided. Upon his bed or pallet where he lay, he had only for his covering a sheeps skin, fell and all, and under his head a bolster, to the end that the sooner and with more ease, he might awake and go to his study. There was one who reproached him, for that he paid his money still unto sophisters and professed rhetoricians, for teaching him to make orations: But (quoth he) again, if there were any would promise and undertake to profit my children and make them better, I would give him willingly not only a thousand deniers, but the one moiety of all my goods. Very bold he was and resolute to speak his mind frankly unto the people, and to tell them the truth plainly, bearing himself upon his nobility; insomuch as one day when the Athenians would not suffer him to make a speech in open audience, he cried out with a loud voice; o whip of Corfu, how many talents art thou worth? Another time, when some there were who called Alexander god: And what manner of god may he be (quoth Lycurgus, out of whose temple whosoever go, had need to be sprinkled and drenched all over with water to purify themselves.  
After he was dead, they delivered his children into the hands of the eleven officers for execution of justice, for that Thrasicles had framed an accusation, & Menesaechmus indited them; but upon the letters of Demosthenes, which in the time of his exile he wrote unto the Athenians, advertising them that they were ill spoken of about Lycurgus his children, they repented themselves of that which they had done, and let them go: & verily Democles the scholar of Theophrastus justified them, and spoke in their defence. Himself and some of his children were buried at the cities charges, over and against the temple of Minerva Paeonia, within the orchard or grove of Melanthius the philosopher: and found there be even in these our days certain tombs with the names of Lycurgus and his children written thereupon. But that which is the greatest thing that soundeth most to the praise of his government, he raised the revenues of the commonweal unto twelve hundred talents, whereas before they amounted but unto threescore. A little before he died, when he perceived death to approach, he caused himself to be carried into the temple of Cybele the great mother of the gods, and into the Senate house, desirous there to render an account of his whole administration of the commonweal: but no man was so hardy as to come forth and charge him with any unjust and wrongful dealing, save only Menesaechmus; now after he had fully answered those imputations which he charged upon him, he was carried home again to his house, where he ended his days; reputed all his life time for a good and honest man, commended for his eloquence, and never condemned in any suit, notwithstanding many actions and accusations were framed against him.  
Three children he had by Calisto, the daughter of Abron, and sister to Calaeus, the son also of Abron, of the burrow Bata, who was treasurour of the camp during the wars that year wherein Chaerondas was provost; of this affinity and alliance, Dinarchus maketh mention, in that oration which he made against Pastius. He left behind him these children, Abron, Lycurgus, and Lycophron; of whom Abron and Lycurgus died without issue; but Abron after he had with good reputation and credit, managed state matters, changed this life: and Lycophron having espoused Calistomacha, the daughter of Philippus Aixenes, begat a daughter named Calesto, married afterwards to Cleombrotus, the son of Dimocrates, an Acharnanian, who by her had a son named Lycophron, whom Lycophron the grandfather adopted for his own son; and he departed this life without children: after the decease of this Lycophron calisto was remarried unto Socrates, unto whom she bore a son, named Symmachus; who begat Aristonymus; and of Aristonymus came Charmides, whose daughter was Philippe, and she bore a son, to wit, Lysander Medius, who became an interpreter also, one of the Eumolpides: of him and of Timothea the daughter of Glaucus descended Laodamia and Medius, who held the priesthood of Neptune Erectheus: Philippe also a daughter, who afterwards was a religious priestresse, devoted to Minerva; for before time, had Diocles the Melittean espoused her, and she bore him a son named likewise Diocles, who was a colonel of a regiment of footmen; and he took to wife Hediste the daughter of Abron, of whose body he begat Philippide and Nicostrata; and Themistocles the torchbearer son of Theophrastus married Nicostrata, by whom he had Theophrastus and Diocles, notwithstanding he was priest unto Neptune Erechtheus.  
There be sound of this orators penning, fifteen orations. Crowned he was many times by the people: and ordained there were for him diverse statues and images, whereof there was one all of brass, according to a public decree of the city, standing in the street Ceranicum, that year when Anaxicrates was provost; under whom there was allowed unto himself and his son Lycurgus, as also to his eldest nephew, table and diet in Prytanneum, by virtue of the same decree of the people: howbeit, after the decease of Lycurgus, Lycophron his eldest son made suit by law for this gift and donation. He pleaded also many times for matters of religion, and accused Autolycus the senator, and one of the high court Ariopaguses, Lysicles also the captain, and Demades the son of Demius, together with Menesachmus, and many others, whom he overthrew and caused to be condemned every one. Moreover, he called judicially into question Diphtlus, for that he took away out of the metal mines, those middle posts or props which supported the weight of earth bearing upon them, by which means he enriched himself, directly against the laws: and whereas the penalty of this crime was death, he caused him to be condemned. He distributed out of his goods, unto every citizen of Athens fifty drachmas, or as some say, one mua, or pound of silver: for the total sum of his wealth amounted unto an hundred and threescore talents. He accused likewise Aristogiton, Cleocrates, and Autolycus, for that being no better than slaves, they carried themselves like men of free condition. This Lycurgus was surnamed Ibis, that is to say, the black Stork: and men commonly would say to Lycurgus, Ibis, like as to Xenophon, Nycteris, that is to say, the Owlet. The most ancient of this house, were descended from Erectheus, the son of the Earth and of Vulcan; but the nearest, from Lycomedes and Lycurgus, whom the people honoured with public funerals and obsequies. And this descent of their race, is drawn from those who were priests of Neptune, and set down in a full and perfect table, which hangeth up in the temple Erechthium, and was painted by Ismenias the Chalcidian; where also stand certain statues of wood, aswell of Lycurgus as of his children, to wit, Abron, Lycurgus and Lychophron, which sometimes were made by Timarchus and Cephisodorus the sons of Praxiteles the imager. He who set up and dedicated the painted table beforesaid, was Abron, unto whom by order of hereditary succession, fell the priesthood, but he gave over his right thereto voluntarily unto his brother Lycophron: this is the reason that he is painted giving a threeforked mace unto his brother. Now this Lycurgus having caused to be engraven upon a square pillar, a brief of his whole administration of the common weal, caused it to be planted just beford the wrestling hall, for every man to see it that would. Neither could any man be found so hardy, as to accuse him for robbing the State, or inverting any thing to his own use. He proposed unto the people, that there should be a coronet given unto Neoptolemus the son of Anticles, and a statue beside, for that he undertook and promised to gild (all over) the altar of Apollo in the market place, according to the commandment & direction of the oracle. He demanded also, that honour should be decreed for Euonymus the son of Diotimus, whose father was Diopithes, in that year wherein Ctesicles was provost.   

DEMOSTHENES. VIII.  
Demosthenes' the son of Demosthenes and of Cleobule the daughter of Gylon, of the lineage or tribe of Paeania, being left an orphan by his father, at the age of seven years, together with a sister five years old; during the time of orphanage kept with his mother a widow, and went to school unto Isocrates, as some say, or as most men give out, to Isaeus the Chalcidian the disciple of Isocrates, who lived in Athens: he imitated Thucydides and Plato the Philosopher, in whose school there be that say he was first brought up: but as Hegesias the Magnesian reporteth, being advertised that Callistratus the son of Empaedes, an Aphidnean and famous orator, who had been captain and commander of a troop ofhorsemen, and who had dedicated an altar to Mercury surnamed Agoraios, that is to say, the Speaker, was to make a solemn oration unto the people, craved leave of his tutor and schoolmaster, that he might go to hear him: and no sooner had he heard him speak, but he was in love with his eloquence.  
But as for this orator, he heard him but a while, even until he left the city; for banished he was. Now after that he was departed into Thrace, by which time Demosthenes grew to be a young man, than began he to frequent the company of Isocrates and Plato: howbeit, afterwards he took home into his house Isaeus, whom he entertained the space of four years, and exercised himself in the imitation of his style, or (as Ctesibius reporteth in his treatise of Philosophy) he wrought so, that by the means of Callias the Syracusian, he recovered the orations of Zethus the Amphipolitane, and by the help of Charicles the Charistian, he got them also of Alcidamus, and those he give himself wholly to imitate. But in process of time, when he was come to man's estate, and past a ward, seeing that his tutors and guardians allowed him not sufficiently out of his living and patrimony, he called them to account for their guardianship, that year wherein Timocrates was provost of Athens. Now three tutors or governors he had, to wit, Aphobus, Theripedes, Demophon aliâs Demea, whom he charged more than the rest, being his uncle by the mother's side: he laid actions upon them of ten talents a piece, and so much he demanded of them by law: he overthrew them all; but he could not come by aught of that wherein they were condemned: for neither recovered he money nor favour of the one or the other. **** When Aristophon was now so aged, that he could not take pains nor attend to set out the solemn dances and shows, for which he was chosen commislarie and overseer, he gave over his place, and Demosthenes in his room was substituted the master of the said dances: and for that in the open theatre as he was busy in his office about setting out and ordering the dances, Medea's the Anagyrasian, gave him a box of the ear with his fist, he sued him in an action of battery: howbeit, he gave over his suit for the sum of three thousand drachmas of silver, which Midias paid him. This is reported of him, that being a young man, he 〈◊〉 himself apart into a certain cave, where he gave himself unto his book, having caused his head to be shaved the half of it, because he might not go abroad to be seen, and so leave his book: also, that he lay upon a very straight and narrow bed, for that he would the sooner 〈◊〉, and with more ease: and there he exercised and forced himself to frame his speech better: but for that he had an ill grace with him, ever as he spoke, to shake and shrink up his shoulder, he remedied that, by sticking up a broach or spit, or as some say, a dagger, to the floor over head, that for fear of pricking his shoulder, he might forget this evil custom that he had in his gesture: and according as he profited and proceeded forward in the art, he caused a mirror to be made just as big as himself, before which he used to declaim, that thereby he might observe the evil gestures or ill-favoured faces that he made when he spoke, and learn to reform and a mend them: also, he used otherwhiles to go down to the water side, to the haven Phalerium, for to exercise himself in declaiming, even where the surging waves of the sea did beat upon the banks, to the end that he might at no time after be troubled nor put out and driven to an 〈◊〉, with the noise and clamour of the people when he should speak before them: but for that naturally he was shortwinded, and his breath commonly failed him, he 〈◊〉 upon Neoptolemus a famous actor or stage-player, ten thousand drachmas of silver, to teach him for to pronounce long periods and sentences with one breath, and not taking his wind between.  
When he began to enter into the management of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 State, finding that the citizens were divided into two factions; the one siding and taking part with king Philip; the other speaking and pleading still for their liberties and freedom, he chose to join with that which was opposite in all their doings unto Philip; and all his 〈◊〉 time he continued countelling and persuading the people to succour those who were in danger to fall under the hands of Philip: communicating his counsels in the administration 〈◊〉 State affairs, & devising evermore with Hyperides, Nausicles, Polyeuctus, and 〈◊〉: and therefore he drew into league & confederacy with the men of Athens, the Thebans, 〈◊〉, Corryceans, Corinthians, Boeotians, and many others besides. One day he chanced to be out and his memory to fail him, so that he was histed at by the people in a great assembly of the city: for which disgrace he was out of heart, and ill apaid, insomuch as in great 〈◊〉 he went home to his house; where by the way, Eunomus the Thriasian, being now an ancient man, met with him, who cheered up Demosthenes and comforted him all that he could: out most of all Andronicus the stage-player; who said unto him: That his orations were as good as possibly might be, only he was wanting somewhat in action; & thereupon rehearsed certain places out of his oration, which he had delivered in that frequent assembly: unto whom Demosthenes gave good ear and credit, whereupon he betook himself unto Andronicus; insomuch as afterwards when he was demanded the question which was the first point of eloquence, he answered, Action; which the second, he made answer, Action; and which was the third, he said, Action, still. Another time he put himself forth to speak in open audience of a great assembly, and was likewise whistled at, and driven lusty out of countenance; for speaking some words that savoured too much of youthfulness; so that he was flouted by the comical poets, Antiphanes and Timocles, who used to twit him with these terms: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  That is to say, 
By the earth, by the fountains, by rivers, floods, and streams.  For having sworn in this manner before the people, he raised a stir and hurliburly among them. He took his oath another time by the name of Asclepius, which he sounded aloft with accent in the 
* i. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the last 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  second syllable; and although he did this upon error in Prosodia, yet he maintained and proved that he had pronounced the word aright; for that Aesculapius was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a mild and gracious god: and for this manner of swearing he was oftentimes troubled; but after he had frequented the school of Eubulades the Milesian, and a Logicien, he corrected and amended all. Being one day at the solemnity of the Olympian games, and hearing Lamachus the Terinaean how he rehearsed an encomiasticall oration in the praise of king Philip, and of Alexander his son; namely, how they invaded and overran the Thebans and Olynthians, he came forward, and standing close unto him, on the contrary side, alleging testimonies out of ancient poets, importing the commendation of Thebans and Olynthians both, for the brave exploits by them achieved; which when Lamachus heard, he gave over and would not speak a word more, but slipped away as soon as he could out of the assembly. King Philip himself would say unto them who related unto him the cautions and orations that he made against him: Certes, I believe verily, that if I had heard him with mine own ears pleading in this wise, I should have given the man my voice, and chosen him captain to make war upon myself. And much to the same purpose the said Philip was wont to liken the orations of Demoshenes unto soldiers, for the warlike force that appeared in them; but the speeches of Isocrates he compared to fencers or swordplaiers, for the delightful show and flourish that they made.  
Being now thirty seven years old, counting from Dexitheus to Callimachus, in the time of whose provostship the Olynthians by their embassage required aid of the Athenians, for that they were sore plagued with the war that king Philip levied against them; he persuaded the people to send them succour: but in the year following, wherein Plato changed this life, king Philip utterly destroyed the Olynthians. Xenophon also the disciple of Socrates, had a knowledge of Demosthenes, either in his prime when he began to rise and grow up, or else in the very flower and best of his time; for Xenophon wrote his Chronicles as touching the acts and deeds of the Greeks, and specially of those affairs which passed about the time of the battle at Mantinaea, or a little after, namely, in that year when Charicles was provost; and Demosthenes somewhat before that, had given his tutors and guardians the overthrow at the bar. When as Aeschines upon his condemnation was fled toward Athens, there to live in exile; Demosthenes being advertised thereof, made after him on horseback; whereupon Aeschines imagining that he should be taken prisoner, fell down at his feet, and covered his face, but Demosthenes willed him to arise and stand up, gave him comfortable words, and beside, put a talon of silver into his hands. He gave counsel unto the Athenians to entertain a certain number of mercenary soldiers, strangers in the isle of Thasos, and to this effect he sailed thither as captain with the charge of a great galley under his hands. He was chosen another time chief purveyor of corn, and being accused for demeaning himself badly, and purloining the city's money, he cleared himself and was acquit. When Philip had forced the city Elatia, and was master of it, Demosthenes abandoned the said city, together with those who had sought in the battle of Cheronaea; whereupon is thought that he forsook his colours and fled; now as he made haste away, there chanced a bramble to take hold of his cassock behind, whereat he turned back and said unto the bramble: Save my life and take my ransom. Upon his target he had for his mot or device, Good fortune. And verily he it was that made the oration at the funerals of those who lost their lives in the said battle.  
After this he applied his mind, and bend his chief care to the reparations of the city, and being chosen commissary for repairing the walls, he laid out of his own (besides the defraying of the city's money) an hundred pounds of silver: over and above that, he gave ten thousand for to be employed in the setting out of shows, games, and plays; which done, he embarked himself in a galley, and sailed up and down from coast to coast, for to levy money of the allies and confedetates; for which good services he was crowned many times: first by the means and motion of Demoteles, Aristonicus, and Hyperides; who propounded that he should be honoured with a coronet of gold, and last of all, at the instant suit of Ctesiphon: which decree was impeached and blamed, as contrary to the laws by Diodotus and 〈◊〉: against whom he defended and maintained it so well, that he carried it clean away; so as his accuser had not the fifth part of the suffrages and voices of the people on his side.  
Afterwards when Alexander was passed onward his voyage into Asia, & Harpalus fled into Athens with a great sum of money: at the first he would not suffer him to be entertained and kept safely; but after he was once arrived and set aland, and that he had received of him a thousand good pieces of gold, called Dariks'; then he changed his note and sung another song: for when the Athenians were minded to deliver the man into the hands of Antipater, he withstood them, and withal set down under his handwriting, that his money was laid up safe in the Citadel; the sum whereof he had declared already unto the people, whereas Harpalus had specified it to be seven hundred and fifty talents or somewhat above, as saith Philocharus. But after this when Harpalus had broken prison, wherein he should have been kept, until some messenger and news came directly from Alexander, and was escaped and retired, as some say, to Candie, or as others, to Tenarus in Laconia; Demosthenes was called into question for corruption, bribery, and taking his money; for that he neither declared the just quantity and sum of coin that thither was brought, not the negligence of those who had the custody of it and him: thus I say was he brought to his answer judicially by Hyperides, Pytheus, Menesechmus, Hymeraeus, and Patrocles, who followed the suit so hard, that they caused him to be condemned in the high court and chamber of Ariopagus: and thus condemned he went into exile, being not able to pay five fold; for charged he was to have taken thirty talents: others say that he would not abide the issue of judgement, and therefore went voluntary before the day of trial into banishment. After this time the Athenians sent Polyeuctus in embassage to the commonalty of the Arcadians, for to divert and withdraw them from the league and confederacy of the Macedonians: but when Polyeuctus could not persuade them to revolt; Demosthenes came upon them and showed himself to second the motion, where he spoke so effectually, that he prevailed with them: for which service he was highly admired, and thereby wan such favour and reputation, that after a certain time, by virtue of a public decree, he was called home again out of exile, and a galley was set out of purpose to bring him back to Athens: and the Athenians moreover ordained, that whereas he owed unto the State thirty talents, in which he was condemned, he should cause an altar to be built unto Jupiter the Saviour, in the port Pyreaeum; & in so doing be held acquit and discharged. This decree was propounded by Daemon the Paeanian his cousin german.  
By this means he returned to the politic managing of affairs as before. Now when as Antipater was straightly besieged by the Greeks, and enclosed within the city Limia, whereupon the Athenians offered sacrifices for the good and joyful tidings thereof, he chanced to let fall a word in talking with Agesistratus, a familiar friend of his, and to say that he was not of the same mind and opinion with other, as touching the State: For I know full well (quoth he) that the Greeks are skilful and able both to run a short career, and good to make a skirmish for a spurt and away; but to hold on a long race, and to continue the war unto the end, they can never abide. But afterwards when Anipater had won Pharsalus, and threatened the Athenians to lay siege unto their city, unless he would deliver into his hands those orators who had inveighed against him: Demosthenes for fear of himself, left the city of Athens, and fled first into the Isle Aegina, for to put himself within the liberties and franchises of the temple or sanctuary, called Aeacium: but afterwards being afraid that he should be fetched out from thence by the ears, he passed over into Calauria: where having intelligence that the Athenians were resolved and had concluded to deliver those orators, and himself principally among the rest; he rested as a poor distressed suppliant within the temple of Neptune: and when there came unto him thithere Archias the pursuvant, surnamed Phygadotheres, that is to say, the hunter of Fugitives, who was a disciple and sectary of Anaximenes the philosopher, persuading him to arise, and that no doubt he should be reckoned one of the friends of Antipater; he answered thus: When you play a part in a tragedy, you can not make me believe that you are the man whom you represent; no more shall you persuade me now to give ear unto your counsel: and when the other laid hands on him and would have drawn him forth by violence, those of the city would not suffer him; then said Demosthenes unto them: I fled not unto Calabria for my safety, and with any intention to save my life, but to convince the Lacedæmonians of their impiety and violence, even against the gods; and with that he called for writing tables, and wrote this dystichon; as saith Demetrius the Magnesian, which the Athenians afterwards caused to be set as an Epigram over the statue: 
Had thy good heart Demostenes, met with as good an hand:  
The Greeks of Macedonian sword, should never have had command.  This image of his standeth near unto the purprise or cloister, wherein is erected the altar of the twelve gods, and made it was by the hands of Polyeuctus: but as some say, this was found written withal: Demosthenes to Antipater greeting. Philocharus saith, that he died of poison which he drank: but Satyrus the historiographer reporteth, that the pen was poisoned wherewith he began to write his epistle, and chancing to put it into his mouth, so soon as ever he tasted thereof, died: Eratosthenes writeth otherwise, namely that he standing in fear a long time of the Macedonians, was provided of poison, which he carried within a little ring or bracelet that he wore about the wrist of his arm: & there be again who say, that he killed himself by holding his wind so long, that he was overcome and stifled withal: last of all, others write that he carried a strong poison within the collet of his signet, which he tasted, and died thereof, *** two and twenty.  
When king Philip was dead, he came abroad wearing a fair & rich new rob, although but a while before he had buried his own daughter, so glad was he of the death of that Macedonian king. He aided the Thebans alos when they warred with Alexander, and all other Greeks he encouraged as much as possibly he could at all times; and therefore Alexander after he had destroyed the city of Thebes, demanded of the Athenians for to have him, menacing them if they would not deliver him into his hands. And when the said king warred upon the Persians, and required of the Athenians their shipping, Demosthenes opposed himself and deemed it: For who is able to say (quoth he) that he will not use the same ships even against ourselves that send them. He left behind him two sons by one wife, the daughter of one Heliodorus a principal citizen. One daughter he had, who died before she was married, being but yet a young child. A sister also he had, who being married unto Laches the Leuconian his nephew or sister's son, bare Demochares, a valiant man in war, and beside, for policy and eloquence inferior to none in his time. There is an image of his to be seen at this day, standing within the common hall of the city, called Prytaneum, on the right hand as men do enter in and go toward the altar. The first man he was who made an oration to the people with a sword by his side girded over his rob: for in that habit it is said, that he delivered a speech unto the citizens, when Antipater came to demand their orators: but afterwards, the Athenians both ordained allowance of diet in the Prytaneum for the kindred of Demosthenes, and also set up a statue for himself when he was dead, in the Market place, that very year when Gorgias was provost, at the suit of Demochares his nephew or sister's son, who required these honours for his uncle: yea, and afterwards, Laches the son of Demochares a Leuconian, made suit for the like honours for himself, the year that Pitharatus was provost, which was ten years after; namely, his statue for to stand in the market place, and allowance of diet in the palace Prytaneum, aswell for himself as for the eldest always of his house and lineage in every descent, with a privilege of the highest room or uppermost place at all solemn sights and games. And these decrees as touching them both, are registered, and to be seen engrossed upon record. As for the image of Demochares, whereof we have already spoken, it was transported into the palace or hall of the city named Prytancum.  
There be extant orations which be his in deed, to the number of three score and five. Some say, that he lived a dissolute and riotous life, and that he would not stick to go in woman's apparel, to banquet, to be one ordinarily in all masks and mommeries; whereupon he was surnamed Batalus: though others there are, who say that this was the name of his nurse, and that thereupon he was so termed by way of flouting speech or nickname. Diogenes the dogged Cynic, spied him one day in a tavern; whereat Demosthenes was abashed, & retired more inward into the house: Nay (quoth Diogenes to him) the more you draw or shrink backward, the surther still you go into the tavern. The same Diogenes said to him upon a time, when he was disposed to scoff: That in words he was a Scythian, that is to say, a tough Tartarian and a brave warrior; but in war, a fine and delicate burgess of Athens. He took gold of Ephialies also, being one of the orators who went in embassage to the king of Persia, and brought with him a great sum of money secretly to distribute among the orators of Athens, to this end, that they might stir coals, and blow the fire, to kindle war against Philip: and it is said, that he for his part had at one clap of the king, three thousand daricks. He caused one Anaxilus of the city of Orea, to be apprehended, who had otherwise been his familiar friend; and being cast into prison, put him to be examined by torture, as a spy; and albeit he confessed nought, yet he sued out a writ or decree that he should be committed into the hands of the eleven executioners of justice. One day when he meant to make a speech in the full assembly of the people, they were not willing to hear him: Why (quoth he unto them) it is but a short tale that I purpose to tell unto you: which when they heard, they gave him audience willingly: and then began he in this manner: There was not long since (quoth he) a young man who hired an ass in the time of Summer, from this city to Megara: now when it was noon time of the day, and the Sun exceeding hot, both the one and the other, aswell the owner of the ass as he who hired him, would needs have the benefit of the asses shade, and stand under it, but they hindered and impeached one another; for the owner said that he had let to hire, his ass, but not the shadow of him: the other again who hired him, pleaded that the ass, shadow and all was in his power. Having thus begun his tale, he came down and went his way: the people than called him back, and prayed him to tell the tale out, and make an end thereof: Why my masters (quoth he) how is it, that you are so desirous that I should tell you a tale of the shadow of ass, and will not give me the hearing when I am to speak unto you of your affairs of great importance? Polus the famous actor and stage-player made his boast upon a time, that in two days wherein he played his part, he had gotten a whole talon of silver: And I (quoth he) have gained five in one day, for holding my peace and keeping silence. His voice upon a time, when he made a speech unto the people, failed him; whereupon his audience being not well pleased, and himself somewhat troubled, he said aloud unto them: You are to judge players by their pleasant and strong voice; but orators by their good and grave sentences. Epicles seemed to upbraid and reproach him, for that he was always musing and premeditating: I would be ashamed (quoth he unto him) if being to speak before so great an assembly of people, I should come unprovided. It is written of him, that he never put out his lamp, that is to say, that he never ceased studying how to file and polish (as it were) his orations, until he was fifty years old. He said of himself, that he drunk nothing but fair water. Lysias the orator had knowledge of him: and Isocrates saw him to manage the affairs of State, until the battle of Chaeronea, yea, and some also of the Socratical orators. The most part of his orations he pronounced 
* How 〈◊〉 his to some 〈◊〉  ex tempore and of a sudden, as having a ready and pregnant wit, and one who naturally was fitted to speak. The first that ever proposed and put up a bill unto the people, that he should be crowned with a coronet of gold, was Aristonicus the Anagyrasian the son of Nicophanes: and Diondas did second the motion with an oath.   

HYPERIDES. IX.  
HYperides the son of Glaucippus, who was the son of Dionysius of the burrow Colyttea, had a son who bore the name of his father Glaucippus, an orator who composed cerreine orations: and he begat another orator, named Alphinus. He was at one time the scholar of Plato the Philosopher, of Lycurgus and of Isocrates. He dealt in the State at what time as Alexander the Great intended the affairs of Greece, and he crossed him as touching those captains which he demanded of the Athenians, as also about the galleys which he required to have. He advised the people not to casse and discharge those soldiers which were entertained at Taenara, who had for their captain, Chares, and whose friend particularly he was. He pleaded ordinarily at the first as an advocate for his fee; and was suspected to have received part of that money which Ephialtes brought out of Persia. Chosen he was the captain of one great galley, at what time as king Philip went to lay siege unto the city Byzantium: and sent he was to aid the Bizantines. The very same year he took the charge of defraying the expenses of the solenme dances; whereas the rest of the captains were exempt from all public offices for that year. He passed a decree, that certain honours should be done unto Demosthenes; and when the said decree was by Diondas repealed, as made against the laws, and himself thereupon accused, yet found he was unguilty, and thereupon acquit. Friend he was to Demosthenes, Lysicles and Lycurgus; howbeit, in this amity he continued not unto the end: for after that Lysicles and Lycurgus were dead, when Demosthenes was once called in question for taking money of Harpalus, he alone (for that his hands only were free of bribery) was nominated and picked out from the rest, to frame an accusation against him, because they were all thought culpable in the same fault, and so he judicially accused him: but himself was charged by Aristogiton for publishing acts contrary to the laws, after the battle at Chaeronea, namely; That all the inhabitants and dwellers in Athens, should be burgesses of the city; that all slaves should manumized and made free; that all sacred and holy relics; that women and children should be bestowed within the port or haven Pireaeum: howbeit, absolved he was, and went clear away. And when some there were who found fault with him, and marveled how he should be so negligent and overseen, as not to know so many laws which were directly opposite to the said decrees; he made this answer: If (quoth he) the arms of the Macedonians and the battle of Chaeronea, had not dazzeled and dimmed my sight, I had never written nor proposed such an edict. But certain it is, that after this, Philip being affrighted, gave the Athenians leave to take up the bodies of their dead that lay in the field, which before he had denied unto the heralds that came of purpose unto him out of Lebadia.  
Afterwards, upon the defaiture at Cranon, when he was demanded by Antipater: and the people resolved to deliver him into his hands, he forsook the city, and fled into the Isle Aegina, with other persons who likewise were condemned; where meeting with Demosthenes, he desired him to hold him excused, for that he had by constraint accused him. And when he minded to depart from thence, surprised he was by one Archias surnamed Phygadotheres, a man borne in the city of Thurit, and who at the first was a professed stage-player, but then employed in the service and aid of Antipater; so he was apprehended perforce within the temple of Neptune; notwithstanding he held the image of the said god in his arms; and from thence brought to Corinth before Antipater; where being set upon the rack, and put to torture, he bit his tongue off with his own teeth, because he would not discover the secrets of the city, and so ended his days the ninth day of the month October: howbeit, Hermippus saith, that as he went into Macedon, he had his tongue cut out of his head, and his dead corpse was cast forth unto the beasts of the field without sepulture: yet one Alphinus his cousin germane, or as some say, the cousin of Glaucippus his son obtained licence (by the means of Philopithes a certain physician) to take up his body, who burned the same in a funeral fire; the ashes and bones whereof, he carried to Athens afterwards, among his kinsfolk and friends, contrary to the orders and decrees set down, both by the Macedonians and the Athenians: for by virtue thereof they were not only banished but interdicted, so as they might not be interred within their own country. Others say, that he was carried unto the city Cleonae with others, where he died; and that his tongue was cut, and afterwards, himself murdered in manner aforesaid. Howbeit, his kinsmen and friends gathered up his bones when his corpse was burnt, and buried them amongst his parents and progenitors before the gates called Hippades, according as Heliodorus hath recorded in the third book of his monuments. But his sepulchre at this day is quite demolished, and no token remaineth thereof to be seen.  
He had a singular name above all other orators, for speaking before the people; insomuch, as some have ranged him even above Demosthenes. There go in his name, three score and seventeen orations; of which, two and fitie are truly attributed unto him, and no more. Given he was exceeding much to the love of women, which was the cause that he drove his own son out of his house, and brought in thither Myrrhina the most sumptuous and costly courtesan in those days: and yet in Pyreaeum he kept Aristagora, and at Eleusin (where his lands and possessions lay) he had another at command, namely, Philte a Theban borne, who cost him twenty pounds' weight of silver. His ordinary walk was every day thorough the fish market. And when the famous courtesan Phryne (whom he loved also) was called into question for Atheism and impiety, inquisition was made after him likewise; and so he was troubled with her and for her sake, as it should seem: for, so much he declareth imselfe in the beginning of his oration: now when she was at the very point to be condemned, he brought the woman forth in open court before the judges, rend her clothes, and showed unto them her bare breast; which the judges seeing to be so white and fair, in regard of her very beauty absolved and dismissed her.  
He had very closely and secretly framed certain accusatorie declarations against Demosthenes, yet so, as they came to light in this manner: for when Hyperides lay sick, it fortuned that Demosthenes came one day to his house for to visit him, where he found a book drawn full of articles against him; whereat when he was much offended, and took it in great indignation, Hyperides made him this answer: So long as you are my friend, this shall never hurt you; but if you become mine enemy, this shallbe a curb to restrain you from enterprising any thing prejudicial unto me. He put up a bill unto the people, that certain honours should be done unto Jolas, who gave unto Alexander the cup of poison. He sided with Demosthenes, and joined in the raising of the Lamiacke war, and made an admirable oration at the funerals of those who lost their lives therein. When king Philip was ready to embark & pass over into the isle Eubaea, whereupon the Athenians were in great fear and perplexity; he gathered together in a small time a fleet of forty sail, by voluntary contribution, and was the first man who for himself and his son rigged and set forth two galleys of war. When there was a controversy in law between the Athenians and Delians to be decided, unto whether of them appertained by right the superintendance of the temple at Delos, and that Aeschynes was chosen to plead the cause, the counsel of Ariopaguses elected Hyperides; and his oration as touching this matter is at this day extant, entitled The Deliaque oration. Moreover, he went in embassage to Rhodes, where there arrived other ambassadors in the behalf of Antipater, whom they highly praised, as a good, mild, and gracious prince: True it is (quoth Hyperides unto them again) I know well that he is good and gracious, but we have no need of him to be our lord and master how good and gracious soever he be. It is said, that in his orations he showed no action nor gesture at all: his manner was only to set down the case and lay open the matter plainly and simply, without troubling the judges any otherwise than with a naked narration. Sent he was likewise unto the Elians for to defend the cause of Calippus, one of the champions at the sacred games, unto whom this imputation was laid, that by corruption he had carried away the prize, and indirectly obtained the victory. He opposed himself also against the gift which was ordained in the honour of Photion, at the instant suit of Midias of Anagyrra, the son of Midias, the year wherein Xenius was provost, the 27. day of the month of May; and in this cause he was cast and had the overthrow.   

DINARCHUS. X.  
DInarchus the son of Socrates or Sostratus, borne as some think in the country of Attica, or as others would have him, in Corinth, came to Athens very young, at what time as king Alexander the Great, passed with his army into Asia; where he dwelled, and frequented the lecture of Theophrastus, who succeeded Aristotle in the Peripatetic school: he conversed also with Demetrius the Phalerian, and took his time especially to enter into the administration of State affairs, after the death of Antipater, when the great orators and statesmen were some dead and made away, others banished and driven out of the city: and being beside friended and countenanced by Cassander, he grew in short time to be exceeding rich, exacting and taking money for his orations, of those at whose request he composed them. He banded against the most renowned orators in his time; not by putting himself forth to come in open place to speak before the people (for no gift nor grace he had therein) but by penning orations for those who made head against them. And namely when Harpalus had broken prison and was fled, he composed diverse accusatorie declarations against all such as were suspected to have taken money of him, and those he delivered into the hands of their accusers to be pronounced accordingly. Long time after, being accused himself to have communicated, conferred, and practised with Antipater and Cassander, about the time that the haven Munichia was surprised by Antigonus and Demetrius, who placed there a garrison in that year when Anaxicrates was provost of the city, he sold most part of his goods, and made money, and when he had done, fled out of the way to Chalcis, where he lived as it were in exile the space well near of 15. years; during which time, he gathered great riches, and became very wealthy, and so returned again to Athens, by the means of Theophrastus, who procured both him and other banished persons to be recalled and restored: he abode then in the house of one Proxenus his familiar friend; where being now very aged, and beside weak-sighted, he lost his gold that he had gotten together; and when Proxenus his host would have given information thereof, and seemed to make inquisition, Dinarchus called him into question judicially for it; and this was the first time that ever he was known to speak & plead personally at the bar. This oration of his is now extant, and there are beside in men's hands threescore and four more acknowledged all to be his, and yet some of these are to be excepted, as namely, that against Aristogiton. He did imitate Hyperides, or as some think Demosthenes in regard of that pathetical spirit in moving affections, and the emphatical force which appeareth in his style. Certainly in his figures and exornations he followeth him very evidently.     

DECREES PROPOSED UNTO the people of Athens.  
DEmochares the son of Laches, of the burrow Leucon, demandeth for Demosthenes, the son of Demosthenes of the burrow of Paeania, a statue of brass to be set up in the market place or common hall of Athens: also allowance of diet in the palace Prytanaeum, & the first place or seat in all honourable assemblies for himself, & the eldest of his house in every descent for ever; for that he the said Demosthenes hath always been a been factor to the city, & given counsel unto the people of Athens, in many of their honourable affairs to their behoose; for that he hath at all times exposed his goods to the service of the commonweal, & namely, of his liberal and bountiful mind contributed eight talents of silver, and maintained one galley of war, at what time the people freed & delivered the isle Eubaea: & another, when captain Cephisodorus set out his voyage into Hellespont; as also a third when Chares and Photion were sent as captains to Byzantium by the people. Item, for that with his own money he ransomed and redeemed many citizens taken prisoners & captives in Pydne, Methone & Olynthus by king Philip. Item, for that he defrayed at his own proper cost & charges, the public plays & dances when the tribe of the Pandionides failed to furnish the officers & wardens appointed thereto. Item, for that he armed many poor citizens who had not wherewith to set themselves forth to the wars. Item, for that being chosen by the people one of the Aediles or Commissaries, for repairing the city walls, he laid out of his own purse to the value of three talents of silver, over and beside ten thousand drachms which of his own money he employed, in casting of two trenches about Pyreaeum. Item, that after the disastrous battle of Chaeronea, he gave out of his own stock one talon; & another to buy corn with all in time of a dearth and great famine. Item, for that by his effectual remonstrances, fair persuasions, wholesome counsels, and good demerits, he had induced the Thebans, Euboeans, Corinthians, Megarians. Achians, Locrians, Bizantines, and Messenians, to enter into a league as well offensive as defensive with the people of Athens. Item, for that he levied a power of ten thousand footmen well armed, and a thousand horsemen, over and above the contribution of moneys, by the people and their allies. Item, for that being ambassador, he had persuaded the associates and confederates of Athens, to make a contribution of money to the sum of five hundred talents and above, toward the wars. Item, for that he impeached the Peloponnesians for aiding king Alexander against the Thebans; for which service he parted with his own silver, and went personally in embassage. As also in regard of many other good deserts, and worthy exploits by him achieved: in consideration likewise of much wise counsel and advice, which he hath given unto the people, and of his politic government & managing of State affairs, wherein he hath carried himself as well, yea and much better than any in his time: for the preservation of the liberty and maintenance of the authority of the people. Over and beside, in that he was banished out of his country by certain seditious usurpers, who for the time suppressed the authority of the people: and finally lost his life in Calauria, in the quarrel of the said people, and for the love and good will that he always bore affectionately unto the commonalty of Athers, there being sent of purpose from Antipater certain soldiers to apprehend him. Notwithstanding, which present danger wherein he stood, being now in the hands of his enemies, yet persisted he firm & fast in his hearty affection always unto the people: insomuch as he never did any deed, nor let fall any word prejudicial to his country, or unbeseeming the honour of the people, as near as he was unto his death. Subscribed, that very year when Pytharatus was Provost.  
Laches the son of Demochares, of the borough Leucon, demandeth in free gift of the Senate and people of Athens, for Demochares the son of the Laches, of the tribe or borough Leucon, one statue of brass to be erected in the market place: also his table and diet in the palace or city hall Prytanaeum for himself, and for him that shall be the eldest of his house in every descent for ever; as also the privilege of presidence of first seat at all solemn sights and public plays: for that he hath always been a benefactor and good counsellor unto the people of Athens, as having deserved well of the commonweal in these particulars; as well in those things which he hath penned, proposed and negotiated in his embassage, as in the administration of commonweal; in that he hath caused the walls of the city to be built, made provision of harness & armour, as well offensive as desensive; of fabrics & engines of battery, & of artillery with shot to be discharged out of them; in that he hath well fortified the city during the wars with the Boeotians which continued for the space of four years: for which good service done, banished he was and chased out of the city by the tyrants, who oppressed the liberty and authority of the people: and in that being restored again and called home by an honourable decree of the said people, when Diocles was Provost, he was the first man who restrained the administration and management of those who made spare of their own goods, and sent embassages unto Lysimachus: in that also he levied for the good of the commonwealth at one time thirty talents, and at another a hundred talents of silver; in that he moved the people by a bill preferred unto them, for to send an embassage to king Ptolemaeus in Egypt; by means whereof they that went that voyage, brought back with them fistie talents of silver for the people. Item, in that being sent ambassador to Antipater, he received thereby twenty talents of silver, which he brought unto the people into the city of Eleusin, where he practised and persuaded with them to receive the same. Item, in that he suffered banishment, because he was a protector and defender of the popular State, never siding nor taking part with any faction of the usurpers; nor bearing office or magistracy in commonweal, after that the said popular State was put down and abolished. Item, in that he only in his time, of all those who meddled in the affairs of State, never studied nor intended alteration, and to reduce his country unto any another kind of government, but popular. Item, in that by his politic counsel and administration he hath put in safety and security all judgements passed; all laws enacted; all decrees concluded; yea and the goods and substance of all the Athenians: finally, in that he hath gone about and attempted nothing prejudicial unto the popular government, either in word or deed.  
Lycophron the son of Lycurgus, of the borough or commonalty of Buta, hath presented this request: That he might be allowed his diet in the palace Prytanaeum, according to the free gift granted before time to his father Lycurgus by the people, in that year wherein Anaxicrates was Provost of the city, and the tribe Antiochis Precedent of Prytanaeum: which Stratocles the son of Euthydemus, of the borough Diomeia, proposed it in this form: Forasmuch as Lycurgus, the son of Lycophron of Buta, hath received of his ancestors (as it were) from hand to hand a certain hereditary love and affection to the people of Athens, and his progenitors likewise, Diomedes and Lycurgus, both during their lives were esteemed and highly honoured by the people; and after their death, had this honour done unto them in testimony of their virtue and valour, as to be interred at the public charges of the city in that conspicuous street called Ceramicum: considering also, that Lycurgus himself (whiles he managed the affairs of the State) enacted many good and wholesome laws for his country, and being treasurer-generall of all the cities revenues, by the space of fifteen years, during that time, had the receipt and laying out of the public moneys, to the sum of eighteen thousand and nine hundred talents: and for that many private men's stocks were put into his hands upon trust, for the confidence they had in him, in regard of his fidelity; in regard also, that he hath disbursed and laid forth of his own moneys at sundry times and upon diverse occasions, for the benefit of the city and commonalty, as much as amounteth in all, to six hundred and fifty talents: for that likewise in all his employments, having been ever found most trusty, just and loyal, and to carry himself as an honest man and good citizen, he hath been many times crowned by the city: moreover, in this respect, that having been chosen by the people the receiver of the finances, he gathered together a great mass of money, and brought the same into the common chest within the citadel, and beside, provided ornaments for the goddess Minerva, to wit, images of victory all of beaten gold, vessels to carry in procession both of gold and silver, besides other jewels of fine gold for the service and worship of the said goddess, and namely, to the number of one hundred Canephorae, that is to say, Virgins carrying paniers or baskets with sacred relics upon their heads. Item, for that being elected commissary for the munitions and provisions necessary for the wars, he brought into the citadel a great number of armours and weapons, and among the rest, fifty thousand shot; rigged and set a float four hundred galleys, some new built, others repaired and trimmed: over and beside, for that finding certain of the city works unperfect, to wit, the Arsenal, the armory and the Theatre of Bacchus, he caused them to be made up, and withal, finished both the Cirque or running place Panathenaicurn, and also the impaled park for public exercises, and built the Lycium likewise, and adorned the city with many fair buildings and public edifices: whereas also, king Alexander the Great, having already subdued all Asia, and intending generally to be commander over all Greece, demanded to have Lycurgus delivered up into his hands, for that he only stood in his way, and crossed his designs, the people would not deliver him for any fear they had of Alexander: and for that being oft times called judicially to his answer, and to render an account of his government and administration in a free city and governed by a popular State, he was always found innocent and unreprovable, not tainted with any bribery, nor spotted with corruption and taking gifts for to pervert justice all his life time. To the end therefore, that all men might know that they who are well affected to the maintenance of liberty and popular government be highly accounted of by the people whiles they live, and that after their death the city is willing to render unto them immortal thanks; in a good and happy hour, let it be ordained by the people, that Lycurgus the son of Lycaphron of Buta, be honoured for his virtue and righteousness; and that the people erect his statue all of brass in the marketsteed, unless it be in some place where the trade expressly forbiddeth it to stand. Item, that there be allowance of diet in the Prytanaeum, to the eldest of his house in every descent for ever. Also, that the decrees by him proposed, shallbe ratified and engrossed by the public notary of the city, yea, and engraven in pillars of stone, and set up in the citadel near unto the offerings consecrated unto the goddess Minerva: and for the engraving of the said pillars, the treasury of the city shall defray fifty drachmas of silver out of those moneys which are allowed for the city decrees.   

OF THREE SORTS OF GOVERNMENT: MONARCHY, DEMOCRATY AND oligarchy.  
ASI devised with myself and purposed to put to question for to be decided by this judicious company, a matter which yesterday I discoursed of before you; me thought that I heard politic virtue in a true vision in deed (and not in the vain illusion of a dream) thus to say unto me: 
The golden base and ground that now belongs  
Unto our work, is laid with sacred songs.  I have already laid the foundation of a discourse, persuading and exhorting to the management of State affairs, if now we can proceed to build upon it the doctrine fit for such an exhortation, which is a due debt unto Articus: for meet it is and requisite, that after a man hath received an admonition inciting him to deal in politic matters of commonweal, there should consequently be given unto him and sounded in his ears the precepts of policy; the which he observing and following, may (as much as lieth in man to perform) be profitable to the commonweal; and withal, in the mean time manage his own private business, both in safety, and also with such honour as is just and meet for him.  
First and foremost therefore, we are to consider and discourse of one point; which as it is a very material precedent unto all that shall be said, so it dependeth, and is necessarily to be inferred of that which hath been delivered already; namely, What manner of policy and government is best: for as there be many sort of lives in particular men; so there are of people in general: and the life of a people or commonalty, is the politic state and government thereof. Necessary it is therefore, that we declare which is simply the best; that a man of State may choose it from among the rest: or at leastwise, if that be impossible, take that which most resembleth the best. Now there is one signification of this word Politia, that is to say, Policy, which is as much as Burgeosie, that is to say, the indument and enjoying of the right and privileges of a city: as for example, when we say that the Megarians (by a public ordinance of their city) gave unto Alexander the great, their Politia, that is to say, their Burgeosie: and when he seemed to laugh at this offer and grant of theirs, they made him answer again: That they had never decreed this honour to any, but first to Hercules, and now to himself: which speech of theirs he so admired, that he accepted of their gift, reputing it honourable, because it was so rare. Also the life of a politic person who administereth State affairs, is called Policy: according to which sense and acceptation of the word, we commend the policy of Pericles and Bias, that is to say, their manner of government, but chose, we discommend that of Hyperbolus and Cleon. Moreover, others there be, who call some one worthy act or memorable deed tending to the good of the common weal, by the name of Policy: as for example, the contribution of money, the final ending and dissolution of war, and the publishing or declaration of some notable decree: in which signification we use commonly to say: Such a man hath this day been the author of a good policy, if haply he have done and effected some worthy things, importing the weale-publicke. Over and above all these significations before specified, there is another; namely, the order and state of a city and commonwealth, by which are managed and administered all the affairs thereof: and according to this sense we say, there be three sorts of policies, Monarchy, that is to say, Royalty; oligarchy, that is to say, signory; and Democraty, that is to say, Popular authority: of which three Herodotus maketh mention in the third book of his history, comparing them together; and it seemeth that these be the most general, for all others be (as it were) the depravations and corruptions of these, according to want or excess, like as it falleth out in accords and consonances of music, when the first and principal strings or notes are stretched over high, or let down to low: and so he divided these three governments among those nations which had the largest empire and greatest dominion: for the Persians held the Monarchy and absolute royalty, for that their king had plenary power in all things, not subject to be called unto account by any person whatsoever. The Spartiats or Lacedæmonians, maintained a grave and severe counsel, consisting of some few, and those the best and principal personages of the city, who managed and dispatched all affairs. The Athenians embraced a popular government, living under their own laws, free, and without all mixture whatsoever. Now of these States and governments, when they be faulty and out of order, the transgressions, exorbitations and excesses, be called tyrannies, lordly oppressions of the mightier, and unbrideled rule, or licentious misrule rather of the multitude: to wit, when the prince in his absolute royalty taketh upon him insolent pride, to commit wrong and outrage unto whom he list: when some few senators or rulers in their signory enter into an arrogant and presumptuous lordliness, whereby they contemn and oppress all others: also when the multitude in their popular isonomie, run into anarchy, unruliness, disobedience, terms of equality, and unmeasurable liberty: and in one word, when all these sorts of government fall to rash and witless folly: like as therefore a skilful and harmonical musician can make use of all kinds of instruments, framing and accommodating himself by art and cunning unto every one, striking each one according as he knoweth the quality and nature thereof, to give the sweetest and most pleasant sound: howbeit, if he follow the counsel of Plato, will pass by the fiddels, rebecks, dulcimers, the many stringed psalteries or virginals, the vials likewise & the triangled haps, preferring before all others the lute and the cithaeron or bandora: even so a good politician, will handle with dexterity the Laconicke signory, and manage well enough Lycurgus his oligarchy, applying and fitting his companions in government, who have equal authority unto himself, gently drawing and reducing them by little and little unto the bent of his bow: semblably, he will carry himself with wisdom and discretion in the popular State, as if he had to deal with an instrument of many sounds, and as many strings, letting down and remitting some matters, setting up and extending other things in the government, as he seeth his time, giving ease and liberty, and again, carrying a hard hand and a rigorous, as one who knoweth when to resist and withstand stoutly any proceedings: But if he were put to his choice, among these musical instruments as it were of a politic government; certes if he be ruled by Plato, he would never choose any other but that regal and princely Monarehia, which only is able to maintain that direct, absolute and 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  lofty note (indeed) of virtue, and not suffer it either by force of necessity, or upon affectionate favour and grace, to frame itself to gain and profit; for other governments after a sort as they be ruled by a politician, so they rule him, and as he leadeth them, so they carry him, for that he hath no assured power over those, from whom he hath his authority, but oftentimes he is enforced to exclaim and resound these verses of Aeschylus the poet, which Demetrius Poliorcetes was wont to allege unto fortune, after that he had lost his kingdom: 
Thou mad'st me bud and burgeon fresh at first, but now at last,  
Thou seem'st my lovely bloume to burn, and beauty for to blast.    

A breviary OF THE COMPARISON BETWEEN ARISTOPHANES AND MENANDER.  

The Summarie.  
HE preferreth Menander an excellent comical poet, in all respects before Aristophanes, who is here described and depainted in his colours. Then examineth he in particular what he had said before in generality. He considereth the style, disposition, uniformity, and artificial contriving of Menander's comedies, showing that Aristophanes in comparison of him was no better than a counterfeit cousiner, a crafty and prating companion, ignorant, audacious, and intolerable unto all: having written his comedies not to be read of any honest men, but only for lewd and dissolute persons.   

A breviary OF THE COMparison between Aristophanes and Menander.  
TO speak in general and summarily, he preferreth Menander by many degrees before Aristophanes; but to come unto particularities, see what he addeth moreover: The style of Aristophanes, and his manner of language is unsavoury and unpleasant, counterfeit, base and mechanical, whereas in Menander there is no such thing to be seen. And verily a gross, ignorant, and unlettered idiot may take pleasure and be delighted in Aristophanes his speeches; but a learned man will soon be displeased and discontented therewith. I mean, his Antitheta or opposite terms; his clauses ending alike, and his allusions to names, which Menander useth but now and then to good purpose, and with great reason and judgement, being therein very sparie, wary, and religious: whereas the other ever and anon abuseth them hand over head, and out of season without all grace or life to commend them. Praised he is (forsooth) for these cold jests; namely, when he saith: That he had drenched over head and ears the treasurours, who were not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Also, This fellow doth breath out, either malice or slanderous calumniation. Again, Here is one that liveth for his belly, his entrails and his guts. Likewise, Even for very laughter, I shall break out a laughing. Moreover, What shall I do to thee thou unhappy damned pitcher, and banished? semblaby, You women, here I shall make you wild and savage evils, like as I am myself, who have been fed among wild and savage words: but these curled tresses and frizzled hairs surely have devoured my crest: lastly, 
Come bring him hither his target round, with Gorgon's hideous head:  
But give me here my cake as round, as face, buckler in his stead.  beside many other bald jests of the like sort: for there is in the composition and texture of his words, that which is tragical and comical both: proud and insolent; base also and lowly; dark and mystical, and anon plain and familiar; swelled, puffed up and lofty; but afterwards, vanity, lightness, and loathsome scurrility, enough to overturn a man's stomach. Now there being in his writings such diversity, difference, and dissimilitude; yet giveth not he to every person that which is proper and beseeming. As for example, he attributeth not unto a king, a high and lofty language; to an orator, eloquent and pithy speech; to a woman, a plain and simple tongue; to an ignorant and unlettered commoner, base and lowly words; to a busy barriter or pragmatical merchant, shrewd and odious terms; but he alotteth unto every person at a venture whatsoever attributes come first to hand; so that a man cannot know not discern by any speech, whether he be a son or a father that speaketh; a country peasant or a citizen; a god or an old woman, or some demigod: whereas the style and phrase of Menander is so uniform; so consonant and like itself, that howsoever it be conversant in sundry manets and diverse passions, howsoever it be accommodate to all sorts of persons, yet it seemeth still one and the same, and to keep the semblance in common and familiar words, and such as are always in use. And if perhaps otherwhiles according to the matter and present occasion offered, there be required some extraordinary narration or strange bruit and unexpected noise; he setteth a work and openeth (as it were) all the holes of his pipe; but presently and with a seemly grace he reduceth and composeth his voice to the natural state again. Now albeit there be in all arts & mysteries excellent artisanes; yet was there never known any shoemaker to make a shoe; nor artificer a mask or viso; nor tailor a rob or garment, that would fit at one time a man and woman both; a young youth, an aged person, and a varlet: but Menander hath so framed his phrase and speech, that proportionate it is and suitable to all natures & sexes, to each state and condition, yea and to every age, and this was he able to perform and do in his very youth, when he began to write: for than died he when he entered into his flower and best time, either of composing or setting out and publishing his works, at such an age, when as the style (as Aristotle saith) is come to the very growth and height in them who make profession to pen or write aught. And if a man would consider the first comedies of Menander's making, and confer them with those in the mids, and which he made in his latter end, a man thereby may soon know how much he would have added to these in other, if he had lived longer: for that of them who put forth their works to be seen and read, some write to the capacity of the multitude and vulgar sort, others for men of mark and understanding; and hardly is a man able to name the author, who can skill how to observe that which is meet and befitting two kinds of people. As for Aristophanes he is neither pleasing unto the common sort, nor acceptable to men of worth and judgement; but his poesy may be likened unto an old stale and overworn whore, who forsooth would counterfeit an honest married wife; for as the people cannot endure his arrogancy; so men of account and quality, detest his intemperance and maliciousness: whereas Menander on the contrary side, with a good and seemly grace, satisfieth and contenteth all, serving as a lecture, a knowledge and exercise common to theatres, schools, sports, pastimes, feasts, and banquets, showing thereby, that his poesy is one of the goodliest things that ever Greece brought forth; making it to appear what a gay matter, and how puissant is the dexterity of speech and language, passing throughout, with an attractive grace, which it is impossible to escape, ravishing and winning every man's ear and understanding, who hath the knowledge of the Greek tongue. For wherefore should a learned man take pains to go unto the theatre, but for Menander's sake? when are the theatres frequented and full of great clerks, but when there is a masked show before of acting his comedies? And at banquets, for whom doth the table make room or Bacchus give place more justly than for Menander? And as for philosophers, great scholars and students, like as painters when they have wearied their eyes with looking upon fresh, lively & bright colours, turn them to those that are verdant and green; as namely, upon herbs and flowers for to recreate and refresh their sight; even so Menander is he who entertained their minds and spirits (as it were) in a fair meadow full of lovely and pleasant flowers, where there is shade, fresh and cool air, with mild and comfortable winds. What is the reason that the city of Athens at this day is furnished with many singular actors and players of comedies? even because the comedies of Menander are so full of many graces and pleasant conceits, so savoury, as if they sprang forth of the very sea, out of which Venus herself was borne: whereas the conceits and jests of Aristophanes, are bitter and sharp withal, carrying with them a mordicative quality which doth bite, sting and exulcerate wheresoever they light. And verily I wot not wherein lieth that lively dexterity which is so highly commended in him; whether in his words & phrases, or in the personages and actors? Certes, those things which he doth imitate and counterfeit, incline always to the worse part: his cunning casts and conveyances are nothing civil and gentle, but shrewd and malicious: the rusticity in clowns that he resembleth, is not natural, but affected and foolish: his merry jests to move laughter, are nothing jocund, but rather ridiculous and to be derided: his amorous parts be not lovely and delectable, but wanton and dissolute. In sum, it seemeth this man wrote not his poesy to be read of any honest and sober person; for his filthy and lascivious terms are meet for lecherous folk, and those which are given over to all looseness, like as his bitter and spiteful speeches, for envious and malicious persons.    

NARRATIONS OF LOVE.  

The Summarie.  
IN this discourse, Plutarch relateth five tragical histories, which show the pitiful accidents that befell certain persons transported with the inordinate and irregular affection of Love; leaving thereby unto the reader a fair and clear mirror wherein to behold the judgements of God upon those that abandon themselves to be carried away by intemperance and looseness.   

NARRATIONS OF LOVE.  
IN the city Aliartos situate within Boeotia, there was sometime a young maiden of excellent beauty, named Aristoclea, and the daughter she was of Theophanes: and two young gentlemen there were, that made suit unto her in way of marriage, to wit, Straton an Orchomenian, & calisthenes of Aliartos aforesaid. Now was Straton the richer of the twain, and far more enamoured of the damosel; for seen her he had when she washed herself in the fountain of Ercyne, which is in Lebadia, against the time that she was to carry in procession to Jupiter, surnamed King, a sacred panier, as the manner was of the Canephorae to do. But calisthenes had the vantage of him, and was deeper in her love, for that he was beside near of kin unto the virgin. So Theophanes her father being doubtful what to do (for he stood in fear of Straton, as one who for wealth and noble parentage went well-near beyond all the Boeotians) resolved at length to refer the choice unto the oracle of Jupiter Trophonius: but Straton, who was borne in hand by those of the house about Aristoclea, that she inclined more unto him, laboured earnestly, that the matter might be put unto the election of the damosel herself: whereupon, when Theophanes the father demanded of her in the face of the world, Whom she loved better, and would choose to be her husband; she preferred calisthenes: whereat Straton showed himself immediately not a little discontented for this repulse and disgrace; but two days after, he came unto Theophanes and calisthenes, pretending and saying, that he would not fall out with them, but was desirous still of their good favour and friendship, how ever his ill fortune had envied him the marriage of the young virgin. They approving well of this speech, and taking his words in very good part, invited him as a guest to the wedding feast: mean while, he provided himself of a good number of his friends, and beside, no small troop of servants, whom he disposed secretly in their houses here and there, against the time that this maiden (after the custom and manner of the country) should go down to a certain fountain named Cissoeisa, there to sacrifice unto the Nymphs before her marriage day: now as she passed by, those who lay in ambush came all running forth from every side, and seized upon her body, but Straton himself principally, who drew and haled the damosel unto him as hard as he could: calisthenes again on the other side, for his part (as became him) held her fast, & so did they about him: thus the silly maiden was tugged and pulled to and fro so long between them, that before they were aware, dead she was among them in their hands: upon which strange occurrent, what became of calisthenes, it is not known, whether he presently made away himself, or fled into voluntary exile; for he was no more seen: as for Straton, in the very sight of all men there in the place he killed himself upon the very body of his espoused bride.  
2 There was one named Phidon a Peloponnesian, affecting the signory of all Peloponnesus, and being desirous that the city of Argos his native seat should be lady over all others, laid an ambush first for the Corinthians, to entrap them: for he sent an embassage unto Corinth, to demand a levy of a thousand young men, that were the lustiest and most valorous gallants of the whole city. The Corinthians sent them accordingly, under the conduct of one of their captains, named Dexander. Now the purpose of this Phidon was, to set upon this troop, and kill them every one, to the end that he might thereby enfeeble the Corinthians, and make the city serve his own turn (as a strong bulwark most commodiously seated) to command and subdue all Peloponnesus. This design of his he communicated unto certain of his friends for to be put in execution accordingly; among whom there was one named Abron, who being a familiar friend unto Dexander, revealed unto him the conspiracy: whereupon the said regiment of a thousand young men (before they were charged by the said ambush) retired themselves, and recovered Corinth in safety. Then Phidon bestirred himself to find out the man who had thus betrayed and discovered his plot: which Abron fearing, withdrew himself to Corinth, taking with him his wife, children, and his whole family, where he settled and remained in a village named Melissa, belonging to the territory of that city: there begat he a son, whom of the very place which he inhabited, he named Melissus; and this Melissus in process of time had a son of his own, called Actaeon, who proved the most beautiful, and withal, the modestest lad of all other youths and springals of his age; in regard whereof, many there were enamoured of him; but among the rest, one especially, named Archias, descended lineally from the noble race of Hercules, and for wealth, credit and authority, the greatest person in all Corinth. This Archias, seeing that by no fair means and persuasions he could prevail with young Actaeon, and win his love, resolved with himself to use violence, and forcibly to ravish and carry away this fair boy: so he came upon a time (as it were) to make merry, unto the house of Melissus his father, accompanied with a great train of friends, and attended upon with a good troop of his own householde-servants, where he gave the attempt to have away the boy by force: but the father with his friends made resistance; the neighbours also came forth to rescue, and did all what they could, to hold and keep the youth with them: but what with the one side and what with the other, poor Actaeon was so pulled and tugged, that between them he lost his lfe. which done, all the rest went their ways and departed; but Melissus the father brought the dead corpse of his child into the market place of the Corinthians, presented it there unto them, and demanded justice to be done upon those who had committed this foul outrage. The Corinthians made no greater a matter of it, but only showed, that they were sorry for his mishap; and so he returned home as he came without effect, attending and waiting for the solemn assembly at the Isthmicke games; where being mounted up to the top of Neptune's temple, he cried out against the whole race of the Baccharides, and withal, rehearsed by way of commemoration, the beneficence of his father Abron unto them, and when he had called for vengeance unto the gods, he threw himself down headlong among the rocks, and broke his neck. Not long after there fell out to be a great drought, and the the city was sore visued with famine, insomuch as the Corinthians sent unto the oracle, for to know by what means they might be delivered from this calamity. unto whom the god made this answer: That the wrath of Neptune was the cause of all their misery, who would by no means be appeased until they had revenged Actaeon's death: which Archias hearing, (who was himself one deputed to this embassage) he was not willing to return again to Corinth, but crossed over the seas into Sicily, where he founded and built the city Syracuse; and there he begat two daughters, Ortygia and Syracuse, but in the end was himself treacherously murdered by one Telephus, whom in his youth he had abused as his minion, and who having the conduct of a ship had sailed with him into sicily.  
3 A poor man named Scedasus who dwelled in Leuctra, a village within the territory of the Thespians, had two daughters, the name of the one was Hippo, and of the other Miletia, or as some write, cleped they were, Theano and Enippe. Now this Scedasus was a bounteous and kind person, yea, and a good fellow in his house, and courteous to all strangers, notwithstanding he had but small store of goods about him. So there fortuned to visit him two young men of Sparta, whom he friendly and lovingly entertained; who being fallen into fancy with his two daughters, had thus much power yet of themselves, that in regard of their father Scedasus, and his kindness unto them, they attempted nothing prejudicial unto the honest pudicitie of the virgins for that time; but the next morning took their leave and went directly toward the city of Delphos, unto the oracle of Apollo Pythius, for to that purpose expressly took they this journey and pilgrimage: after that they had consulted with the god about such matters as they came for, they returned back again into their own country; & as they passed through Boeotia, took Scedasus house by the way, there for to lodge; who at that time was not at Leuctra, but gone forth; howbe it his daughters according to their courteous bringing up, & their usual manner of entertainment, received these two guests into the house, who seeing their opportunity, & that they were alone, forced & deflowered the silly maidens: and after this deed, seeing them exceedingly offended and angry for this villainy offered unto them, so as by no means they would be appeased, they proceeded farther & murdered them both, and when they had so done, threw them into a certain blind pit, and so departed. Seedasus being returned home, found all things else in his house safe and sound as he left them, only his two daughters he could not meet with, neither wist he what to say or do, until such time as a bitch that he had began to whine and complain, running one while to him and another while training him as it were to the pit side, whereupon at length, he suspected that which was, and so drew forth the dead bodies of his two daughters; understanding moreover by his neighbours, that the day before they had seen going into his house those two young men of Lacedaemon, who not long before had been lodged with him; he doubted presently that they were those who had committed this crime, and namely, when he called to mind that the first time they came, they did nothing but praise the maidens, saying: That they reputed them most happy, whose fortune should be to espouse them for their wives. Well, to Lacedaemon he went, for to confer with the Ephori about this matter; and by that time that he entered within the territory of Argos, he was benighted, so that he took up his lodging in a common inn or hostelry; within which, he found another poor old man, borne in the city Oreos, within the province Hestraea, whom when Scedasus heard to sigh and groan grievously, yea and to fall a cursing of the Lacedæmonians, he demanded what the Lacedæmonians had done unto him, that he fared thus against them, the old man set tale an end and said: That a subject he was of the Spartans', and that when one Aristodemus was sent as governor from the State of Sparta, into the city Oreum, he had dealt very cruelly, and committed many outrages and enormites': for being (quoth he) wanton fallen in love with a son of mine, and seeing that he would not frame nor be induced to satisfy his will, he assayed to enforce him, and by violence to hale him out of the public wrestling place, where he exercised himself with other his fears and companions: the warden of the exercises impeached the said governor, with the assistance of many young men, who ran into the rescue, in such sort, as for that present Aristodemus retired without effect; but the next morrow having set out and manned a galley of purpose, he came with a second charge, and carried away my child; and no sooner was he rowed from Oreum to the otherside of the water, but he offered to abuse his body; which when the youth would in no wise abide, nor yield unto, he made no more ado but cut his throat, and killed him outright in the place, which done, he returned back to Oreum, where he feasted his friends and made great cheer: This accident was I soon advertised of (quoth the old man) whereupon I went and performed the last duty unto my son, and solemnised his funeral; and so immediately put myself upon my journey toward Sparta, where I complained unto the Ephori or lords controllers, declaring unto them the whole fact, but they gave no ear unto me, nor made any reckoning of my grievance. Seedisus hearing this tale was il apaid & troubled in his mind imagining that the Spartans' would make as little account of him; and therewith to requite his tale, related for his part likewise unto the stranger, his own case; who thereupon gave him counsel, not so much as once to go unto the Ephori, but to return immediately back into Boeotia, and to erect a tomb for his two daughters. Howbeit, Seedasus would not be ruled by him, but held on his journey forward to Sparta, & opened his grief unto the lords controllers before said: & when he saw that they took small heed of his words, he addressed himself to the kings of Sparta; yea and afterwards to some particular burgeosies of the city, unto whom he declared the fact, and bewailed his own infortunity. But seeing that all booted not, heran up and down the streets of the city, stretching forth his hands up to heaven, and to the sun and stamping upon the ground with his feet, calling upon the furies of hell to be revenged, and at the last killed himself. But in process of time the Lacedæmonians paid dearly for this their injustice: for when they were grown to that greatness, that they commanded all Greece, and had planted their garrisons in every city; first Epaminondas the Theban cut the throats of those soldiers who lay in garrison at Thebes; whereupon the Lacedæmonians made war upon the Thebans, who went out with a power to encounter them as far as to the village of Leuctra, taking that place for a good presage unto them: for that before time they had been there delivered out of servitude, what time as Amphictyon chased by Sthenelus, fled and retired himself unto the city of Thebes; where finding them subdued by the Chalcidians, and made their tributaries: after he had slain Chalcodon the king of the Eubaeans, he eased the Thebans of the tribute which they before had paid. So it fortuned that the Lacedæmonians were discomfited and defeated, near unto the very same monument or tomb of the said two daughters of Scedasus. It is reported moreover that a little before this battle, Scedasus appeared in a vision or dream unto Pelopidas, one of the captains of the Theban army, who had been altogether discouraged with certain signs and foretokens, which he judged and interpreted to portend ill; whom Scedasus willed to take a good heart, for that the Lacedæmonians were thither come, for to suffer that punishment which they owed to him & his caughters; advising him withal the day before he encountered with the Lacedæmonians, to sacrifice a young white fool or colt, which he should find ready even before the sepulchre of his two daughters. And then Pelopidas, whiles the enemies lay yet encamped at Tegea, sent before unto Leuctra for to inquire of the said tomb; and being informed thereof by the inhabitants of the country, advanced forward boldly with his army, and won the field.  
4 Phocus, a Baeotian borne (for descended he was from Gleisas) had a daughter named Callirrhoe, a maiden of singular beauty, and surpassing honesty and sobriety withal. So there were to the number of thirty young gentlemen, the noblest and best reputed of all Boeotia, who were all suitors unto her in the way of marriage. But Phocus her father made always some delay or other, and found means to put off still from day to day, as fearing lest she should be forced. At last seeing how he was overpressed with these instant wooers; he requested them to refer the election of him that should be her husband unto the oracle of Apollo. The young men taking indignation at these words and answer of his, fell upon him and slew him: but in this affray and tumult the young maiden escaped and ran thorough the fields into the country: but the young lusty suitors made after and pursued her; and she lighting upon certain husbandmen, who were laying together and piling up of wheat upon a floor in a rick, by the means of them saved herself; for the said husbandmen hid her within the come, so as they passed by who followed in chase after her. Thus having escaped this danger, she expected the solemn feast and general assembly, called Pambaetia, for that all the Boeotians met together: then came she to the city of Coronea, and there in habit and form of a suppliant, she sat before the altar of Minerva Itonia; where she related unto all comers the enormous wickedness and mischief committed by her wooers, rehearsing them every one by name, and showing in what country each one was borne. The Boeotians took pity of the damosel, and were highly displeased and incensed against those young gentlemen: which they hearing, fled into the city Orchomenus, but the Orchomenians would not receive them: by occasion where of they meant to put themselves within Hippotae, a pretty town near unto Helicon, situate between Thebes and Coronea, which gave them entertainment. Then sent the Thebans unto the inhabitants thereof certain persons to calupon them for to deliver up the murderers of Phocus, that they might receive justice accordingly: but when they would not yield so to do, the Thebans with other Boeotians, gathered an army and went against them, under the leading of Phoedus, who at that time was the chief ruler of Thebes, and laid siege unto the said town, which being otherwise strongly fortified, was in the end forced for want of water: where they stoned to death the murderers; brought the inhabitants unto bondage and slavery; razed their walls; overthrew their dwelling houses; and divided their whole territory among the Thebans and Coronaeans. The report goeth, that overnight before that this town of Hippotae was won, there was a voice heard from the mount Helicon of one eftsoons itterating these words: Here I am, Here I am; which voice the thirty wooers knew all very well to be the speech of Phocus. Also the same day that they were stoned, it is said that the monument or tomb of this old man, which stood at Gleisas, flowed and ran with saffron. Thus when Phaedus the captain and ruler of the Thebans, returned from war with victory, news came unto him that his wife was delivered of a daughter; which he taking to be a good presage, named her thereupon Nicostrata.  
5 Alcippus, a Lacedaemonian borne, espoused a lady named Democrita; by whom he was the father of two daughters, who always both giving counsel unto the city for the best things, and also ready in person to serve, & execute the same in all occurrences presented, for the good of his country, incurred the envy and emulation of his concurrents in the government of the State, who with false surmises and slanderous imputations, went about to seduce the Ephori, buzzing into their heads, how this Alcippus would overthrow the laws, and change the whole State and commonwealth of Sparta: insomuch as they banished him out of his country, and would not suffer his wife with her daughters to follow him: and that which worse is, they did confiscate his goods, to the end that his daughters might have no portions to bestow them for their advancement in marriage. And notwithstanding that diverse young men in regard of their father's virtue, made means for to marry these maidens without any dowry, yet his adversaries wrought so cunningly, that they passed an act and public edict, forbidding expressly, that any man should seek unto them for marriage: for they alleged and pretended that their mother Democrita had often times made her prayers unto the gods, that her daughters might quickly bring forth children who might be revenged for the injury done unto their father. Democrita then perceiving how on every side she was hardly bestead & driven to a strait, observed her time, and waited a certain solemn and festival day, which the dames of the city, with their daughter's virgins, with their maidservants likewise and little children, did celebrate: on which day, the wives of magistrates and men of honour, watched and passed the whole night by themselves in a great and spacious hall. When this day was come, she girded herself with a dagger or skein under her clothes, and taking her daughters with her, when night came, went into the temple; and observing the opportunity of the time when all the said dames were busy in their divine service and hard at their devotions in the hall abovesaid, when all the ways and passages were shut up, she brought a great deal of wood which was provided for the sacrifice, and plled the same against the doors, and so set it on fire. But when their husbands came running for to help from all parts, Democrita killed her two daughters and herself upon them. The Lacedæmonians not knowing upon whom to discharge their anger, caused the dead bodies of Democrita and her two daughters to be thrown without the confines and liberties of their territory: for which act of theirs, God being highly displeased, sent (as the Chronicles do record) a great earthquake among the Lacedæmonians.    

WHETHER CREATURES BE MORE WISE, THEY OF THE LAND, OR THOSE OF THE WATER.  

The Summarie.  
IN this treatise and discourse, affording (among other things) much pleasure in the reading, Plutarch bringeth in two young gentlemen, Aristotimus and Phoedimus, who in the presence of a frequent company plead the cause of living creatures: Aristotimus in the first place, for them of the land; and Phoedimus in the second, for those of the water: the drift and conclusion of whose pleas cometh to this point, that without resolving unto whom the prize ought to be adjudged, one of the company inferreth that the examples alleged both of the one side and of the other, do prove that those creatures have some use of reason. Moreover, we may distinctly divide this book into three principal parts: the first containeth a conference between Soclarus and Autobulus, who gave ear afterwards unto the others: for Soclarus taking occasion to speak of a written discourse recited in the praise of hunting, commendeth this exercise, and preferreth it before combats of sword players and fencers; which Autobulus will in no wise approve, but holdeth that this war against beasts, schooleth (as it were) and traineth men to learn for to kill one another afterwards. And for that some entrance and access there was to be given unto the principal disputation of the intelligence and knowledge which is in brute beasts, they do examine the opinion of the Stoics, who bereave them of all understanding passion and pleasure: which opinion of theirs being at large debated, is afterward refuted; with this resolution, that man outgoeth beasts in all subtlety and quickness of wit, injustice and equity meet for civil society: and yet beasts, although they be more dull and heavy than men, are not therefore void of all discourse and natural reason. Then Autobulus confirmeth this by the consideration of horses and dogs enraged: a sufficient testimony that such creatures beforetime had reason and understanding. Soclarus opposeth himself against such a confirmation, in the behalf of the Stoics and Peripatetics: whereupon Autobulus distinguisheth of the arguments, and inclining partly to the side of the Pythagoreans, showeth what manner of justice or injustice we ought to consider in the carriage of men toward beasts. And then come the two young gentlemen abovenamed in place; where Aristotimus taking in hand the cause of land-beasts, discourseth at large thereupon, which is the second part of this present treatise. True it is, that all the beginning of his plea is defective and wanting: howbeit, that which remaineth and is extant, showeth sufficiently the careful industry of our author in searching into the history of nature, and examples drawn out thereof, as also out of an infinite number of books, to passing good purpose. Well then, Aristotimus showeth in the first place, that the hunting of land-beasts, is a far nobler and more commendable exercise than that of the water: and coming then to the point; namely, to the use of reason, which consisteth in the election and preference of one thing before another, in provisions, forecasts and prerogatives in affections, aswell those which be mild and gentle, as the other which are violent; in diligence and industry in arts and sciences in hardiness, equity, temperance, courage and magnanimity, he proveth all this to be (without comparison) far more in land-creatures than in other: for the proof and verifying whereof, he produceth bulls, elephants, lions, mice, swallows, spiders ravens, dogs, bees, geese, crane's, herons, pismires, wolves, foxes, mules, partridges, hares, bears, urchins, and diverse sorts beside of four footed beasts: of fowls likewise, infects, worms and serpents: all which are specified in particular afterwards. In the last part, Phoedimus making some excuse that be was not well prepared, taketh in hand nevertheless, the cause of fishes; and in the very entrance, declareth, that notwithstanding it be an hard matter to show the sufficiency of such creatures, which are so divided and severed from us; yet notwithstanding, produce he will his proofs and arguments drawn from certain and notable things, recommending fishes in this respect, that they are so wise and considerate (as he showeth by examples) being not taught nor monished unto any ways framed and trained by man, like as most part of land beasts be; and yet by the way he proveth by eels, lampreiss, and crocodiles, that fishes may be made tame with men, and how our ancients esteemed highly the institution of such mute creatures: after this he describeth their natural prudence, both in defending themselves and also in offending and assailing others, alleging infinite examples to this purpose: as the skill and knowledge they have in the Mathematics, their amity, their fellowship, their love, their kind affection to their young ones: alleging in the end diverse histories of dolphin's love unto men: whereupon Soclarus taking occasion to speak, inferreth that these two pleaders agree in one point, and if a man would join and lay together their arguments, proofs, and reasons, they would make head passing well and strongly against those, who would take from beasts both of land and water, all discourse of reason.   

WHETHER CREATURES BE more wise; they of the land, or they of the water.  AUTOBULUS. 
LEonidas, a king of Lacedaemon, being demanded upon a time what he thought of Tyrtaeus: I take him to be (quoth he) a good poet, to whet and polish the courages of young men; for that by his verses he doth imprint in the hearts of young gentlemen an ardent affection, with a magnanimous desire to win honour and glory, in regard whereof, they will not spare themselves in battles and fights, but expose their lives to all perils whatsoever: Semblably, am I greatly afraid my very good friends, left the discourse as touching the praise of hunting, which was read yesterday in this company, hath so stirred up and excited beyond all measure our young men, who love that game so well, that from henceforth they will think all other things but accessaries and by-matters, or rather make no account at all of other exercises, but will run altogether unto this sport, and mind none other beside, considering that I find myself now a fresh more hotly given, and youthfully affectionate thereunto than mine age would require, insomuch as according to the words of dame Phaedra in Euripides: 
All my desire is now to call  
And cry unto my hounds in chase,  
The dapple stag and hind withal,  
To hunt and follow hard at trace.  So near unto the quick did that discourse touch me, alleging such a number of proper and pithy reasons.  SOCLARUS. 
True it is that you say o Autobulus, for me thought that therein he stirred up and awakened his singular eloquence and skill in Rhetoric, which some time he had discontinued & which lay asleep, to gratify (as I take it) those young gentlemen who were present in place, and withal to solace and disport himself among them, but that which pleased me most was this: When he represented unto our eyes by way of comparison, sword-fencers fight at sharp one with another to the uttrance, alleging this for one of his reasons, wherefore he principally commending hunting, in that it diverteth and calleth away a certain affection that we have either naturally engrafted, or else acquired by use and custom to take pleasure in seeing men at swords point enter into combat for life & death one against another, & turneth it especially hither, yielding unto us a fair pure and innocent spectacle of artificial cunning, conjoined with hardiness and courage, guided with reason, against brutish force and witless strength: and in so doing giveth us to understand that this sentence of Euripides is worthy to be praised when he saith: 
Small is man's strength and puissance corporal;  
His wit is great and prudence natural;  
It tames all fish beneath in sea so deep  
And wily beasts aloft on earth that keep.   AUTOBULUS. 
And yet my good friend Soclarus, some there be who hold, that this inflexible rigour and savage impassibility of not being moved at all with pity, came from hence into men's hearts, namely, from the custom of killing of beasts in chase, and of learning not to have in honour the sight of bloodshed, and of the grievous wounds of beasts which they received, but to take delight in seeing them to die, and to be cut in pieces: and like as in the city of Athens, when it was reduced under the tyranny of the thirty usurpers, the first man whom they put to death was a sycophant, of whom it was said then, that he had well deserved it, and was rightly served; and so they said by a second and a third: but from thence they went forward by little and little, until they came to lay hold upon honest men, and in the end spared not the best and most virtuous citizens: even so he that killed at the first a bear, or a wolf, was highly commended, and thought to have done a very good deed; and an ox or a swine that had eaten some things provided for a sacrifice or oblation to the gods, was condemned as fit and worthy to die: hereupon stags and hinds, hares also and goats, which men began already to eat, invited also the flesh of sheep, yea, and in some places of dogs and horses to the table. But they who taught first to dismember, and cut in pieces for meat, a tame goose, a house dove, and familiar pigeon, a dunghill cock, or domestical hen of the roost, and that not for to satisfy and remedy the necessity of hunger, as do these weezils and cats, and but only for pleasure, and to feed a dainty tooth, surely have confirmed and strengthened all that bloodiness and savage cruelty which was in our nature, and made it altogether inflexible and immooveable without any compassion: but chose enfeebled and dulled for the most part all natural mildness and humanity; whereas on the other side the Pythagoreans would have men to accustom themselves to use gentleness even towards beasts, as an exercise of pity and mercy to men: for custom which traineth us familiarly by little and little to any passion and affection, hath a wondrous efficacy, to set a man forward thereunto. But I wot not how, being entered into speech, we have forgotten ourselves, and not kept us to that which was begun yesterday, and should be continued and held on this day: for yesterday as you know very well, having agreed upon this: That all sorts of living creatures have in them some little discourse and reason, we gave good occasion and matter of a learned and pleasant disputation, unto our young gentlemen, who love hunting so well, namely, as touching the wit and wisdom of beasts, whether there be more in them of the land, or those of the sea? which question we are as I take it, this day to decide, in case Aristotimus and Phaedimus hold on still, and persist in their defiances and challenges, which yesterday they gave one another; for the one of them undertook unto his friends and companions, to maintain that the earth bringeth forth beasts of more sense, capacity and understanding; and the other chose promised as much in the behalf of the water.  SOCLARUS. 
That they do, Autobulus, they are of the same mind still to dispute it out, and here they will be anon for this very purpose; for I saw them in the morning betimes, addressing & making themselves ready: but if you think it good, before this combat begin, let us go in hand again with that which yesterday should have been handled, and was not; partly for that the time and place served not thereto; or rather because the matter was proposed unto them at the table, and among the cups of wine, which went merrily about, and not treated of in good earnest and sadness in deed: for one there was, who seemed after a pragmatical sort to resound on the adverse part not impertinently, as if he came out of the Stoics school, thus much: That like as mortal is opposite unto immortal, corruptible unto incorruptible, and corporal to incorporal; even so, confess we ought, that reasonable is contrary to unreasonable; so that if one of them be, the other ought likewise of necessity to be, and that this only couple of contraries among so many other, ought not to be left defectuous or unperfect.  AUTOBULUS. 
And what is he, friend Soclarus, who will say, that if we admit in nature, that which is reasonable to subsist and have being; we should not likewise allow that which is unreasonable: for (no doubt) it is, and that in great measure, namely in all creatures which have no life nor soul: neither need we to seek father for any other opposition unto that which is reasonable; for whatsoever is without life and soul, is incontinently opposite unto that which together with soul, hath the use of understanding and reason: and if any one there be who maintaineth, that nature for all this is not unperfect, in that every substance having soul is either reasonable or unreasonable: another will say unto him likewise, that a nature endued with life and soul, is not defective, namely in that, either it hath imagination, or else is without; it is either sensitive, or else hath no sense; to the end that it may have on either side these two oppositions or privations, making counterpoise one against another, about one and the same kind, as two contrary branches arising out of one stem or trunk. And if he think him to be absurd, who demandeth that it should be granted unto him, that of a nature endued with soul, one branch should be sensitive, and another senseless; for that he thinketh that every nature which hath a soul is incontinently both sensitive, and also imaginative: yet for all this shall he have no more appearance to require that one should suppose this unto him for to be true; namely, that whatsoever hath soul, should be either reasonable or unreasonable, discoursing with those men, who held opinion that nothing hath sense, but the same hath understanding withal; and that there is not one kind of animal creatures, but it hath some manner of opinion and discourse of reason, like as it hath sense and natural appetite: for nature, who as men say, and that right truly, maketh all things for some cause and to some end, hath not made a living creature sensitive, only and simply to have a passive sense: but whereas there be a number of things proper and agreeable to it, and as many again for the contrary, it could not possibly endure and continue the minute of an hour, if it knew not how to fit itself with one, and to take heed and beware of the other. So it is therefore, that sense giveth unto every animal creature the knowledge of them both indifferently: but the discretion which accompanieth the said sense, in choosing, receiving, and pursuing after that which is profitable; or refusing, rejecting and flying from that which is hurtful and pernicious: there is no appearance at all of reason to induce us to say that those creatures have, if they had not withal some mean faculty and aptitude natural, to discourse, judge, conceive, comprehend, retain, and remember: as for those creatures verily, from which you take altogether the gift of expectance, remembrance, election, provision, and preparation afore hand: and moreover, the faculty of hoping, fearing, desiring and refusing; good have they none at all of their eyes, of their ears, or of any other sense, apprehension or imagination, in case there be no use thereof: and far better it were for them, that they were clean destitute and quite deprived of such faculties, than to suffer travel, pain and sorrow, and have not wherewith to put by and repel such inconveniences: and yet there is a discourse extant of the natural philosopher Strato, showing by plain demonstration, that impossible it is to have any sense at all, without some discourse of reason: for many times we run over the letters in books and writings with our eyes; yea and we hear the sound of words with our ears, without conceiving and comprehending either the one or the other, but they fly and pass away, when as our mind is otherwise occupied: but afterwards when the mind is come again to itself and united it, it runneth and pursueth after the same, and gathereth every thing together again which was scattered: In regard whereof it was not said amiss in old time: 
The mind it is, that doth both hear and see:  
As for the rest, full deaf and blind they be.  as if the motion and passion about the eyes and ears, caused no sense at all, if the mind and understanding were away. And therefore Cleomenes king of Lacedaemon, being one day at a feast in Egypt, where there was rehearsed at the table a pretty Acroame or eare-delight, which pleased the company very well; being demanded the question what he thought of it? and whether he judged it not very well penned and set down? As for that (quoth he) I report me unto you that heard it, and I refer it to your judgement: for mine part, my mind was all the while in Peloponnesus. And therefore necessary it is, that every creature which hath sense, should likewise be endued with discourse of reason and understanding, considering that by our understanding we come to sense. But set the case that the senses have no need at all of the understanding, to exercise their functions & operations: but when the sense hath done her part, in discerning that which is proper and familiar unto a living creature, from it that is contrary & adverse unto it, it passeth away and is gone: What is it then that remembreth and calleth to mind? what is it that feareth things noisome and offensive, and chose desireth those which be good and wholesome? what is it that seeketh means to compass and get things when they are not present? what is it that deviseth and prepareth offensive, forts and retracts, yea, and engines to catch and take; or chose, shifts and policies to escape nets and grins laid for them when they are at the point to be caught and surprised? and yet 
* That is to say, Stoics.  these men say as much as this comes to, when ever and anon in all their introductions they dull our ears and make our heads ache again with their definitions; for they define 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a project or deliberate purpose, to be a design of bringing somewhat to effect; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, endeavour, to be an appetite or desire before an appetite; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, provision, to be an action before action; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, remembrance or memory, to be the comprehension of a proposition affirmative or negative, already past; whereof the present truth was otherwise comprised by the sense: for of all these faculties, there is not so much as one reasonless (I mean) not proceeding from the discourse of reason: and yet they all concur, and are to be found in every living creature: and even so verily, they define 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, intelligences, to be notions laid up apart and reserved within; but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, cogitations, to be notions still in motion: as for passions, they confessing and defining them all in generality to be evil judgements & false opinions, a wonder it is, how they pass over so many effects and motions which are to be found in brute beasts; some proceeding from anger and choler, others again from fear: and besides all this, envy (I may tell you) and jealousy; when as they themselves (believe me) stick not to punish their horses, and beat their dogs, when they do a fault; not rashly and in vain, but considerately, for to correct them and make them wiser, working thereby & imprinting in them a displeasure with themselves proceeding from pain, which we call repentance: as touching other pleasures and delights, that which passeth and is received by the ears, they term it (forsooth) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, an enchantment; that which cometh by the eye, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, bewitching: and they use both the one and the other against wild beasts; for certain it is, that stags and horse's do joy in the sound of whistels, flutes and hautboys: also men call forth crabfish, crevisses and grampels out of their holes perforce, with burning torches and light fire brands: moreover, it is said, that the fish alosa hearing men to sing, to clap their hands, or otherwise to make a noise, will arise out of the water, and come abroad: likewise, the horn owl or bustard is (as it were) enchanted with the beholding of men dancing together in his sight, and so far overtaken he is with the delight thereof, that whiles he thinketh to counterfeit their jestures, stirring and moving his shoulders according to the measures with them, he suffereth himself (like a fool) to be taken by the fowler. As for those who of these matters speak so foolishly and absurdly, saying, that beasts rejoice not, are not angry, nor fearful; and namely, that the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as Pliny reporteth of her, unless you read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in this sense, that the swallow doth not prepare beforehand: for Pliny also commendeth her industry in artificial building.  hightingale doth not study, meditate and prepare against her singing; that the Bee hath no memory; but that the swallow seemeth only to make provision by a kind of providence; that the lion is (as it were) angry; and the hind given as though she were afraid: I wot not what answer they will make to those who shall urge them to this, that they may aswell say, that the same creatures neither see nor hear, but seem only (as it were) to hear and see and to have a voice; and in one word, that they live not at all, but seem to live: for I assure you (in my judgement) these are no more repugnant to evidence and daily experience, than the other.  SOCLARUS. 
I think no less (o Autobulus) and therefore range me among those of your opinion in this point. But to compare the manners, lives, actions, behaviours and conversations of men, with those of beasts, & to affirm that beasts herein sort with us: beside, that I see in this, great indignity derogatory to man's worthiness, I doubt much, and can not conceive how nature hath given unto them the beginning of virtue, which is reason, and unto which reason is referred and doth aim, considering they can not attain unto the end: and beside, there is not one of them all that showeth any sign of tending thereto, of progress therein, or of desire and appetite that way.  AUTOBULUS. 
Yea, but this (my good friend Soclarus) is no strange and absurd thing with these men, I mean the Stoics: for notwithstanding that they put down the natural love and affection which we have to the issue of our own bodies begotten, for the foundation of civil society and of justice, and see the same in brute beasts very evident and puissant, yet for all that, they flatly and stoutly deny that they have any part of justice in them. And that which more is, mules are not without all the instruments of generation; for nature hath given to the males generative members, and to the females the parts fit for conception; yea, and in the use of these members and instruments they have the same delight and pleasure which other creatures have; howbeit, they never speed, nor attain to the end of generation. Consider again on the other side, whether it were not a ridiculous absurdity for such philosophers as they would seem to be, to affirm and maintain, that Socrates and Plato, and such men as they, were no less vicious than any vile slave or wicked wretch in the world, but that all were foolish, witless, lascivious and unjust alike (because forsooth, all sins with them be equal) and then to lay the blame and fault in the source and beginning of virtue, that is to say, Reason, as being not pure nor perfect in brute beasts to the accomplishment of virtue: as if this were not some defect and imbecility of reason, seeing they confess themselves that there is an imperfection in the use of reason, of which all beasts be full: for we see in many of them, that there is cowardice, intemperance, injustice and malice. Now he who affirmeth that whatsoever is not apt and fitted by nature, to receive reason aright and in absolute manner is simply not capable of reason: first he doth as much as if he maintained, that neither the ape is capable of ill-favoured deformity, not the tortoise of slow pace, because the one of them is not susceptible of beautiful favour, nor the other of swiftness and good footmanship. Again, he doth not see and mark the difference between reason perfect, and simple reason; for reason simply proceedeth from nature, but honest, virtuous, and perfect reason cometh by industry, study, diligence, and teaching; which is the cause that all creatures endued with a sensitive soul, are capable and susceptible of a kind of discipline and learning by the means of this faculty of discourse and reason: mary this absolute and right reason indeed which we affect and seek for, and is nothing else but sapience and wisdom, they are not able to name any one man, that ever attained unto it. Like as therefore a difference there is between sight and sight; between flight and sight; for hawks see otherwise than grasshoppers do; eagles also and partridges fly not alike; even so all creatures endued with reason, have not the like vivacity, promptitude and nimbleness of reason, as to reach up to the highest pitch and perfection thereof: for we may observe in some beasts many evident tokens of just society, of valour, of witty industry in their provision and dispose: and chose, in others as many signs of insociable violence and injustice, of cowardice and sottishness, as witnesseth that which now moveth the contention and debate between our young gentlemen; for as if they both supposed there was a difference in this behalf, some of them maintain that naturally, the beasts of the land are proceeded farther in virtue; and others chose affirm, the same of those in the sea and waters; a thing very evident, whosoever will compare storks with the river horses; for those do nourish and feed their fathers who engendered them, whereas these do kill them, because they might ride and cover their mothers: as also who will but confer cocke-doves with partridges; for doves do oftentimes squash and mar the eggs, yea, and otherwhiles kill the hens when they cover or sit, because they are not willing during that time to be trodden; whereas the male partridges take upon them part of the care and pain in sitting upon the eggs, and in their turn do keep them warm, that they chill not; yea, and that which more is, they be the first that bring meat in their bills unto the little ones newly hatched; and if haply the dam range abroad, tarry forth too long out of the nest, the male beats and pecks her with his bill, drives her home to her eggs and young birds. As for Antipater who reproacheth and rebuketh both asses and sheep for their filthiness, and being so negligent in keeping themselves clean, he hath forgotten (I wot not how) to speak of ounces and swallows: for the ounces seek a by-place by themselves apart, where to bestow their urine, and by all means hide and conceal that fine stony substance, called Lyncurium, which is engendered of it: and the swallows teach their young ones to turn their tails so, as they may meut out of their nests. Moreover, why say we not that one tree is more ignorant or untaught than another, like as we hold, and that truly, that a sheep is more dull of capacity than a dog? or that this herb is more fearful than that, like as we affirm very well, that a stag is more timorous, or rather less valorous than a lion: and as in things which are unmooveable, we never say, that one is more slow than another; nor among such things as yield no sound at all, that this hath a smaller or bigger voice than that; Semblably, it is never said, that there is less wit, more dullness, and greater intemperance in such or such things, unless it be in that kind, whereof all by nature are endued with the gift of reason, and of prudence in some measure, which puissance and faculty being given to some more, and to others less, is that which maketh all the difference that we see. Yea mary, but there is no comparison will some man say, between men and beasts; so infinitely surpasseth he them in fineness of wit, in justice and equity, beseeming civil society, that it is wonderful: And even so, (my good friend) there be many which in bigness and strength of body, in swiftness of feet, in quickness of eyesight, and subtlety, of hearing outgo all the men in the world, and leave them far behind, and yet for all this, we are not to infer and conclude that man is blind, that he is impotent of hand and foot, or otherwise deaf: neither hath nature deprived us altogether of big arms and bodies, or of strength both in the one and the other, although in comparison of the elephant and the camel, our force and bulk of body is nothing: after the same manner may we speak of beasts; if their discourse and understanding be more gross, if their wit be more dull than ours, it followeth not thereupon, that they have neither reason nor natural wit: for without all question, both they have, feeble though they be and troubled, like as an eye is otherwhiles weak, dim, and muddy: and were it not that I certainly expect, and that among our young men who are studious, learned and very well seen in the books of our ancient writers, that they will allege an infinite number of examples, the one from the land, and the other out of the sea; I could not contain myself but recite and allege here before you an innumerable sort of proofs and arguments, as well of the natural subtlety of beasts, as of their docility, which the beautiful and famous city of Rome hath afforded unto us to draw and lad up abundantly by whole scuppets and buckets full (as they say,) from the stately theatres of their emperors, and the princely games exhibited there.  
But let us leave this matter fresh and entire for those young men, thereby to embellish their discourses, and set out their eloquence: mean while I would gladly examine and consider one point with you now that we are at leisure. For I suppose that in every part & natural power or faculty of our body, there doth befall some proper defect, some maim or malady, as namely, in the eye, blindness; in the leg, lameness; in the tongue, stutting and stammering; and that which is proper to one member, is not incident unto another: for we use not to say, that a thing is become blind, which never had power by nature to see, nor lame which was not ordained to go; neither was there ever man who would say, that a thing stammered which never had tongue, or muffled and wharled, which naturally yieldeth no voice at all: and even so we cannot (to speak properly and truly) term that foolish, furious, or enraged, which by course of nature is not capable of understanding, discourse and reason: for impossible it is, that a part may be said to be interessed, affected or prejudiced in a thing, which never had an aptitude or natural power, that might receive diminution, privation, mutilation, or otherwise some infirmity: and yet I doubt not but you have otherwhiles seen dogs run mad; and for mine own part I have known horses enraged; and there be moreover, who affirm that kine and other beeves will be hornewood, yea and foxes as well as dogs: but the example of dogs whereof no man makes doubt, may suffice to prove and bear witness, that this kind of beast hath reason and understanding, and therefore not in small measure to be contemned but when it chanceth that it is troubled and confounded, then comes upom them that disease which is called rage and madness; for at such a time we cannot perceive in them, that either their sight or their hearing is altered: but like as he that should give out of a man who is overcharged with a melancholic humour, or given to rave and go beside himself, that his understanding is not transported and out of order, that his discourse of reason is not out of the way, nor his brains broken, or memory corrupt, were very absurd: for that the ordinary custom and behaviour of such foolish and distraught persons sufficiently convinceth, that they are passed themselves, and have lost the discourse of reason; even so, whosoever thinketh that mad dogs suffer any other passion, than a confusion and perturbation of that part in them, which before time was wont to imagine, discourse and remember, in such sort that when they be thus surprised with rage, they are so foolish and 〈◊〉 foolish, as they know not their best friends, who were wont to make much of them, but fly those places of their feeding and bringing up, which they used most to haunt & to converse in, & do not so much as discern; but oversee that which is presented plain before them: this man (I say) seemeth obstinately to strive against the truth, and not to comprehend that which daily experience doth show.  SOCLARUS. 
Certes, your conjecture in mine opinion is very good, and you are in the right: but the Stoics and Peripatetics stiffly stand against all this, and impugn it with tooth and nail, saying: That justice cannot have any other breeding and beginning; and that impossible it is to maintain that there is any justice in the world, if it be confessed that all beasts are any ways capable of reason: for that necessary it is, either that we do injury in not sparing them; or in case we make no use of them for our food, that impossible it were for us to live; or else our life should remain destitute of such things as well it may not miss and be without. In sum, that we were to live in some sort a savage and beastlike life, if we should reject the profits and commodities which they afford. For I pass by infinite thousands and millions of the Troglodyts and Nomades, that know no other feeding, but of flesh only and nothing else: but as for us who seem to lead a mild, civil, & more gentle life, what work were there left for us to do upon the land; what business have we at sea? what skill or art should we exercise among the mountains? what ornament or beauty would there be in our life, if we were taught this once as a true lesson, that we ought to respect all beasts, and use all enquitie towards them, as being reasonable creatures as we are, and made of the same mould that we be? Certes, it were very hard to say; and therefore there is no answer to assoil this doubt; no medicine or salve to heal this sore; no device to undo this knot, and difficulty which taketh away, either all civility, or else all justice out of man's life, unless we keep that ancient limit and law, whereby God having separated (according as He siodus) sundry natures and distinguished every kind a part by itself: 
To fishes, beasts and feathered fowls, hath granted power and might,  
One of another for to feed, because they have no right  
To men alone, he justice gave therein to take delight.  Given (I say) he hath justice unto them for to exercise among themselves: and as for other living creatures as they cannot deal justly with us; so it is certain that we cannot use injustice to them: and look whosoever reject this conclusion and resolution, have left no other use, nor so much as a simple way whereby justice may enter and come among us.  AUTOEULUS. 
Now truly my friend, you have said this very well, and even well, and even according to the mind and hearts desire of these men: howbeit we are not to give & grant unto these philosophers (as the manner is to tie about those women who have hard travel, some Ocytocium, or medicinable drogue, to cause them for to have more speedy and easy deliverance) this device to hang upon them, that they may with ease and without all pain, bear and bring forth justice unto us; seeing that in the main and most important points of all philosophy, they would not allow Epicurus so small a thing, & so vile, as to decline one only atomie, or indivisible body never so little aside, for to make way for the stars, for living creatures, and fortune to come into the world, and that thereby our free will might be saved: for they ought either to prove by demonstration, that which is doubtful, or to suppose that which of itself is manifest; and not to take this article as touching beasts, for to establish justice, seeing that it is neither confesled & granted unto them, nor they otherwise do prove it: for another pathway there is to bring in justice among men, which is nothing so slippery, dangerous, and full of steep downfalles, nor that which leadeth through the subversion and overthrow of things most evident; even that which my son and one of your familiar friends (Soclarus) having learned of Plato, doth show and teach those who will not obstinately contest, but follow reason and learn: for that man is not altogether clear and void of injustice, in using beasts, and dealing with them as he doth. Heraclitus and Empedocles receive as an undoubted truth, complaining in many places, and reproaching nature, as if she were under necessity, and a very war, having in her nothing that is simple, pure, sincere, and unmixed, but performing all her operations by many unjust accidents and passions; seeing they hold that even her generation proceeded from injustice, namely, by conjunction of mortal with immortal, and in that the thing which is engendered thereof, rejoiceth to dismember unnaturally, that which engendered it: but haply all this many seem too bitter and exceeding sharp: well there is another gentle means, and easy remedy of this inconvenience which doth not quite breave beasts of all use of reason, and saveth justice in those who use them as they ought; which mean and indifferent way being in times past brought in by wise men, was afterwards rejected and wholly destroyed by a conspiracy of gourmandise and fleshly pleasure together; howsoever Pythagoras would have recovered it agiane, by teaching men how they might make use and commodity of beasts, and yet do them no wrong nor injury; for they who punish and put to death those wild beasts which have no society nor fellowship at all with man, but rather do him much hurt and damage, commit no injustice; no more than they who make them tame and familiar, training them up to their use and employing them in services, whereunto they are by nature most fit: 
The race of horse and asses for to breed,  
With bulls increase, which in the fields do feed.  whom Prometheus in a tragedy of Aeschylus, saith he bestowed upon us, 
To serve and drudge in stead of us,  
And do our works laborious.  Neither do they any wrong, who make use of dogs to keep their flocks of goats and sheep: nor they who milk goats and sheep, and shear their fleeces for the wool, especially if they give them pasturage: for it can not be said, that men can not live, or their life is utterly undone, if they have not their platters of fish, or their livers of geese, or if they cut not beefs and goats into pieces for to serve up at their feasts: or if for their idle disport in theatres, or to take their pleasure in chase and hunting, they put not some to the combat and force them to fight whether they will or no; and kill others which have no defence of their own, nor any means to make resistance: for he who needs will have his delights and pastimes, aught in all reason (as I think) to make himself merry, and solace his heart with those that can play and disport together with him; and not to do (as Bion said) like to little children, who joy in throwing stones at frogs, and make a game of it; mean while, the poor frogs have no pleasure in this their game, for they are sure to die for it in good earnest; even so we are not either to hunt or fish for any delight that we have in the pain, and much less in the death of other creatures: no more to take a pleasure in driving or taking them away from their whelps and young ones, a pitiful sight to behold; for they be not they that commit injustice, who use beasts, but such as misuse them unmercifully and cruelly, without any respect and commiseration.  SOCLARUS. 
Stay a while, good Aristobulus, and put off this invective of yours unto another time; for now I see coming toward us near at hand, a crew of young gentlemen, all great hunters and lovers of the game, whom it were neither an easy matter to drive off unto another day, neither is it needful to provoke and offend them.  AUTOBULUS. 
True it is that you say, and I like your admonition; but as for Eubiotus, I know very well, and my nephew Ariston; the two sons also of Dionysius a citizen of Delphos, to wit, Aecides and Aristotimus, yea, and after them, Nicander the son of Euthydamus, 
All skilful hunters (in good faith)  
Upon the land (as Homer saith)  and therefore (no doubt) they will side every one with Aristotimus, and take his part; whereas chose, the others who be Islanders, and were borne along the sea side, I mean Heracleon of Megara, and Philostratus of the isle Eubaea, 
Who cunning are upon the seas,  
And there in much themselves doplease.  Lo, how they accompany your friend Phaedimus, and are ready to stand with him: 
As for Tydides' there, 'tis hard to say, 
  
To whether side he will in judgement sway.  I mean that same Optatus, our fellow and companion in years, 
Who of wild beasts on mountains slain, and fishes caught in sea,  
With many first fruits and essays, to testify his prea,  
Hath often duly honoured Diana goddess bright,  
Who cleped is 
* Of chase in the forest.  Agrotera, and is 
* Of fisher's casting nets, called properly, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of casting: in which sense, the casting net is also called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Dictynna height.  for lo, how he cometh directly toward us, as one who will not range himself to one side more than to another. How say you, Opatus, do we not conjecture well, that you mean to be an indifferent arbitrator or common umpire between these two young gentlemen.  OPTATUS. 
Very well guessed of you Autobulus, I purpose so indeed; for long since was that law of Solon repealed and abolished, by virtue whereof, they were punished who in a civil sedition joined not to the one side nor to the other.  AUTOEULUS. 
Come hither, therefore, and sit by us, that if we have need of any testimonies, we trouble not the books of Aristole, with dripping and turning over their leaves; for that we will refer ourselves and stand to that which you shall say, as justly and truly delivered, in regard of your great knowledge and experience.  SOCLARUS. 
How now my masters, you two gentlemen, are you agreed between yourselves of the order, who shall begin first to speak?  PHAEDIMUS. 
Yes Soclarus, we are at a point for that now, although we were long enough debating about it; for in the end (to use the very words of Euripides) 
Lot, Fortune's child, hath this case tried,  
As one ordained doubts to decide.  and hath appointed that the land-beasts cause should be pleaded before theirs of the sea.  SOCLARUS. 
Well then it is time (Aristotimus) that both you begin to speak, and we also to hear. ********  
In this place a great defect and breach there is in the Greek original, which can not be made up and supplied without the help of some ancient copy, not yet extant.  
The bar and the hall is for them that plead. 
* It may 〈◊〉 he speaketh of certain 〈◊〉 in the kind of fishes, by way of opposition to some sand- 〈◊〉.  But these destroy the spawn within the womb, by running upon their females when they be great and near the time of casting the same. And one kind there is of spotted mullets, called thereupon Perdiae, which feed upon their own 
* Haply the 〈◊〉.  slime and glutinous substance that proceedeth from themselves. As for the poulpe or polyp fish, he eateth and gnaweth himself, sitting still all Winter 
In house full cold, without fire-light,  
In woeful bale and wretched plight.  so idle is he, or so blockish and senseless, or else so gluttonous, or rather subject to all these vices together: which is the reason that Plato also in his book of laws, forbiddeth eftsoons young men to set their minds upon fishing in the sea, or rather he detesteth it in them, as an abominable thing, if they should take a love thereto. For no exercise there is of hardiness and valour; no proof of wit or trial of wisdom; no employment of strength, swiftness or activity of body in combats and fights with the wide mouthed sea-pikes, with congres or guiltheads, like as there is in hunting upon the land, where the fierce and courageous beasts exercise the fortitude of those who encounter them, and stirring up their animosity to enter upon dangers: the wily and crafty, whet and sharpen the wits of such as set upon them, causing them to look about and bestir themselves every way with great circumspection: and the swift and lightfooted, try the able, nimble, and painful bodies of those who have them in chase: in all which respects hunting is reputed an honest and commendable exercise: whereas chose, fishing hath nothing in it to commend the game, and make it honourable; neither shall you ever find my good friend, any one of the gods, desirous to be called Congroctonus, that is to say, the conger-killer; as Apollo gloried to be named Lycoctonus, that is to say, the killer of wolves: not any of them delighted in the name of Triglobonlos, that is to say, the striker of barbels: like as Diana joied in the epithit of Elaphobolos, that is to say, a shooter at stags and hinds: and no marvel, considering that it is more laudable for a gentleman to take in chase a wild boar, a stag, a fallow dear, a roe buck, yea, & it were but an hare, than to buy any of these with his money: but surely it is more for his credit & reputation to go into the fish market as a cater to exchange his coin for a tunny, a lobstar, or the 
* Or 〈◊〉, as appeareth afterwards.  Amia, than to be seen fishing for them: for the cowardice, blockishness, stupidity, want of shifts and means in fishes, either offensive, or defensive, cause the taking of them to be dishonest, discommendable, unlovely, and illiberal.  
In sum, forasmuch as the proofs and arguments which philosophers allege, to show that beasts have some discourse and use of reason, are drawn from their projects, their elections in preferring one thing before another, their provisions and forecasts, their memories, their affections, their tender care of their young, ones, their thankfulness to those who have done them good, their hatred & rancour against them who have done them a shrewd turn: their industry to find on't things necessary for them, the evident appearance of virtues in them, to wit, of fortitude, sociable equity & communion, temperance and magnanimity: Let us consider these maritime sea creatures, whether they have any one at all of these parts, or if there be any little show thereof, it is so dark and obscure, that unneath or hardly it can be perceived, how diligent soever we be in searching after it; whereas in these terrene beasts, and such as the land breedeth, a man may conceive, yea and plainly see most clear, evident, and assured examples of each, of the qualities beforesaid. First & foremost behold I pray you the first setting out, the preparatives and flourishes as it were, that bulls and boars make against their combat, how they raise and cast up the dust with their feet all about them, as also how these whet & sharpen their tusks; the elephants likewise for that one of their two teeth wherewith they root in the earth, or pluck up and cut such matter as they feed upon, is ordinarily thereby worn dull and blunt, they use it only for these purposes, but the other they keep and reserve always sharp pointed and keen edged, for to serve their turns when they are to fight; the lion when he goeth in the forest, marcheth evermore with his paws drawn in close and turned round, hiding his eleys and nails within, for fear lest being worn with going, their points should be dull and blunt, as also because he would give no light by his tracts to the hunters that follow in chase; for hardly and with much ado shall you trace a lion by his foot, the print of his claws is so small that it cannot be seen, whereby they that are full upon their footing, yet miss of him, and wander a contrary way.  
Ye have heard I am sure of the Ichnewnon or rat of India, how he prepares himself against he should fight with the crocodile, no less than a legionary soldier armed at all pieces, in complete harness, such a deal of mud, and the same hardened and baked in manner of a crust, hath he all over his body, as it were a good cuirass of proof.  
What provision and preparation the swallows or martins make against their breeding and laying time, we daily see; namely, how in building of their nests, they lay first as a ground work underneath, good sticks, stiff straws, and sound bents, and those they interlace afterwards with others that be more gentle and pliable; and if they see that their nests had need of some glutinous mud to glue and sodder all together, what do they? mary they fly floating so close to the water of some river, lake, or the sea, that lightly they dip their wings therewith, so that they may be only wet, and in no wise heavy and overcharged with moisture, than they role and basker themselves in the dust, by which means they close up, bind, and knit as with parget or plastre, all chinks and breaches, and whatsoever was not well compact and united together in their nests: as for the form and figure thereof, they make them not cornered nor yielding many sides and faces, but even and smooth as possible may be, and the same round as a bal; for surely this kind of workmanship is most durable without, and of greatest capacity within, and such as giveth least hold unto other beasts abroad that lie in wait to destroy them.  
The cobwebs that spiders wove, which serve for patterns, as well for our women to make their webs of cloth, as for fishers to knit and work their nets, are in many respects very admirable: first in regard of the fine threads, and the subtle weaving thereof, which are not distinct one from another, nor ranged after the order of the warp & woof in our artisiciall webs upon the loom, but are continued and run all into one, in manner of thin film, kell, & skin, united and soldered as one would say, with I wot not what glutinous humidity mingled among, after an invisible and imperceptible manner; then the tincture and colour thereof, which maketh it seem a far off like unto some thick or duskish air, to the end that itself might the less be perceived; but principally and above all, the very governing, conduct, and managing of this fabric & device made by herself, surpasseth; namely, when some fly or small creature is gotten within the compass of this toil & entangled, to see how immediately she perceiveth it, and can skill quickly to pull in and draw the net; no hunter & fouler in the world, be he never so cunning, more nimbly, for to enclose the prey: all which because we daily see in our continual experience presented unto our eyes, we believe and know to be true; otherwise we would hold all to be fables: like as we think that to be a tale of the crows and ravens in Barbary, who when they are very thirsty & the water settled so low where they should drink, that can not reach unto it, cast stones into it for to make it arise so high as they may easily meet with it. And verily upon a time, I marveled myself very much when I saw a dog within a ship, while the mariners were out of the way, to cast little stones into an earthen pot, which was nothing near full of oil, how he should discourse and reason thus in his mind, that the lighter things, as namely oil, must needs mount up & be driven aloft, when the weightier such as the stones were went down to the bottom. As much may be said of the bees in Candi, and the geese of Cilicia. As for the bees, being to double a point or capelying into the sea, which is much exposed to the winds, they ballase themselves with small grit or pretty stones, for to be able to endure the weather, and not be carried away against their wills with the wind through their lightness otherwise. And the geese aforesaid being afraid of the eagles, which have their airies upon the high rocks, at what time as they should pass over the mountain Taurus, take every one within their bills a good big stone, thereby to stop and muzzle (as it were) their mouths, that being by nature clamorous and given much to gaggling, they might make no noise nor cry at all during their flight, and so in silence and safety both, get beyond the said hill. The very order that crane's keep in their flying is wonderful and memorable: for when the air is troubled and the wind aloft, they fly not as they use to do when it is fair weather and calm, either all affront, or in manner of the half moon or croissant: but presently at their first setring out, they cast themselves into a triangle with the point forward, thereby to cut and pierce the wind that bloweth before and about them, to the end that their rank thus ranged and set in order, might not possibly be broken: afterwards when they are alighted and settled upon the ground; look whose course and charge it is to watch all night, stands up right upon one leg, & in the foot of the other clasps a stone and holds it up a fit; for the continual straining of themselves to hold the said stone, keepeth them that long they cannot sleep: and when once they chance to let go their hold, the stone falling upon the rock, quickly awakneth her that let it fall. So that after I had seen this, I did not greatly wonder at Hercules, if putting his bow under his arm hole, and clipping it hard with his mighty strong arm 
Holding full fast in his right hand,  
His massy club, a sleep doth stand.  neither marveled I much at him who first devised the means how to open an oyster close and hard shut, when I beheld once the crafrie subtlety of herons: for the heron when he hath swallowed down an oyster, or other shell fish, all whole and fast shut, although it put him to some trouble, yet he endureth for a time and keepeth it within his craw or gisier, until he perceive that it is mollisied and relaxed by the natural heat of his body, then casteth he it up again by vomit, findeth it gaping and wide open, and so picketh out of it the good meat therein.  
As touching the industrious provision and care of housekeeping which is in pismires, to discourse thereof in particular, and exquisitely to deliver the same were a very hard piece of work, if not impossible; and to pass the same over in silence, argueth supine negligence: for look throughout the whole history of nature, you shall not find so small a mirror again for to represent greater things and more beautiful, being (as it were) a most pure and clear drop, wherein appeareth most apparently the full resemblance of entire virtue. Here may be seen lovely friendship and civil society: here showeth itself the very image of valour and prowess, with painful patience and industry: here may a man behold many seeds of continence, many sparks of wisdom, and as many of righteousness. Cleanthes the philosopher, although he maintaineth not that beasts have any use of reason, made report nevertheless that he was present at the sight of such a spectacle and occurrent as this. There were (quoth he) a number of ants which went toward another ants hole, that was not their own, carrying with them the corpse of a dead an't: out of which hole, there came certain other ants to meet them on the way (as it were) to parley with them, and within a while returned back and went down again: after this they came forth a second, yea a third time, & retired accordingly until in the end they brought up from beneath (as it were a ransom for the dead body) a grub or little worm; which the others received and took upon their shoulders, and after they had delivered in exchange the fore said corpse, departed home: moreover, it is worth the observation, although it be a thing daily seen of every man, what courtesy and civility they use in meeting one another, how those who be light and carry nothing, willingly give way unto such as be charged and loaden, and suffer them to pass: likewise how they gnaw asunder and divide piece meal such burdens, as they being single, cannot bear whole, to the end that the same may be carried and transported from place to place by more in number. Aratus in his prognostickes setteth this down for a sign of rain toward, when they bring forth their seeds and grains, and lay them abroad to take the air: 
When ants make haste with all their 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   
Forth of their holes to carry them abroad.  And yet there be some who in this place write not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, eggs, but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as if they would say, their goods, to wit, the fruits or seeds which they have gathered and laid up for their provision, on, when they perceive them to begin to mould or be fusty, or fear that they will corrupt and putrify. But that which surpasseth all other prudence, policy and wit, is their caution and prevention which they use, that their wheat or other corn may not spurt and grow. For this is certain, that dry it cannot continue always nor sound and uncorrupt, but it will in time wax soft, resolve into a milky juice, when it turneth and beginneth to swell and chit: for fear therefore that it become not a generative seed, and so by growing, lose the nature & property of food for their nourishment, they gnaw that end thereof or head, where it is wont to spurt and bud forth. For mine own part, I do not admit or believe all that which some do anatomize of their caves and holes: who give out that there is not one direct and strait way leading down thereinto, nor the same easy and ready for any other creature to pass through; but there be certain secret allies, blinde-pathes, crooked turnings, and hollow cranks, which meet all at the end in three holes or concavities; whereof the one forsooth is the common hall for them to meet all together: the second is their cellar or ambry for their victuals and provision; and the third a by-room where they bestow their dead.  
Well, I think it not amiss nor impertinent, if next after pismires, I bring forth upon the stage before you the elephants, to the end that we may know the nature of this art, and intelligence which now is in question, as well in the greatest beasts as the smallest creatures, and see how as it appeareth in the one, so it is not defective or wanting in the other. Other men I am sure do make a wonder at that which the elephant learneth, and is taught, whose docility is exhibited unto us in the theatres, by his sundry sorts of gestures, and changes in dancing, such as fortheir variety and exquisite elegancy, it were very hard for men with all their memory, perfection of wit, and exercise, to remember, to express, and perform accordingly: but I for my part, me thinks, do see more clearly and evidently the prudence and sagacity of this beast, in the passions, affections, and motions which he hath of himself without teaching, as being more simple, sincere, and natural; for not long since, at Rome there were a number of them trained and exercised against the solemnity of their games and plays, in certain strange stations, intricate motions, and hard turnings round, to go, to come, to stand, and wheel about in a trice: but among them, there was one more dull, blockish, gross, and slow, than the rest, both in conceiving, and also in retaining; by reason whereof, he being ever and anon reproached and rated with shameful words, yea, and many times beaten well for his unto wardness, was found otherwhiles alone by himself in the night, repeating as it were and cunning his lessons by moonshine, labouring hard for to express and attain unto that which he had been taught. Agnon writeth, that before this time, in Syria there was an elephant kept and nourished in a private man's house, whose governor had allowed unto him from his master, a certain measure of barley every day for his provender; but there was not a day went over his head, wherein he rob and deceived him not of the one half: it fortuned, that one time above the rest, the master of the house would needs see the elephant served, than his governor powered out before him his full allownce, even the whole measure that was his due; but the elephant casting an unhappy and untoward eye at him, divided his barley with the snout of his trunk, and put a part the one moiety thereof, showing the best way he could devise unto his master, the wrong that the governor aforesaid had done unto him: He reporteth like wise of another, who seeing that his keeper blended earth and stones among his barley, to make the measure to seem complete; spied his time and came unto the pottage pot standing over the fire, wherein was flesh a seething for dinner, and filled it up with ashes.  
Another being provoked and misused at Rome, by certain little boys, who with their bodkins and penknives used to prick and punch his snout or trunk; caught up one of them by the middle, and held him up in the air, so as it was thought he would have crushed and squeazed the guts out of his belly; they that saw the manner of it, took up a great cry incontinently for fear of the poor boy, but the elephant set him down softly again upon the ground, in the very place where he caught him up, and doing him no hurt at all passed by; judging it a sufficient chastisement for so little a child, that he was only put in a fright: Thus much of tame and trained elephants. As for those which are savage, and live in the wild fields at their liberty, wonderful things be reported of them, and namely as touching their passage over rivers; for the youngest and least of them all, exposing himself to hazard for the rest, leadeth the way, and wadeth first through; the other seeing him landed upon the bank 〈◊〉 other side, make this account, that if the least and lowest of their herd be tall enough to surmount the depth of the channel, they which are bigger and higher, have no cause to fear any thing, but that they also may get over in safety.  
And since I am fallen into this argument, and proceeded so far into it, me thinks I should not for get one example of Reinard, for the affinity and conformity it hath with this device last rehearsed: Those who have invented fabulous tales make report, that during the great deluge, Deucalion used to let forth a dove out of the ark, to know what weather it was like to be abroad; for if she returned soon again, she brought news of tempest and rain, but if she flew clean away, and came no more back, she showed thereby that it was calm and fair weather.  
But true it is that the Thracians even at this day when they purpose to pass over a river frozen all over with ice, take a fox with them for their guide, to sound the way before them, whether the ice be strong enough and able to bear; the fox goes gently before, and layeth his ear close to the ice, and if by the noise of the water running underneath and coming unto his ear, he guesseth that the ice is not thick nor frozen deep, but thin and weak, he maketh a stay, and returneth if a man will let him: chose, if he perceive by his ear no noise at all of water running under the ice, he passeth forward confidently: Surely we cannot say that this is only an exquisite quickness in the sense of hearing, without any discourse of reason, but without all question a kind of syllogism or reasoning, by consequence drawn from that natural sense in this sort: that which soundeth stirreth; that which stirreth is not frozen or congealed; what is not congealed, must needs be liquid; and whatsoever is liquid, yieldeth, and is not able to hold, ergo, etc.  
The Logicians hold that the hound meeting with a quarreferrie or cross way divided into many paths, useth a kind of argumentation or reasoning, which is called a disjunct proceeding from the enumeration of many parts; in this manner discourseth with himself: It must needs be that the beast in chase, passed by one of these three ways: but this way it went not, nor yet that way; therefore it can not choose, but this way he took, for the sent of the nostrils yielded him no other intelligence, than of the premises: and it was the discourse of reason which gave him to understand the necessity of the consequence or conclusion inserted upon the said premises and suppositions. Howbeit, the dog hath need of no such testimony of Logicians, for false it is and counterfeit, because it is the smell itself and sent of the nose, which by the tract of the foot and the fluxion of the odour coming from the beast, showeth him which way it fled, bidding farewell to these propositions either disjunct or junct, neither careth it for that enumeration of parts; but by many other effects, passions, functions, offices and actions which proceed neither from sense of seeing nor of smelling, but only from intelligence and discourse of reason, by which they are evidently performed, a man may sufficiently perceive and comprehend what is the nature of a dog, whose continency, obedience, sagacity, patience and pains-taking in chase, if I should now discourse upon, I should but make myself ridiculous unto you, who see the same daily, and have experience and practise thereof continually. But this one example will I allege unto you; namely, that during the civil wars at Rome, when a Roman citizen was murdered, the murderers could never cut off his head, until they environed his dog round and stabbed him to death, who guarded his master's body, and fought most fiercely for him. King Pyrrhus as he traveled by the way, met with a dog who kept the dead corpse of his master lately slain, and understanding by the inhabitants of the place, that he had continued three days already, and never stirred from thence, nor yet eat or drunk aught, he commanded the body to be interred, led the dog away with him, and made much of him: certain days after, there happened a muster or general revew to be made of his soldiers, who showed themselves and passed before the king sitting in his chair of estate, and having the said dog hard by him, who never quetched nor stirred all the while, until he had a sight of those persons who murdered his master; upon whom he ran immediately, baying and barking at them with open mouth and in great anger, eftsoons running back and making toward Pyrrhus; insomuch as not only the king, but all those who were about his person, entered into great suspicion that those parties were they who had killed his master; whereupon they were apprehended, put in prison, and judicially brought to their answer upon the point, and together with other presumptions and light evidences inserred against them, they were so hardly urged, that they confessed the fact, 〈◊〉 suffered punishment accordingly. The like (by report) did the dog of learned Hesiodus, who detected the sons of Ganyctor the Naupactian, of murder committed upon the person of his master. But that which our fathers saw themselves with their own eyes whiles they were students at Athens, is more evident than all that hath been said already. And this it was: A certain fellow had by stealth entered into the temple of Aesculapius, & stolen from thence the fairest and goodliest jewels both of gold and silver among the oblations there, which were most portable, and thinking that he was not espied by any creature, made means to get away again secretly. The dog which kept the said temple, and was named Capparus, did his best to bark and bay; but seeing none of the sextanes and wardens of the church to come for all that, pursued the churchrobber as he fled away; and notwithstanding that he flung stones at him, yet gave not he over his pursuit, but traced him hard at heels all the night. When day light was come, he would not approach near unto him, but kept aloof, followed him with his eye and never lost the sight of him; and notwithstanding that he cast him bread and other meat, he would none: so the night following the these laid him down to sleep, the dog likewise kept all night hard by him; and the morrow morning when he took his way again, the dog likewise arose and went after. Met he any passengers or wayfaring men, he would fawn upon them and wag his tail; chose he barked eagerly at the these, and was ready to fly upon him. They who had the charge to follow with hue and cry, being informed thus much by the travelers whom they met, as also of what bigness, colour and hair the dog was, continued their chase more willingly, and made such hot pursuit that they evertooke the fellow at Crommyon, & from thence brought him to Athens. The dog he marched before them all and lead them the way, as jocund, pleasant, and gamesome as possibly could be, as taking great joy that this churchrobber had been the game and prey that he had hunted and gotten. The Athenians when they heard the truth of this matter related unto them, ordained that the said dog should have a certain measure of corn allowed him at the cities charges for his bread, and gave an especially charge to the priests of that temple, to have a care of him so long as he lived: following herein the kindness and liberality of their ancestors which they extended in times passed to a mule. For what time as Pericles caused to be built the temple of Minerva, named Hecatompedon, within the castle of the city, there were is ordinary for such buildings, conveyed thither daily stones, timber, and other stuff in carts and wagons drawn with beasts. Now when many of those mules which before time had willingly and painfully served, were now for very age discharged and sent away to pasture: one there was among the rest, who every day would come into the high broad street Ceramicum, and go before those draft beasts which drew up stones to the mount, yea & accompany them, as if he encouraged and heartened them to labour and travel. The people of Athens commending and admiring the good heart and industrious mind of the beast, gave order by a public decree for his maintenance and keeping at the city's cost, no less than they would have done for an old bruised soldier, who now was past service. And therefore we must say, that those philosophers who hold: That there is no communion nor society of justice between us and bruit beasts, say true, if they restrain theirspeech unto those creatures only, which live in the sea and deep bottomless waters, with who m in deed we can have no fellowship at all of good will, love and affection, as being beasts far remote from all gentleness, sweet converse, and good nature: and therefore Homer speakingunto a man, who seemed to be inhuman, cruel and unsociable, said elegantly thus: 
The blackish blue sea Ithinke well,  
Engendered thee, thou art so fell.  as if he would thereby give us to understand, that the sea brings forth no creature that is mild, lovely, meek and gentle: but he that should say as much and apply the former proposition unto the land-beasts, were himself cruel and savage; if I say, he denied that there was no reciprocal commerce of amity and justice between king Lysimachus and his dog Hyrcanus, who remained continnally alone about his corpse when he was dead; yea and at the time that it was burned in the funeral fire, leapt into it and was consumed into ashes with him for company. And reported it is, that there was another dog named Actus, did no less which Pyrrhus kept, I mean not the king of that name, but another private person: for after his master was dead, he would never stir from the body; and when the corpse was carried forth in a couch upon the bier, he leapt upon it and was borne withal: and finally sprung himself into the fire and was burnt with him.  
When king Porus was sore wounded in a battle against king Alexander the Great; the elephant upon whose back he road and fought, drew forth with his trunk right gently for fear of doing harm, many darts, arrows and javelins wherewith he was shot: and albeit himself was grievously hurt, yet never fainted he and gave over before he perceived that his lord the king was ready to reel and sink down, by reason of the effusion of blood which he had lost; and then fearing that he would fall from on high to the ground, he gently couched and yielded with his body downward to the earth, that he might alight with ease and without all danger.  
King Alexander's horse called Bucephalus, all while he was bare without his saddle and caparison, would well enough abide that his keeper should mount upon his back: was he trapped once and richly set out with the kings royal furniture, harness, and ornament, he would suffer none to sit him but Alesander alone. And if others came near him, and went about to get upon his back, he would run a front upon them snuffing, snorting and neighing, rising up all afore at them; and if they made not good haste to retire behind him and fly, he would be sure to have them under his feet and trample over them. I know full well that you think these examples are huddled together in a confused variety: but surely it is no easy matter to find any action of these noble beasts, which representeth one bare virtue and no more: for together with their kindness and natural love there is to be seen a certain desire of honour: amid their generosity a man may perceive a kind of industrious sagacity and wisdom; neither is their wit and subtlety void of courage and magnanimity: howbeit, if men be disposed to distinguish and separate one from another by themselves; the dogs do represent an example of a mild and gentle nature together with an haughty courage and high mind, namely when they pass by and turn aside from those that submit themselves before them, according to that which Homer saith in one place: 
The dogs ran forth with open mouth, they cried and barked amain:  
Ulysses wise his slafe let fall, and stirred not again.  For their manner is not to fight any longer against those who humbly fall down prostrate, or show any semblance of lowly suppliants. Certes, the report goeth of a principal Indian dog, who being for a singularity above all other, sent to fight a combat before king Alexander the Great, when there was let loose at him first a stag, than a wild boar, and afterwards a bear, made no reckoning of them, nor deigned once to stir out of his place nor rise up: but when he saw a lion presented unto him, then incontinently he stood upon his feet, and addressed himself to the combat; showing evidently that he esteemed the lion alone worthy to fight with him, and disdained all the rest. As for those here among us which are wont to hunt hares, if they themselves chance to kill them with fair play in the open seld, they take pleasure to tear them in pieces; they lick and lap their blood full willingly: but if the hare being out of heart and in despair of herself, as many times it falleth out, employ all the force and strength that she hath in one course for all, and run herself out of breath, so as her wind is now clean gone, and she dead withal: the hounds finding her so, will not once touch her, but they keep a wagging of their tails round about her body, as if they would say, it is not for greediness of hare's flesh, but an earnest desire to win the prize in running, that we hunt thus as we do.  
As touching the craft and subtlety which is in beasts; forasmuch as there be infinite examples thereof, overpass I will the wily pranks of foxes, wolves, crane's and jaies: for common they be and every man seeth them; only produce I will the testimony of wise Thales, the most ancient of the seven sages, who by report was not least admired for his skill and cunning, in that he discovered right well the craftiness in a beast, and went beyond it. There was a company of mules that had salt a load, and were carrying it from one place to another; and as they passed through the ford of a river, one of them chanced to fall under his burden into the water: the salt in his sack by this means taking wet, melted and resolved into water for the most part of it, in such sort as the mule having recovered himself upon all four, found that he was well lightened of his load, and presently conceived what was the reason: which gave so deep an impression in his memory, that ever after, as often as he was to go thorough a river, he would be sure to stoop and couch his body low; first leaning of one side, and then of another, purposedly and for the nonce to wet and drench the bags on his back which had salt in them. Thales hearing of this unhappy and shrewd wit of the mule, commanded the muliter to fill the sacks with the same weight of wool and spundges, in stead of salt, to lay them upon his back, and so to drive him with the rest. The mule left not his old wont; but when he perceived that he was overcharged now with water besides his ordinary load of wool and sponges, he took himself in the manner, and found that his craft now stood him in small stead, but did him hurt: whereupon, ever after, he would go upright whensoever he waded, and was very careful that none of his packs or carriages should once (though full against his will) touch the water.  
Partridges have another kind of subtlety and craft by themselves, and the same proceedeth from a certain natural love and motherly affection to their young birds, whom, when they are yet so feeble that they cannot fly & make shift for themselves being pursued, they teach to cast themselves on their backs, with their heels and bellies upward, and to hold either a clot of earth or some lock of straw or such like stuff, to cover and shadow their bodies withal: mean while, the old rowens turn those that follow in chase another way, drawing them toward themselves in flying to and fro just before them, even at their feet, seeming (as it were) by little and little to retire, and making as though they were scarce able to arise from the earth, and as if they were ready to be taken, until such time as they have trained the fowlers far from their little ones.  
The hares when they have kinled, and be afraid of the hunters, return to their forms, and carry their leverets, some one way and some another, so as many times there is an arpent or good acre of ground distance between them, to the end that if either hound or hunter should come upon them, they might not be all in danger at once to be taken; and they themselves run up and down backward and forward in diverse places, crossing this way and that way, leaving their tracts very confused, and in the end take one great leap as far as ever they can, from their foresaid footing, and spring unto their form, where they rest and take their repose.  
The bear being surprised with a certain drowsy disease, called Pholia, before she be altogether so heavily benumbed and stupisied therewith, that she can not well stir maketh clean the cave into which she meaneth to retire herself: & when she is to go down into it, all the way besides which is toward it, she treadeth very lightly, bearing herself (as it were) upon her tiptoes: and being come near unto it, she turns upon her back, and so eicheth forward her body aswell as she can into her den.  
Ofred dear, the hinds commonly calve near unto highway sides, where ravenous beasts, such as live by prey, do not ordinarily haunt. The stags when they perceive themselves to be fat, well fleshed, and good venison, seek blind corners to hide themselves in, for the better security of their lives, as not trusting then to their heels and swift running.  
The land-urchins are so wise and wary in defending and saving themselves, that they have thereby given occasion of this proverb: 
A thousand wiles and me, of crafty fox there are:  
The urchin one doth know, and that is singular.  for when the urchin perceiveth Renard coming toward him, 
All of a lump, as round as burr or ball,  
His body lies, with pricks beset withal:  
No means she hath, for thorny bristles thick,  
To bite, to pinch, or touch him to the quick.  and yet more ingenious is their forecast and providence for the feeding of their little ones; for in Autumn, a little before vintage time, you shall have an urchin or hedgehog get under a vine, and with his feet shake the stock until the grapes from their branches be fallen upon the ground, than he rouleth himself round like a football among them, and catcheth them up with his sharp pricks; insomuch as when we stood all of us sometime to behold the manner of it, it seemed as if a cluster of grapes had been quick, and so crept upon the ground; so beset went he and covered all over with grapes: then so soon as he is gotten into his hole or nest, he offereth them unto his young ones to eat, to take from him and lay up for store. This hole hath two faces or prospects; the one regardeth the south, the other looketh into the north. When they foresee change & alteration of weather, like as skilful shipmasters turn their sails according to the time; even so, they shut up that hole or entry which standeth in the wind, and set open the other: which when one of the city Cyzicum had once observed and learned, he got a great name and reputation of a weather-wise-man, as if he foreknew of himself by some singular gift, and could foretell from which cost the wind would blow.  
As touching social love and fidelity, accompanied with wit and understanding, the elephants as king Juba writeth, show unto us an evident example: for they that hunt them are wont to dig deep trenches, and thatch them over with a thin cote of light straw or some small brush. Now when one of the heard chanceth to fall into a trench, for many of them use to go and feed together, all the rest bring a mighty deal of stones, rammell wood, and whatsoever they can get, which they fling into the ditch for to fill it up, to the end that their fellow may have means thereby to get up again. The same writer recordeth also that elephants use to pray unto gods, to purify themselves with the sea water, and to adore the sun rising, by lifting up their trunked snout into the air (as if it were their hand) & all thus of their own accord & untaught. And to say a truth of all beasts the elephant is most devout & religious, as K. Ptolemaeus Philopater hath well testified: for after he had defaited Antiochus, & was minded to render condign thanks unto the gods for so glorious a victory, among many other beasts for sacrifice, he slew four elephants: but afterwards being much disquieted and troubled in the night with fearful dreams, and namely, that God was wroth and threatened him for such an uncouth and strange sacrifice; he made means to appease his ire by many other propitiatory oblations, and among the rest, he dedicated unto him four elephants of brass, in steed of those which were killed: no less is the sociable kindness and good nature which lions show one one unto another; for the younger sort which are more able and nimble of body, lead forth with them into the chase for to hunt and pray those that be elder and unwieldy; who when they be weary, sit them down and rest, waiting for the other; who being gone forward to hunt if they meet with game and speed, than they all set up a roaring note altogether, much like unto the bellowing of bulls, and thereby call their fellows to them; which the old lions hearing, presently run unto them, where they take their part, and devour they prey in common.  
To speak of the amatorious affections of brute beasts, some are very savage and exceeding furious: others more mild, and not altogether unlike unto the courting and wooing used between man and woman, yea, & I may say to you, smelling somewhat of wanton and venereous behaviour: and such was the love of an elephant, a counter suitor or corrival with Aristophanes the grammarian, to a woman in Alexandria, that sold chaplets or garlands of flowers: neither did the elephant show less affection to her than the man, for he would bring her always out of the fruit market, as he passed by, some apples, pears, or other fruit, and then he would stay long with her, yea, and otherwhiles put his snout, as it were his hand, within her bosom under her partlet, and gently feel her soft paps and white skin about her fair breast.  
A dragon also there was enamoured upon a young maiden of Aetolia: it would come to visit her by night, creep along the very bare skin of her body, yea, and wind about her without any harm in the world done unto her, either willingly or otherwise, and then would gently depart from her by the break of day: now when this serpent had continued thus for certain nights together ordinarily; at the last the friends of the young damosel removed her, and sent her out of the way a good way off; but the dragon for three or four nights together came not to the house, but wandered and sought up and down here and there as it should seem for the wench; in the end, with much ado, having found her out, he came and clasped her about, not in that mild and gentle manner as before time, but after a rougher sort; for having with other windings and knots bound her hands and arms fast unto her body, with the rest of his tail he flapped and beat her legs, showing a gentle kind of amorous displeasure and anger, yet so, as it might seem he had more affection to pardon, than desire to punish her.  
As for the goose in Egypt which fell in love with a boy; and the goat that cast a fancy to Glauce the minstrel wench: because they are histories so well known, and in every man's mouth: for that also I suppose you are weary already of so many tedious tales and narrations, I forbear to relate them before you: but the merles, crows, and perroquets or popinjays, which learn to prate, and yield their voice and breath to them that teach him, so pliable, so tractable and docible, for to form and express a certain number of letters and syllables as they would have them, me thinks they plead sufficiently, and are able to defend the cause of all other beasts, teaching us as I may say, by learning of us, that capable they be not only of the inward discourse of reason, but also of the outward gift uttered by distinct words, and an articulate voice: were it not then a mere ridiculous mockery, to compare these creatures with other dumb beasts which have not so much voice in them, as will serve to howl withal, or to express a groan and complaint? but how great a grace and elegancy there is in the natural voices and songs of these, which they resound of themselves, without learning of any masters, the best musicians and most sufficient poets that ever were do testify, who compare their sweetest canticles and poems unto their songs of swans and nightingales: now forasmuch as to teach, showeth greater use of reason; than to learn we are to give credit unto Aristotle, who saith: that brute beasts are endued also with that gift, namely, that they teach one another: for he writeth that the nightingale hath been seen to train up her young ones in singing; and this experience may serve to testify on his behalf, that those nightingales sing nothing so well, which are taken very young out of the nest, and were not fed nor brought up by their dams; for those that be nourished by them, learn withal, of them to sing, and that not for money and gain, nor yet for glory, but because they take pleasure to sing well, and love the elegance above the profit of the voice: and to this purpose report I will unto you a story which I have heard of many, as well Greeks as Romans, who were present and eye witnesses: There was a barber within the city of Rome, who kept a shop over against the temple, called Grecostisis, or Forum Graecum, and there nourished a pie, which would so talk, prate, and chat, as it was wonderful, counting the speech of men and women, the voice of beasts, and sound of musical instruments, and that voluntarily of herself without the constraint of any person, only she accustomed herself so to do, and took a certain pride and glory in it, endeavouring all that she could to leave nothing unspoken, or not expressed: now it happened that there were solemnised great funerals of one of the wealthiest personages in the city, and the corpse was carried forth in a great state, with the sound of many trumpets that marched before; in which solemnity, for that the manner was that the pomp and whole company should stand still and rest a time in that very place, it fell out so, that the trumpeters who were right cunning and excellent in their art, stayed there, founding melodiously all the while: the morrow after this, the pie became mute and made no noise at all, nor uttered not so much as her natural voice which she was wont to do, for to express her ordinary and necessary passions; insomuch, as they who before time wondered at her voice and prating, marveled now much more at her silence, thinking it a very strange matter to pass by the shop and hear her say nothing; so as there grew some suspicion of others professing the same art and trade, that they had given her some poison: howbeit, most men guessed that it was the violent sound of the trumpets which had made her deaf, and that together with the sense of hearing, her voice also was utterly extinct: but it was neither the one nor the other; for the truth was this, as appeared afterwards: she was in a deep study, and through meditation retired within herself, whiles her mind was busy and did prepare her voice like an instrument of music, for imitation; for at length her voice came again and wakened (as it were) all on a sudden, uttering none of her old notes nor that which she was accustomed before to parley and counterfeit; only the sound of trumpets she resembled, keeping the same periods, the same stops, pauses and strains; the same changes, the same reports, and the same times and measures: a thing, that confirmeth more and more that which I have said before; namely, that there is more use of reason in teaching of themselves, than in learning by another. Yet can I not contain myself, but I must needs in this place recite unto you one lesson that I myself saw a dog to take out, when I was at Rome: This dog served a player who professed to counterfeit many persons, and to represent sundry gestures; & among sundry other pretty tricks which his master taught him, answerable to diverse passions, occasions and occurrents represented upon the stage, his master made an experiment on him with a drogue or medicine which was somniferous indeed and sleepy, but must be taken and supposed deadly; who took the piece of bread wherein the said drogue was mingled, and within a little while after he had swallowed it down, he began to make as though he trembled, quaked, yea and staggered, as if he had been astonished, in the end he stretched out himself, and lay as stiff as one stark dead, suffering himself to be pulled, haled, and drawn from one place to another, like a very block, according as the present argument and matter of the place required; but afterwards, when he understood by that which was said and done, that his time was come, and that he had caught his hint, than began he at the first to stir gently by little and little, as if he had newly revived or awakened, and stared out of a dead sleep, and lifting up his head, began to look about him too and fro; at which object all the beholders wondered not a little; afterwards he arose upon his feet, and went directly to him unto whom he was to go, very jocund and merry: this pageant was performed so artificially, I cannot tell whether to say or naturally, that all those who were present, and the emperor himself (for Vespasian the father was there in person, within the theatre of Marcellus) took exceeding great pleasure, and joied wonderfully to see it.  
But peradventure we may deserve well to be mocked for our labour, praising beasts as we do so highly, for that they be so docible and apt to learn, seeing that Democritus showeth and proveth, that we ourselves have been apprentices and scholars to them in the principal things of this life; namely, to the spider, for spinning, weaving, derning, and drawing up a rent; to the swallow, for architecture and building; to the melodious swan and shrill nightingale, for vocal music, and all by way of imitation. As for the art of physic, and the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  three kinds thereof, we may see in the nature of beasts, the greatest and most generous part of each of them: for they use not only that, which ordained drogues and medicines to purge ill humours out of the body, seeing that the tortoises take origan; wezels, rue, when they have eaten a serpent; dogs also when they be troubled with choler of the gall, purge themselves with a certain herb, thereupon called dogges-grasse; the dragon likewise if he find his eyes to be dim, cleanseth, scoureth, and dispatcheth the cloudiness thereof with fennel; and the bear so soon as she is gone out of her den, seeketh out the first thing that she doth, the wild herb called Aron, that is to say, wake-robin, for the acrimony and sharpness thereof openeth her bowels when they are grown together, yea, and at other times finding herself upon fullness, given to loath and distaste all food, she goes to find out ants nests, where she sits her down lilling out the tongue which is glibbe and soft, with a kind of sweet and slimy humour, until it be full of ants and their eggs, then draweth she it it again, swalloweth them down, and thereby cureth her loathing stomach. Semblably it is said, that the Egyptians having observed their bird Ibis, which is the black stork, to give herself a clyster of sea water, by imitation of her did the like by themselves. Certain it is, that their priests use to besprinkle, purify, and hollow themselves with that water out of which she hath drunk; for let any water be venomous, or otherwise hurtful and unwholesome, the Ibis will none of it: but also some beasts there be, which feeling themselves ill at ease, are cured by diet and abstinence; as namely wolves and lions, when they have devoured too much flesh, and are cloyed or glutted therewith, they lie me down, take their ease, cherishing and keeping themselves warm.  
It is reported likewise of the tiger, that when a young kid was given unto her, she fasted two days, according to the diet which she useth, before she touched it, and the third day being very hungry, called for other food, ready to burst the cage wherein she was enclosed, and forbore to eat the said kid, supposing that now she was to keep it with her, as a familiar & domestical companion. Nay that which more is, recorded it is, that elephants practise the feat of chirurgery; for standing by those that are wounded in a battle, they can skill of drawing out tronchions of spears, javelin heads, arrows and darts out of their bodies, with such dexterity and ease, that they will neither tear and hurt their flesh, nor put them to any pain whatsoever. The goats of Candy when they be shot into the body with arrows or darts, fall to eat the herb Dictamus, & thereby thrust them out, and make them fall off with facility, & by this means they have taught women with child that this herb hath a property to cause abortive birth, and the child in their womb to miscarry: for the said goats are no sooner wounded, but they run presently to this herb, and never seek after any other remedy. wonderful these things are (no doubt) howbeit less miraculous, when we consider the natures of beasts, how they be capable of arithmetic, and have the knowledge of numbering and keeping account: as the kine and oxen about Susa; for appointed they be there to water the king's gardens, drawing up water in buckets with a device of wheels that they turn about in manner of a windles; and every one of them for their part must draw up an hundred buckets in a day: so many they will do just, but more you shall not get of them, neither by fair means nor foul; for no sooner have they performed their task, but presently they give over & impossible it is to force them any farther than their account: notwithstanding trial hath been made; so justly and exactly they both know, and also keep the reckoning, as Ctesians the Guidian hath left in writing. As for the Lybians they mock the Egyptians, for reporting this of their beast called Oryx, as a great singularity, that he setteth up a certain cry that very day and hour, when as the star named by them sooth, and by us the Dog, or 〈◊〉 doth arise: for they give out, that with them all their goats together, at the very instant when the said star mounteth up within their horizon with the sun, will be sure to turn and look into the east: and this they hold to be an infallible sign of the revolution of that star, agreeing just with the rules and observations of the Mathematicians. But to close up and conclude at length this discourse, that it may come to an end, let us (as it were) take in hand the sacred anchor, and for a final conclusion knit up all with a brief speech of their divinity and prophetical nature. For certain it is, that one of the greatest, most noble and ancient parts of divination or soothsaying, is that which being drawn from the flight and singing of birds, they call Augury: and in truth the nature of these birds being so quick, so active, so spiritual, and in regard of that agility & nimbleness very pliable, and obsequent to all visions & fantasies presented, offereth itself unto God, as a proper instrument to be used & turned which way he will; one while to motion, another while into certain voices, lays & tunes, yea & into diverse & sundry gestures: now to stop and stay, anon to drive and put forward, in manner of the winds; by means whereof he impeacheth and holdeth back some actions and affections, but directeth others unto their end & accomplishment. And this no doubt is the reason that Euripides termeth all birds in general the heralds and messengers of the gods: and particularly Socrates said, that he was become a fellow servitor with the swans: semblably, among the kings, Pyrrhus was well pleased when as men called him the Eagle, and Antiochus took as great pleasure to be called the Sacre or the Hawk. Whereas chose, when we are disposed to mock, to flout, or to reproach those that be dull, indocible and blockish, we call them fishes. To be short, an hundred thousand things there be that God doth show, foretell and prognosticate unto us by the means of beasts, as well those of the land beneath, as the fowls of the air above. But who that shall plead in the behalf of fishes or water-creatures, will not be able to allege so much as one: for, deaf they be all and dumb; 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  blind also for any foresight or providence that they have, as being cast into a baleful place and bottomless gulf, where impious Atheists & rebellious Titans or giants against God are bestowed; where they have no sight of God, no more than in hell where damned souls are; where the reasonable and intellectual part of the soul is utterly extinct, and the rest that remaineth, drenched or rather drowned (as a man would say) in the most base and vile sensual part, so as they seem rather to pant then to live.  HERACLEON. 
Pluck up your brows, good Phaedimus, open your eyes, awake your spirits, and bestir yourself in the defence of us poor Islanders and maritime inhabitants: for here we have heard not a discourse iwis merrily devised to pass away the time, but a serious plea premeditate and laboured before hand, a very Rhetorical declamation which might beseem well to be pronounced at the bar in judicial court, or delivered from a pulpit and tribunal before a public audience.  PHAEDIMUS. 
Now verily, good sir Heracleon, this is a mere surprise and a manifest ambush laid craftily of set purpose; for this brave orator (as you see) being yet fasting and sober himself; and having studied his oration all night long hath set upon us at the disvantage, and altogether unprovided, as being still heavy in the head, and drenched with the wine that we drunk yesterday. Howbeit we ought not now to draw back and recoil for all this: for being as I am an affectionate lover of the poet Pindarus, I would not for any good in the world, hear this sentence of his justly alleged against me. 
When games of prize and combats once are set,  
Who shrinketh back, and doth pretend some let,  
In darkness hides and obscurity,  
His fame of virtue and activity.  for at great leisure we are all, and not the dances only be at repose, but also dogs and horses, castnets, drags, and all manner of nets beside: yea and this day there is a general cessation given to all creatures as well on land as in sea, for to give ear unto this disputation. And as for you my masters here, have no doubt, nor be you afraid; for I will use my liberty in a mean, and not draw out an Apology or counterplea in length, by alleging the opinions of philosophers; the fables of the Egyptians; the headless tales of the Indians or Libyans, without proof of any testimonies; but quickly come to the point, and look what examples be most manifest and evident to the eye, and such as shall be testified and verified by all those mariners or travelers that are acquainted with the seas, some few of them I will produce. And yet verily in the proofs and arguments drawn from creatures above the ground, there is nothing to impeach the sight, the view of them being so apparent and daily presented unto our eye, whereas the sea affordeth us the sight of a few effects, within it & those hardly and with much ado (as it were) by a glance and glimmering light, hiding from us the most part of the breeding and feeding of fishes: the means also that they use, either to assail one another or to defend themselves wherein I assure you there be actions of prudence, memory, society, and equity not a few, which because they are not known, it cannot choose but our discourse as touching this argument will be less enriched and enlarged with examples, and so by consequence the cause more hardly defended and maintained.  
Over and beside, this advantage have land beasts, that by reason of their affinity as it were, and daily conversation with men, they get a tincture as it were from them, of their manners and fashions, and consequently enjoy a kind of nurture, teaching, discipline, and apprentising by imitation; which is able to dulce, allay, and mitigate all the bitterness and austerity of their nature, no less than fresh water mingled with the sea, maketh it more sweet and potable: likewise all the unsociable wildness, and heavy unweldinesse therein, it stirreth up, when the same is once moved and set on foot by the motions that it learneth by conversing with men: whereas on the otherside the life of sea-creatures being far remote and divided by long and large confines from the frequentation of men, as having no help of any thing without, nor any thing to be taught it by use and custom, is altogether solitary and by itself, as nature brought it soorth, so it continueth and goeth not abroad; neither mingled nor mixed with foreign fashions, and all by reason of the place which they inhabit, and not occasioned by the quality of their own nature, for surely their nature conceiving and retaining within itself as much discipline and knowledge as it is possible for to attain unto and apprehend, exhibiteth unto us many tame and familiar eels (which they call sacred) that use to come to hand; such as are among the rest, of those in the fountain Arethusa, besides many other fishes imdivers places, which are very obeisant and obsequious when they be called by their names, as is reported of Marcus Crassus his lamprey, for which he wept when it was dead; and when Domitus upon a time reproached him for it, by way of mockery in this wise: Were not you the man who wept for your lamprey when it was dead; he came upon him presently in this manner: And were not you the kind and sweet husband who having buried three wives never shed tear for the matter? the crocodiles not only know the voice of the priests when they call unto them, and endure to be handled and stroked by them, but also yawn and offer there teeth unto them to be picked and cleansed with there hands, yea and to be scoured and rubbed all over with linen clothes. It is not long since that Philinus a right good man and well reputed, after his return from his voyage out of Egypt, where he had been to see the country recounted unto us, that in the city of Anteus he had seen an old woman lie a sleep on a little pallet together with a crocodile, who very decently and modestly couched close along by her side. And it is found in old records, that when one of the kings called Ptolomaei, called unto the sacred crocodile, it would not come nor obey the voice of the priests, notwithstanding they gently prayed and entreated her; a sign thought to be a prognosticke and presage of his death, which soon after ensued: whereby it is plain that the kind and generation of these water beasts, is neither incapable, nor deprived of that sacred and highly esteemed science of divination and foretelling future things; considering that even in the country of Lycia; between the cities of Phellos and Myrz, that is, a village called Sura, where I hear say, the inhabitants use to sit and behold the fishes swimming in the water, like as in other places they observe birds flying in the air, marking their lying in wait and ambush, their scudding away and pursuit after them; whereby according to a certain skill that is among them, they can foretell future things to come. But this may suffice to show and declare, that their nature is not altogether estranged from us, nor unsociable.  
As touching their proper wit, and natural prudence, wherein there is no mixture at all borrowed from other, this is in general, a great argument thereof, that there is no creature that swimmeth or liveth in the waters, except those which stick to stones, and cleave to rocks, that is so easy to be caught by man, or otherwise to be taken without trouble, as asses are by wolves; bees by the birds Meropes; grasshoppers by swallows; or serpents by stags, who are so easily caught up by them; in Greek they took the name 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, of lightness: but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, of drawing up serpent out of his hole. The sheep calleth as it were the wolf, by the foot; like as by report the leopard allureth unto him the most part of beasts, who are willing to approach him for the pleasure they take in his smell, and above all others the ape. But sea creatures generally all, have a certain inbred sagacity, a wary perceivance before hand, which maketh them to be suspicious and circumspect, yea, and to stand upon their guard against all forelaying; so that the art of hunting and catching them is not a small piece of work, and a simple cunning; but that which requireth a great number of engines of all sorts, and asketh wonderful devices, and subtle sleights to compass and go beyond them; and this appeareth by the experience of such things, as we have daily in our hands: For first and foremost the cane or reed of which the angle rod is made, fishers would not have to be big and thick, and yet they had need of such an one as is tough and strong, for to pluck up and hold the fishes, which commonly do mightily fling and struggle when they be caught; but they choose rather that which is small and slender, for fear lest if it cast abroad shadow, it might move the doubt and suspicion that is naturally in fishes: moreover the line they make not with many water-knots, but desire to have it as plain and even as possibly may be without any roughness, for that this giveth as it were some denunciation unto them of fraud and deceit: they take order likewise that the hairs which reach to the hook, should seem as white as possibly they can devise, for the whiter they be, the less are they seen in the water, for the conformity and likeness in colour to it: as for that which the poet Homer saith: 
Down right to bottom of the sea, like plumb of lead she went,  
That peiseth down the fisher's hook, and holds the line extent;  
Which passing through transparent 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  horn, that rural ox's head bare,  
To greedy fishes secretly brings death ere they be ware.  Some misunderstanding these verses, would infer thereupon, that men in old time used the hairs of anoxe tale to make there lines withal, saying that this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which commonly in Greek is taken for an horn, signifieth in this place hair; & that hereupon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is derived, which betokeneth to shear or cut hair; and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, shearing or clipping; as also, that from hence it is that Archilochus termeth a dainty & wanton minion, who taketh delight in tricking and trimming the hair & wearing a peruke curiously set, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 But surely, this their collection is not true, for they used as we do, the hair of horse tails, to make their angle-lines withal, choosing those that grow either on stone-horses or geldings, and not of mares, for that ever & anon they wet their tails with stalling, and by that means the hairs of them are tenderand apt to break. And Aristotle himself writeth, that in those verses above cited there is no deep matter that requireth such an exquisite & curious scanning; for that (in truth) fishers use to overcast the line near unto the hook with a piece of horn, for fear lest fishes when they have swallowed down the hook, should with their teeth bite or fret a two the line. And as for the hooks, they use those that be round, for to take mullets and the fishes amiae, because they have narrow mouths: for very wary they are to avoid the longer and straighter kind; yea, and many times the mullet suspecteth the round hook, swimming round about it, and flirting with the tail the bait and meat that is upon it, and never linnes flapping, until he have shaken it off, and then devoureth it: but say, he can not speed that way, he draws his mouth together, and with the very edge and utmost brim of his lips he nibleth about the bait, until he have gnawn it off. The wide mouthed sea-pike, when he perceiveth that he is caught with the hook, showeth herein more valour and animosity than the elephant; for he plucketh not out of another the dart or arrow sticking the body; but maketh means to deliver himself from the said hook, shaking his head and writhing it to and fro until he have enlarged the wound and made it wider; enduring most stoutly and resolutely the dolour to be thus rend and torn, and never gives over, until he have wrested and wrung the hook out of his body. The sea fox will not many times come near unto an hook, he reculeth back and is afraid of some deceitful guile; but say that he chance to be surprised quickly, he maketh shift to wind himself off again: for such is his strength, agility and slippery moisture withal, that he will turn himself upside down with his tail upward, in such sort, that when by overturning his stomach all within is come forth, it can not choose but the hook looseth the hold which it had and falleth forth.  
These examples do show a certain intelligence, and withal a witty and ready execution of that which is expedient for them, as need and occasion requireth. But other fishes there be, which besides this industrious sagacity in shifting for themselves, do represent a sociable nature and loving affection one unto another; as for example, the anthiae and scari: for when the scarus hath swallowed down and hook, other of his fellows come leaping about him, and gnaw the line a sunder; and if peradventure there be any of them gotten within a net and entangled, their companions give them their tails without, which they hold as fast as they can with their teeth, and the other lie pulling and haling of them until they have drawn them forth. As for the anthiae, they come to rescue and succour one of their own kind with more audacity, for putting the line against their back, they set to it the ridge bone, which is sharp toothed in manner of a saw, and with it they endeavour to file and saw it in twain. And verily, there is not a creature living on the land (as far as we know) that hath the heart and courage to aid their fellows being in danger of life, neither bear, bore, lion, nor leopard. Well may those gather all together in heaps, which are of the same kind and run one with another round about the cirque or shewplace with the Amphitheatres: but to rescue or succour one another neither know they the means how, nor have the courage to do it: for they fly and leap backward as far as ever they can possibly from one that is hurt or killed in their sight: as for that story my good friend that you allege of the elephants, that they cast into the ditch or trench whereinto one of their company is fallen all that ever they can get & gather together, thereby to make a bank, that he may cast himself upon, & beside so get forth, it is very strange and far fet: and because it cometh. out of the books of king Juba, it would seem to command us (as it were) by a royal edict, to give credit thereto. But say it were, true there be examples of sea-creatures enough to prove that for sociable kindness and prudence withal, there be many of them which give no place to the wisest of all those which the land affordeth: but as touching their communion and fellowship, we will treat thereof apart, and that anon.  
To return unto our fishers: perceiving as they do, that the most part of fishes scorn the line and hook as stale devices or such as be discovered, they betake themselves to fine force, and shut them up within great casting nets, like as the Persians use to serve their enemies in their wars, making this account, that if they be enclosed once within those nets, they are theirs sure enough, as if no discourse of reason in the world, no wit & policy whatsoever will serve them to escape: for with hoopnets' or castnets are mullets caught, & the iülides, the marmyri also, the sargi, sea-gogeon, and the wide mouthed pikes: but such as plunge themselves down to the bottom of the water, called thereupon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 such as are the barbel, the guiltheads, and the scorpions of the sea, those they use to catch and draw up with great drags and sweepnets'. And verily this kind of net Homer calleth Panagra, which is as much to say, as catching and swooping all afore it. And yet as cunningly devised as these engines be, the seadogs have devices to avoid the same, as also the wide mouthed labrax; for when he perceiveth that the said sweep net is a drawing along the bottom, he setteth all his strength to, scrapeth in the earth, and patteth if so, as he maketh an hole therein; and when he hath thus digged (as it were) as deep a trench as will hide him against the incursion of the net, than he coucheth himself close within it, waiting until the net be glided over him and past. The dolphin, if he be surprised, and perceive that he is enclosed and clasped within the arms (as one would say) of a net, endureth his fortune resolutely, and never dismayeth for the matter; nay, he is very well appaied and pleased; for he is glad in his heart, that he hath so many fishes about him caught in the same net, which he may devour and make merry with at his pleasure without pains taking: and when he sees that he is drawn up near to the land, he makes no more ado but gnaws a great hole in the net, & away he goes. But say that he cannot dispatch this feat so quickly, but he comes into the fisher's hands, yet he dieth not for this at the first time; for they draw a rish or reed thorough the skin along his crest, and so let him go: but if he suffer himself to be taken the second time, than they beat and cudgel him well; and know him they do by the seams or scars remaining of the foresaid reed. Howbeit, this falleth out very seldom; for the most part of them when they have been once pardoned, do acknowledge what favour they have received, and beware for ever after how they do a fault and come into danger again. But whereas there be infinite other examples of subtle slights and witty wiles which fishes have invented, both to foresee and prevent a peril, & also to escape out of a danger, that of the cuttle is worthy to be recited and would not be passed over in silence: for having about her neck a bladder or bag hanging, full of a black muddy liquor, which thereupon they call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, Ink: when she perceives herself beset & compassed about, so as she is ready to be taken, she casteth forth from her the said ink full craftily, that by troubling the water of the sea all about her, and making it look thick and black, she might avoid the sight of the fisher, and so make an escape unseen. Following herein the gods in Homer, who many times with overspreading a back cloud withdraw and steal away those whom they are minded to save: but enough of this.  
Now as touching their craft and subtlety in assailing and chase others, there be many experiments and examples presented unto our sight: for the fish called the Star, knowing full well, that whatsoever he toucheth will melt and resolve, offereth and yieldeth her body to be handled, suffering as many as pass by her, or approach near to struck him: and as for the cramp-fish Torpedo, you all know well enough her powerful property; not only to benumb and stupefy those who touch her, but also to transmit a stupefactive quality, even along the maishes and cords of the net, to the very hands of the fishers who have caught her. And some there be who report thus much moreover, as having farther experience of her wonderful nature, that in case she escape and get away alive, if men do baddle aloft in the water, or dash the same upon them, they shall feel the said passion running up to the very hand, and benumbing their sense of feeling, as it should seem, by reason of the water which before was altered and turned in that manner. This fish therefore having an imbred knowledge hereof by nature, never fighteth a front with any other; neither hazardeth himself openly: but fetching a compass about the prey which it hunteth after, shooteth forth from her these contagious influences like darts, infecting or charming rather the water first therewith, and after wards by means thereof the fish that she layeth for; so that it can neither defend itself, nor fly and make an escape, but remaineth as it were arrested, and bound fast with chains, or utterly astonished.  
The sea-frog, called the Fisher, which name he got by a kind of fishing that he doth practise, is known well enough to many: and Aristotle saith, that the cuttle aforesaid useth likewise the same craft that he doth. His manner is to hang down as it were an angle line, a certain small string or gut from about his neck, which is of that nature, that he can let out in length a great way when it is loose, and draw it in again close together very quickly when he list. Now when he perciveth some small fish near unto him, he suffereth it to nibble the end thereof and bite it, and then by little and little and prively plucketh and draweth it back toward him, until he can reach with his mouth the fish that hangeth to it.  
As touching poulps or purcuttles, and how they change their colour, Pindarus hath ennobled them in these verses: 
His mind doth alter most mutable,  
To poulpe the sea fish skin semblable,  
Which changeth hue to all things suitable,  
To live in all worlds he is pliable.  The poet Theognis likewise: 
Put on a mind like polyp fish, and learn so to dissemble,  
Which of the rock whereto it sticks, the colour doth resemble.  True it is that the chameleon also eftsoon changeth colour, but it is not upon any crafty design that he hath, nor yet for to hide himself, but only for that he is so timorous; for cowardly he is by nature, and feareth every noise. Over and beside (as Theophrastus writeth) full he is of a deal of wind; and the body of this creature wanteth but a little of being all lungs and lights; whereby it may be guessed that it standeth altogether upon ventosity and wind, and so consequently very variable and subject to change: whereas that mutability of the polype is a powerful and settled action of his, and not a momentary passion or infirmity: for he altereth his colour of a deliberate purpose, using it as a sleight or device, either to conceal himself from that whereof he is afraid; or else to catch that whereof he feedeth: and by means of this deceitful wile, he prayeth upon the one that escapeth him not, & escapeth the other that passeth by & sees him not. But to say that he eateth his own cleys or long arms that he useth to stretch forth, is a loudly; marry that he standeth in fear of the lampray and the conger, is very true: for these fishes do him many shrewd turns, and he cannot requite them the like, so slippery they be and so soon gone. Like as the lobster on the other side if they come within his clutches, holdeth them fast & squeizeth them to death: for their glibby slicknesse serveth them in no stead against his rough cleys; and yet if the polype can get & entangle him once within his long laces, he dies for it. See how nature hath given this circular vicissitude to avoid and chase one another by turns, as a very exercise and trial to make proof of their wit and sagacity.  
But Aristotimus hath alleged unto us the hedghoge, or land urchin, and stood much upon I wot not what foresight he hath of the winds: and a wondrous matter he hath made also of the triangular flight of crane's. As for me, I will not produce the sea urchins of this or that particular coast, to wit, either of Bizantine, or of Cyzicum, but generally all in what seas soever; namely, how against a tempest and storm, when they see that the sea will be very much troubled, they charge and ballast themselves with little stones, for fear of being overturned or driven to and fro for their lightness, by the billows and waves of the sea: and thus by the means of this weight, they remain firm and fast upon the little rocks whereto they are settled. As for the crane's, who change their manner of flying according to the wind; I say, this is a skilful quality, not proper and peculiar to one kind of fishes, but common unto them all; namely, to swim evermore against the waves & the current; yea, and very wary they be, that the wind blow not their tails, and raise their scales, and so hurt and offend their bodies laid bare and naked, yea and made rugged by that means. Hereupon they carry their snouts and muzzles always into the wind, and so direct their course: and thus the sea being cut affront at their head, keepeth down their fins, and gliding smoothly over their body, layeth their scales even, so as none of them stand staring up. This is a thing, as I have said, common unto all fishes, except the Elops, whose nature is to swim down the wind and the water; neither feareth he that the wind will drive up his scales in so swimming, because they do not lie toward his tail, but contrary to other fishes, to ward his head.  
Moreover, the tuny is so skilful in the solstices and equinoxes, that he hath taught men to observe them without need of any astrological rules; for look in what place or coast of the sea the winter tropic or solstice finds him, there resteth he, and stirreth not until the equinox in the spring. But a wonderful wisdom (quoth he) there is in the crane, to hold a stone in his foot, that by the fall thereof he may quickly awaken. How much wiser then, my good friend Aristotimus, is the dolphin? who may not abide to lie still and cease stirring, for that by nature he is in continual motion, and endeth his moving and living together: but when he hath need of sleep, he springeth up with his body to the top of the water, and turneth him upon his back with the belly upward, and so suffereth it partly to float and hull, and in part to be carried through the deep, waving to and fro as it were in a hanging bed, with the agitation of the sea, sleeping all the while, until he settle down to the bottom of the sea, and touch the ground: then wakeneth he, and mounting up with a jerk a second time, suffereth himself to be carried until he be settled down again; and thus hath he devised to have his repose and rest intermingled with a kind of motion. And it is said that the tunies do the like, and upon the same cause.  
And now forasmuch as we have showed already the mathematical and astrological foreknowledge that fishes have in the revolution and conversion of the sun, which is confirmed likewise by the testimony of Aristotle, listen what skill they have in arithmetic; but first (believe me) of the perspective science; whereof as it should seem, the poet Aeschylus was not ignorant: for thus he saith in one place: 
Like tuny fish he seems to spy,  
He doth so look with his left eye.  For tunies in the other eye are thought to have a dim and feeble sight: and therefore when they enter Mer major into the sea of Pontus, they coast along the land on the right side; but chose when they come forth, wherein they do very wisely and circumspectly, to commit the custody of the body always to the better eye. Now for that they have need of arithmetic, by reason of their society (as it may be thought) and mutual love wherein they delight; they are come to that height and perfection in this art, that because they take a wondrous pleasure to feed together, and to keep one with another in skulls & troops, they always cast their company into a cubic form, in manner of a battailon, solid and square every way, close, and environed with six equal sides or faces; and arranged in this ordinance as it were of a quadrat battle do they swim, as large before as behind, & of the one side as of the other, in such sort, as he that lieth in espial to hunt these tunies, if he can but take the just number how many there be of that side or front that appeareth next unto him, may presently tell what the number is of the whole troop, being assured that the depth is equal to the breadth, and the breadth even with the length.  
The fish called in Greek 
* Of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, altogether.  Hamiae, took that name, it may be thought, for their conversing in companies all together: and so I suppose came the Pelamydes by their name. As for other fishes that be sociable & love to live & are seen to converse in great companies together, no man is able to number them, they be so many. Come we rather therefore to some particular societies & inseparable fellowships that some have in living together: among which is that 
* Of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 near.  Pinnotheres, which cost the philosopher Chrysippus so much ink in his description, for in all his books as well of moral 
* Some take it for the shrimp.  as natural philosophy, he is ranged foremost. As for the Spongetheres, I suppose he never knew, for otherwise he would not have left it out. Well, this Pinnotheres is a little fish, as they say, of the crabs kind, which goeth & cometh evermore with the Nacre, a big shell fish keeping still by it, and sits as it were a porter at his shell side, which he letteth continually to stand wide open, until he spy some small fishes gotten within it, such as they are wont to take for their food: then doth he enter likewise into the Nacres shell, and seemeth to bite the fleshy substance thereof; whereupon presently the Nacre shutteth the shell hard, and then they two together feed upon the booty which they have gotten prisoners within this enclosure.  
As touching the spongotheres, a little creature it is, not like unto the crab fish as the other, but rather resembling a spider, & it seemeth to rule and govern the sponge, which is altogether without life, without blood and sense; but as many other living creatures within the sea, cleaveth indeed heard to the rocks, and hath a peculiar motion of the own, namely, to stretch out and draw in itself: but for to do this need, she hath of the direction and advertisement of another for being of a rare, hollow, and soft constitution otherwise, and full of many concavities, void & so dull of sense beside, & idle withal, that it perceiveth not when there is any substance of good meat gotten within the said void and empty holes; this little animal at such a time giveth a kind of warning, and with it she gathereth in her body, holdeth it fast, and devoureth the same: but much more will this sponge draw in herself when a man comes near and touches her; for then being better advertised and touched to the quick, she quaketh as it were for fear, and plucketh in her body so straight and so hard, that the diverse, and such as seek after them have no small ado, but find it to be a painful matter for to get under and cut them from the rocks.  
The purple fishes keep in companies together, & make themselves a common cel, much like to the combs which bees do frame, wherein by report, they do engender & breed: and look what they have laid up for their store and provision of victuals, to wit, moss, reits and such seaweeds, those they put forth out of their shells, & present them unto their fellows for to eat, banqueting round as it were every one in their turn, and keeping their course to feast, one eating of another's provision. But no great marvel it is to see such an amiable society and loving fellowship among them, considering that the most unsociable, cruel and lavage creature of all that live either in rivers or lakes or seas, I mean the crocodile, showeth himself wonderful fellowlike and gracious in that society and dealing that is between him & the trochilus. For this trochilus is a little bird of the kind of those which ordinarily do haunt meres, marshes and rivers, waiting and attending upon the crocodile as it were one of his guard: neither liveth this bird at her own finding nor upon her own provision, but of the relics that the crocodile leaveth. The service that she doth for it is this: when she seeth the ichneumon, having plastred his body as it were with a coat of mud baked hard in manner of a crust, and like unto a champion with his hands all dusty, ready to wrestle & prepared to take hold of his enemy, lie in wait for to surprise the crocodile asleep, she awakeneth him partly with her voice, and partly by nebbing him with her bill. Now the crocodile is so gentle and familiar with her, that he will gape with his chaws wide open, and let her enter into his mouth, taking great pleasure that she should pick his teeth and peck out the little morsels of flesh that stick between, with her pretty beak, & withal, to scarify his gums. But when he hath had enough of this, & would shut and close his mouth again, he letteth fall the upper chaw a little, which is a warning unto the bird for to get forth: but he never bringeth both jaws together, before he know that the trochilus is flown out.  
There is a little fish called the guide, for quantity & proportion of shape, resembling the gudgeon, only without forth it seemeth like unto a bird, whose feathers for fear stand up; the scales stare so, and are so rough. This fish is ever in the company of one of these great whales, swimming before, and directing his course as if he were his pilot, for fear lest he should light upon some shelves, run upon the sands in the shallows, or otherwise shoot himself into some narrow creak where he can hardly turn and get forth. The whale followeth hard after, willing to be guided, and directed by him, even as a ship by the helm: and look what other thing soever beside cometh within the chaos of this monster's mouth, be it beast, boat, or stone, down it goes all incontinently that foul great swallow of his, and perisheth in the bottomless gulf of his paunch: only this little fish he knoweth from the rest, and receiveth into his mouth and no farther, as an anchor, for within it sleepeth; and while the fish is at repose, the whale likewise resteth still, as if he rid at anchor; no sooner is it gotten forth, but he followeth on a fresh, never leaving it by day nor by night, for otherwise he would wander here and there: and many of these whales there have been lost in this manner, wanting their guide & pilot, which have run themselves a land, for default of a good pilot. For we ourselves have seen one of them so cast away not long since about the isle Anticyra: and before time by report, there was another cast upon the sands, and not far from the city Buna, which lay there stinking and purrified; whereupon by the infection of the air, there ensued a pestilence in those parts adjoining. What should one say? Is there any other example worthy to be compared with these societies so straightly linked, and interlaced with mutual benevolence? Aristotle indeed reporteth great friendship and amity between foxes and serpents, joining and combiming together against their common enemy the eagle also between the Otides and horses; for the bird Otis delighteth in their company, and to be near them, for that they may rake into their dung. For mine own part, I cannot see that the very bees, or the pismires, are so industrious and careful one for another. True it is, that they travel and labour in common for a public weal; but to aim at any particular good, or to respect the private benefit one of another, we can find example of no beast upon the land wheresoever: but we shall perceive this difference much better, if we convert our speech to the principal duties and greatest offices of society; generation (I mean) and procreation of young: First and foremost, all fishes which haunt any sea, either near unto lakes, or such as receiveth great rivers into it, when they perceive their spawning time to be near, come up toward the land, and seek for that fresh water which is most quiet and least subject to agitation for that calmness is good for their breeding; beside, these lakes and rivers ordinarily have none of these monstrous sea monsters; so as both their spawn and their young fry, is there in most safety, which is the reason that there are so many fishes bred about the Euxine sea; for that it nourisheth no whales or other great fishes: only the sea-calf which there is but small, and the dolphin who is as little. Moreover, the mixture of many great rivers which discharge themselves into the sea, causeth the temperature of the water to be very good and fit for great bellied spawners. But most admirable of all others, is the nature of the fish anthios, which Homer called the sacred fish; although some think that sacred in that place, is as much to say, as great: in which sense we term the great bone, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, sacred; whereupon the ridge bone resteth: as also the great malady, called the falling sickness, is termed in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the sacred sickness: others interpret it after the common and vulgar manner, namely, for that which is vowed and dedicated to some god, or otherwise abandoned: but it seemeth that Eratosthenes so called the guilthead or goldeney, as appeareth by this verse of his: 
Most swift of course, with brows as bright as gold,  
This is the fish which I do sacred hold.  but many take it for the elops; for rare he is to be found, and hard to be taken: howbeit, many times he is seen about the coast of Pamphylia; and whensoever the fishers can meet with any of them, and bring them home, both they themselves wear chaplets of flowers for joy, and also they crown and adorn their barks with garlands, yea, and at their arrival they are received with much shouting and clapping of hands; but the most part are of opinion, that the anthios beforesaid, is he which they call the sacred fish; and so is he held to be; for that wheresoever he is, there may no hurtful nor ravening monster be found there: insomuch as the Divers plunge down into the sea for sponges, boldly in those coasts where these be; yea, and other fishes, both spawn and rear their young fry safely there, as having him for their pledge and warrant of all safety and security, as in a privileged place. The cause hereof is hardly to be rendered; whether it be that such hurtful fishes upon a secret antipathy in nature, do avoid him as elephants a swine, and lions a cock; or that there be some marks & signs of those coasts which are clear of such harmful monsters, which he knoweth well and observeth, being a fish quick of wit, and as good of memory. Common it is to all females for to have a natural care and providence for their young, but in fishes, the males generally are so respective that way, and so far off from devouring the seed of their own kind, that they continue near unto the spawn that the females have cast, and keep the same, as Aristotle hath left in writing. Some milters there be, that follow after the spawners, and sprinkle them a little about the tail; otherwise, the spawn or fry will not be fair and great, but remain unperfect, and come to no growth. This property particularly by themselves have the phycides, that they build their nests with the sea weeds or reits, covering and defending therewith their spawn and fry against the waves of the sea. 
  
Dogfish give not place in any sort to the most tame and gentle beasts in the world, for kind love and natural affection to their young: for first they engender spawn, and after that, a quick fry; and that not without, but within, nourishing and carrying the same within their own bodies, after a kind of second generation; but when they are grown to any bigness, they put them forth and teach them how to swim hard by them, and afterwards receive them by the mouth into their body, which serveth in stead of a place of abode, of nourishment and of refuge, until such time as they be so big, that they can shift for themselves.  
Moreover, the provident care of the tortoise in the generation, nourishment and preservation of yer young, is wonderful: for out she goeth of the sea, and layeth her eggs or casteth her spawn upon the bank side; but being not able to cove or sit upon them, nor to remain herself upon the land out of the sea any long time, she bestoweth them in the gravel, and afterwards covereth them with the lightest and finest sand that she can get: when she hath thus hidden them surely, some say, that with her feet she draweth rays or lines, or else imprinteth certain pricks, which may serve for privy marks to herself, to find out the place again: others affirm, that the male turneth the females upon the back, and so leaveth the print of their shell within the same: but that which is more admirable, she observeth just the fortieth day (for in so many days, the eggs come to their maturity, and be hatched) and then returneth she to the place where knowing her own treasure by the seal, she openeth it with great joy and pleasure, as no man doth his casket of jewels or cabinet where his gold lieth.  
The crocodiles deal much after this manner in all other points; but at what marks they aim in choosing or finding out the place where they breed, no mortal man is able to imagine or give a reason whereupon it is commonly said, that the foreknowledge of this beast in that respect, proceedeth not from any discourse of reason, but of some supernatural divination: for going neither farther nor nearer than just to that gage and height where Nilus the river for that year will rise and cover the earth, there layeth she her eggs: so that when the peasant or country man chanceth by fortune to hit upon a crocodiles nest, himself knoweth and telleth his neighbours how high the river will overflow that Summer following: so just doth she measure the place that will be drowned with water, that herself may be sure not to be drenched while she sitteth and coveth: furthermore, when her young be newly hatched, if she see any one of them (so soon as ever it is out of the shell) not to catch with the mouth one thing or other coming next in the way, be it fly, pismire, gnat, earthworm, straw or grass, the dam taketh it between her teeth, teareth it and killeth it presently; but such as give some proof of animosity, audacity and execution, those she loveth, those she cherisheth and maketh much of, bestowing her love as the wisest men judge it meet and reasonable, according to reason and discretion, and not with blind affection.  
The sea-calves likewise bring forth their young on the dry land; but within a while after they train them to the sea; give them a taste of the salt water, & then quickly bring them back again: thus practise they with them by little and little many times together, until they have gotten more heart and begin of themselves to delight for to live within the sea. Frogs about their breeding time, call one to another, by a certain amorous note or nuptial tune, called properly Ololugon. And when the male hath by this means enticed and alured the female to him, they attend and wait together for the night: and why? In the water they cannot possibly engender, and upon the land they fear to do it in the day time; dark night is no sooner come, but boldly they go forth of the water, and then without fear they clasp and embrace one another. Moreover against a shower of rain their crooking voice, such as it is, you shall hear more clear and shrill than ordinary, which is a most infallible sign of rain.  
But (oh sweet Neptune) what a foul fault and gross error was I like to have committed; how absurd and ridiculous should I have made myself, if being amused and busied to speak of these sea-calves and frogs, I had forgotten and overpassed the wisest creature, and that which the gods love best, of all those that do frequent and haunt the sea? for what music of the nightingale is comparable to that of the halcyon; what 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is, love to their young birds.  artificial building of the swallows, and martinets; what entire amity & love of doves; what skilful cunning of the bees, deserveth to be put in balance with these sea-fowles halcyones? Of what living creatures have the gods and goddesses so much honoured the breeding, travel and birth? for it is said that there was but one only Isle, to wit Delos, that was so well beloved, that it received the childbirth of Latona, when she was delivered of Apollo & Diana: which island floating before time, continued afterwards firme-land; whereas the pleasure of God is such, that all seas should be still and calm without waves, winds or drop of rain falling upon them, all the while that the halcyon layeth and coveth, which is just about the winter solstice, even when the days be shortest: which is the reason that there is no living creature that men love so well; by whose means seven days they have, and seven nights even in the very heart of winter, during which time they may safely sail, having their voyage by sea for those days space, more secure than their travel by land. Now if I must say somewhat likewise of each particular virtue that this bird hath: first and foremost the female is so loving to the male her mate, that she tarrieth not with him for one season only, but all the year long keepeth him company; and that not for shameless lust & wantonness (for she never admitteth any other male to tread her) but only upon a kind love and tender affection; even like an honest wedded wife that keepeth only to her husband. And when the male groweth to be for age weak and unwieldy, in such sort as he cannot follow her, but with much ado, she beareth and feedeth him in his old age; she never forsaketh nor leaveth him alone for any thing, but she taketh him upon her shoulders, carrieth him every where about, tendeth him most tenderly, and is with him still unto his dying day. Now for the affection which she beareth to her young, and the care that she hath of them and their safety: when she perceiveth once that she is with egg, presently she goeth about the building of her nest; not tempering mud or clay for to make thereof mortar; nor daubing it upon the walls, and spreading it over the roof as the swallows do; and yet employing her whole body or the most part thereof about her work, as doth the be, which entering in the honeycomb with her entire body; and working withal the six feet together, devideth the place in six angled cells: but the halcyon having but one instrument, one tool, one engine to work withal, even her own bill, without any thing else in the world to help her in her travel and operation; yet what workmanship she makes & what fabrics she frameth, like unto a master carpenter or shipwright, hard it were to believe, unless a man had seen it, being in deed such a fabric and piece of work, which only of all other cannot be overthrown nor drenched with the sea: for first and foremost she goes and gathers a number of bones of the fish called Belone, that is to say, a Needle, which she joineth and bindeth together, interlacing them some long-wise, others overthwart, much like as the woof is woven upon the warp in a loom, winding, plaiting and twisting them up and down one within another; so that in the end fashioned it is in form round, yet extended out in length like unto a fishers we'll or bownet: after she hath finished this frame, she bringeth it to some creak, and opposeth it against the waves, where the sea gently beating and dashing upon it, teacheth her to mend that was not well compact, and to fortify it in such places where she sees it gapeth, or is not united close by reason of the sea-water that hath undone the composition thereof: chose, that which was well jointed, the sea doth so settle and drive together, that hardly a man is able to break, dissolve or do it injury either with knock of stone or dint of edged tool. But that which yet maketh it more admirable, is the proportion and form of the concavity and hole within this vessel; for framed it is & composed in such sort, that it will receive and admit no other thing, but the very bird which made it, for nought else can enter into it, so close it is and shut up, no not so much as the very water of the sea. I am assured that there is not one of you all, but he hath many times seen this nest: but for mine own part, who have both viewed, touched and handled it, and that very often, I am ready to say and sing thus: 
The like at Delos once I ween,  
Was in Apollo's temple seen.  I mean the altar made all of horns, renowned amongst the seven wonders of the world; for that without solder, glue, or any other matter to bind and hold the parcels together, made it was and framed of horns which grew on the right side of the head only. But o that this god would be so good and gracious unto me, being in some sort musical and an islander, like himself, as to pardon me if I sing the praise of that siren and mermaid so highly commended; as also gently to hear me laugh at these demands and interrogatories that these propound, who in mockery seem to ask, Why Apollo is never called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the killer of conger, nor Diana his sister 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a striker of barbels, knowing that even Venus, borne as she was of the sea, and instituting her sacrifices near unto it, taketh no pleasure that any thing should be killed. And moreover, ye wot well enough, that in the city of Leptis, the priests of Neptune eat nothing, that cometh out of the sea, as also that in the city Elcusin, those who are professed religious, and admitted to the holy mysteries of Ceres, honour the barbell; yea, and in the city of Argos the priestresse of Diana upon a devout reverence forbeareth to feed of this creature; for that these barbles do kill and destroy all that ever they can, the sea-hare, which is so venomous and so deadly a poison to man: in regard of which benefit, reported they are friendly unto mankind, and preservers of their health, and therefore honoured they be, and kept as sacrosanct: and yet you shall see in many cities of Greece, both temples and altars dedicated unto Diana surnamed Dictynna, as one would say, affected unto fisher's nets: like as to Apollo Delphinius: for certain it is, that the place which he especially chose above all others for his abode, the posterity descended from the Cretansians came to inhabit and people, being conducted thither by the guidance of a dolphin: and not because himself (as some fabulous writer's report) being transformed into a dolphin, swum before their fleet: but surely a dolphin he sent to direct those men their navigation, and so he brought them to the bay of Cirrha.  
Also written it is in histories, that those who were sent by king Ptolomaeus surnamed Soter, to the city Sinope, for to carry the god Serapis, together with their captain Dionysius, were by force of wind and tempest driven against their wills beyond the cape or promontory Malea, where they had Peloponnesus on the right hand; and when they wandered and were tossed to and fro upon the seas, not knowing where they were, making account they were lost and cast away, there showed himslefe before the prow of their ship, a dolphin, which seemed to call unto them, and who guided them unto those coasts where there were many commodious havens and fair bay for ships to harbour and ride in with safety; and thus he conducted and accompanied their ship from place to place, until at length he brought it within the road of Cirrha; where after they had sacrificed for their safe arrival and landing, they understood that of two images there, they were to have away that of Pluto, and carry it with them, but the other of Proserpina to leave behind them, when they had taken only the mould and pattern thereof. Probable it is therefore, that the god Apollo carried an affection to this dolphin, for that it loveth music so well: whereupon the poet Pindarus comparing himself unto the dolphin, saith that he was provoked and stirred up to music by the leaping and dancing of this fish, 
Like as the dolphin swims apace  
Directly forward to that place  
Whereas the pleasant shawms do sound.  
And whence their noise doth soon rebound:  
What time both winds and waves do lie  
At sea, and let no harmony.  or rather we are to think that the god is well affected unto him, because he is so kind and loving unto man: for the only creature it is, that loveth man for his own sake, and in regard that he is a man: whereas of land-beasts, some you shall have that love none at all; others, and those that be of the tamest kind, make much of those only, of whom they have some use and benefit; namely, such as feed them or converse with them familiarly, as the dog, the horse and the elephant: and as for swallows, received though they be into our houses, where they have entertainment, and whatsoever they need, to wit, shade, harbour and a necessary retreat for their safety, yet they be afraid of man, and shun him as if he were some savage beast; whereas the dolphin alone of all other creatures in the world, by a certain instinct of nature, carrieth that sincere affection unto man, which is so much sought for and desired by our best philosophers, even without any respect at all of commodity: for having no need at all of man's help, yet is he nevertheless friendly and courteous unto all, and hath succoured many in their distress; as the story of Arion will testify, which is so famous, as no man is ignorant thereof: and even you Aristotimus your own self, rehearsed to very good purpose the example of Hesiodus: 
But yet by your good leave, my friend,  
Of that your tale you made no end.  for when you reported unto us the fidelity of his dog, you should have proceeded farther, and told out all, not leaving out (as you did) the narration of the dolphin's: for surely the notice that the dog gave, by baying, barking, and running after the murderers with open mouth, was (I may tell you) but a blind presumption, and no evident argument. About the city Nemium, the dolphin's meeting with the dead corpse of a man floating up and down upon the sea, took it up and laid it on their backs, shifting it from one to another by turns, as any of them were weary with the carriage, and very willingly, yea, and as it should seem, with great affection, they conveyed it as far as to the port Rhium, where they laid it down upon the shore, and so made it known that there was a man murdered. Myrtilus the Lesbian writeth, that Aenalus the Acolian being fallen in fancy with a daughter of Phineus, who according to the oracle of Amphirite, was by the daughters of Pentheus cast down headlong into the sea, threw himself after her; but there was a dolphin took him up, and brought him safe unto the isle Lesbos. Over and beside, the affection and good will which a dolphin bare unto a young lad of the city jasos, was so hot and vehement, in the highest degree, that if ever one creature was in love with another, it was he, for there was not a day went over his head, but he would disport, play and swim with him, yea, and suffer himself to be handled and tickled by him upon his bare skin; and if the boy were disposed to mount aloft upon his back, he would not refuse, nor seem to avoid him; nay he was very well content with such a carriage, turning what way soever he reined him, or seemed to incline: and thus would he do in the presence of the jasians, who oftentimes would all run forth to the sea side of purpose to behold this sight. Well on a day above the rest, when this lad was upon the dolphin's back, there fell an exceeding great shower of rain, together with a monstrous storm of hail; by reason whereof the poor boy fell into the sea, and there died: but the dolphin took up his body dead as it was, and together with it shut himself upon the land; neither would he depart from the corpse so long as there was any life in him, and so died, judging it great reason to take part with him of his death, who seemed partly to be the cause thereof. In remembrance of which memorable accident, the jasians represent the history thereof stamped and printed upon their coin, to wit, a boy riding upon a dolphin; which story hath caused that the fable or tale that goeth of Caeranus is believed for a truth: for this caeranus, as they say, borne in Paros, chanced to be upon a time at Byzantium, where seeing a great draft of dolphin's taken up in a casting-net by the fishers, whom they meant to kill and cut into pieces, bought them all alive, and let them go again into the sea. Not long after, it happened that he sailed homeward in a foist of fifty oars, which had aboard (by report) a number of pirates and rovers; but in the straits between Naxos and Paros the vessel was cast away, and swallowed up in a gust: in which shipwreck, when all the rest perished, he only was saved, by means as they say of a dolphin, which coming under his body as he was newly plunged into the sea, bore him up, took him upon his back, and carried him as far as to a certain cave about Zacynthus, and there landed him: which place is showed for a monument at this day, and after his name, is called Coeranium. upon this occasion, Archilachus' the poet, is said to have made these verses: 
Of fifty men by tempest drowned,  
And left in sea all dead behind:  
Coeran alone alive was found,  
God Neptune was to him so kind,  Afterwards the said Caeranus himself died: and when his kinsfolk & friends burned his corpse near to the sea side in a funeral fire, many dolphin's were discovered along the coast hard by the shore, showing (as it were) themselves how they were come to honour his obsequies; for depart they would not before the whole solemnity of this last duty was performed. That the scutcheon or shield of Ulysses had for the badge or ensign, a dolphin, Stesichorus hath testified, but the occasion and cause thereof, the Zacynthians report in this manner, as Criteus the historian beareth witness. Telemachus his son being yet an infant, chanced to slip with his feet, as men say, to fall into a place of the sea, where it was very deep; but by the means of certain dolphin's who took him as he fell, saved he was and carried out of the water: whereupon his father in a thankful regard and honour to this creature, engraved within the collet of his signet, wherewith he sealed the portrait of a dolphin, & likewise carried it as his arms upon his shield. But forasmuch as I protested in the beginning that I would relate to you no fables, and yet (I wot not how) in speaking of dolphin's, I am carried farther than I was aware, and fallen upon Ulysses and Caeranus, somewhat beyond the bounds of likelihood and probability, I will set a fine upon mine own head, and even here for amends lay a straw and make an end. You therefore my masters who are judges, may when it pleaseth you proceed to your verdict.  SOCLARUS. 
As for us, we were of mind a good while since to say according to the sentence of Sophocles: 
Your talk ere while which seemed to disagree,  
Will soon accord and joint-wise framed be.  for if you will, both of you confer your arguments, proofs and reasons which you have alleged of the one side and the other, and lay them all together in common between you, it will be seen how mightily you shall confute and put down those who would deprive bruit beasts of all understanding and discourse of reason.    

WHETHER THE ATHENIANS WERE MORE RENOWNED FOR MARTIAL ARMS OR GOOD LETTERS.  

The Summarie.  
WE have here the fragments of a pleasant discourse written in the favour of Athenian warriors and great captains; which at this day hath neither beginning nor end, and in the middle is altogether maimed and unperfect: but that which the infortunity of the times hath left unto us, is such yet, as thereout we may gather some good, and the intention of Plutarch is therein sufficiently discovered unto us: for he showeth that the Atheutans were more famous and excellent in feats of arms than in the profession of learning. Which position may seem to be a strange paradox, considering that Athens was reputed the habitation of the muses: and if there were ever any brave historians, singular poets, and notable orators in the world, we are to look for them in this city. Yet for all this, he taketh upon him to prove that the prowess of Athenian captains was without all comparison more commendable and praisewoorthie than all the dexterity of others, who at their leisure have written in the shade and within house the occurrents and accidents of the times, or exhibited pleasures and pastimes to the people upon the stage or scaffold. And to effect this intended purpose of his, be considereth in the first place, historiographers, and adjoineth thereto a brief treatise of the art of painting: and by comparison of two persons, bringing news of a field fought, where of the one was only a beholder and looker on; the other an actor himself, and a soldier fight in the battle, he showeth that noble captains ought to be preferred before historians, who pen and set down their designs and executions. From history he passeth on to poesy, both comical and tragical, which he reproveth and debaseth, notwithstanding the Athenians made exceeding account thereof; giving to understand, that their valour consisted rather in martial exploits-In the last place he speaketh of orators, and by conference of their orations and other reasons, proveth that these great speakers deserve not that place, as to have their words weighed in balance against the deeds of many politic and valiant warriors.   

WHETHER THE ATHENIANS were more renowned for martial arms or good letters.  
WEll said this was (in truth) of him unto those great captains and commanders who succeeded him, unto whom he made way and gave entrance to the executions of those exploits which they performed afterwards, when himself had to their hands chased out of Greece the barbarous king Xerxes, and delivered the Greeks out of servitude: but aswell may the same be said also to those who are proud of their learning and stand highly upon their erudition. For if you take away men of action, you shall be sure to have no writers of them: take away the politic government of Pericles at home; the naval victories and trophaes achieved by Phormio, near the promontory of Rhium; the noble prowesses of Nicias about the isle Cythera, as also before the cities of Corinth and Megara; take away the sea-sight of Demosthenes before Pylos; the four hundred captives and prisoners of Cleon; the worthy deeds of Tolmias who scoured all the coasts of Peloponnesus; the brave acts of Myronides, and the battle which he won against the Boeotians in the place called Oenophyta; and withal, you blot out the whole history of Thucydides; take away the valiant service of Alcibtades showed in Hellespont; the rare manhood of Thrasylus near unto the isle Lesbos; the happy suppression and abolition of the tyrannical oligarchy of the thirty usurpers, by Theramenes; take away the valorous endeavours of Thrasybulus and Archippus, together with the rare designs and enterprises executed by those seven hundred, who from Phyla rose up in arms and were so hardy and resolute as to levy a power and wage war against the lordly potentates of Sparta; and last of all Conon, who caused the Athenians to go to sea again and maintain the wars; and therewithal, take away Cratippus and all his Chronicles. For as touching Xenophon, he was the writer of his own history, keeping a book and commentary of those occurrents and proceedings which passed under his happy conduct and direction: and (by report) he gave it out in writing, that Themistogenes the Syracusian composed the said narration of his acts, to the end that Xenophon might win more credit and be the better believed, writing as he did of himself as of a stranger, and withal, gratifying another man by that means with the honour of eloquence in digesting and penning the same. All other historians beside, as these, Clinodemi and Diylli, Philochorus and Philarchus, may be counted as it were the actors of other men's plays: who setting down the acts of kings, princes and great captains, shrouded close under their memorial, to the end that themselves might have some part with them of their light and splendour. For surely there is a certain image of glory, which by a kind of reflection, as in a mirror, doth rebound from those who have achieved noble acts, even unto them that commit the same to writing, when as the actions of other men are represented by their reports and records.  
Certes this city of Athens hath been the fruitful mother and kind nurse of many and sundry arts, whereof some she first invented and brought to light; others she gave growth, strength, honour and credit unto. And among the rest, the skill of painter's craft hath not been least advanced and adorned by her. For Apollodorus the painter, the first man who devised the mixture of colours, and the manner of darkening them by the shadow, was an Athenian: over whose works was set this epigram by his own self. 
Sooner will one, this carp and twit;  
Than do the like or sample it.  So were Euphranor and Nicias, Asclepiodor us also, and Plistaenetus the brother of Phidias, whereof some portrayed victorious captains, others painted battles, and others drew to the life the worthies and demigods: like as Euphranor who painted noble Theseus, and set this picture as a paragon in comparison with another of Parrhasius making; saying that the Theseus of Parrhasius had eaten roses, but his Theseus had been fed with good ox beef: for to say a truth, that picture of Parrhasius was daintily and delicately made, resembling in some sort that which Euphranor talketh of; but he that should see this of Euphranors doing, might say (not unfitly) these verses out of Homer: 
The people of Erechtheus slout, whom Pallas, daughter dear  
Of Jupiter that mighty god, sometime did feed and rear.  Euphranor also depainted the battle of horsemen before the city Mantinaea, against Epaminondas, which seemeth not to be without some furious and divine instinct. The argument and subject matter whereof was this: Epaminondas the Theban, after the battle which he won before the town Leuctra, puffed up with glory in this greatness of his, determined resolutely to insult over Sparta, which now was already down the wind, and at once to tread and trample under foot the high spirit and reputation of that city. First therefore he invaded Laconia with a mighty power of threescore and ten thousand fight men, spoiling and harrowing the country as he went; whereby he withdrew all the neighbour-nations from their confederacy and alliance with the Lacedæmonians. After this, when they put themselves in battle ray, and made head against him before Mantinaea, he challenged and provoked them to fight: which they neither would nor durst accept, expecting aid that should come unto them from Athens. Whereupon he broke up his camp, and dislodging in the night season secretly and contrary to all men's expectation, entered again into Laconia, in which journey and expedition he went within a little of surprising the city of Sparta and winning it, naked as it was and without defendants. But the it allies and confederates having intelligence of his coming, came with all speed to succour the city. Then Epaminondas made femblance that he would turn and bend his forces to the wasting and spoiling of their territory, as he had done before. Thus having by this stratagem deluded his enemies, and lulled them asleep in security, he departed suddenly by night out of Laconia, having overrun and destroyed all before him with great celerity, and presented himself with his whole army before them of Mantinaea, who looked for nothing less than such a guest, but were in consultation for to send help to Lacedaemon: but he interrupting & breaking their counsels, immediately commanded the Thebans to arm, who being brave & courageous soldiers, invested the city of Mantinaea round about, struck up the alarm and gave an assault. The Mantineans hereat astonished, ran up and down the streets, howling and wailing, as being not able to sustain, and much less put back so great a puissance, which all at once in manner of a violent stream, came running upon them; neither did they think of any aid or means to relieve themselves in this distress. But at the very point of this extremity, the Athenians were discovered, descending from the hills down into the plains of Mantinaea, who knowing nothing of this sudden surprise and present danger wherein the city stood, marched softly, and took leisure; but when they were advertised hereof by a vaunt courier who made means to get forth of the city; notwithstanding they were but a handful in comparison of the great multitude of their enemies, and withal somewhat weary with their journey, and not seconded with any other of their allies and associates; they advanced forward, and put themselves in order of battle against their enemies, who were in number many for one: the horsemen also for their parts being likewise arranged, set spurs to their horses, and road hard to the gates and walls of the city, where they charged their enemies so hotly with their horses, and gave them so cruel a battle, that they got the uppeer hand, and rescued Mantinaea out of the danger of Epaminondas. Now had Euphranor painted this conflict most lively in a table, wherein a man might have seen the furious encounter, the courageous charge and bloody fight, wherein both horse and man seemed to puff and blow again for wind.  
But I suppose you will not compare the wit or judgement of a painter, with the courage and policy of a captain, nor endure those, who prefer a painted table before a glorious trophae; or the vain shadow before the real substance and thing indeed: howsoever Simonides said that picture was a dumb poesy, and poesy a speaking picture: for look what things or actions painters do show as present and in manner as they were in doing, writings do report and record as done and passed; and if the one represent them in colours and figures, and the other exhibit the same in words and sentences, they differ both in matter and also in manner of imitation, howbeit both the one and the other shoot at one end, and have the same intent and purpose. And he is counted the best historian who hath the skill to set out a narration, as in a painted table with diverse affections, and sundry conditions of persons, as with many images and pourtraictures. And verily this may appear in Thucydides, who throughout his whole history contendeth to attain unto this diluciditie of style, striving to make the auditor of his words the spectator as it were of the deeds therein contained, and desirous to imprint in the readers the same passions of astonishment, wonder and agony, which the very things themselves would work when they are represented to the eye. For Demosthenes who put the Athenians in ordinance of battle, even upon the very sands and shore within the creak of Pylos; and Brasidas who hastening the pilot of his galley to run with the prow a land, walking along the hatches himself, and being there wounded and ready to yield up his vital breath, sunk down among the seats of the rowers; also the Lacedaemoninas who fought a battle at sea, as if they had been on firm land: the Athenians likewise who upon the land embattled themselves, and fought as if they had been within their galleys at sea again, in the Sicilian war: the description which he maketh of the two armies arranged on the land, hard by the sea side, to behold their men fight a naval battle, wherein the victory hung a long time in equal balance, and inclined neither to the one side nor the other, by occasion of which doubtful issue, they were in an intolerable agony, distress, and perplexity, to behold the sundry encounters and reciprocal charges and recharges, communicating their violence and heat of contention even to the very bodies of the beholders upon the strand, who puffing, blowing, panting, and sweeting in as great pain and fear, as if they had been personally in the very conflict: the orderly disposition, the graphical description and the lively narration which he maketh of all this, what is it but an evident representation of a picture? Now if it be not meet to compare painters with captains, there is as little reason to set historians in comparison with them.  
He who brought the news of the battle and victory at Marathon, as Heraclides of Pontus writeth, was one Thersippus of Eroe, or as most historians report, it was one Eulees, who came running in a great heat from the field in his armour as he was, and knocking at the gates of the principal men's houses of Athens, was able to say nothing else but this, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, rejoice ye, all is well with us, and therewith his breath failed, and so he gave up the ghost, and yet this man came and brought tidings of that battle wherein himself was an actor. But tell me I pray you; if there were some goatherd or neat-herd, who from the top of an hill or an high bank, had beheld a far off this great service, and indeed greater than any words can express, should have come into the city with news thereof, not wounded himself, nor having lost one droop of blood, and for his good tidings demand afterwards to have the same honours and memorial which were granted unto Cynagirus, to Callimachus, and Polyzebus, only because forsooth he had made report of the doughty deeds, the wounds and death of these brave men; would you not think that he surpassed all the impudency that can be imagined? considering especially, that the Lacedæmonians, by report, sent unto him who brought the first word of the victory at Mantinaea, which Thucydides described in his story, a piece of flesh from one of their dinners, or hals, called Pbiclitia, for a recompense of his happy news? And (to say a truth) what are historiographers else? but certain messengers to relate and declare the acts of others, having a loud and audible voice, and who by their pleasant eloquence and significant phrases, are able to set forth the matter to the best, which they take in hand: unto whom they own indeed the reward due for good tidings, who first do light upon their compositions, and have the first reading of them: for surely, praised they be only when they make mention of such exploits, and read they be in regard of those singular persons whom they make known, as the authors and actors thereof. Neither are they the goodly words and fine phrases in histories that perform the deeds, or deserve so greatly to be heard: for even poetry hath a grace, and is esteemed, for that it describeth and relateth things as if they had been done, and which carry a resemblance of truth: and according as Homer in one place saith: 
Many false tales how for to tell,  
Much like to truths, she knows full well.  And it is reported, that one of Menander's familiar friends said unto him upon a time: Menamder, the Bacchanal feasts are at hand, and hast not thou yet done thy comedy? who returned him this answer: Yes iwis have I, so help me the gods, composed if I say, I have: for the matter thereof is laid forth, and the disposition digested already; there remaineth no more to be done, but only to set thereto the verses that must go to it. So that you see that the poets themselves reputed the things and deeds more necessary and important than words and speech. The famous courtesan Corinna one day reproved Pindarus, who then was a young man, and took a great pride in himself, for his learning and knowledge: Thou hast no skill at all Pindarus (quoth she) in poetry, for that thou dost not invent and devise fables, which is indeed the proper and peculiar work of poesy; as for thy tongue, it ministereth some rhetorical figures, catachreses and metaphrases, songs, musical measures and numbers, unto the matter and argument only, as pleasant sauces to commend the same. Pindarus pondering well these words and admonitions of hers, thought better of the matter, and thereupon out of his poetical vein, powered out this canticle: 
Ismenus, or the lance with staff of gold,  
Sir Cadmus, or that sacred race of old,  
Which dragons teeth they say sometime did yield,  
Of warriors brave, when sown they were in field:  
Or Hercules who was in such account,  
And his main force of body, to surmount, etc.  Which when he had showed to Corinna, the woman laughed a good, & said: That corn should be sown out of one's hand, and not immediately from out of the full sack: for in truth much after this sort had Pindarus gathered and heaped up a miscellane deal of fables, and powered them forth all huddle together in this one canticle. But that poesy consisteth much in the fine invention of fables, Plato himself hath written: and verily a fable or tale is a false narration, resembling that which is true, and therefore far remote it is from the thing indeed, if it be so, that a narration is the image of an act done, & a fable the image or shadow of a narration. Whereupon this may be inferred, that they who devise and feign fabulous deeds of arms, are so much inferior to historiographers that make true reports, as historiographers who relate only such deeds come behind the actors and authors themselves. Certes this city of Athens had never any excellent or renowned workmen in the feat of poetry, no not so much as in the Lyric part thereof, which professeth musical odes and songs: for Cynesias seemeth to have made his dithyrambes or canticles in the honour of Bacchus, hardly and with much ado, and was himself barren and of no grace or gift at all; beside, he was so mocked and flouted by the comical poets, that he grew to be of no reckoning and reputation, but incurred an ill and odious name: As for that part of poetry which dealeth in representation of personages in plays upon a stage, so small account they made at Athens of the Comedians and their profession; nay they disdained and scorned it so much, that a law there was enacted, forbidding expressly, that no senator of the counsel Ariopaguses, might make a comedy: chose, the tragedy flourished, and was in much request, for delivering the best eare-sport, and representing the most wonderful spectacle that men in those days could hear or behold; giving both unto fictions, & affections a deceivable power, which was of such a property, according to the saying of Gorgias: That he who deceived thereby, was more just than he who deceived not; and he who was deceived became wiser than he that was not deceived at all: the deceiver (I say) was more just, because he performed that which he promised, and the deceived person wiser; for that such as are not altogether gross, doltish, and senseless, are soon caught with the pleasure and delight of words.  
To come now to the main point: what profit ever brought these excellent tragoedies unto the city of Athens, comparable unto that which the prudent policy of Themistocles effected in causing the walls of the city to be built? or to the vigilant care and diligence of Pericles, who adorned the castle and citadel with so many beautiful buildings; or to the valour of Militades who delivered the city from the danger of servitude; or to the brave mind of Cimon, who advanced that State to the sovereignty and command of all Greece? If the learning of Euripides, the eloquence of Sophocles, or the sweet and pleasant tongue of Aeschylus had freed them from any perils and extremities, or purchased and procured them any glory more than they had before, good reason peradventure it were, to compare poetical fictions and inventions with warlike triumphs and trophaes; to set the theatre against the general's pavilion and palace; and to oppose the schooling and teaching of players how to act comedies and tragoedies, unto prowesses and brave feats of arms. Will you that we bring in place the personages themselves? carrying with them the marks, badges & ensigns that testify their deeds, and allow either of them entrance apart by themselves, and passage along by us. Then let there march on the one side poets with their flutes, harps, lutes, and viols, singing and saying: 
Silence, my masters, or all words ossing good: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   
Depart he must, there is no remedy,  
Our learning here who never under stood,  
And hath no skill in play or tragedy:  
Whose tongue's impure, or who in melody  
And dance unexpret is, that doth belong  
To service of the sacred muses nine,  
Or who is not professed by the tongue  
To Bacchus' rites of belly-god Cratine.  Let them bring with them their furniture, their vestments and players apparel, their masks, their altars, their rolling engines and devices to be turned and removed to & 〈◊〉 about the stage and scaffold, together with their trevets of gold the prizes of their victories. Let them be accompanied with their train, of players and actors, to wit Nicostrates, Callipides, Meniscus, and Pollus and such as they, attending upon a tragedy, to trick and trim her, or to bear up her train, and carry her litter, as if she were some stately and sumptuous dame; or rather as enamillers, guilders, and painters of immages following after. Let there be provision made I say of abiliments, of visours, of purple mantles & royal robes of estate, of fabrics & pageants devised to stand and be employed upon the stage, of dancers, jesters, of stage keepers, wifelars & henchmen a trouble some sort and be rabble of grooms: and in one word let there be brought all the gear and implements belonging to such plays exceeding costly & chargeable: such as when a Laconian saw upon a time and wisely beheld, broke out into this speech, and that to very good purpose: o how far amiss and out of the way are the Athenians, to dispend so much money, and employ such serious study in games and fooleries: surely they deffray in the furniture and setting out of a theatre, as much as would serve to set astole a royal armada at sea, and maintain a puissant army upon the land. For he that would set down and cast account, how much every comedy cost them, shall find that the people of Athens spent more in exhibiting the tragoedies of Bacchaes, Phenissae, of both the Oedipodes, & of Antigon, or in representing the calamities of Medea and Electra, than they disbursed in their wars against the Barbarians, either to win the sovereignty and dominion over them, or to defend their own freedom and liberty: for many times their great captains and commanders led forth their soldiers to battle, having made proclamation before, for to carry with them such victuals as 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Some expound it, unsodden, unroasted, unbaked.  required no fire for their dressing. This is certain, that the captains of galleys and war-ships, for their sailors, having provided no other cates and viands, but meal, onions and cheese for their mariners, aswell rowers as sailors, have so embarked them & gone to sea: whereas the wardens and Aediles who were to set forth plays and dances have (to their great cost) fed their actors and players with delicate eels, with tender lectuces, with cloves of garlic, and with good marrowbones, feasting them a long time before, most deintilie, and whiles they did nought else but exercise their voice, scour their throats and clear their breasts, they made good cheer full merrily. And what good had these wasteful spenders of their goods (spent about such vanities) in the end? If their plays sped not well, but lost the victory, they were well mocked, hissed and laughed at for all their pains and cost: but say they went away winners and having the better hand, what got they by it? surely not a trevet or threefooted stool nor any other mark and monument of victory, as Demetrius said, but to remain a lamentable example of unthrifts, who have laid all they had upon toys and fooleries, and left behind them their houses like empty sepulchers and imaginary tombs. This is the end that cometh of such expenses about poetry; and no greater honour is to be looked for.  
Now on the other side, let us behold likewise their brave captains and warriors: and while these pass along, 
There should indeed be silence or good words:  
They ought to void out of this company,  
Who idle live, and never drew their swords  
In field, or served with care and agony  
In common weal: whose heart would never stand  
To such exploits, whose mind is eke prosane,  
Who neither by Miltiades his hand,  
That slew the Medes nor by the Persians bane,  
Themistocles, was ever institute,  
And sworn to laws of knighthood resolute,  Yea mary, here (me thinks) I see a martial mask, and brave show toward: set out with squadrons embatteled on land, with fleets arranged for to fight at sea, laden and heavily charged with rich spoils and glorious trophaees: 
Alal' Alala, daughter dear,  
Of bloody war, come forth and hear.  Behold and see a forest of pikes and lances in the forefront, the very preamble and flourish before the battle: me thinks I hear one of them resound: Embrace death most hardy knights, the best sacrifice and most saint oblations, that is, (for so saith Epaminondas the Theban) fight valiantly, and exposing yourselves to the most honourable and bravest services that be in defence of country, of your ancestors tombs and sepulchres, and of your temples and religion: me thinks also I see their victories, coming toward me in solemn pomp and procession, not drawing or leading after them for their prize and reward, an ox or a goat; neither be the said victories crowned with ivy, or smelling strong of new wine in the lees, as the Bacchanales do; but they have in their train, whole cities, islands, continents, and firm lands, as well mediterranean as maritime seacoasts, together with new colonies of ten thousand men a piece, to be planted here and there; and withal, crowned they be and adorned on every side with trophaes, with triumphs, pillage and booty of all sorts; the ensigns, badges, and arms that these victorious captains give; the images also that they represent in show, be their stately & beautiful temples, as the Parthenon, the Hecatompedos; their city walls on the south side; the arcenals to receive & lodge their ships; their beautiful porches and galleries; the province of the demi isle Chersonesus, & the city Amphipolis; as for the plain of Marathon, it goeth before the laureate garland and victory of Miltiades; Solanius accompanieth that of Themistocles, trampling under his feet, and going over the broken timber and shipwreck of a thousand vessels: as for the victory of Cimon, it bringeth with it an hundred Phaenician great galleys, from the rivers Eurymedon: that of Demosthenes and Cleon, comes from Sphacteria, with the target of captain Brasidas won in the field, and a number of his soldiers captive and bound in chains: the victory of Conon walled the city, and that of Thrasibulus reduced the people with victory and liberty from Phyle: the sundry victories of Alcibiades set upright the State of the city, which by the infortunate overthrow in Sicily, reeled, and was ready to fall to the ground; and by the battles fought by Neleus and Androclus in Lydia and Carta: Greece saw all Jonta raised up again and supported. And if a man demand of each one of the other victories, what benefit hath accrued unto the city by them? one will name the isle Lesbos, and another Samos: one will speak of the Euxine sea, and another of sive hundred galleys, and he shall have another talk of ten thousand talents; over and above the honour and glory of trophaees. These be the causes why this city doth solemnize and celebrate to many festival days, and hereupon it is that it offereth sacrifices as it doth to the gods; not iwis for the victory of Aeschylus or Sophocles, nor for the prizes of poetry: no, nor when Carcinus lay with Aerope or 
* The names of two poets.  Astidamus with Hector: But upon the sixth of May, even to this present day, the city holdeth festival the memory of that victory, in the plains of Marathon: and the sixth day of [* another *] month, maketh a solemn offering of wine unto the gods, in remembrance of that victory which Chabrias obtained near unto the isle Naxos: and upon the 12. day of the same month, there is another sacrifice likewise performed in the name of a thanksgiving to the gods, for their liberty recovered, because upon the same day those citizens which were prisoners and in bondage within Phyle, came down and returned into the city: upon the third day of March they won the famous field of Platea: and the sixteenth day of the said March, they consecrated to Diana; for on that day this goddess shone bright, and it was full moon, to the victorious Greeks, before the isle of 〈◊〉. The noble victory which they archieved before the city of Mantinaea, made the twelfth day of September more holy, and with greater solemnity observed, for upon that day when all other their allies and associates were discomfited and put to flight, they only by their valour won the field, and erected a trophae over their enemies who were upon the point of victory. See what hath raised this city to such grandence! Lo what hath exalted it to so high a pitch of honour! and this was the cause that Pindarus called the city of Athens, the pillar that supported Greece; not for that by the tragedies of Phrynichus or Thespis, if set the fortune of the Greeks upright, but in regard of this, that as himself writeth in another place, along the coast of Artemisium: 
Where Athens youth as poet Pindar said,  
Of freedom first the glorious ground work laid.  And afterwards at Salamis, at Mycale, and Plataees, having settled it firm and strong as upon a rock of diamonds, they delivered it from hand to hand unto others.  
But haply some man will say: True it is indeed, all that ever poets do, are no better than sports and pastimes: But what say you to orators, they seem to have some prerogative gative and aught to be compared with martial captains: whereupon it may seem, as Aeschynes scoffing merrily, and quipping at Demosthenes said: That there is some reason why the bar or pulpit for public orations, may commence action and process against the tribunal seat of generals, and their chair of estate. Is it then meet and reasonable that the oration of Hyperides entitled Plataicus, should be preferred before the victory which Aristides won before the city Platea? or the oration of Lysies against the thirty tyrants, go before the massacre and execution of them performed by Thrasybelus and Archias? or that of Aeschines against Timarchus, being accused for keeping harlots, and a brothel house, before the aid that Photion brought into the city of Byzantium, besieged? by which succour he impeached the Macedonians, and repressed their insolent villainies and outrages committed in abusing the children of the Athenian confederates? or shall we compare the oration of Demosthenes as touching the crown, with those public and honourable coronets which Themistocles received for setting Greece free? considering that the most excellent place of all the said oration, and fullest of eloquence is that wherein the said orator conjureth the souls of those their ancestors, and citeth them for witnesses, who in the battle of Marathon exposed their lives with such resolution for the safety of Greece? or shall we put in balance to weigh against worthy warriors, these that in schools teach young men rhetoric, namely, such as Isocrates, Antiphon, and Isaeus? But certain it is, that this city honoured those valiant captains with public funerals, and with great devotion gathered up the relics of their bodies; yea, and the same orator canonised them for gods in heaven, when he swore by them, although he followed not their steps: and Isocrates who extolled and highly praised those who manfully sought & willing were to spend their hartbloud in the battle of Marathon, saying, that they made so little account of their lives, as if their own souls had been elsewhere, & other men's in their bodies, magnifying this their resolution, and the small reckoning which they made of this life; yet when himself was very old, upon occasion that one asked him how he did: answered: I do even as an aged man, (having above 90. years upon my back) may do; and who thinketh death to be the greatest misery in the world: and how waxed he thus old: certes, not by filing and sharpening the edge of his sword, not by grinding and whetting the point of his spears head, not with scouring & forbishing his headpiece or morion; not with bearing arms in the field; not by rowing in the galleys: but forsooth with couching, knitting, and gluing as it were together rhetorical tropes and figures; to wit, his antitheta, consisting of contraries, his Parisa, standing upon equal weight and measure of syllables, his homooptata, precisely observing the like termination, and falling even of his clauses, polishing, smoothing, and perusing his periods and sentences, not with the rough hammer and pickax, but with the file and plainer most exactly. No marvel then, if the man could not abide the rustling of harness, and clattering of armour; no marvel (I say) if he feared the shock and encounter of two armies, who was afraid that one vowel should run upon another, and led he should pronounce a clause or number of a sentence which wanted one poor syllable: for the very morrow after that Miltiades had won that field upon the plains of Marathon, he returned with his victorious army into the city of Athens: and Pericles having vanquished and subdued the Samians within the space of nine months, gloried more than Agamemnon did, who had much ado to win troy, at the tenth years end: whereas Isocrates spent the time well near of three, Olympiades' in penning one oration which he called Panegiricus: notwithstanding all that long time, he never served in the wars, nor went in any embassage: he built no city, nor was sent out as a captain of a galley and warre-ship, and yet that very time brought forth infinite wars: But during the space that Timotheus delivered the islle Eubaea out of bondage; all the while that Chabrias warred at sea about the island Naxos, and Iphicrates defeated and hewed in pieces one whole regiment of the Lacedæmonians, near the port of Lechaeum, and in which time the people of Athens having enfranchised all cities, endued Greece throughout with the same liberty of giving voices in the general assembly of the States, as they had themselves, he sat at home in his house poring at his book, seeking out proper phrases and choice words for the said oration of his; in which space, Pericles raised great porches, and the goodly temple Hecatompedes; and yet the comical poet Cratinus, scoffing even at this Pericles, for that he went but slowly about his works, speaketh thus as touching his wall, half done and half undone: 
In words long since our Pericles, hath reared us up a wall,  
But in effect and very deed, he doth nothing at all.  Consider now I pray you a little, the base mind of this great professor of rhetoric, who spent the ninth part of his life, in composing of one only oration: but were it meet and reasonable to compare the orations of Demosthenes as he was an orator, with the martial exploits of Demosthenes being a captain; namely, that which he made against the considerate folly of Conon, with the trophies which himself erected before Pylos, or that which he wrote against Amathusius as concerning slaves, with his worthy service, whereby he brought the Lacedæmonians to be slaves: neither in this respect, for that he composed one oration for the granting of free bourgesie to those who were newly come to inhabit Athens, therefore he deserved as much honour as Alcibiades did, who combined the Mantineans and Elians in one league to be associates with the Athenians against the Lacedæmonians: and yet this must needs be confessed, that his public orations deserved this praise, that in his Philippiques, he inciteth the Athenians to take arms, and commendeth the enterprise of Leptives.    

WHETHER OF THE TWAIN IS MORE PROFITABLE, FIRE OR WATER.  

The Summarie.  
IN this Academic declamation, Plutarch in the first places allegeth the reasons which attribute more profit unto water. Secondly, he proposeth those that are in favour of the fire: Whereunto Bee seemeth the rather to incline, although he resolveth not: wherein he followeth his own manner of philosophising upon natural causes; namely, not to dispute either for or against one thing: leaving unto the reader his own liberty, to settle unto that which he shall see to be more probable.   

WHETHER OF THE TWAIN is more profitable, Fire or Water.  

THe water is of all things best,  
And gold like fire is in request.   
Thus said the poet Pindarus: whereby it appeareth evidently, that he gives the second place unto fire. And with him acordeth Hesiodus when he saith: 
Chaos was the foremost thing  
In all the world that had being.  For this is certain, that the most part of ancient philosophers called water by the name of Chaos, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, for that it followeth so easily. But if we should stand only upon testimonies about this question, the proof would be carried equally on both sides: for that there be in manner as many who think fire to be the primitive element and principle of all things, and the very seed which as of itself it produceth all things, so it receiveth likewise all into itself, in that universal conflagration of the world. But leaving the testimonies of men, let us consider apart the reasons of the one and the other, and see to whether side they will rather draw us. First therefore, to begin withal, may not this be laid for a ground? that a thing is to be judged more profitable, whereof we have at all times and continually need, and that in more quantity than another? as being a tool or necessary instrument, and as it were a friend at all seasons and every hour, and such as a man would say, presenteth itself evermore to do us service? As for fire, certainly, it is not always commodious unto us; nay, chose, it otherwhiles doth molest and trouble us; and in that regard we withdraw ourselves far from it: whereas water serveth our turns both in Winter and Summer, when we are sick, and when we are whole, by night and by day; neither is there any time or season, wherein a man standeth in no need of it. And this is the reason that they call the dead, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as one would say, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, without juice, or wanting moisture, and so by consequence deprived of life. Moreover, without fire a man hath oft continued a long time, but without water never. And withal, that which hath been from the first beginning and creation of man, is more profitable than that which was invented afterwards. And there is no question, but that nature hath given us the one, to wit, water, for our necessary use; but the other (I mean fire) either fortune or industry hath devised and found out as an appendent and accessary. Neither can it be said, what time of the world it was when as man had no water: nor ever read we in any records that one of the gods or demigods was the inventor thereof; for it was at the very instant with them: nay, what and we say that it gave them their being? But the use of fire was but yesterday or the other day, to speak of, found out by Prometheus: so that the time was when as men lived without fire; but void of water, our life never was. Now that this is no devised poetical fiction, this daily and present life of ours doth plainly testify: for there be at this day in the world diverse nations that are maintained without fire, without house, without hearth or chimney, 〈◊〉 abroad in the open wide air. And Diogenes the Cynic, seldom or never had any use of fire, insomuch as having upon a time swallowed down a polype fish raw: Lo (quoth he) my masters, how for your sake we put ourselves in jeopardy: howbeit, without water there was never any man thought that either we might live honestly and civilly, or that our nature would possibly endure it. But what need is there that I should particularise thus, and go so near, as to search far into the nature of man? considering that whereas there be so many, or rather so infinite kinds of living creatures, mankind only in a manner knoweth the use of fire: whereas all the rest have their nourishment and food without the benefit of fire. Those that browse, feed, fly and creep, get their living by eating herbs, roots, fruits and flesh, all without fire: but without water there is not one that can live, neither going or creeping on the land nor swimming in the sea, not yet flying in the air. True it is, I must needs say, that Aristotle writeth, how some beasts there be, even of those that devour flesh, which never drunk; but in very truth, nourished they be by some moisture. Well then, that is more profitable without which no manner of life can consist or endure. Proceed we farther, & pass from those living creatures which use to feed upon plants & fruits, even unto the same that are by us & them used for food: Some of them there be, which have no heat at all: others so little, as it can not be perceived. chose, moisture is that which causeth all kind of seeds to chit, to bud, to grow, and in the end to bring forth fruit: for what need I to allege for this purpose either wine and oil, or other liquors which we draw, press out, or milk forth out of beasts paps, which we do see daily before our eyes? considering that even our wheat which seemeth to be a dry nutriment, is engendered by the transmutation, putrefaction and diffusion of moisture. Furthermore, that is to be held more profitable, which bringeth with it no hurt nor damage: but we all know that fire, if it break forth, get head and be at liberty, is the most pernicious thing in the world: whereas the nature of water of itself doth never any harm.  
Again, of two things, that is held to be more commodious which is the simpler, and without preparation can yield the profit which it hath: but fire requireth always some succour and matter, which is the reason that the rich have more of it than the poor, and princes than private persons; whereas water is so kind and courteous, that it giveth itself indifferently to all sorts of people: it hath no need at all of tools or instruments to prepare it for use; complete and perfect it is in itself, without borrowing aught abroad of others. Over and beside, that which being multiplied as it were and augmented, loseth the utility and profit that it had, is by consequence less profitable: and such is fire, resembling herein a ravenous wild beast, which devoureth and consumeth all that it cometh near; in so much as it were by the industry and artificial means of him who knoweth how to use it with moderation, rather than of the own nature, that it doth any good at all; whereas water is never to be feared. Again, of two things, that which can do good being both alone, and also in the company of the other, is the more profitable of the twain: but so it is, that fire willingly admitteth not the fellowship of water, nor by the participation thereof is any way commodious; whereas water is together with fire profitable, as we may see by the fountains of hot water how they be medicinable, and very sensibly is their help perceived. Never shall a man meet with any fire moist; but water as well hot as cold is ever more profitable to man. Moreover, water being one of the four elements hath produced as one may say, a fifth, to wit the sea, and the same well near as profitable as any one of the rest for many other causes beside, but principally in regard of commerce and traffic. For whereas before time, man's life was savage, and they did not communicate one with another; this element hath conjoined and made it perfect, bringing society and working amity among men by mutual succours and reciprocal retributions from one to the other. Heraclitus saith in one place: if there were no sun, there had been no night; and even as well may it be said; Were it not for the sea, man had been the most savage creature; the most penurious and needy, yea and the least respected in all the world: whereas now this element of the sea hath brought the vine out of the Indians as far as Greece; and from Greece hath transported it unto the farthest provinces: likewise from out of Phoenicia, the use of letters for preservation of the memory of things: it hath brought wine: it hath conveyed fruits into these parts, and hath been the cause that the greatest portion of the world was not buried in ignorance. How then can it be otherwise, that water should not be more profitable, since it furnisheth us with another element?  
But on the contrary side, peradventure a man may begin hereupon to make instance oppositely in this manner: saying, that God, as a master-workeman having the four elements before him, for to frame the fabric of this world withal; which being repugnant and refusing one another, earth and water were put beneath, as the matter to be form and fashioned; receiving order and disposition, yea and a vegetative power to engender and breed such as is imparted unto it by the other two, air and fire, which are they that give form and fashion unto them, 〈◊〉 and excite the other twain to generation, which otherwise had lain dead without any motion. But of these two, fire is the chief and hath dominion, which a man may evidently know by this induction. For the earth if it be not enchafed by some hot substance, is barren, & bringeth forth no fruit: but when as fire spreadeth itself upon it, it infuseth into it a certain power, which causeth it to swell (as it were) and have an appetite to engender. For other cause there can 〈◊〉 none rendered why rocks, cliffs, and mountains be barren and dry, but this, that they have either no fire at all, or else participate 〈◊〉 little the nature thereof: in sum, so far off is water from being of itself sufficient for the own preservation or generation of other things, that without the aid of fire it is the cause of the own ruin and destruction. For heat it is that keepeth water in good estate, and preserveth it in her nature and proper substance, like as it doth all things beside: and look where fire is away or wanteth, there water doth corrupt and putrify; in such sort as the ruin and destruction of water, is the default of heat, as we may evidently see in pools, marshes, and standing waters, or wheresoever water is kept within pits and holes without issue; for such waters in the end become putrefied and stink again, because they have no motion, which having this property to 〈◊〉 up the natural heat which is in every thing, keepeth those waters better which have a current and run apace, in that this motion preserveth that kind heat which they have. And hereupon it is, that To live, in Greek is expressed by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, for that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 sigfieth to boil. How then can it otherwise be, that of two things it should not be more profitable which giveth being and essence to the other, like as fire doth unto water? Furthermore, that thing, the utter departure whereof is the cause that a creature dieth, is the more profitable: for this is certain and manifest, that the same without which a thing cannot be, hath given the cause of being unto the same when it was with it. For we do see that in dead things there is a moisture, neither are they dried up altogether; for otherwise moist bodies would not putrify, considering that putrefaction is the turning of that which is dry to be moist, or rather the corruption of humours in the flesh; and death is nothing else but an utter defect and extinction of heat: and therefore dead things be extreme cold, insomuch as if a man should set unto them the very edge of rasours, they are enough to dull the same through excessive cold. And we may see plainly, that in the very bodies of living creatures, those parts which participate least of the nature of fire, are more senseless than any other, as bones and hair, and such as be farthest removed from the heart: and in manner all the difference that is between great and small creatures, proceedeth from the presence of fire, more or less: for humidity simply it is not, that bringeth forth plants and fruits; but warm humidity is it that doth the deed: whereas cold waters be either barren altogether, or not very fruitful and fertile; and yet if water were of the own nature fructuous, it must needs follow, that itself alone and at all times should be able to produce fruit: whereas we see it is clean contrary; namely, that it is rather hurtful to fruits.  
And now to reason from another head and go another way to work, to make use of fire as it is fire, need we have not of water; nay, it 〈◊〉 rather, for it quencheth and 〈◊〉 it out clean: on the other side many 〈◊〉 be who cannot tell what to do with water without fire, for being made hot it is more profitable, and otherwise in the own kind hurtful. Of two things therefore, that which can do good of itself without need of the others help, is better and more profitable. Moreover water yieldeth commodity but after one sort only, to wit, by touching, as when we feel it or wash and bathe with it: whereas fire serveth all the five senses & doth them good: for it is felt both near at hand and also seen afar of: so that among other means that it hath of profiting, no man may account the multiplicity of the uses that it affordeth: for that a man should be at any time without fire it is impossible: nay he cannot have his first generation without it: and yet there is a difference in this kind, as in all other things. The very sea itself is made more 〈◊〉 by heat, so as it doth heat more by the agitation and current that it hath, than any other waters: for of itself otherwise it differeth not. Also for such as have no need of outward fire, we may not say that they stand in need of none at all; but the reason is because they have plenty and store of natural heat within them; so that in this very point, the commodity of fire ought to be esteemed the more. And as for water, it is never in that good state, but some need it hath of help without: whereas the excellency of fire is such, as it is content with itself, and requireth not the aid of the other. Like as therefore, that captain is to be reputed more excellent, who knows to order and furnish a city so as it hath no need of foreign allies; so we are to think that among elements, that is the worthier, which may often times consist without the succour and aid of another. And even as much may be said of living creatures, which have least need of others help. And yet haply it may be replied chose, that the thing is more profitable which we use alone by itself, namely, when by discourse of reason we are able to choose the better. For what is more commodious and profitable to men than reason? and yet there is none at all in brute beasts. And what followeth hereupon? Shall we infer therefore that it is less profitable, as invented by the providence of a better nature, which is god? But since we are fallen into this argument: What is more profitable to man's life than arts? but there is no art which fire devised not, or at least wise doth not maintain: And hereupon it is, that we make 〈◊〉 the prince and master of all arts. Furthermore, whereas the time and space of life is very short that is given unto man, as short as it is, yet sleep as, Ariston saith, like unto a false bailie or publican, taketh the half thereof for itself. True it is, that a man may lie awake, and not sleep all night long; but I may aswell say that his waking would serve him in small stead, were it not that fire presented unto him the commodities of the day, and put a difference between the darkness of the night and the light of the day. If then there be nothing more profitable unto man than life, why should we not judge fire to be the best thing in the world, since it doth augment and multiply our life? Over and beside, that of which the five senses participate most, is more profitable: but evident it is, that there is not one of the said senses maketh use of the nature of water apart and by itself, unless some air or fire be tempered with it: whereas every sense findeth benefit of fire as of a vivificant power and quickening virtue: and principally our sight above the rest, which is the quickest of all the senses in the body, as being the very flame of fire, a thing that conformeth us in our faith and belief of the gods: and as Plato saith, by the means of our sight we are able to conform our soul to the motions of celestial bodies.    

OF THE PRIMITIVE OR FIRST COLD.  

The Summarie.  
WE have here another declaration of Plutarch, wherein he examineth and discusseth after the manner of the Academic philosophers, without deciding or determining any thing, a natural question as touching Primitive cold. And in the very first entry thereof, refuteth those who are of opinion that this first cold is the privation of heat: showing on the contrary side, that it is mere opposite unto heat as one substance to another, and not as privation unto habitude. Then proceedeth he to dispute of the essence, nature, and fountain of this cold: for the cleared of which point, he examineth at large three opinions: the first, of the Stoics, who attribute the primitive cold unto air: the second, of Empedocles and Chrysippus, who ascribe the cause thereof unto water. Unto all their reasons and arguments he maketh answer, and inclineth to a third opinion; namely, that earth is that primitive cold. Which position he confirmeth by diverse arguments, yet resolveth he not, but leaveth it to the discretion of Phavorinus, unto whom he writeth, for to confer all the reasons of the one part and the other, without resting in any particular opinion, supposing that to suspend and hold his judgement in matters obscure and uncertain, is the wiser part of a philosopher, than to yield and grant his consent either to one part or the other. Wherein we may see, that in regard of natural philosophy, our author was of the Academics sect: but as touching the moral part, we have seen before, and specially in diverse treatises of the former 〈◊〉, that he followeth of all the ancient philosophers, those who were least impure and corrupt, such I mean, as in all their discourses had no other light to direct them, but Nature.   

OF THE PRIMITIVE OR first cold.  
IS there then (O Phavorinus) a certain primitive power and substance of cold, like as fire is of heat, by the presence and participation whereof, each one of the other things is said to be cold? or rather are we to hold and say, that cold is the privation of heat, like as darkness of light, and station of moving; and namely, considering that cold is stationary and heat motive? and the cooling of things which were hot, is not done by the entrance of any cold power, but by the departure of heat? for as soon as it is once gone, that which remaineth is altogether cooled; and the very vapour and steim which seething waters do yield, passeth away together with the heat, which is the reason that refrigeration diminisheth the quantity thereof, in as much as it chaseth that heat which was, without the entrance of any other thing into the place? Or rather, may not this opinion be suspected? first and foremost for that it overthroweth and taketh away many powers and puissances, as if they were not qualities and habitudes really subsisting, but only the privations and extinctions of qualities and habitudes: as for example, heaviness of lightness, hardness of softness, black of white, bitter of sweet, and so of other semblable things, according as each one is in puissance contrary unto an other and not as privation is opposite unto habit? Moreover, for as much as every privation is idle and wholly without action, as blindness, deafness, silence and death, for that these be the departures of forms, and the abolitions of substances, and not certain natures nor real substances apart by themselves. We see that cold after it be entered and imprinted (as it were) within the body, breedeth no fewer nor less accidents & alterations than doth heat; considering that many things become stiff and congealed by cold, many things I say, are stayed, retained and thickened by the means thereof: which consistence and stability unapt to stir and hard to be moved, is not therefore idle, but it is weighty and firm, having a force and power to arrest and to hold in. And therefore privation is a defect and departure of a contrary power; whereas many things be cooled, although they have plenty of heat within: and some things there be, which cold doth constrain and constipate so much the more, as it findeth them hotter, like as we may observe in iron red hot, when by quenching it becometh the harder. And the stoic philosophers do hold that the natural spirits enclosed within the bodies of young infants lying in the womb, by the cold of the ambient air environing them about is hardened (as it were) and refined, and so changing the nature becometh a soul. But this is a nice point and very disputable; yet considering that we see cold to be the efficient cause of many other effects, there is no reason to think that it is a privation. Furthermore, privation is not capable of more or less; for so of twain that see not at all, the one is not more blind than the other: and of two who cannot speak, one is not more dumb than another; neither of twain who live not, is one more dead than the other: but among cold things we may well admit more & less: overmuch and not overmuch, and generally, intentions and remissions like as in those things that are hot, and therefore each matter according as it suffereth more or less, by contrary 〈◊〉 produceth of itself some substances, cold and hot, more or less than others, for mixture and composition there can be none of habitude with privation; neither is there any power which receiveth or admitteth the contrary unto it, to bring a privation, nor ever maketh it her companion, but yieldeth and giveth place unto it. But chose, cold continueth very well, as it is mixed with heat, unto a certain degree; like as black with white colours; base notes with small and shrill; sweet savours, with tart & austere; and by this association, mixture & accord of colours, sounds, drogues, savours, and tastes; there are produced many compositions exceeding pleasant and delectable: for the opposition which is between habitude and privation, is always a odds and enmity, without any means of reconciliation, considering that the essence and 〈◊〉 of the one, is the destruction of the other: whereas that fight which is occasioned by contrary powers, if it meet with fit time and season, serveth oftentimes in good stead unto arts, and to nature much more, as well in other productions and procreations, as in changes and alterations of the air: for in the orderly governance and rule whereof, God who dispenseth and disposeth them, is called Harmonical and Musical; not in regard that he maketh a friendly accord between base and treble, or a loving medley of white and black, but for that by his providence he ordereth so well the accord and discord of the elementary heat & cold of the world, that in a certain moderation, and without excess they strive, and yet are reconciled again, by taking from the one and the other that which was excessive and reducing them both in such a temperature and estate as appertaineth. Semblably, a man may sensibly 〈◊〉 cold as well as he doth heat; whereas you shall never see, hear, or touch, nor by any other sense perceive a privation, for it need to have some substance with it that doth affect the senses, and where there appeareth no substance, there we must suppose a privation, which is as it were the denial of substance, like as blindness is the negation of sight; silence, of voice; void emptiness, of a body: for never shall one perceive voidness by the sense of feeling; but where there is not a body to be touched, there we must suppose is vacuity: neither do we hear silence, but when we hear no noise at all, than we understand there is silence: the like we are to say of those who are blind, of the naked and disarmed, there is no sense of such privations, but rather a bar and negative of sense: and even so, we should have no feeling and perceiverance of cold, but only where there wanted heat, there we should have imagined cold to be, in case it were nothing else but a deprivation of heat; but if it be so, that like as heat is felt by the warmth of the 〈◊〉, and diffusion or dilatation of the flesh; even so is cold also by the astriction & condensation thereof, therefore it appeareth evidently, that it hath a proper, principle, and particular source, as well as heat: over and beside, in every kind, privation is one and simple, but substances have many differences, and as many powers and faculties, for silence is never but after one sort, whereas the voice is diverse, one while troublesome, another while delightsome. Senses, colours, and figures semblably have like differences, which dispose and affect diversely the subject which they approach unto, but that which is not palpable, not coloured, and generally not qualified with any quality, hath no diversity, but is ever alike. Now then, doth this cold resemble these privatives in such sort, as it worketh no diversity in the accidents thereof? Or rather is it clean otherwise? for as sometimes there come unto bodies great and profitable pleasures by cold, so chose it findeth as much hurt, as great displeasure, trouble, and encumbrance thereby: by the offensive qualities whereof, the natural heat of the body is not always chased quite soorth and clean gone, but oftentimes being penned and restrained within the body, it fighteth and maketh resistance, which combat of two contraries, is called horror, quaking or trembling; but when the said heat is altogether vanquished, there must needs ensue a benumbing and congelation of the body, but if heat get the victory, it bringeth a certain warmth and 〈◊〉 with pleasure, which Homer by a proper term calleth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: whereby it appeareth evidently unto every man, and as much by these accidents it is manifest, or rather more, than by any other arguments, that cold is opposite unto heat, as one substance to another, or as passion to passion; but not as privation to habitude, or negation to affirmation: and that it is not the corruption or utter destruction of heat, but a nature and 〈◊〉 active by itself and powerful, to corrupt and destroy: for if it were not so, we must not have winter to be one of four seasons of the year; nor the north wind one of the four winds; as if the one were but a privation of the hot season, and the other of the south wind, and we shall be driven to say, that they have no proper source and peculiar principle: howbeit there being in the universal world four principal bodies, which in regard of their plurality, simple nature and puissance, most men call the elements, and suppose them to be the principles of all other bodies, to wit, fire, water, air, and earth, it followeth by necessary consequence, that there be also four primitive and simple qualities: and which be they, if they be not heat, cold, moisture, and dryness? by the means whereof, the said elements, both do and suffer all things interchangeably? And like as in the elements and principles of Grammar, which be the letters, there be brieves and longs; like as also in music notes, there is high and low, base, and treble, and one of these is not the privation of the other; even so we are to think, that in these natural bodies of the elements, there be contrarieties of moisture against dryness, and of cold against heat, if we will believe either reason or outward sense: or else we must say as old Anaximenes was of opinion; that there is nothing hot or cold absolutely in substance; but we must confidently think that these be common passions of the matter coming, and occasioned after mutations: for he affirmeth that the thing which is penned, constrict, and thickened in any matter, the same is cold, and that which openeth & relaxeth itself, for so he useth this proper term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is hot; and therefore it is not without some reason, that we commonly say, that a man bloweth both hot and cold out of his mouth; for the breath is cooled when it is pressed 〈◊〉 between the lips, but issuing forth of the mouth all open, it is hot by reason of the rarity and laxity thereof: howbeit, Aristotle saith; that it was mere ignorance in him thus to say: For that when we breath with our mouths wide open, we let forth the hot air that is within us, but when we make a blast with our lips together, we blow not out the breath that 〈◊〉 from ourselves, but drive that air from us that is before our mouth, which is cold, & felt before the other that cometh out of us. Seeing then that upon necessity enforced by so many reasons, we must admit a substance of cold and heat, proceed we and continue our first intent to search what is the substance, nature, and fountain of the foresaid primitive cold? They then who say that starkness and stiffness for cold, trembling and quaking of the body, and the 〈◊〉 and standing of hairs upright, and such like accidents and passions, are occasioned by certeme triangular forms with unequal sides which are within our bodies, although they fail and miss the mark in particularity: yet so it is, that they fetch the beginning from whence they should, for surely the foundation and original of this inquisition ought to be drawn as it were from the goddess Vesta, after the common proverb, even from the universal nature of all things. And herein it seemeth, that a philosopher most of all differeth from an empiricke physician, a husbandman, a minstrel, and other such particular artificers, whom it sufficeth to know and understand the last and conjunct causes. For so it be, that a physician do comprehend the nearest and next cause of his patient's malady, for example, of an ague, that it is a shooting or falling of the blood out of the veins into the arteries; and the husbandman conceive that the cause of blasting or Maying his corn, is an hot gleam of the sun after a shower of rain: and the player upon the 〈◊〉 comprise the reason of the base sound, is the bending downward of his instrument, or the bringing of them one near unto another: it is sufficient for any of these to proceed to their proper work and operation: But a natural philosopher who searcheth into the truth of things, only for mere knowledge and speculation, maketh not the knowledge of these last causes the end, but rather taketh from them his beginning, and ariseth from them to the primitive and highest causes. And therefore well did Plato and Democritus, who searching into the causes of heat and of heaviness, 〈◊〉 not the course of their inquisition, when they came to fire and earth, but referring and reducing things sensible unto intelligible principles, proceeded forward, and never stayed until they came unto the least parcels as it were to the smallest seeds and principles thereof. Howbeit, better it were first to handle and discuss these sensible things, wherein Empedocles, Straton, and the Stoics do repose the essences of all powers: the Stoics attributing the primitive cold unto air, but Empedocles and Straton unto water: and another peradventure would suppose the earth rather to be the substantial subject of cold. But first let us examine the opinions of these before named. Considering then that fire is both hot and shining; it must needs be that the nature of that which is contrary unto it, should be cold and dark: for obscurity is opposite unto brightness, like as cold to heat: and like as darkness and obscurity doth confound and trouble the sight; even so doth cold the sense of feeling: whereas heat doth dilate the sense of him that toucheth it, like as clearness the sight of him that seeth it: and therefore we must needs say, that the thing which is principally dark and misty, is likewise cold in nature. But that the air above all things else is dim and dark, the very poets were not ignorant: for the air they call darkness, as appeareth by these verses of Homer: 
For why, the air stood thick the ships about,  
And no moon shine from heaven showed throughout.  And in another place: 
The air anon he soon dispatched, and mist did drive away:  
With that, the sun shone out full bright, and battle did display.   
And hereupon it is, that men call the air wanting light, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as one would say, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, void of light: and the gross air which is gathered thick together, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, by way of privation of all light. air also is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, a mist: and look what things soever hinder our sight, that we cannot see thorough, be differences all of the air: and that part of it which can not be seen and hath no colour, is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to wit, invisible, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is as much to say, as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, for want of colour. Like as therefore the air remaineth dark, when the light is taken from it; even so when the heat is gone, that which remaineth, is nothing but cold air. And therefore, such air by reason of coldness, is named Tartarus, which Hesiodus seemeth to insinuate by these words, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the airy Tartarus; and to tremble and quake for cold, he expresseth by this verb, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. These are the reasons 〈◊〉 in this behalf. But forasmuch as corruption is the change of anything into the contrary, let us consider whether it be truly said, The death of fire is the birth of air? For fire dieth aswell as living creatures, either quenched by force, or by languishing and going out of itself. As for the violent quenching and extinction thereof, it showeth evidently, that it turneth into air: for smoke is a kind of air, and according as Pindarus writeth, 
The vapour of the air thick,  
Is 〈◊〉 against the smoke to kick.  And not only that, but we may see also that when a flame beginneth to die for want of nourishment, as in lamps and burning lights, the very top and head thereof doth vanish and resolve into a dark and obscure air: and this may sufficiently be perceived, by the vapour which after we are bathed or sit in a stouph, flieth and steimeth up along our bodies, as also by that smoke which ariseth by throwing cold water upon; namely, that heat when it is extinguished, is converted into air, as being naturally opposite unto fire: whereupon it followeth necessarily, that the air was first dark and cold. But that which is more, the most violent and forcible impression in bodies by cold, is congealation, which is a passion of water, & action of the air: for water of itself is given to spread and flow, as being neither solid nor compact and fast by nature; but hard it becometh, thick also and stiff, when it is thrust close to by the air, and cold together coming between: and therefore thus we say commonly: 
If after South, the north-wind strait do blow,  
We shall be sure anon to have some snow.  For the South wind prepareth the matter which is moisture, and the air of the North wind coming upon it, doth freeze and congeal the same: which appeareth manifestly in snow, for no sooner hath it evaporated and exhaled a little the thin and cold air in it, but immediately it resolveth and runneth to water. And Aristotle writeth, that plates and plummets of lead do melt and resolve with the cold and rigour of Winter, so soon as water only cometh unto them and be frozen upon them. And the air (as it should seem) by pressing such bodies together with cold, breaketh and knappeth them asunder. Moreover, the water that is drawn out of a well or spring, is sooner frozen and turned to ice, than any other, for that the air hath more power over a little water, than a great deal. And if a man draw up a small quantity of water in a bucket out of a pit or well, and let the same down again into the well, yet so, as the vessel touch not the water, but hang in the air, and so continue there but a while, that water will be much colder than that which is in the bottom of the well: whereby it appeareth manifestly, that the primitive cause of cold, is not in water, but in air. And that so it is, the great rivers will testify, which never are frozen to the bottom, because the air is not able to pierce and enter so low, but as much as it can take hold of with the cold, either in touching or approaching near unto it, so much it frizeth and congealeth. And this is the reason that Barbarians when they are to pass great rivers frozen over with ice, send out foxes before the: for if the ice be not thick, but superficial, the foxes hearing the noise of the water running underneath, return back again. Some also that are disposed to fish, do thaw and open the ice with casting hot water upon it, and so let down their lines at the hole; for than will the fishes come to the bait and bite. Thus it appeareth that the bottom of the river is not frozen, although the upper face thereof stand all over with an ice, and that so strong, that the water thereby drawn and driven in so hard, is able to crush and break the boats and vessels within it; according as they make credible relation unto us, who now do winter upon the river Donow with the emperor, And yet, without all these far-fet examples, the very experiments that we find in our own bodies, do testify no less: for after much bathing or sweeting, always we are more cold and i'll; for that our bodies being then open and resolved, we receive at the pores, cold together with air in more abundance. The same befalleth unto water itself, which both sooner cooleth and groweth also colder, after it hath been once made hot: for then more subject it is to the injury of the air: considering also that even they who fling and cast up scalding water into the air, do it for no other purpose, but to mingle it with much air. The opinion then of him, o Phavorinus, who assigneth the first cause of cold unto air, is founded upon such reasons and probabilities as these. As for him who ascribeth it unto water, he layeth his ground likewise upon such principles: for in this manner writeth Empedocles: 
Behold the Sun how bright always, and hot he is beside,  
But 〈◊〉 is ever black and dark, and cold on every side.  For in opposing cold to heat, as blackness unto brightness, he giveth us occasion to collect and infer, that as heat and brightness belong to one and the same substance, even so cold and blackness to another. Now that the black hue proceedeth not from air, but from water, the very experience of our outward senses is able to prove: for nothing waxeth black in the air, but every thing in the water. Do but cast into the water and drench therein a lock of wool or piece of cloth be it never so white, you shall when you take it forth again, see it look blackish, and so will it continue, until by heat the moisture be fully sucked up and dried, or that by the press or some weights it be squeized out. Mark the earth, when there falleth a shower of rain, how every place whereupon the drops fall, seems black, and all the rest beside retaineth the same colour that it had before. And even water itself, the deeper that it is, the blacker hue it hath, because there is morequantity of it: but chose, what part soever thereof is near unto air, the same by and by is lightsome and cheerful to the eye.  
Consider among other liquid substances, how oil is most transparent, as wherein there is most air: for proof whereof, see how light it is; and this is it which causeth it to swim above all other liquors, as being carried aloft by the means of air. And that which more is, it maketh a calm in the sea, when it is flung and sprinkled upon the waves, not in regard of the slippery smoothness, whereby the winds do glide over it and will take no hold, according as Aristotle saith; but for that the waves being beaten with any humour whatsoever, will spread themselves and lie even: and principally by the means of oil, which hath this special and peculiar property above all other liquors, that it maketh clear, and giveth means to see in the bottom of the waters, for that humidity openeth and cleaveth when air comes in place: and not only yieldeth a clear light within the sea to Divers, who fish-ebb in the night for sponges, and pluck them from the rocks whereto they cleave, but also in the deepest holes thereof, when they spurt it out of their mouths, the air than is no blacker than the water, but less cold: for trial hereof, look but upon oil, which of all liquors having most air in it, is nothing cold at all, and if it freeze at all, it is but gently, by reason that the air incorporate within it, will not suffer it to gather and congeal hard: mark workmen also and artisanes, how they do not dip and keep their needles, buckles, and clasps, or other such things made of iron, in water, but in oil, for fear left the excessive cold of the water would mar and spoil them quite. I stand the more hereupon, because I think it more meet to debate this disputation by such proofs, rather than by the colours; considering that snow, hail, and ice, are exceeding white and clear, and withal most cold; chose, pitch is hotter than honey, and yet you see it is more dark and duskish. And here I cannot choose but wonder at those who would needs have the air to be cold, because forsooth it is dark; as also that they consider not how others take and judge it hot, because it is light: for tenebrositie and darkness be not so familiar and near cousins unto cold, as ponderosity and unweldinesse be proper thereto: for many things there be altogether void of heat, which notwithstanding are bright and clear: but there is no cold thing light and nimble, or mounting upward; for clouds the more they stand upon the nature of the air, the higher they are carried and fly aloft, but no sooner resolve they into a liquid nature and substance, but incontinently they fall and lose their lightness and agility, no less than their heat, when cold is engendered in them: chose, when heat cometh in place, they change their motion again to the contrary, and their substance mounteth upward so soon as it is converted into air. Neither is that supposition true as touching corruption; for every thing that perisheth is not transmuted into the contrary: but the truth is, all things are killed and die by their contrary: for so fire being quenched by fire turneth into air. And to this purpose Aeschylus the poet said truly, although tragically, when he called water the punishment of fire, for these be his words: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
The water stay, which fire doth stay.  And Homer in a certain battle opposed Vulcan to the river, and with Neptune matched Apollo, not so much by way of fabulous fiction, as by physical and natural reason: and as for 〈◊〉, a wicked woman, who meant clean contrary to that which she said and showed, wrote elegantly in this wise: 
The crafty quean in right hand water cold,  
And in the left, hot fire did closely hold.   
And among the Persians the most effectual manner of supplication and that which might in no wise be rejected and denied, was, if the suppliant with fire in his hand entered into a river, & there menaced to fling it into the water, if he might not have his request granted: & then he obtatined verily his petition, but afterwards punished he was for that threatening which he used, as being wicked, wretched & unnatural. And what proverb is there readier in every man's mouth than to say, when we would signify an impossible thing, This is to mingle fire and water together? which testifieth thus much, that water is the mortal enemy unto fire, warring with it, punishing & quenching it, and not the air, which receiveth & entertaineth fire, & into the substance whereof it is transmuted: for if that into which a thing is turned when it perisheth, were contrary unto it, than fire should be more contrary to air than water is. For air when it doth gather and thicken is converted into water, but when it is made more subtle it resolveth into fire: as also in like case, water by rarefaction is resolved into air and by condensation becometh earth, not upon any enmity or contrariety that it hath to these both, as I take it, but rather by reason of some amity and kindred that is between them. Well, whether way of these two it is that these philosophers will take, they overthrew still their intent and purpose. But to say that it is the air which causeth water to freeze and become ice, it is without all sense and most absurd: for we see that the very air itself is never conglaciate nor frozen, nor hardened, considering that mists, 〈◊〉 and clouds are no congealations, but only gatherings and thickening of a moist and vapourous air: for the true air indeed which hath no vapour at all and is altogether dry, admitteth no such refrigeration as may alter it to that degree and height. And certain mountains there be which are not subject either to clouds, mists, or dews, for that their heads reach up to that region of the air which is pure and exempt from all humidity: whereby it is apparent, that these gatherings and thickening which are seen in the air beneath, proceed from cold and moisture, which is mingled therewith & ruuneth from elsewhere. As for the bottoms of great rivers which be never frozen to 〈◊〉; great reason there is of it: for that the upper part being glazed over with ice, 〈◊〉 not the exhalation which ariseth from beneath to pass thorough, but keepeth it enclosed & striketh it downward, whereby is engendered a certain heat in the water that runneth in the bottom. And hereof we may see a fair demonstration in this, that when the ice is broken, the water riseth up, and there mounteth withal a great quantity of vapours and exhalations; which is the reason also that the bellies and other concavities within the bodies of living creatures, are always hotter in winter, for that they hold and contain the heat, which the coldness of the circumstant air driveth inward. As for the drawing & flinging up of water into the air, it taketh not only the heat away from waters but also their cold, and therefore they that desire to have their snow or the liquor expressed out of it exceeding cold, move it as little as they can, for this stirring chaseth away the cold both of the one and the other. But that it is the inward power of the water and not of the air that doth it, a man may thus discourse and begin again: First and foremost, it is not probable that the air being so near as it is to the elementary fire, touching also as it doth that ardent revolution, and being touched of it again, hath a contrary nature and power unto it: neither is it possible that it should be so, considering that their two extremities are contignate, yea, and continuate one to the other: neither soundeth it and is conformable to reason, that nature hath fastened with one tenon (as they say) and placed so near together the killer and that which is killed, the consumer and that which is consumed; as if the were not the mediatresse between them of peace, unity and accord, but rather the workmistresse of war, debate and discord. For surely her order and custom is not to join front to front, substances that be altogether contrary, and open enemies one to the other; but to place between them such as participate with the one and the other, which are so seated, disposed and interlaced in the middle, as that they tend not to the destruction, but to the association of two contraries. Such a situation and region hath the air in the world, being spread under the fire, and before the water, for to accommodate and frame itself both to the one and the other, and to conjoin and link them both together, being of itself neither hot nor cold, but is as it were a medley and temperature of them both; not (I say) a pernicious mixture, but a gracious, which gently enterteineth and receiveth these contrary extremities. Furthermore, the air is always equal, and yet the Winter is not evermore cold a little: but some parts of the world be cold and exceeding moist; others cold and as dry, and that not casually and by fortune, but for that one and the same substance is susceptable both of heat and cold. For the greater part of 〈◊〉 is hot and dry, altogether without water. And those who have traveled through Scythia, Thracia and Pontus, do report that there be exceeding great lakes therein, and that those kingdoms be watered with many mighty deep rivers; also that the countries in the midst between, and those parts which adjoin upon those huges, meres, and fens be extreme cold, by reason of the vapours that arise from them. As for Posidonius when he saith that the cause of that moisture is this, that the fenny and morish air is ever fresh and moist, he hath not solved the question which was probable, but made it more doubtful and without probability; for the air seemed not always so much colder as it is more fresh, in case cold be not engendered of moisture: and therefore Homer said much better: 
The wind from river, if that it hold,  
Is 〈◊〉 bleak, and blows full cold.  as if he pointed with his very finger to the source and fountain of cold. Moreover, our sense doth oftentimes beguile and deceive us, as namely, when we touch wool or clothes that be cold, for we think that they be moist and wet, for that there is one substance common to both these qualities, and both these natures be neighbours and familiar. Also in those climates of the world where the winter is extreme hard and rough, the cold many times cracketh and breaketh vessels of brass and of earth; not any I mean that is void and empty, but all full, by reason that the water by the coldness thereof doth violence unto them: howsoever Theophrastus thinketh, that it is the air that bursteth such vessels; using cold as it were a spike or great nail to do the feat. But take heed that this be not rather a pretty & elegant speech of his, than sounding to truth; for if air were the cause, than should vessels full of pitch or milk, sooner burst than other. More likely it is therefore, that water is cold of itself and 〈◊〉, for contrary it is to the heat of fire, in regard of that coldness, like as to the dryness thereof, in respect of humidity. To be brief, the property of fire in general, is to dissipate, divide, and segregate; but chose, of water to join, conglutinate, unite, and bind, knitting and closing together by the virtue of moisture. And this makes me think that Empedocles upon this occasion, ever and anon calleth fire a pernicious debate, but water a fast amity; for sewell and food of fire, is that which turneth into fire, and every thing turneth which is most proper and familiar; as for that which is contrary, the same is hardly to be turned, as water which of itself it is impossible to burn, causing both green or wet herbs, as also 〈◊〉 or drenched wood hardly to take fire, and so in the end with much a do, they kindle and catch fire, although the same be not light and clear, but dark, dim, and weak, because the viridity or greenness by the means of cold, fighteth against the heat, as his natural enemy.  
Peising now and weighing these reasons, confer them with the others. But for that Chrysippus' esteeming the air to be the primitive cold, in that it is dim and dark, hath made mention of those only who say, that water is more distant and farther remote from the elementary fire, than the air, and being desirous to say somewhat against them: By the same reason (quoth he) may a man aswell 〈◊〉 that the earth is the said primitive cold; for that it is farthest from the elementary fire, rejecting this argument and reason as false, and altogether absurd. Me thinks that I can well show that the earth itself wanteth no probable 〈◊〉, laying my foundation even upon that which Chrysippus hath taken for the air: And what is that? namely, because it is principally and above all things else obscure & dark; for if he taking two contrarieties of powers, thinketh of necessity the one must follow upon the other; 〈◊〉, there be infinite oppositions and repugnances between the earth and the air, for the earth is not opposite unto the air, as heavy unto light, nor as that which bendeth downward unto that which tendeth upward only; nor as massy, unto rare; or slow and steadfast unto quick and mooveable; but as most heavy unto most light; most massy unto most rare; and finally, as immooveable in itself, unto that which moveth of itself; or as that which holdeth still the centre in the mids, unto that which turneth continually round. Were it not then very absurd to say; that upon so many, and those so great oppositions, this also of heat and cold did not likewise jointly follow? Yes verily: but fire is clear and bright, and earth dark: nay rather it is the darkest of all things in the world, and most without light; for air is that which doth participate of the first light & brightness, which soon of all other burneth: being also once full thereof, it distributeth that light every where, exhibiting itself as the very body of light: for as one of the Dithyrambic poets said: 
No sooner doth the sun appear  
In our horizon fair and clear,  
But with his light the palace great  
Of 〈◊〉 and winds is all replete.  And then anon it descendeth lower, and imparteth one portion thereof to the lakes and to the sea; the very bottoms of the rivers do rejoice and laugh for joy, so far forth as the air 〈◊〉 and entereth into them: the earth only, of all other bodies, is evermore destitute of light, and not 〈◊〉 with the radiant beams of sun and moon; well may it be warmed a little, and present itself to be fomented with the heat of the sun, which entereth a little way into it, but surely the solidity of it will not admit the resplendent light thereof; only it is superficially illuminated by the sun, for all the bowels and inward parts of it be called Orphne, Chaos, and Ades, that is to say, darkness, confusion, and hell itself: and as for Erebus, it is nothing else, to say a truth, but terrestrial obscurity, and mirke darkness within the earth. The poet's seigne the night to be the daughter of the earth; and the mathematicians by reason and demonstration, prove, that it is no other thing than the shadow of the earth, opposed against the sun: for the air as it is full of darkness from the earth, so it is replenished with light from the sun; and look how much of the air is not lightened nor illuminate, to wit, all the shadow that the earth casteth, so long is the night, more or less; and therefore both man and beast make much use of the air without their houses, although it be night season: and as for beasts, many of them go to relief and pasturage in the night, because the air hath yet some relics and traces left of light, and a certain influence of brightness, dispersed here and there: but he that is enclosed within house, and covered with the roof thereof, is as it were blind and full of darkness, as one environed round about within the earth: and verily the hides and horns of beasts, so long as they be hole and sound, transmit no light through them: let them be cut, sawed, pared, and scraped, they become transparent, because air is admitted into them. And I think truly that the poets eftsoons hereupon call the earth black, meaning thereby dark and without light, so that the most important and principal opposition, between clear and dark, is found rather in the earth than in the air: But this is impertinent to our question in hand; for we have showed already that there be many clear things which are known to be cold, and as many brown and dark which be hot.  
But there be other qualities and pussances more proper unto cold, namely, ponderosity, steadiness, solidity, & immutability, of which the air hath not so much as one, but the earth in part hath them all more than the water. Furthermore, it may be said, that cold is that which most sensibly is hard, as making things stiff and hard: for Theophrastus writeth, that those 〈◊〉 which be frozen with extreme rigour of cold, if they be let fall upon the ground, break and knap in pieces, no less than glasses or earthen vessels: and yourself have heard at Delphi, of those who passed over the hill Parnassus, to succour and relieve the women called 〈◊〉 who were surprised with a sharp pinching wind and drifts of snow; that their cloaks and mantles through extremity of cold, were as stark and stiff as pieces of wood, insomuch as they broke and rend into 〈◊〉, so soon as they went about to stretch them out. To say yet more, excessive cold causeth the sinews to be so stiff, as hardly they will bend: the tongue likewise so 〈◊〉, that it will not stir or utter any voice, congealing the moist, soft, and 〈◊〉 parts of the body; which being 〈◊〉 by daily experience, they proceed to gather this consequence: Every power and faculty which getteth the mastery, is wont to turn and convert into itself, that over which it is predominant: whatsoever is overcome by heat, becometh fire; that which is conquered by spirit or wind, changeth into air; what falleth into water, if it get not forth again, dissolveth, and in the end runneth to water. Then must it needs follow, that such things as are exceeding cold, degenerate into that primitive cold whereof we speak: now excessive cold is first; and the greatest alteration that can be devised by cold, is when a thing is congealed & made an ice, which congelation altereth the nature of the thing so much, that in the end it becometh as hard as a stone; namely, when the cold is so predominant, as well all the moisture of it is congealed, as the heat that it had driven out 〈◊〉. 〈◊〉 it is that the earth toward her centre, and in the bottom thereof, is frozen altogether, and in manner nothing else but ice, for that the excessive cold which never will yield and 〈◊〉, there dwelleth and 〈◊〉 continually, as being thrust and driven into that corner, farthest off from the elementary fire. As touching those rocks, crags, and cliffs, which we see to appear out of the earth: Empedocles is of opinion, that they were there set, driven up, sustained, & supported by the violence of a certain boiling and swelling fire within the bowels of the earth: but it should seem rather, that those things out of which all the heat is evaporate and slowen away, be congealed and conglaciat so hard by the means of cold: and this is the cause that such crags be named in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as one would say, congealed: toward the head and top whereof, a man shall see in them many places black again, namely, whereas the heat flew out when the time was, so as to see to, one would imagine that they had heretofore been burnt; for the nature of cold is to congeal all things, but some more, others less; but above all, those in which it is naturally at the first inhaerent: for like as the property of fire is to alleviate, it cannot otherwise be, but the hotter that a thing is, the more light also it is: and so the nature of moisture is to soften; insomuch as the moister any thing is, the softer also it is found to be: semblably, given it is to cold, to astringe and congeal: it followeth therefore of necessity, that whatsoever is most astrict and congealed, as is the earth, is likewise the coldest; and look what is cold in the highest degree, the same must be principally and naturally that cold, whereof we are in question. And thereupon we must conclude, that the earth is 〈◊〉 by nature cold, and also that primitive cold; a thing apparent and evident to our very sense; for dirt and clay is colder than water: and when a man would quickly suffocate and put out a fire, he throweth earth upon it. Blackesmithes also, and such as forge iron, when they see it red hot, and at the point to melt, they strew upon it small powder, or grit of marble or other stones that have fallen from them, when they were squared and wrought, for to keep it from resolving too much, and to cool the excessive heat: the very dust also that is used to be thrown upon the bodies of wrestlers, doth cool them and repress their sweats. Moreover, to speak of the commodity that causeth us every 〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉 and change our lodgings, what is the meaning of it? winter maketh us to seek for high lofts, and such chambers as be 〈◊〉 from the earth; chose, summer bringeth us down to the halls and parlours beneath, driving us to seek retiring rooms, and willingly we love to live in vaults within the bosom of the earth: do we not thus think you, directed by the instinct of nature, to seek out & acknowledge that which is naturally the primitive cold? and therefore when winter comes, we lay for houses and habitations near the sea side, that is to say, we fly from the earth as much as we can, because of cold, and we compass ourselves with the air of the sea, for that it is hot: chose, in summer time, by reason of immoderate heat, we covet mediterranean places farther within the land, and far removed from the sea, not for that the air of itself is cold, but because it seemeth to spring and bud as it were out of the primitive cold, and to have a tincture as I may so say, after the manner of iron from the power which is in the earth: and verily among running waters, those that arise out of rocks, and descend from mountains, are evermore coldest: but if 〈◊〉 and pits, such as be deepest yield the coldest waters: for by reason of their profundity, the air from without is not mingled with these; and the others pass through pure and sincere earth, without the mixture of air among. As for example, such is the water near the cape of Taenarus, which they call Styx, destilling by little and little out of the rock, and so gathered unto an head: which water is so extreme cold, that there is no vessel in the world will hold it, but only that which is made of an asses hoof; for put it into any other, it cleaveth and breaketh it. Moreover, we hear physicians say, that to speak generally, all kinds of earth do restrain and cool: and they reckon unto us a number of minerals drawn out of entrails of the earth, which in the use of physic yield unto them an astringent and binding power: for the very element itself from whence they come, is nothing incisive, nor hath the virtue for to stir and extenuate; it is not active and quick, not emollitive, nor apt to spread; but firm, steadfast and permanent, as a square cube or die, and not to be removed: whereupon, being massy and ponderous as it is, the cold also thereof having a power to condensate, constipate and to express forth all humours, 〈◊〉 by the asperity and inequality of the parts, shake, horrors and quake in our bodies: and if it prevail more and be predominant, so that the heat be driven out quite and extinct, it imprinteth an habitude of congealation and dead stupefaction. And hereupon it is, that the earth either will not burn at all, or else hardly and by little and little: whereas the air manytimes of itself sendeth forth flaming fire, it shooteth and floweth, yea, and seemeth as inflamed, to lighten and flash: and the humidity which it hath, serveth to feed and nourish the heat thereof. For it is not the solid part of wood that burneth, but the oleous moisture thereof; which if it be once evaporate and spent, the solid substance remaineth dry, and is nothing else but ashes. As for those who labour and endeavour to show by demostration, that the same also is changed and consumed, for which purpose they sprinkle it eftsoons with oil, or temper it with grease, and so put it into the fire again, prevail nothing at all: for when the fatty and uncteous substance is burnt, there remain still evermore behind, the terrestrial parts. And therefore earth being not only immooveable in respect of situation, but also immutable in regard of the very substance, the ancient called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, vesta, standing as it were sure and steadfast within the habitation of the gods: of which steadiness and congealation, the bond and link is cold, as Archilochus the Naturalist said: And nothing is there able to relax or mollify it, after it hath once been baked in the fire or hardened against the Sun. As touching those who say that they feel very sensibly the wind and the water cold, but the earth not so well; surely these do consider this earth here, which is next unto us, and is no other thing in truth, than a mixture and composition of air, water, sun and heat; and me thinks this is all one, as if a man should say, that the elementary fire is not the primitive and original heat, but rather scalding water, or an iron red hot in the fire; for that in truth there is no touching of these or coming near unto them; as also that of the said pure and celestial fire, they have no sensible experience nor knowledge by feeling, no more than they have of the earth which is about the centre, which we may imagine to be true, pure and natural earth, as most remote and farthest separate from all other: howbeit, we may have some guess and token thereof by these rocks here with us, which from their profundity send forth a vehement cold, which is in manner intolerable. And they likewise who desire to drink their water passing cold, use to throw pebble stones into it, which thereby cometh to be more cold, sharp and piercing, by occasion of the great and fresh cold that ariseth from the said stones. And therefore we ought thus to think, that when our ancients, those deep clerks and great scholars I mean, thought there could be no mixture of earthly things with heavenly, they never looked to places high or low, as if they hung in the scales of a balance, but unto the difference and diversity of their powers; attributing the qualities of heat, clearness, agility, celerity and lightness, unto that immortal and eternal nature: but cold, darkness and tardity, they assigned as the unhappy lot and wretched portion of those infernal wights that are dead and perished. For the very body of a creature, all while that it doth breath and flourish in verdure as the Poets say, hath life and heat, but so soon as it is destitute of these, and left in the only portion and possession of the earth, it presently becometh stiff and cold, as if heat were in any other body naturally, rather than in that which is terrestrial.  
Compare now good sir Phavorinus, these arguments with the reasons of other men, and if you find that they neither yield in probability, nor overway them much, bid all opinions and the stiff maintaining of them farewell, and think that to forbear resolution and to hold off in matters obscure and uncerteine, is the part of the wisest philosopher, rather than to settle his judgement and assent to one or other.    

NATURAL questions.  

The Summarie.  
THis collection of diverse questions taken out of Natural philosophy, and resolved by the author according to the doctrine of Naturalists, being so clearly distinguished by itself, requireth no long deduction: for that at the very first sight each question may sufficiently 〈◊〉 understood.   

NATURAL questions.  

1  
What is the cause that sea water nourisheth no trees?  
IS it for the same reason, that it nourisheth no land-creatures? for that a plant according to the opinions of Plato, Anaxagoras and Democritus, is a living creature of the land. For say that it serves for food to plants growing within the sea, as also to fishes, and is to them their drink, yet we must not infer thereupon, that it feedeth trees that be without the sea and upon the land: for neither can it pierce down to their roots, it is so gross, nor rise up in the nature of sap, it is so heavy. That it is gross, heavy, and terrestrial, appeareth by many other reasons, and by this especially, for that it beareth up and sustaineth both vessels and swimmers more than any other.  
Or is it principally for this, that whereas nothing is more offensive and hurtful to trees than dryness, the water of the sea is very 〈◊〉? which is the reason that salt withstandeth putrefaction so much as it doth, and why the bodies of those who are washed in the sea, have incontinently their skin exceeding dry and rugged.  
Or rather may it not be, for that oil is naturally an enemy to all plants, causing as many of them as are rubbed or anointed therewith to die? Now the sea water standeth much upon a kind of sartinesse, and is very uncteous, in such sort that it will both kindle and also increase fire: and therefore we give warning and forbid to throw sea water into flaming fire.  
Or is it because the water of the sea is bitter and not potable, by reason (as Aristotle saith) of the burnt earth that is mixed with it? like as lie, which is made by casting fresh water aloft upon ashes: for the running and passing through the said ashes marreth that sweet and potable quality of the water: as also within our bodies, the unnatural heats of an ague turn 〈◊〉 into choler. As for those plants, woods or trees, which are said to grow within the red sea, if they do, certainly they bear no fruit; but nourished they are by the fresh rivers, which bring in with them a deal of mud; an argument hereof is this: for that such grow not far within the sea but near unto the land.   

2  
What might the reason be, that trees and seeds are nourished better with rain, than any other water that they can be watered withal?  
IS it for that rain as it falleth, by the dint that it maketh, openeth the ground and causeth little holes, whereby it pierceth to the roots, as Laetus saith?  
Or is this untrue? and Laetus was ignorant hereof, namely that morish plants and such as grow in pools, as the reed mace, canes and rushes, will not thrive if they want their kind rains in due season? But true is that which Aristotle saith: That the rain water is all fresh and new made, whereas that of meres and lakes is old and stale.  
Or haply, this carrieth more show and probability, with it than truth, for certain it is, that the water of fountains, brooks, and rivers, come as new and fresh as they: for as Heraclitus saith: It is impossible for a man to enter into one and the same river twice, because new water cometh still, and runneth away continually, and yet these nourish less than rain waters.  
Is this therefore the reason, because the water from heaven is light, subtle, aireous, and mixed with a kind of spirit, which by that subtility, entereth soon, and is easily carried to the root of plants: and hereupon in the fall it raiseth little bubbles, because of the air and spirit enclosed within.  
Or doth rain water nourish more in this regard, that it is sooner altered and overcome by that which it nourisheth; for this is it that we call concoction properly: chose, crudity and indigestion, when things are so strong and hard that they will not suffer; for such as be thin, simple, and unsavoury, are most easily and soon altered: of which kind is rain water, for being engendered as it is in the air and the wind, it falleth pure and clean; whereas springing waters, are like to the earth, out of which they issue, or the places through which they 〈◊〉, gathering thereby many qualities, which cause them unwilling to be digested, and more slow to be reduced by concoction, into the substance of that which is to be nourished thereby: on the other side, that rain waters be easy to be changed and transmuted, it appeareth by this; that more subject they are to corruption and putrefaction, than those either of rivers, or of pits and wells: and concoction seemeth to be a kind of putrefaction: as Empedocles beareth witness saying: 
When in vine-wood the water putrefies,  
It turns to wine, whiles under bark it lies.   
Or rather the truest and readlest reason that can be alleged, is the sweetness and wholesomeness of rain waters, falling as they do so presently, so soon as the wind sends them down: and hereupon it is that beasts desire to drink thereof before any other: yea, and the frogs and paddocks expecting a rain, for joy sing more shrill and merrily, ready to receive and entertain that which will season the dead and dormant waters of standing lakes, as being the very seed of all their sweetness: for Aratus reckoneth this also for one of the signs of a shower toward, writing thus: 
When wretched brood,  
The adders food, from out of standing lake,  
(The tad-pole sires,  
Imeane) desires fresh rain, and loud doth 
* Coaxant. Lat. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  coake.    

3  
What might be the cause that shepherds and other herdsmen give salt unto their sheep and cattle which they feed?  
IS it as most men do think, to the end that they should fall the better to their meat, and so consequently feed fat the sooner? because the acrimony of salt provoketh appetite, and opening the pores, maketh way unto the nourishment for to be digested and distributed more easily throughout the whole body? in regard whereof the physician Apollonius, the son of Herophilus, gave counsel and prescribed lean folk and such as thrived not in their flesh; not 〈◊〉 sweet wine, thick gruel, and frumenty, but salt fish out of the pickle, anchoves, powdered meats, and such as were condite in brine: the subtle acrimony whereof might in manner of setting a peruke for want of hair, serve to apply nutriment through the pores of the body into those parts that need it.  
Or rather may it not be for health-sake? in which regard they use their cattle to little salt, thereby to take down their rank feeding, and restrain their grossness and corpulency? for such as grow exceeding fat, are subject to breed diseases: but salt consumeth and dispatcheth this fat; and by this means also when they be killed, they are sooner and with greater expedition flaied, because the fat which knit and bound the skin fast to the flesh, is now become more thin, gentle, and pliable through the acrimony of the salt: beside, the blood also of such as be ever licking of salt, becometh more liquid; and nothing there is within, that will gather and grow together, in case there be salt mingled therewith.  
It may be moreover, that they do it for to make them more fruitful and apt for generation; for we see that salt bitches which have been fed with salt meats, are more hot, apt to go proud, and sooner with whelp. And for this cause, those keels and barges that transport salt, breed greater store of mice, for that they engender the oftener.   

4  
How cometh it to pass, that of rain waters, such as fall with thunder and lightning, which thereupon be called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, are better for to water seeds or young plants, than any other?  
MAy it not be, because they be full of wind and ventosity, by reason of the trouble and confused agitation of the air? And the nature of wind and spirit is to stir the humidity; and by that means doth send it forth and distribute it the better?  
Or is it not rather, that heat fight against cold, is the cause of thunder and lightning in the air? which is the reason that seldom there is any thunder in winter: but chose, very often in the Spring and Autumn, for the inconstant and unequal distemperature of the 〈◊〉 which being supposed, the heat concocting the humidity, causeth it to be more pleasant and profitable unto the plants of the earth.  
Or why may it not be, because it thundereth and lighteneth especially and more often in the Spring, than in any other season of the year, for the reason before alleged: now the Spring showers and rains are most necessary for seeds and herbs, against the Summer time: whereupon those countries wherein there be many good ground showers in the Spring, as the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, bring forth plenty of good fruits.   

5  
How is it, that there being eight kind of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 object of 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 when although I know, we commonly attribute 〈◊〉 to our 〈◊〉: but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as I think.  savours, there is no more but only one of them, to wit, saltish, that can not be found naturally in fruits? For as touching the buter savour, the olive hath it at first; and the grape is sour at the beginning: but as these fruits begin to change and grow to their ripeness, the bitterness of the olive turneth into a 〈◊〉 and unctuous savour, and the sharp verdure of the grape into a smack of wine: semblably, the harshness in the unripe dates, as also the austere and unpleasant sharpness in pomegranates changeth into sweetness. As for pomegranates, some there be, as also other apples, which are 〈◊〉 sour, and never have other taste. And as for the sharp and 〈◊〉 savour, it is ordinary in many roots and seeds.  
IS it for that the salt savour is not primitive not engendered originally, but is rather the corruption of other primitive savours; and in that regard can not serve to nourish any creature, living with grass or grain? but it is to some in stead of a sauce, because it is a means that they should not upon fullness either loath or distaste that which they feed upon.  
Or because, that like as they who boil sea water, rid it from that salt, brackish and biting quality that it hath: so, in those that are hot by nature, the salt savour is dulled and mortified by heat?  
Or rather, for that a savour or smack, according as Plato saith, is a water or juice passing thorough the stem or stalk of a plant: but we see that the sea water running as thorough a streiner, loseth the saltness, being the terrestrial and grossest part that is in it. And hereupon it is, that when as men dig along by the sea side, they meet with springs of fresh and potable water. And many there be, who draw out of the very sea, fresh water and good to be drunk; namely, when it hath 〈◊〉 thorough certain vessels of wax, by reason that the terrestrial and saltish parts thereof be strained out. In one word, 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, haply 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 setting.  clay or marl also, yea, and the carrying of sea water in long conduct pipes, causeth the same when it is so strained, to be potable, for that there are kept still in them the terrestrial parts, and are not suffered to pass thorough. Which being so, very probable it is that plants neither receive from without forth any salt savour, nor if haply any such quality breed in them, do they transfuse the same into their fruits; for that the conducts of their pores being very small and straight, there can not be transmitted thorough them any gross or terrestrial substance.  
Or else we must say, that saltness is in some sort a kind of bitterness, according as Homer signifieth in these verses: 
Bitter salt-water at mouth he cast again,  
And all therewith his head did drop amain.   
And Plato affirmeth, that both the one and the other savour is abstersive and liquefactive; but the saltish, less of the twain, as that which is not rough: and so it will seem that bitter differeth from salt in excess of dryness, for that the salt savour is also a great drier.   

6  
What is the cause, that if folk use ordinarily and continually to go among young trees or shrubs full of dew, those parts of their bodies which do touch the twigs of the said plants, are wont to have a scurf or mange rise upon their skin?  
IS it (as Laet us saith) for that the dew by the subtlety thereof doth fret and pierce the skin?  
Or rather, because like as the blast and mildeaw is incident to those 〈◊〉 or plants that take wet and be drenched; even so, when the smooth and tender superficial parts of the skin be fretted, scarified, and dissolved a little with the dew, there ariseth a certain humour, and filleth the fretted place with a smart and angry scurf: for lighting upon those parts which have but little blood, such as be the smalles of the legs and the feet, it 〈◊〉 & 〈◊〉 the superficies of them. Now that there is in dew a certain inordinate quality, it appeareth by this, that it maketh those who are gross and corpulent, to be leaner and more spare of body: witness our women who are given to be fat, and would be fine, who gather dew with linen clothes, or else with locks or fleeces of wool, thinking therewith to take down and spend their fogginess, and make themselves more gaunt and slender.   

7  
What is the cause that barges and other vessels in Winter time, go more slowly upon the rivers than at other seasons; but they do not so upon the sea?  
WHat say you to this? May it not be, for that the air of rivers being always gross and heavy, in Winter is more inspissate by reason of the circumstant cold, and so is an hindrance to the course of ships?  
Or haply this accident is to be imputed to the water of rivers, rather than to the air about them; for cold driving in and restraining the water, maketh it more heavy and gross; as we may perceive in water hourglasses, for the water runneth out of them more leisurely and slowly in winter then in summer. And Theophrastus writeth that in Thracia, near unto the mount called Pangaeon, there is a fountain, the water whereof is twice as much heavy in winter than it is in summer, weigh it in one & the same vessel full. That the thickness of water maketh a vessel to pass more sluggishly, it may appear by this, that the barges of the river carry greater fraights by far, in winter than in summer: because the water being thick, is stronger and able to bear more. As for the sea water it cannot be made more thick in winter, by reason of the own heat, which is the cause that it congealeth not, and if it gather any thickening, it seemeth to be very slender and little.   

8  
What is the reason that we observe, all other waters, if they be moved and troubled, are the colder, but the sea the more surging and waving, the hotter it is?  
IS it because, if there be any heat in other waters, the same is a stranger unto it, and coming from without, and so the motion and agitation thereof doth dissipate and drive the same forth again: but that heat of the sea which is proper and natural to it, the winds do stir up and augment. That the sea is naturally hot, may evidently be proved by this, that it is so transparent and shining; as also for that it is not ordinarily frozen, heavy though it be and terrestrial.   

9  
What should be the cause that in winter the sea water is less bitter and brackish in taste?  
FOr so (by report) writeth Dionysus the great convaier of conduits, who in a treatise of that argument, saith that the bitterness of the sea water is not without some sweetness, seeing that the sea receiveth so many and so great rivers: for admit that the sun do draw up that which is fresh and potable out of it, because it is light and subtle; that is but from the upper part only: and withal, it doth more in Summer than in any other season, by reason that in Winter his beams are not so strong to strike, for that his heat likewise is but saint and feeble: and so a good portion of the sweetness remaining behind, doth delay that excessive bitterness and brackishness, like a medicine that it hath. And the same befalleth unto river waters, and all other that be potable: for even such in Summer time become worse and more offensive to the razed than in Winter, by how much the heat of the sun doth resolve and dissipate the light and sweet parts thereof: but in Winter it runneth always new and fresh; whereof the sea cannot choose but have a good part, as well because it is evermore in motion, as also for that the rivers running into it, be great and impart their fresh water unto it.   

10  
What is the reason, that men are wont to power sea water into their wine vessels, among the wine? And the common report goeth that there were sometime certain mariners and fishermen who brought with them an oracle, commanding to plunge and dip Bacchus in the sea: And such as dwell far from the sea, instead of sea water, put in baked plaster of Zacynthus?  
IS it to this end, that the heat thereof should help to resist the cold, that it take not away the heart of the wine? Or rather clean contrary, doth it not weaken the headiness of wine, by extinguishing the power and strength thereof?  
Or it may be, that seeing wine is much subject to alteration, and will quickly turn, the terrestrial matter which is cast into it, having a natural property to restrain, to bind and to stop, doth in some sort condensate and stay the waterish and spiritual substance of it. Now the salt together with the sea water, coming to subtiliate and consume that which is superfluous, and nought in the wine, and not the proper substance thereof, keepeth it so, as it will not suffer any strong & evil smell or corruption to be engendered therein: Besides all the gross and terrestrial parts of the wine, sticking and cleaving to that which settleth to the bottom, and being drawn downward with it, maketh a residence of the lees and dregs, and by consequence leaveth the rest more clear, pure, and neat.   

11  
What is the cause that those who sail upon the sea, are more sick in the stomach, than they that sail upon rivers, yea, though 〈◊〉 weather be fair and the water calm?  
IS it for that of all the senses, smelling, and of all passions, fear, causeth men most to be stomach sick? for so soon as the apprehension of any peril seizeth upon a man, he trembleth and quaketh for fear, his hair stareth and standeth upright, yea and his belly groweth to be loose. Whereas there is none of all this that troubleth those who sail or row upon the river: for why, the smell is acquainted with all fresh and potable water, neither is the sailing so perilous: whereas upon the sea men are offended with strange and unusual smells, yea, and be eftsoons afraid, how fair soever the season be, not trusting upon that which they see present, but misdoubting that which may fall out. And therefore little or nothing serveth the calm without, when the mind within is tossed, troubled, and vexed, partly with fear, and in part with distrust, drawing the body into the fellowship of like passions and perturbations.   

12  
What is the reason that if the sea be sprinkled aloft with oil, there is to be seen a clear transparence together with a calm and tranquillity within?  
WHether is it (as Aristotle saith) because the wind gliding and glancing over oil which is smooth and even, hath no power to stir it, or to make any agitation.  
Or, this reason may well carry with it some probability as touching the outward part, and upmost superficies of the sea: but seeing that they also by report, who plunge and dive to the bottom thereof, holding oil within their mouths, if they spurt the same forth when they are in the bottom, have a light all about them, and are able to see clearly in the deep; a man cannot attribute the cause thereof unto the gliding over of the wind. See therefore if it may not rather be, for that the oil by the solidity and thickness that it hath, doth drive before it, cut, and open the sea water first, being terrestrial and unequal; which after being returned and drawn together again into itself, there be left still in the mids between, certain little holes which yield unto the eyes a through-light and transparence.  
Or rather is it, for that the air mingled within the sea, is by reason of heat, naturally lightsome and perspicuous; but when it is troubled and stirred, becometh unequal and shadowy; when as the oil therefore by means of solidity cometh to polish and smooth the said inequality, it resumeth again the own plainness and perspicuity.   

13  
What is the reason that fisher men's nets do rot in Winter rather than in Summer, notwithstanding that all other things putrify more in Summer than in Winter?  
IS it because (as 〈◊〉 supposeth) the heat then beset round about with the circumstant cold, giveth place thereto, and therefore causeth the bottom of the sea as well as of the earth, to be the hotter? which is the reason that spring waters be warmer, yea and both lakes and rivers do reike and smoke more in Winter than in Summer, because the heat is kept down, and driven to the bottom by the cold, which is predominant over it?  
Or rather are we to say, that the nets rot not at all, but whensoever they be stiff congealed with cold which drieth them up, soon broken afterwards they are with the violence of the waves, and so seem as if they were rotten and putrefied indeed; for in more danger they are in cold and frosty weather; and like as strings and sinews overstretched do break, seeing especially that the sea in Winter most commonly is troubled, which is the reason that they use to restrain and thicken them with certain tinctures, for fear they should be overmuch relaxed and resolved; for otherwise, if it were not for that doubt, being not so died and besmeared all over, they would sooner deceive fishes, because they could not perceive them so soon; for that the colour naturally of the lines and threads resembling the air, is very meet to deceive within the sea.   

14  
What is the reason that the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some translate 〈◊〉 husbandmen, reading  〈◊〉, 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  pray for to have ill inning of their hey?  
IS not this the cause, because hey is not well inned wet, or having taken a shower? for mown down it is not dry, but while it is green and full of sap; and if it take wet withal, it rotteth incontinently and is marred: whereas chose if standing corn be moistened with 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  rain a little before harvest, it taketh much good against hot southern winds, which will not suffer the corn to gather and knit in the ear, but cause it to be loose that it cannot ear well by means of heat, were it not by the drenching and watering of the ground, the moisture did cool and mollify the earth.   

15  
What is the reason that a fat, strong, and heavy clay ground, beareth wheat best: but chose alight and sandy soil, is better for barley?  
MAy not this be a reason, that of all corn, that which is more strong and solid, requireth larger food, and the weaker less, and more slender nourishment? now it is well known that barley is a more feeble and hollow grain than wheat is: in which regard it will not abide and bear plentiful nouriture and strong. An argument and testimony hereof we may have of that kind of wheat which is called three-moneth wheat, for that in drier grounds it liketh better, and cometh up in greater plenty: the reason is, because it is not so firm and solid as others, and therefore requireth less nutriment: in regard whereof, also it cometh sooner to ripeness and perfection.   

16  
How cometh this common prover be: Sow wheat in dirt, and barley in dust?  
IS it not as I said before, because wheat is able to overcome more nourishment, but barley can not endure much moisture to drench and drown it?  
Or in this respect, that wheat being a stiff and hard kind of grain, resembling the nature of wood, doth sooner come and chit within the ground, in case it be well soaked and softened with moisture, and therefore liketh better of a wet ground; whereas the drier soil at the first sowing agreeth better with barley, and is more commodious for it, being as it is, a more loose and spungeous kind of grain.  
Or because such a temperature of the ground in regard of the heat, is more proportionable and less hurtful unto barley, being as it is the colder grain?  
Or rather, husbandmen are afraid to 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, haply it should be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to 〈◊〉, unless 〈◊〉 understand it thus, that their 〈◊〉 of corn and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 were near unto 〈◊〉 corn lands.  thrash their wheat upon a dry and sandy floor, because of 
* For 〈◊〉 breed in 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  ants; for soon will they take to that kind of grain in such a place. As for barley, they use less to bear it, because the corns thereof be hard to be carried and recaried from one place to another, they are so big.   

17  
What is the cause that fishers choose the hair of stone-horsetailes, rather than of mares, to make their angling lines?  
IS it because the male, as in all other parts, so in hair also, is more strong than the female?  
Or rather, for that they think the hair of mares tails, drenched and wet as it is ever and anon with their stalling, is more brittle and worse than the other?   

18  
What is the reason that when the 
* Some take it for the 〈◊〉.  Calamacie fish is seen in the sea, it is a sign of a great tempest?  
IS it because all soft and 〈◊〉 fishes are very impatient of cold and of foulweather, they be so bare and naked, and have withal their flesh exceeding tender, as being covered, neither with shell nor thick skin, ne yet scale; but chose, having their hardy, gristly, and bony substance within? which is the reason that all such fishes be called Malacia, as one would say, Soft and tender. For which cause naturally they soon foresee a tempest, and feel cold coming, for that it is offensive unto them: and therefore likewise, when the Poulpe or Polyp runneth to land, and catcheth hold of some little rocks, it is a token that there is great wind toward. And for the Calamacie, he leapeth forth for to avoid the cold and the trouble or agitation of the water in the bottom of the sea: for of other soft fishes, his flesh is most tender and aptest to be pierced and hurt.   

19  
Why doth the Polyp change his colour?  
IS it according to the opinion of Theophrastus, because it is a fearful and timorous creature by nature; and therefore when he is troubled or amazed as his spirit turneth, so he altereth withal his colour, even as we men do? whereupon we say in the common proverb: 
The coward, in view  
Soon changeth hew.   
Or may this be a good probable conjecture of the change, but not sufficient, for the resemblance? considering that he changeth so, as heresembleth the rocks which he settleth upon. Unto which property, Pindarus alluded in these verses: 
His mind doth alter most mutable,  
To Poulpe the sea-fish skin semblable;  
Which changeth hue to echthing suitable:  
To live in all worlds he is pliable.  And Theognis: 
Put on a mind like Polype fish, and learn so to dissemble:  
Which of the rock whereto it sticks, the colour doth resemble.   
Also, men usually say, such as surpass others for cunning and cautelous dealing, study and practise this: that for to save themselves, and not to be seen or known of those about them, they always will be like unto the poulpe, and change their colours, that is to say, their manners and behaviour.  
Or do they think such an one to make use of his colour readily, as of a garment, to change and put on another whensoever he will?  
Well then, the poulpe fish himself, by his fear may haply give the occasion and beginning of this change and passion; but the principal point of the cause consisteth in something else. And therefore weigh and consider what Empedocles writeth: 
Wot well, all mortal things that be,  
Defluxions' havein some degree.   
For there pass away continually, many defluxions, not only from living creatures, plants, earth and sea, but also from stones, brass and iron: for all things perish and yield a smell, in that there runneth something always from them, and they wear continually: insomuch as it is thought that by these defluxions are all attractions and insultations: and some suppose their embracings and connexion's; others, their smile: some their impulsions, and I wot not what circumplexions and environments, to be attributed unto such defluxions; and especially from rocks and stones along the sea continually, washed and dashed with the waves, therebe decisions pass of some parcels and small fragments, the which do cleave unto other bodies, and cling about those which have their pores more strict and close, or else pass thorough such as have the same over rare and open. As for the flesh of the Polype, it is to see to, fistulous and spongeous, like unto hony-combs, apt to receive all such defluxions and decisions from other bodies, when as then he is afraid, his wind goeth and cometh, and withal, shutteth up his body, and bringeth it together, that he may receive and retain in the superficies of his skin, the defluxions that come from that which is next it: for the rivels and wrinkles of his soft skin, which are knit with fear, are in stead of crook and bending cleies fit to entertain the defluxions and parcels lighting upon them, which scatter not here and there, but gathering upon the skin, make the superficies thereof to be of semblable colour. And that this is a true cause, it may appear by one great argument, namely, that neither the Polyp doth resemble in colour all that which is near unto it, not the chameleon the white colour; but both the one & the other, such things only, as the defluxions whereof are proportionate unto their pores and small passages.   

20  
What is the cause that the tears of wild boars be sweet, but of stags and hinds, saltish and unpleasant to the taste?  
HEat and cold are the cause of both; for the stag is cold of nature, but the bore exceeding hot and fiery: whereupon it is, that the one fleeth away, the other maketh head, and stands to it when he is assaulted, and then is it most of all that he sheddeth tears, upon a fell heart: for when plenty of heat (as I said before) mounteth up unto his eyes, 
His bristles stare and stand upright,  
His ardent eyes like fire are bright.  and so the humour that distilleth from his eyes, is sweet. Others say, that these tears are pressed and wrong out from the blood being troubled, like as whey from milk: and of this opinion was Empedocles. And forasmuch as the blood of the wild boar is black and thick in regard of heat, but that of stags and hinds, thin and waterish, great reason there is that the tears which pass from the one in anger, and the other in fear, should be such as is aforesaid.   

21  
What is the reason, that tame swine do farrow often in one year, some at one time, and some at another; whereas the wild of that kind, bring forth pigs but once in the year, and all of them in a manner upon the same days, and those are in the beginning of Summer: whereupon we say in our vulgar proverb: 
The night once past, of wild sows farrowing:  
'Twill rain no more be sure, for any thing.   
IS it (think you) for the plenty they have of meat; as in truth, fullness brings wantonness, and of full feeding comes lust of breeding: for abundance of food causeth superfluity of seed, aswell in living creatures as in plants. As for the wild swine, they seek their victuals themselves, and that with travel and fear: whereas the tame have always store thereof, either naturally growing for them, or else provided by man's industry.  
Or is the cause of this difference to be attributed unto the idle life of the one, and the painful labour of the other: for the domestical and tame are sluggish, and never wander far from their swineherds: but the other range and rove abroad among the forests and mountains, running to and fro, dispatching quickly all the food they can get, and spending it every whit upon the substance of their bodies, leaving no superfluities, expedient for geniture or seed.  
Or may it not be, that tame sows do keep company, feed and go in herds together with their bores, which provoketh their lust, and kindleth the desire to engender: according as Empedocles hath written of men in these verses: 
The sight of eye, doth kindle lust in breast,  
Of looking, liking, then loving and the rest.  Whereas the wild, because they live apart, and pasture not together, have no such desire and lust one to another; for their natural appetite that way is dulled and quenched.  
Or rather, that is true which Aristotle saith, namely, that Homer calleth a wild bore 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as having but one genetorie, for that the most part of them, in rubbing themselves against the trunks and stocks of trees, do crush and break their stones.   

22  
What is the reason of this usual speech: that bears have a most sweet hand, and that their flesh is most pleasant to be eaten?  
BEcause those parts of the body which do best concoct and digest nourishment, yield their flesh most delicate: now that concocteth and digesteth best, which stirreth most, and doth greatest exercise: like as the bear moveth most this part, for his forepawes he useth as feet to go and run withal, he maketh use also of them as of hands to apprehend and catch any thing.   

23  
What is the cause that in the spring time wild beasts are hardly hunted by the sent, and followed by the trace?  
IS it for that hounds, as Empedocles saith, 
By sent of nostrils, when they trace  
Wild beast, to find their resting place.  do take hold of those vapours and defluxions which the said beasts leave behind them in the wood as they pass: but in the spring time these are confounded or utterly extinct by many other smells of plants and shrubs, which as then be in their flower, and coming upon the air that the beasts made, and intermingled therewith, do trouble and deceive the sent of the hounds, whereby they are put out and at default, that they cannot truly hunt after them by their trace; which is the reason, (men say) that upon the mountain Aetna, in Sicily, there is never any hunting with hounds, for that all the year long there is such abundance of flowers, both in hills and dales, growing as it were in a meadow or garden, whereof the place smelleth all over so sweet, that it will not suffer the hounds to catch the sent of the beasts: And verily, there goeth a tale, that Pluto ravished Prosperpina as she was gathering flowers there: in which regard the inhabitants honouring the place with great reverence and devotion, never put up or hunt the beasts that pasture about that mountain.   

24  
What is the reason, that when the moon is at the full, it is very hard for hounds to meet with wild beasts by the trace or sent of the footing?  
IS it not for the same cause before alleged, for that about the full moon there is engendered store of dew: whereupon it is that the poet Aleman calleth dew the daughter of Jupiter, and the moon in these verses: 
Dame dew is nurse, whom of god Jupiter  
And lady Moon, men call the daughter.  For the dew is nothing else but a weak and feeble rain: and why? because the heat of the moon is but infirm: whereof it cometh to pass, that she draweth up vapours indeed from the earth, as doth the sun, but not able to fetch them up aloft, not there to comprehend them, letteth them fall again.   

25  
What is the cause that in a white or hoary frost, wild beasts are hardly traced?  
WHether is it for that they being loath for very cold to range far from their dens, leave not many marks of their footings upon the ground: which is the reason that at other times they make spare of that prey which is near unto them, for fear of danger if they should be forced to range far abroad in Winter, and because they would have ready at hand about them at such an hard season to feed upon.  
Or else is it requisite that the place where men do hunt, have not only the tracts of the beast to be seen, but also of force to affect the sent of the hounds, and to set their nostrils a work; but then do they move this sense of theirs, when as they are gently dissolved and dilated as it were by heat: whereas the air if it be extreme cold, congealing as it were the smells, will not suffer them to spread and be diffused abroad, thereby to move the sense: and hereupon it is (as folk say) that perfumes, ointments, and wines, be less fragrant and odoriferous in Winter, or in cold weather, than at other times, for the air being itself bound and shut close, doth likewise stay within it all scents, and will not suffer them to pass forth.   

26  
What is the cause that brute beasts, so often as they are sick, or feel themselves amiss, seek after diverse medicinable means for remedy, and using the same, find many times help? as for example: dogs when they be stomach sick, fall to eat a kind of quitchy grass, because they would cast and vomit choler; hogs search for craifish of the river, for by feeding upon them they cure their headache; the tortoise is likewise having eaten the flesh of a viper, eateth upon it the her be origan; and the bear when she is full in the stomach and doth loath all victuals, licketh up pismires with her tongue, which she no sooner hath swallowed down, but she is warished, and yet none of all this were they taught, either by experience, or some casual occasion?  
IS it then the smell that moveth them to seek these remedies, and like as the honey combs by the odor stir up the Bee: and the flesh of dead carrions the vultures, drawing and alluring them a far of: so the craifish invite unto them swine, origan the tortoise, and pismires the bear, by certain scents and fluxions which are accommodate and familiar unto them, without any sense leading them thereto by discourse of reason, and teaching them what is good and profitable?  
Or rather be they the temperatures of the bodies disposed unto sickness, that bring unto these creatures such appetites, engendering diverse ceremonies, sweetnesses, or other strange & unusual qualities: as we 〈◊〉 it ordinary in great bellied women, who during the time that they go with child fall to eat grit & earth with greediness? in so much as expert physicians foreknow by the sundry appetites of their patients, whether they shall live or die, for so 〈◊〉 the physician doth report, that in the beginning of the Pneumonie or inflammation of the lungs, one patient of his, longing for to eat onions escaped that malady; and another whose appetite stood to figs, died for it, of the same disease: for that the appetites follow the temperatures, and the temperatures are proportionate to the diseases.  
It standeth therefore to great reason that beasts likewise, such as are not surprised with mortal 〈◊〉, nor sick to death, have that disposition and temperature, whereby their appetites do move and provoke each one to that which is good and wholesome, yea and expedient to the cure of their sickness.   

27  
What is the cause that must or new wine, cotinueth sweet a long time, in case the vessel wherein it is kept be cold round about it?  
IS it because the alteration of this sweet savour into the natural taste of wine, is the very concoction of the wine; and cold hindereth the said concoction, which proceedeth from heat  
Or chose, because the proper joice and natural savour of the grape is sweet, for we say that then the grape beginneth to ripen, when it waxeth sweet. Now cold not suffering new wine to exhale, but keeping the kind heat thereof within, preserveth the said sweetness still. And this is the very cause that those who make their vintage in a rainy constitution of the weather, do find that their new wine will not work so well in the vault, because that such ebullition proceedeth of heat, and the cold doth restrain and refresh the said heat.   

28  
What is the cause that of all savage beasts, the bear doth never lightly gnaw the net and toil with her teeth, whereas wolves and foxes use ordinarily to eat the same?  
IS it for that her teeth grow far within her mouth, in such sort that she cannot get within the cords of the nets, having beside so great and thick lips between, that they hinder her for catching hold with her said fangs.  
Or rather because she having more force in her forefeet, which she useth in stead of hands therewith she doth tear and break the cords; or else having use both of her paws and also of her month: she employeth those to the bursting of the nets, and with her teeth fighteth, and maketh her part good against the hunters. Besides the tumbling and rolling of her body that she doth practise, serveth her in as good stead as any thing else. And therefore seeing herself in danger to be taken within the 〈◊〉 many times, casteth herself round upon her head, and indevoureth that way to escape, rather than either by paws or fangs to burst the toil.   

29  
What is the reason that we wonder not to see any sources or springs of cold water, like as we do of hot? notwithstanding it is evident that as heat is the cause of these so is cold of the other.  
FOr we must not say as some hold opinion, that heat indeed is an habitude of itself, but cold nothing else but the privation of heat: for it were in truth more wonderful how that which hath no subsistence, should be the cause of that which hath a being. But it seemeth that nature would have us to wonder hereat, only for the rare sight hereof; and because it is not often seen, therefore we should inquire for some secret cause, and demand how that may be, which is but seldom observed. 
But seest thou this starry firmament,  
So high above and in 〈◊〉 vast,  
In bosom moist of water element,  
The earth beneath how it encloseth fast,  How many strange and wonderful sights doth it represent unto us in the night season, and what beauty showeth it unto us in the day time? and the common people wonder at the nature of these things ** As also at the rainbows, and the diverse tinctures forms and pictures of the clouds appearing by day: and how they be adorned with sundry shapes, breaking out of them in manner of bubbles.   

30  
What is the cause that when vines or other young plants, which be rank of leaves, and otherwise fruitless, are said 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉?  
IS it because that goats in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which are exceeding fat, be less apt to engender, and hardly for their fatness can leap the females. For generative seed is the superfluous excrement of that nourishment which is conglutinate to the substantial parts of the body. Now when as any living creature or plant is in very good plight and grown gross, it is an evident sign, that the nouriture is employed and spent altogether in the maintenance of itself, leaving no excrement at all, or the same very small, and not good for generation.   

31  
What is the reason, that if a vine be sprinkled and drenched with wine, especially that which came of the own grape it drieth and withereth away?  
IS there not the same reason hereof as of the baldness in great drinkers, when as the wine by means of heat, causeth the moisture to evaporate which should feed the hair of their head?  
Or is it not rather, because the very liquor of wine cometh in some sort of putrefaction, according to the verses of Empedocles: 
When in vine-wood the water 〈◊〉,  
It turns to wine, whiles under bark it lies.  When as then a vine cometh to be wet with wine outwardly, it is as much as if fire were put into it, which doth corrupt the natural temperature of that humour which should nourish it?  
Or rather, pure wine, being of an astringent nature, soaketh and 〈◊〉 to the very root, where shutting up and enclosing the pores, it impeacheth the entrance of that sap (by virtue whereof, the vine is wont to bud, burgeon, and flourish) that it can not run to the stock?  
Or may it not be, it is clean contrary to the nature of a vine, that the liquor which once went out of it, should return again into it? for a liquor or humour whiles it is within the plant in the nature of a sap, may well have power to feed the same; but that being departed once from thence, it should join thereto again, or become a part thereof, I cannot see how it is possible. 
* ay find no more of these 〈◊〉 in the Greek original, or the French translation, but in one Latin translation it followeth on in this wise,   
***********   

32  
Why doth the date tree only of all others arise archwise, and bend upward, when a weight is laid thereupon?  
WHether may it not be that the fire and spiritual power which it hath and is predominant in it, being once provoked, and as it were angered, putteth forth itself so much the more, and mounteth upward?  
Or because the poise or weight aforesaid forcing the boughs suddenly, oppresseth and keepeth down the airy substance which they have, and driveth all of it inward: but the same afterwards having resumed strength again, maketh head afresh, and more eagerly withstandeth the weight?  
Or lastly, the softer and more tender branches not able to sustain the violence at first, so soon as the burden resteth quiet, by little and little lift up themselves, and make a show as if they rose up against it.   

33  
What is the reason that pit-water is less nutritive than either that which ariseth out of springs, or falleth down from heaven?  
IS it because it is more cold, and withal hath less air in it?  
Or, for that it containeth much salt therein, by reason of such store of earth mingled therewith: now it is well known, that salt above all other things causeth leanness.  
Or because standing as it doth still, and not exercised with running and stirring, it getteth a certain malignant quality, which is hurtful and offensive to all living creatures drinking thereof; for by occasion of that hurtful quality, neither is it well concocted, nor yet can it feed or nourish anything. And verily the same is the very cause that all dead waters of pools and meres be unwholesome, for that they cannot digest and dispatch those harmful qualities which they borrow of the evil property, either of air or of earth.   

34  
Why is the west wind held commonly to be of all other the swiftest, according to this verse of Homer: 
Let us likewise bestir our feet,  
As fast as western winds do fleet.   
IS it not think you, because this wind is wont to blow when the sky is very well 〈◊〉, and the air exceeding clear and without all clouds; for the thickness and impurity of the air, doth not (I may say to you) a little impeach and interrupt the course of the winds.  
Or rather, because the sun with his beams striking through a cold wind, is the cause that it passeth the faster away; for whatsoever is drawn in by the refrigerative force of the winds, the same if it be overcome by heat as his enemy, we must think is driven and set forward both farther, and also with greater celerity.   

35  
What should be the cause that bees cannot abide smoke?  
WHether is it because the pores and passages of their vital spirits be exceeding straight, and if it chance that smoke be gotten into them and there kept in and intercepted, it is enough to stop the poor bees breath, yea and to strangle them quite?  
Or is it not the acrimony and bitterness (think you) of the smoke in cause? for bees are delighted with sweet things, and in very truth they have no other nourishment; and therefore no marvel if they detest and abhor smoke, as a thing for the bitterness most adverse and contrary unto them: and therefore honey masters when they make a smoke for to drive away bees, are wont to burn bitter herbs, as hemlock, centaury, etc.   

36  
What might be the reason that bees will sooner sting those who newly before have committed whoredom?  
IS it not because it is a creature that wonderfully delighteth in purity, cleanliness and elegancy? and withal she hath a marvelous quick sense of smelling: because therefore such unclean dealings between man and woman in regard of fleshly and beastly lust, immoderately performed, are wont to leave behind in the parties much filthiness and impurity; the bees both sooner find them out, and also conceive the greater hatred against them: hereupon it is that in Theocritus the shepherd after a merry and pleasant manner, sendeth Venus away into Anchises to be well stung with bees, for her adultery; as appeareth by these verses: 
Now go thy wait to Ida mount, go to Anchises now,  
Where mighty oaks, where banks along of square Cypirus grow,  
Where hives and hollow trunks of trees, with honey sweet abound,  
Where all the place with humming noise of busy bees resound.  And Pindarus: 
Thou painful be, thou pretty creature,  
Who hony-combs six-angled, as they be,  
With feet dost frame, false Rhoecus and impure,  
With sting hast pricked for his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.    

37  
What is the cause that dogs follow after a stone that is thrown at them, and biteth it, letting the man alone who flung it?  
IS it because he can apprehend nothing by imagination, nor call a thing to mind: which are gifts and virtues proper to man alone? and therefore, seeing he can not discern nor conceive the party indeed that offered him injury, he supposeth that to be his enemy which seemeth in his eye to threaten him, and of it he goes about to be revenged?  
Or thinking the stone whiles it runs along the ground, to be some wild beast, according to his nature he intendeth to catch it first: but afterwards, when he seeth himself deceived and put besides his reckoning, he setteth upon the man?  
Or rather, doth he not hate the stone and man both alike; but pursueth that only which is next unto him?   

38  
What is the reason that at a certain time of the year, she wolves do all whelp within the compass of twelve days?  
ANtipater in his book containing the history of living creatures, affirmeth, that she wolves exclude forth their young ones about the time that mast-trees do shed their blossoms; for upon the taste thereof their wombs open: but if there be none of such blowmes to be had, than their young die within the body, and never come to light. He saith moreover, that those countries which bring not forth oaks and mast, are never troubled nor spoiled with wolves. Some there be who attribute all this to a tale that goes of Latona; who being with child, and finding no abiding place of rest and safety by reason of Juno, for the space of twelve days; during which time, the went to Delos, being transmuted by Jupiter into a wolf, obtained at his hands, that all wolves for ever after might within that time be delivered of their young,   

39  
How cometh it, that water seeming white aloft, showeth to be black in the bottom?  
IS it, for that depth is the mother of darkness, as being that which doth dim and mar the Sun beams before they can descend so low as it: as for the uppermost superficies of the water, because it is immediately affected by the Sun, it must needs receive the white brightness of the light; the which Empedocles verily approveth in these verses: 
Ariver in the bottom seems, by shade of colour black;  
The like is seen in caves and holes, by depth, where light they lack.   
Or many times the bottom of the sea and great rivers being full of mud, doth by the reflection of the Sunbeams represent the like colour that the said mud hath?  
Or is not more probable, that the water toward the bottom is not pure and sincere, but corrupted with an earthly quality, as continually carrying with it somewhat of that, by which it runneth and wherewith it is stirred; and the same settling once to the bottom, causeth it to be more troubled and less transparent?     

PLATONIQVE questions.  

The Summarie.  
IN these gatherings, Plutarch expoundeth the sense of diverse hard places, which are found in the disputations of Socrates, contained in the Dialogues of Plato his disciple, but especially in Timaeus; which may serve to allure young students to the reading of that great Philosopher, who under the bark of words, hath delivered grave and pleasant matters.   

PLATONIQUE QUESTIONS.  

1  
What is the reason, that God otherwhiles commanded Socrates to do the part of a Midwife, in helping others to be delivered of childbirth, but for had himself in any wise to procreate children? according as it is written in a treatise entitled Theaetetus. For we ought not to think that if he had 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to cavil, to 〈◊〉 or to speak ironically in this place, he would have abused the name of God. Besides, in this self same treatise he attributeth many other high and magnifical speeches unto Socrates, & namely this among many others: Certes (quoth he) there be many men (right good sir) who carry this mind to meward, that they are disposed plainly to carp and bite me, in case at any time I seem to rid them of any foolish opinion that they have, neither think they that I do it of good will and meaning well unto them; showing themselves herein far short of this doctrine, That no God beareth evil will to men: no more verily do I this unto them upon any malice: but surely I can not otherwise choose, neither do I think it lawful for me either to smother up and pardon a lie, or to dissemble and suppress a truth.  
IS it for that he termeth his own nature, as being more judicious and inventive, by the name of God? like as Menander doth, saying: 
This mind, this our intelligence.  
In truth is of divine essence.   
And Heraclitus: 
Man's nature we must needs confess,  
Is heavenly and a god doubtless.   
Or rather in very truth, there was some divine and celestial cause, which suggested and inspired into Socrates this manner of philosophy; whereby sifting as he did continually, and examining others, he cured them of all swelling pride, of vain error, of presumptuous arrogancy; likewise of being odious, first to themselves, and afterwards to those about them of their company: for it fortuned about his time, that a number of these sophisters swarmed over all Greece, unto whom young gentlemen resorting & paying good sums of money for their salary, were filled with a great weening and opinion of themselves, with a vain persuasion of their own learning and zealous love to good letters, spending their time in idle disputations, and frivolous contentions, without doing any thing in the world, that was either good, honest, or profitable. Socrates therefore, who had a special gift by his manner of speech and discourse, as it were by some purgative medicine, to argue and convince, was of greater authority and credit when he confuted others, in that he never affirmed nor pronounced resolutely any thing of his own; yea, and he pierced deeper into the souls and hearts of his hearers, by how much he seemed to seek out the truth in common, and never to favorize and maintain any opinion of his own: for this begetting of a man's own fancies, mightily impeacheth the faculty and power to judge another, for evermore the lover is blinded in the behalf of that which he loveth: and verily there is nothing in the world that loveth so much the own, as a man doth the opinions and reason whereof himself was the father; for surely that distribution and partition among children which is commonly said to be most and equal, is in this case of opinions and reasons most unjust; for in the former every one must take his own, but in this he ought to choose the better, yea, though it were another man's: and therefore once again, he that fathereth somewhat of his own, becometh the worse judge of other men's: And like as there was sometime a sophister or great learned man, who said: That the Elians would be the better umpires and judges of the sacred Olympic games, in case there were never any Elian came in place to perform his prizes; even so, he that would be a good precedent to sit and determine of diverse sentences and opinions; no reason there is in the world that he should desire to have his own sentence crowned, no nor to be one of the parties contending, and who in truth are to be judged by him. The Grecian captains after they had defaited the Barbarians, being assembled in counsel to give their voices unto those whom they deemed worthy of reward and honour, for their prowess; judged themselves all to have done the best service, and to be the most valorous warriors. And of philosophers I assure you there is not one but he would do as much, unless it were Socrates and such as he, who confess that they neither have, nor know aught of their own: for these in truth be they who only show themselves to be uncorrupt, and competent judges of the truth, and such as cannot be challenged: for like as the air within our ears if it be not firm and steady, nor clear without any voice of the own, but full of singing sounds, and ringing noises, cannot exactly comprehend that which is said unto us; even so, that which is to judge of reasons in philosophy, if it meet with any thing that resoundeth and keepeth an hammering within, hardly will it be able to understand that which shall be delivered without forth: for the own particular opinion which is domestical and dwelleth at home, of what matter soever it be that is treated of, will always be the philosopher that hitteth the mark, and toucheth the truth best; whereas all the rest shall be thought but to opine probably the truth. Moreover, if it be true that a man is not able perfectly to comprise or know any thing, by good right and reason than did God forbid him to cast forth these false conceptions as it were of untrue and unconstant opinions, and forced him to reprove and detect those who ever had such: for no small profit, but right great commodity comes by such a speech as is able to deliver men from the greatest evil that is, even the spirit of error, of illusion and vanity in opinion: 
So great a gift as God of spectall grace,  
Gave never to Asclepius his race,  For the physic of Socrates was not to heal the body, but to cleanse and purify the soul, festestered inwardly and corrupt. chose, if it be so, that the truth may be known, and that there be but one truth, he who learned it of him that found it not out, hath no less than the inventor himself; yea, & better receiveth it he, who is not persuaded that he hath it: nay, he receiveth that which is simply best of all: much like as he who having no natural children of his own body begotten, taketh the best that he can choose, for to make his adopted child. But consider here with me, whether other kinds of learning deserve not haply to have much study employed in them, as namely, Poetry, Mathematics, the art of Eloquence, and the opinions of Sophisters and great clerks: Therefore God of that divine power whatsoever, forbade Socrates to engender them; but as touching that which Socrates esteemed to be the only wisdom, to wit, the knowledge of God and spiritual things, which he himself calleth the amorous science, there be no men that beget or invent it, but call the same only to remembrance: whereupon Socrates himself never taught any thing, but proposing only unto young men certain beginning of difficulties and doubts, as it were the fore throws of childbirth, stirred up, awakened, and drew forth their own natural wits, and inbred intelligences: and this was it that he called the midwives' art, which brought nothing into them from without, as others would make them believe, who conferred with them, that they infused reason and understanding, but showed only and taught them, that they had already within themselves a mind and understanding of their own, and the same sufficient to nourish, though it were confused and unperfect.   

2  
What is the reason that in some places he called the sovereign God, father and maker of all things?  
WAs it for that he is in truth the father of gods, such as were engendered, and also of men, as Homer calleth him, like as the maker of those creatures which have neither reason nor soul? for according as Chryisppus saith, we use not to call him the father of the secundine wherein the infant is enwrapped within the womb, who conferred genetall seed, although the said secundine be made of the seed.  
Or useth he not a metaphor, as his manner is, when figuratively he termeth him Father of the world, who is the efficient cause, according to his usual manner of speaking; as namely, in the Dialogue entitled Symposium, where he maketh Phaedrus the father of amatorious discourses, for that he it was, who proposed and set abroad the same: like as he named Callipedas in a dialogue bearing his name, The father of philosophical discourses, for that there passed many beautiful speeches in philosophy, whereof he ministered the occasion and beginning?  
Or rather was it not, because there is a difference between father and maker, as also between generation and creation? for whatsoever is engendered, is made, but not è conversò; whatsoever is made, is likewise engendered: semblably, who hath begotten, hath also made; for generation is the making of a living creature: but if we consider a workman, to wit, either a mason or carpenter, a weaver, a lute maker, or imager; certes, the work is distinct and separate from the maker: whereas the moving principle, and the puissance of him who begetteth, is infused into that which is begotten; it containeth his nature, being as it were a parcel distracted from the very substance of him who engendered it. Forasmuch then, as the world doth not resemble a conjunction of many pieces, set, joined, fastened and glued together; but hath in it a great portion of the animal life, yea, and of divinity, which God hath infused and mingled in the matter, as derived from his own nature and substance; good reason it is therefore, that he should be surnamed both the father and maker of the world, being a living creature as it is. These points being very conformable and proportionate to the opinion of Plato, consider withal a little, if this also which I shall deliver, be not likewise accordant thereunto; namely, that the world being composed of two parts, to wit, of body and of soul: the one, which is the body, God hath not engendered; but having the matter thereof exhibited unto him, he hath form, shaped and fitted it, binding and limiting it according to the infinity thereof, with terms, bounds and figures proper thereto: but the soul having a portion of understanding discourse of reason, order and harmony, is not only the work, but also a part of God, not by him, but even of him, and issuing from his own proper substance. In his book therefore of Politics or Common wealth, having divided the whole world, as it were a line into two segments or sections unequal, he subdivideth either section into other twain, after the same proportion: for two general kinds he maketh of all things; the one sensible and visible, the other intelligible: unto the intelligible kind he attributeth in the first degree the primitive forms and Ideae; in the second degree, the Mathematics: and as for the sensible kind, he attributeth thereto in the first rank, all solid bodies; and in the second place, the images and figures of them. Also to every one of these four members of his said division, he giveth his own proper judge: to the first of Idaees, understanding; to the Mathematics, imagination; to the solid bodies, faith and belief; to the images and figures, conjecture. To what end then, and upon what intention hath he divided the whole world into two sections, and the same unequal? and of those two sections, whether is the greater, that of sensible objects, or that of intelligible? As for himself, he hath not showed and declared it: but presently it will appear, that the portion of sensible things is the greater: for the indivisible substance is of things intellectual, being evermore of one sort, and resting upon the same subject in one state, and reduced to very short and narrow room, and the same pure and neat: whereas the other being spread and wandering upon bodies, is that section of sensible things. Moreover, the property of that which is incorporal, is to be definite and determinate. And a body as touching the matter thereof, is indefinite and undeterminate; becoming sensible, when by participation of the intelligible it is made finite and limitable. Over and beside, like as every sensible thing hath many images, many shadows, and many figures, and generally, out of one only pattern there may be drawn many copies and examples, imitated as well by art as by nature; so it can not choose, but the things that here be sensible, should be more in number than they above, which are intelligible, according to the opinion of Plato, supposing this, that things sensible be as it were the images and examples of the original patterns, to wit, the intelligible Ideae. Furthermore, the intelligence of these Idaees and forms by substraction, deduction and division of bodies, is ranged answerable to the order of the Mathematics, arising from Arithmetic which is the science of Numbers, into Geometry, to wit, the skill of measures; then afterwards to Astrology, which is the knowledge of the stars, & in the highest place above all the rest, setteth Harmonicae, which is the skill of sounds and accords: for the subject of Geometry is this, when as to quantity in general, there is adjoined magnitude in length & breadth: of stereometry, when to the magnitude of length and breadth, there is added depth or profundity. Likewise, the proper subject of Astrology is this, when to the solid magnitude there cometh motion. The subject of harmony or music, when to a body moving, there is adjoined sound or voice. If we subtract then and take away, from moving bodies, voice; from solid bodies, motion; from superficies, depth and profundity; and from quantities, magnitude; we shall come by this time to the intelligible Ideae which have no difference among them, in regard of one and sole thing: for unity maketh no number, unless it come once to touch binary or two, which is infinite: but in this wise having produced a number, it proceedeth to points and pricks, from pricks to lines, and so forth from lines to superficies, from superficies to profundities; from thence to bodies, and so forward to the qualities of bodies subject to passions and alrerations. Moreover, of intellectual things, there is no other judge but the understanding or the mind; for cogitation or intelligence, is no other thing but the understanding, so long as it is applied unto Mathematicals, wherein things intellectual appear as within mirrors; whereas, for the knowledge of bodies, by reason of their great number, nature hath given unto us five powers and faculties of several and different senses for to judge withal: and yet sufficient they are not to discover all objects; for many there be of them so 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, they are so far off.  small, that they can not be perceived by the senses. And like as, although every one of us being composed of soul and body, yet that principal part, which is our spirit and understanding, is a very small thing, hidden and enclosed within a great mass of flesh; even so, very like it is, that there is the same proportion within the universal world, between things sensible and intellectual: for the intellectual are the beginning of corporal: now that which proceedeth from a beginning, is always in number more, and in magnitude greater, than the said beginning.  
But on the contrary, a man may reason thus and say: First and foremost, that in comparing sensible and corporal things with intellectual, we do in some sort make mortal things equal with divine, for God is to be reckoned among intellectuals. Now this is to be granted, that the content is always less than the continent; but the nature of the universal world, within the intellectual, comprehendeth the sensible. For God having set the soul in the midst, hath spread and stretched it through all within, and yet without forth hath covered all bodies with it. As for the soul it is invisible, yea and inperceptible to all the natural senses, according as he hath written in his book of laws: and therefore every one of us is corruptible; but the world shall never perish: for that in each of us that which is mortal and subject to dissolution, containeth within it the power which is vital; but in the world it is clean contrary, for the principal puissance and nature, which is ever after one sort immutable, and doth always preserve the corporal part, which it containeth and embraceth within itself. Besides, in a bodily nature and corporal, a thing is called individual and importible for the smallness thereof, to wit, when it is so little that it cannot be divided, but in the spiritual and incorporal, it is so called for the simplicity, sincerity & purity thereof, as being exempt from all multiplicity & diversity: for otherwise folly it were to cast a guess at spiritual things by corporal. Furthermore the very present time which we call Now, is said to be inpartible and indivisible: howbeit, instant together it is every where, neither is their any part of this habitable world without it: but all passions, all actions, all corruptions & generations throughout the world are comprised in this very present Now. Now the only instrument to judge of things intellectual is the understanding, like as the eye, of light; which for simplicity is uniform, & every way like unto itself: but bodies having many diversities & differences, are comprehended by diverse instruments, & judged some by this, and others by that. And yet some there be who unwoorthily disesteem and contemn the intellectual puissance and spiritual which is in us: for in truth, being goodly and great, it surmounteth every sensible thing and reacheth up as far as to the gods. But that which of all others is most, himself in his book entitled Symposium, teaching how to use love and love matters, in withdrawing the soul from the affection of beauties corporal, and applying the same to those which are intellectual, exhorteth us not to subject and enthrall ourselves into the lovely beauty of any body, nor of one study and science, but by erecting and lifting up our minds aloft from such base objects, to turn unto that vast ocean indeed of pulcritude and beauty, which is virtue.   

3  
How cometh it to pass, that considering he affirmeth evermore the soul to be more ancient than the body, as the very cause of the generation of it, and the beginning likewise thereof, yea chose he saith, that the soul was never without the body, nor the understanding without the soul, and that of necessity the soul must be within the body, and the understanding in the soul? for it seemeth that here in there is some contradiction; namely, that the body both is, and is not, in case it be true, that it is together with the soul, and yet nevertheless engendered by the soul?  
IS it because that is true which we oftentimes do say? namely, that the soul without understanding, and the body without form have always been together, & neither the one nor the other had ever commensment of being nor beginning of generation; but when the soul came to have participation of understanding and of harmony, and became to be wise by the means of consonance and accord, than caused she mutation in matter, and being more powerful and strong in her own motions, drew and turned into her the motions of the other? and even so the bodies of the world had the first generation from the soul, whereby it was shaped and made uniform. For the soul of herself, brought not forth the nature of a body, nor created it of nothing, but of a body without all order and form whatsoever, he made it orderly and very obeisant: as if one said that the force of a seed or kernel is always with the body, but yet nevertheless the body of the sig tree or olive tree is engendered of the seed or kernel, he should not speak contrarieties: for the very body itself being moved and altered by the seed, springeth and groweth to be such: semblably the matter void of form and indeterminate, having once been shapen by the soul, which was within, received such a form and disposition.   

4  
What is the reason, that whereas there be bodies and figures some consisting of right lines and others of circular, he hath taken for the foundation and beginning of those which stand of right lines, the triangle Isosceles, with two equal sides, and scalenum, with three sides all unequal. Of which, the triangle with two even legs composed the cube or square body, which is the element and principle of the earth: and the triangle with three unequal legs made the pyramidal body, as also octaedron with eight faces, and cosaedron with twenty faces whereof the first is the element and seed of fire, the second of air, and the third of water: and yet he hath over passed quite all bodies and figures circular: notwithstanding that he made mention of the spherical figure or round body when he said, that every one of those figures above named is apt to divide a globe or spherical body into equal parts?  
IS it as some do imagine and suppose, because he attributed the Dodecaedron, that is to say, the body with twelve faces unto the globe or round sphere, in saying that God made use of this form and figure, in the framing of the world? for in regard of the multitude of elements, and bluntness of angles, it is farthest off from direct and right lines, whereby it is flexible, and by stretching forth round in manner of a ball made of twelve pieces of leather, it approacheth nearest unto roundness, and in that regard is of greatest capacity; for it contained twenty angles solid, and every one of them is comprised and environed within three flat obtuse or blunt angles, considering that every of them is composed of one right and fifth part: moreover compact it is and composed of twelve pentagones', that is to say, bodies with five angles, having their angles and sides equal; of which every one of thirty principal triangles, with three unequal legs: by reason whereof, it seemeth that he followed the degrees of the Zodiac, and the days of the year together, in that division of their parts so equal and just in number.  
Or may not this be the reason, that by nature the right goeth before the round? or rather, to speak more truly, that a circular line seemeth to be some vicious passion or faulty quality of the right, for we use ordinarily to say, that the right line doth bow or bend; and a circle is drawn and described by the centre, and the distance from it to the circumference, which is the very place of the right line, by which it is measured out; for the circumference is on every side equally distant from the centre. Moreover, the Conus, which is a round pyramies; and the Cylindre, which is as it were a round column or pillar of equal compass, are both made of figures with direct lines, the one, to wit, the Conus, by a triangle, whereof one side remaineth firm, and the other with the base goeth round about it: the Cylindre, when the same befalleth to a parallel. Moreover, that which is less, cometh nearest unto the beginning, and resembleth it most: but the least and simplest of all lines is the right; for of the round line that part which is within, doth crook and curb hollow, the other without doth bumpe and bunch. Over and beside, numbers are before figures, for unity is before a prick; seeing that a prick is in position and situation an unity, but an unity is triangular, for that every number triangular, eight times repeated or multiplied, by addition of an unity becometh quadrangular, and the same also befalleth to unity; and therefore a triangle is before a circle, which being so, the right line goeth before the circular. Moreover, an element is never divided into that which is composed of it: but chose, every thing else is divided and resolved into the own elements whereof it doth consist. If then the triangle is not resolved into any thing circular; but chose, two diametres crossing one another, part a circle just into four parts; then we must needs infer the figure consisting of right lines, went before those which are circular: now that the right line goeth first, and the circular doth succeed and follow after, Plato himself hath showed by demonstration, namely when he saith, that the earth is composed of many cubes or square solid bodies, whereof every one is enclosed, and contained with right lined superfices, in such manner disposed, as yet the whole body and mass of the earth seemeth round like a globe, so that we need not to make any proper element thereof round; if it be so that bodies with right lines, conjoined and set in some sort one to another, bringeth forth this form; Over and beside the direct line, be it little or be it great, keepeth always the same rectitude: whereas chose we see the circumferences of circles if they be small, are more coping, bending, and contracted in their outward curvature: conrrariwise, if they be great, they are more extent, lax, and spread, insomuch as they that stand by the outward circumference of circles, lying upon a flat superfices, touch the same underneath, partly by a prick if they be small, and in part by a line if they be large; so as a man may very well conjecture, that many right lines joined one to another tail to tail by piecemeal, produce the circumference of a circle. But consider whether there be none of these our circular or spherical figures, exquisitely and exactly perfect; but in regard of the extentions and circumtentions of right lines, or by reason of the exility and smallness of the parts, there can be perceived no difference, and thereupon there showeth a circular and round figure: And therefore it is, that there is not a body here, that by by nature doth move circularly, but all according to the right line; so that the round and spherical figure is not the element of a sensible body, but of the soul and understanding, unto which he attributeth likewise the circular motion as belonging unto them naturally.   

5  
In what sense and meaning delivered he this speech in his book entitled Phaedrus, that the nature of a wing, where by that which is heavy and ponderous, is carried up aloft, of all other things that belong unto a body, hath a certain communion and participation with God?  
IS it because he discourseth there of love; and love is occupied about the beauty of the body, and this beauty for the resemblance that it hath to divinity, doth move the mind, and excite the reminiscence thereof?  
Or rather are we to take it simply without curious searching farther into any mystery thereof? namely, that the soul being within the body, hath many faculties & powers, whereof that which is the discourse of reason and understanding, doth participate with the deity, which he not unproperly and impertinently termeth a wing, because it lifteth up the soul from things base and mortal, unto the consideration of heavenly and celestial matters.   

6  
How is it that Plato in some places saith, the Anteperistasis of motion, that is to say, the circumstant contrariety debarring a body to move, in regard that there is no voidness or vaculty in nature, is the cause of those effects which we see in physicians ventoses and cupping glasses of swallowing down our viands, of throwing of 〈◊〉 weights, of the course and conveyance of waters of the fall of lightnings, of the attraction that amber maketh of the drawing of the loadstone, and of the accord and consonance of voices? For it seemeth against all reason to yield one only cause, for so many effects so diverse and so different in kind. First, as touching the respiration in living creatures, by the anteperistasis of the air, he hath elsewhere sufficiently declared, but of the other effects, which seem as he saith to be miracles, and wonders in nature, and are nothing, for that they be nought else but bodies reciprocally and by alternative course, driving one another out of place round about, and mutually succeeding in their rooms, he hath left for to be discussed by us, how each of them particularly is done?  
FIrst and foremost for ventoses and cupping glasses thus it is. The air that is contained within the ventose, striking as it doth into the flesh, being inflamed with heat, and being now more fine and subtle than the holes of the brass (box or glass) whereof the ventose is made, getteth forth, not into a void place, for that is impossible, but into that other air which is round about the said ventose without forth, and driveth the same from it; and that forceth other before it, and thus as it were from hand to hand, whiles the one giveth place, and the other driveth continually, and so entereth into the vacant place which the first left, it cometh at length to fall upon the flesh which the ventose sticketh fast unto, and by heating and enchasing, it expresseth the humour that is within, into the ventose or cupping vessel.  
The swallowing of our victuals is after the same manner, for the cavities as well of the mouth as of the stomach, be always full of air: when as then, the meat is driven within the passage or gullet of the throat, partly by the tongue and partly by the glandulous parts or kernels called tonsells, and the muscles which now are stretched, the air being pressed and strained by the said meat, followeth it hard as it giveth place, and sticking close, it is a means to help for to drive it downward.  
Semblably the weighty things that be flung, as big stones and such like, cut the air and divide it, by reason that they were sent out and leveled with a violent force; then the air all about behind, according to the nature thereof, which is to follow where a place is lest vacant and to fill it up, pursueth the mass or weight aforesaid that is lanced or discharged forcibly, and setteth forward the motion thereof.  
The shooting and ejaculation of lightning is much what after the manner of these weights thrown in manner aforesaid, for being inflamed and set on a light fire, it flasheth out of a cloud by the violence of a stroke, into the air, which being once open and broken, givith place unto it, and then closing up together above it, driveth it down forcibly against the own nature.  
As for amber, we must not think that it draweth any thing to it of that which is presented before it, no more than doth the load stone; neither that any thing coming near to the one or the other, leapeth thereupon. But first, as touching the said stone; it sendeth from it I wot not what strong and flatuous fluxions, by which the air next adjoining giving back, driveth that which is before it; and the same turning round and reentring again into the void place, doth 〈◊〉 from it and withal carry with it the iron to the stone. And for amber it hath likewise a certain flagrant and flatulent spirit, which when the outside thereof is rubbed, it putteth forth by reason that the pores thereof are by that means opened. And verily that which issueth out of it, worketh in some measure the like effect that the Magnet or loadstone did: and drawn there are unto it such matters near at hand as be most light and dry, by reason that the substance coming thereof is but slender and weak: neither is itself strong nor hath sufficient weight and force, for to chase and drive before it a great deal of air, by means whereof it might overcome greater things, as the loadstone doth. But how is it that this air driveth and sendeth before it neither wood nor stone, but iron only, and so bringeth it to the Magnet? This is a doubt and difficulty that much troubleth all those who suppose that this meeting and cleaving of two bodies together, is either by the attraction of the stone, or by the natural motion of the iron. Iron is neither so hollow and spungeous as is wood, nor so fast and close, as is gold or stone, but it hath small holes, passages and rough aspecties, which in regard of the unequality are well proportionate and fortable to the air, in such wise, as it runneth not easily through, but hath certain stays by the way to catch hold of, so as it may stand steady and take such sure footing, as to be able to force and drive before it the iron until it have brought it to kiss the loadstone. And thus much for the causes and reasons that may be rendered of these effects.  
As considering the running of water above ground, by what manner of compression and coarctation rood about, it should be performed it is not so easy either to be perceived or declared. But thus much we are to learn, that for waters of lakes, which stir not but continue always in one place, it is because the air, spread all about, and keeping them in on every side, moveth not nor leaveth unto them any vacant place. For even so the upper face of the water, as well in lakes as in the sea, riseth up into waves and billows, according to the agitation of the air; for the water still followeth the motion of the air, and floweth or is troubled with it, by reason of the inequalities. For the stroke of the air downward maketh the hollow dent of the wave: but as the same is driven upward it causeth the swelling and surging tumour of the wave until such time as all the place above containing the water be settled and laid, for then the waves also do cease, and the water likewise is still and quiet. But now for the course of waters which glide and run continually above the face of the ground: the cause thereof is because they always follow hard after the air that giveth way and yet are chased by those behind by compression and driving forward, and so by that means maintain a continual stream that never resteth: which is the reason also that great rivers when they are full and do overflow the banks, run with a more swift and violent stream: and chose when there is but a little water in the channel, they glide more slowly, because the air before doth nothing so much give place, for that they are more feeble: neither is there so great an antiperistasis to urge and press them forward; and even so the spring waters must of necessity boil and rise upward, for that the outward air entering closely into the void hollow places within the ground sendeth up again the water forth.  
The paved floor of a dark close house, containing in it a great deal of still air, without any wind from without entering into it, if a man do cast water upon it, engendereth presently a wind and cold vapour; by reason that the air is displaced and removed out of his seat, by the water which fell, and is thereby beaten, and receiveth the stroke and dint thereof. For this is the nature of them, to drive one another, and likewise to give place one to the other interchangeably, admitting in no wise any emptiness, wherein the one of them should be so settled, as that it did not reciprocally feel the change and alteration of the other.  
To come now unto the above named symphony and consonance, himself hath declared how it is that that sounds and voices do accord: for the small and treble is quick and swift; whereas the big and base is heavy and slow. And thereupon it is, that small and shrill sounds do move the sense of hearing before others: but if when these begin to fall and decay, the 〈◊〉 and base begin to succeed and receive then the mixture and temperature of them both, by a kind of conformity yieldeth a delight and pleasure to the ear, which they call a symphony or accord. And that here of the air is the instrument, it may evidently appear by that which we have said already: for voice is a stroke or percussion by the air of that which the ear doth hear; for as the air is smitten by motion, so it striketh again the auditory organ forcibly, if the motion be quick; and gently, if the same be slow: and that which is stricken forcibly with a violence, cometh first into the sense of hearing, but afterwards, turning about and meeting with that which is more slow, it followeth and accompanieth the sense.   

7  
What is the meaning of Timaeus, when he saith: That the souls are dispersed and sown (as it were) upon the ground the moon and all other instruments of time what soever.  
IS it because he was of opinion, that the earth did move like unto the sun, moon and other five planets, which he calleth the instruments of time, because of their conversions? and held beside, that we ought not to imagine the earth so framed, as if it were firm and immovable, fast fixed and perpetually to the axle-tree or pole that passeth thorough the world; but that it turneth round in manner of a wheel: like as afterwards Aristarchus and Seleucus have showed; the one supposing it only, the other affirming so much flatly. To say nothing of that which Theophrastus wrote; namely, how Plato toward the latter end of his days, repent that he had assigned unto the earth the centre and middle of the world, a place 〈◊〉 unfit and unmeet for it?  
Or rather, because this is directly repugnant unto many sentences which this philosopher undoubtedly held, we ought therefore to change the writing of this place of 〈◊〉, by putting the dative case in stead of the genetive, to wit, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 yea, and to understand by the instruments of time, not the planets or stars, but the bodies of living creatures; according as Aristotle hath defined the soul, to be a continual act of a body, Natural, Organical, having life potentially: so that the sentence in the foresaid place should be read thus; The souls have been disseminated and 〈◊〉 by time in organical bodies, meet and agreeable for them. And yet even this also is contrary unto his owne-opinion: for that not in one only place, but in many, he hath called the stars, instruments of time, considering that he affirmeth that the very sun was made to distinguish and keep the number of time with other planets. The best way is therefore to understand, That the earth is the instrument of time, not because it moveth as do the stars; but for that so continuing as it doth, always firm and steady in itself, it giveth means unto the stars moving round about it, to rise and to fall; whereby are limited the day and the night, which are the first measures of time: and therefore himself hath called it the Guardien, yea, the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in deed and right truly of night and day: for the Gnomon in Sun dials, not moving with the shadows, but standing still and keeping their place, are the instruments and measures of time, representing the obstacle of the earth opposite unto the Sun moving round about it; like as Empedocles saith: 
The earth set just twixt Sun beams and our sight,  
Shuts up the day and bringeth in the night.  And thus much for the enodation of this knot.  
But haply this a man may doubt to be a strange and absurd speech, to say that the Sun, together with the Moon & the planets, were made for distinction of times: for otherwise by itself, great is the dignity of the Sun; and Plato himself in his books of Commonwealth, calleth him the king and lord of all the sensible world, like as Good he pronounceth to be the sovereign of the intelligible world. And the Sun (saith he) is the very issue extract from that Good, giving unto things visible, together with their appearance, being also, & subsistence; like as Good giveth unto intelligible things this gift, both to have a being, and also to be known. Now, that God having such puissance and so great, should be the instrument of time, and an evident rule and measure of the difference that is of swiftness or of slowness among the eight heavenly spheres, seemeth not very decent; no nor any consonant to reason. It remaineth therefore thus much to say, those who trouble themselves about these points, for very ignorance are deceived, supposing that time according to the definition of Aristotle, is the measure of motion, and the number in regard of priority and posteriority: or the quantity in motion after the opinion of Speusippus: or else the distance of motion, and no other thing, as the Stoics describe it, desining forsooth one accident, but never coming near unto the substance and power thereof, which as it should seem, the poet Pindarus imagined and conceived not amiss when he said: 
In right of age, time hath this odds,  
That it surpasseth all the gods.  Pythagor as also, who being asked what time was? answered: The soul of the heaven: for time be it what it will be, is not some accident or passion of any motion, but it is the cause, the puissance and the principle of that proportion, and order that containeth and holdeth together all things, according to which, the nature of the world, and this whole universality, which also is animate, doth move, or rather the very same proportion itself and order which doth move, is the thing that we call time: 
For walk it doth with silent pace,  
In way where as no noise is made:  
Conducting justly to their place,  
All mortal things that pass and fade.  And verily according to the mind of ancient philosophers, the substance of the soul was defined to be a number moving itself; which is the reason why Plato said: That time and heaven were made together; but motion was before heaven, at what time as there was no heaven at all; for why, there was no order nor measure whatsoever, no nor any distinction, but an undeterminate motion, like as the matter was rude without form & figure: but after that nature once had cast this matter into a colour, and had shaped it with form and figure, and then determined motion with periodical revolutions, she made withal, both the world and time both at once; which two are the very images of God: to wit, the world of his substance, and time of his eternity; for God in that he moveth, is time, and in that he hath being, is the world. This is the reason why he saith: That both of them coming together, shall likewise both be dissolved together, in case that ever there will be any dissolution of them. For that which had a beginning and generation, cannot be without time, no more than that which is intelligible without eternity; in case the one is to continue for ever, and the other being once made, shall never perish and be dissolved. Time then being so necessarily linked and interlaced with the heaven, is not simply a motion, but as we have said already, a motion ordained by order, which hath a just measure, set limits and bonds, yea and certain revolutions; of all which, the sun being superintendant, governor and director, for to dispose, limit, and digest all; for to discover, set out and show, the alterations and seasons the which bring forth all things, as 〈◊〉 saith: confessed it must be, that he is a workman cooperant with that chief and sovetaigne God, the prince of all, not in petty, base, and frivolous things, but in the greatest and most principal works that be.   

8  
PLato in his books of commonwealth, having excellently well compared the symphony of the three faculties & powers of the soul, to wit, the reasonable, the irascible & concupiscible, unto the musical harmony of the notes, Mese, Hypate, and Neat, hath given occasion for a man to doubt, whether he set the irascible or reasonable part, correspondent to the mean? seeing that he showed not his meaning in this present place; for according to the situation of the parts of the body, wherein these faculties are seated, surely the courageous and irascible is placed in the mids, and answered to the region of Mese the mean: but the reasonable is ranged into the place of Hypate: for that which is aloft, first and principal our ancestors used to call Hypaton: according to which sense Xenocrates calleth Jupiter or the air (that I mean which converseth above where all things continue the same, and after one sort) Hypatos; like as that which is under the moon, Neatos. And before him Homer speaking of the sovereign God and prince of princes, saith thus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, our sovereign and supreme of all rulers. And in truth, nature hath by very good right given unto the best part of the soul, the highest place in lodging the discourse of reason, as the governor of the rest within the head; but hath removed far from thence to the base and inferior members, the concupiscible: for the low situation is called Neat, according as appeareth by the denomination of the dead, who are termed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, inferior or infernal: and for this cause, some therebe who say, that the wind which bloweth from beneath, and out of places unseen, that is to say, from the pole Antarctic, is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the south. Since than it is so, that there is the same proportion of contrariety between concupiscible and reasonable parts of the soul, as there is between lowest and highest, last and first; it is not possible, that reason should be the highest and principal, and not withal, correspondent to Hypate, but to some other note in music: for they who attribute unto her as unto the principal faculty and power Mese, that is to say, the mean, see not (ignorant as they be) how they take from her that which is more principal, to wit, Hypate, which cannot fit well either with ire or lust, for both these, the one and the other are made for to follow, and be commanded by reason, and not to command or go before reason. Moreover, it should seem by nature, that anger ought to have the mean and middle place, considering that naturally reason is to command; and anger both to command and be commanded, as being on the one side subject to the discourse of reason, and on the other side, commanding lust, yea, and punishing it, when she is disobedient to reason. And like as in grammar, those letters which we call semi-vowels, be of a middle nature, between mute consonants and vowels: for that as they sound more than the one, so they sound less than the other: even so in the soul of man, wrath is not simply a mere passion, but hath many times an appearance of duty and honesty mixed with desire of revenge. And Plato himself comparing the substance of the soul unto a couple of horses drawing a chariot, and guided by a chariot man, who driveth them, and understandeth by the driver & guide, as every man well knows the discourse of reason: now of the two steeds, that of lusts and pleasures is frampold, skittish, flinging, winsing, unruly altogether, and unbroken, stiff-necked, deaf, hardly caring either for whip or spur; where as the other of 〈◊〉, is for the most part tractable, and obeisant to the bridle of reason, yea, and ready to join with it in execution of good things. And like as in a chariot with two horses, the driver or chariotman is not in virtue and puissance the middle, but rather one of the horses, which is worse than the chariot man, and better than his 〈◊〉 that draweth with him: even so likewise hath not he given the middle place unto that part which doth rule and govern in the soul, but unto that wherein there is less passion than in the first, and more reason than in the third: for this order and disposition observeth the proportion of the irascible to the reasonable part, as is of 〈◊〉 to Hypate; and to the concupiscible, as Dapente to Neat: also of the reasonable part to the concupiscible, as Hypate to Neat, which is Dia-pason: But if we draw reason and the discourse thereof to the mean, anger shall be farther off from lust and concupiscence, which some of the philosophers held to be one and the selfsame thing, for the great similitude and resemblance between them.  
Or rather, it is but a ridiculous thing to attribute unto the places, first, 〈◊〉, and last, seeing (as we do) how in a harp, lute, or stringed instrument, Hypate hath the first and highest place; but in flutes and pipes the lowest & the last: furthermore, the mean in what place soever of the harp or lute you set it, you shall find it soundeth always the same note still, to wit, smaller than Hypate, & bigger than Neat: for the very eye itself hath not the same situation in all creatures, but in any creature, and in what place soever it is set according to nature, always it is ordained and made for to see. Like as therefore the pedagogue or governor of youth, who ordinarily cometh behind, and goeth not before his children, is notwithstanding said to lead and guide them: And the captain of the trojans in Homer: 
Who with the foremost in the front, sometimes appeared in sight,  
And in the rearward other while, his men strred up to fight.  As well in the one part as the other, was always the chief, and had the principal power: even so we ought not to force the parts of the soul to any places or names, but to examine and search the power and proportion of them; for that the discourse of reason in situation should be set in the first and principal place of man's body, falleth out accidentally: but the first and principal power it hath, as being Mese or the mean, in regard of Hypate, the concupiscible part; and Neat the irascible, by letting down and setting up, by making consonance and accord, by taking from the one and the other that which is excessive; and again, by not suffering them either to be let loose and slack altogether, or to lie asleep: for mediocrity and a competent temperature, is limited by a mean; or rather to speak more properly, a principal piece of work this is, and a singular gift and puissance of reason, to make and imprint in passions, means and mediocrities, if we may so say, which are called holy and sacred, consisting in a temperature of two extremities with reason, yea and between them both by the means of reason: for the teeme of two steeds hath not for the mean & in the midst, that of two which is better: neither are we to imagine, that the government of them is one of the extremities; but rather we ought to think, that it is the mids and mediocrity betwixt the immoderate celerity or slowness of the two steeds; like as the power of reason which holdeth in the passions when they stir without measure and reason, and by composing and framing them unto her in measurable proportion, setteth down a mediocritic and mean between too much, and over little, between excess (I say) and defect.   

9  
What is the reason that Plato saith: Our speech is tempered and composed of nouns and of verbs? for he seemeth to make no account of all other parts of speech beside these two: and to think that Homer in a gallant youthful humour to show his fresh wit affected to thrust them all eight into this one verse: 

* The sense of this is altogether 〈◊〉, depending of the precedent and subsequent verses, but serving the turn as it stands, it 〈◊〉 not to be done into English.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,   
For here you have a pronoun, a Participle, a Noun, a Verb, a Preposition, an Article, a Conjunction, and an adverb for the Participle, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is put in stead of the Preposition 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to: and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to thy tent, is after the manner of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to Athens: But what shall we answer in the behalf of Plato.  
IS it for that in old time they called that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the first speech, which then was named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, a proposition, and now they term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, dignity: which when they utter first, they either lie or speak truth. And this proposition is compounded of a Noun and a verb, whereof the one is called by the Logicians, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the case; the other, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the predicable or praedicatum. For when we hear one say, Socrates teacheth; and again, Socrates is turned; we say the one is true, and the other is false: and we require no more words. For it is probable that men at the first had need of speech and voice articulate, when they were desirous to explain and signify one unto another the actions and the persons and the doers thereof: like as the passions and the persons who suffer the same. Forasmuch then, as by the Verb we express sufficiently the actions and passions; and by the Noun, the persons doing or suffering according as he himself saith; it seemeth that these be the two parts of speech that he meaneth: as for the rest, a man may well and truly say, that they signify nothing, no more than do the groans, sighs and lamentations of players in a tragedy, yea, and many times iwis, a smile, a reticence or keeping silence, which otherwhiles may well express a speech, and make it more emphatical; but surely, no necessary and significative power have they to declare aught, like as the Verb & the Noun hath: only they serve as accessary adjuncts, to vary, illustrate & beautify the speech; like as they also diversify the very letters, who put to their spirits and aspirations, their accents also to some, whereby they make them long & short, and reckon them for elements & letters indeed, whereas they be passions, accidents, & diversifications of elements, rather than distinct elements by themselves; as it appeareth manifestly by this, that our ancients contented themselves sufficiently to speak and write with sixteen letters and no more. Moreover, consider and see whether we do not take the words of Plato otherwise than he delivered them; when he saith that the speech is tempered of these two parts, and not by them. Take heed (I say) we commit not the same error as he doth, who should cavil and find fault with one for saying, that such an ointment or salve was made of wax and galbanum, alleging against him for so saying, that he left out fire and the vessel, without which a man knoweth not how to temper the said simples or drogues: for even so, if we should reprove him because he omitted the naming of Conjunctions, Prepositions and other parts of speech, we were likewise to be blamed: for in truth, a speech or sentence is not compounded of these parts, but by them and not without them. For like as he, who should pronounce simply these Verbs, To beat, or To be beaten; or otherwise these bare Nouns, Socrates or Pythagoras; giveth some light (such as it is) of a thing to be conceived & understood: but he that should come out with these odd words, For, or Of, and say no more, a man can not 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  imagine what he meaneth thereby, nor gather any conception either of action or of body; for if there be not some other words pronounced with them or about them, they resemble naked sounds and vain noises without any significations at all: for that neither by themselves alone, nor one with another, it is possible that they should betoken any thing. Nay, admit that we should conjoin, mingle and interlace together Conjunctions, Articles and Prepositions all in one, minding to make one entire body of them all, we shall seem rather to creak than speak: but so soon as a Verb is joined to a Noun, that which resulteth thereupon is immediately a sentence and significant speech. And therefore not without good reason some do think that these two (to speak properly) be the only parts of speech. And peradventure Homer had some such meaning, and gave us so much to understand, by saying in so many places, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
He spoke the word, and with the same,  
Immediately out came the name.  For by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the word; his manner is to signify a Verb: as namely in this other verse, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Now surely woman, much to blame thou art,  
This word to speak, it strikes so to my hart.  As also elsewhere: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 good Father; guest and friend  
Farewell: And if some word unkind  
Hath been let fall, I wish it may  
By winds and storms be caught away.  For surely it is neither Conjunction, Article, nor Preposition, that can be said either unkind or to touch the heart, but some Verb signifying a shameful deed, proceeding from an undecent and dishonest passion. And therefore you see how we are wont to praise poets and historiographers, or otherwise to blame and dispraise them, saying in this wise: Such a poet hath used Attic Nouns and elegant Verbs: and chose, Such an historiographer hath used trivial and base Nouns and Verbs. And no man will say that either Euripides or 〈◊〉 wrote a style consisting of Articles that were homely and base, or otherwise elegant and Attic.  
How then (may some one say) serve these parts to no purpose in our speech? Yes iwis say I, even as much as salt in our meats, or water for our bread and gruel. Euenus' was wont to say that fire also was an excellent kind of sauce: and even so be these parts of speech the seasoning of our language, like as fire and salt of our broths and viands, without the which we can not well do: and yet our speech doth not always of necessity stand in need of them: for so me thinks I may very well affirm of the Roman language, that all the world I see in manner useth at this day: for the Romans take away all Prepositions, except a very few; and as for those that be called Articles, they admit not so much as one, but use their Nouns plain, and as one would say, without skirts and borders. Whereat we may wonder the less, considering that Homer, who for trim and beautiful verses surpassed all other poets, set to very few Nouns any Articles as ears unto cups and other vessels, for to take hold by, or as pennaches and crests upon morions: and therefore look in what verses he useth so to do, be sure they were of special mark, or else suppositions and suspected to be none of his making. As for example: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
This speech the courage most of all excited then anon,  
Of Ajaz, him I mean, who was the son of Telamonius.  Again: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
This did he that, by flying thus apace,  
He might escape the whale that was in chase.  And a few others besides these. But in the rest which are innumerable, although there be no Article, yet the phrase of speech is thereby nothing diminished or hurt either in beauty or perspicuity. And thus we see, that neither living creature, if it be maimed or dismembered, nor instrument, nor armour, nor any thing in the world whatsoever, by the want and defect of any proper part belonging thereto, is the more beautiful or active thereby, neither more pleasant than it was therefore: whereas a speech or sentence, when all the Conjunctions be taken quite away, is many times more emphatical, yea, and carrieth a power and efficacy more pathetical and apt to move and affect, as this: 
One sound, unhurt, she catching fast, another wounded new,  
Alive she held, another dead, in sight by heels she drew.  Also this place of Demosthenes his oration against Midias: For many things may he do who striketh, whereof, some the party who suffereth, can not declare unto another, by jesture, his port, by regard, his eye, in his voice, when he wrongeth insolently in a bravery, when he offereth injury as an enemy, when with the clutched fist, when upon the cheek, when upon the ear: this moveth, this is that removeth, that transporteth men beside themselves, who are not acquainted with outrages, who have not been used to bear such abuses. And again another place afterwards. But it is not Midias. He from this day is a speaker, he maketh orations, he raileth, exclaimeth, he passeth somewhat by his voice: Is there any election? Midias the Anagyrrhasian is propounded, he is nominated. Midias interteineth Plutarch in the name of the city, he knoweth all secrets; the city is not sufficient to hold him. This is the reason that they who write of rhetorical figures, so highly praise Asyndeton: whereas those who are so precise, so religious, and too observant of Grammar, that they dare not leave out one Conjunction otherwise than they were accustomed to do: The said rhetoricians think blamewoorthy and to be reproved, as making the style dull, enervate, without affection, tedious and irksome, by reason that it runs always after one sort, without change and variety.  
Now whereas logicians have more need than any other professors in learning of Conjunctions copulatives, for to knit and connex their propositions or disjunctives, to disjoin and distinguish them; like as wainemen or carters have need of yokes or gears; or as Ulysses had of osiers in Cyclops his cave to bind his sheep together: This doth not argue, nor prove that the Conjunction is a substantial member or part of speech; but a pretty instrument and means to bind and conjoin according as the very name of it doth import, and to keep and hold together not all words or sentences indifferently, but such alone as are not simply spoken: unless men will say, that the chord or gird wherewith a pack or farthel is bound, is a part of the said pack, or the paste and glue a part of the book; or donatives and largesses, a part of politic government; like as Demades was wont to say: That the dole of money distributed by the poll to the citizens in the theatres for to see the plays, was the very glue of the popular State. And tell me what conjunction is that which will make of many propositions one, by couching and knitting them together, as the marble doth unite the iron that is cast and melted with it by the fire; and yet I trow no man will say, that the marble for all that is part of the iron, or so to be called. Howbeit, such things verily as enter into a composition, and which be liquefied together with the drogues mingled therewith, are wont after a sort to do and suffer reciprocally from the ingredients. But as for these conjunctions, there be who deny that they do unite any one thing, saying: That this manner of speaking with conjunctions is no other but a certain enumeration, as if a man should reckon in order all our magistrates, or count the days of a month .  
Moreover, of all other parts of speech, it is very evident, that the pronoun is a kind of Noun, not only in this respect, that it is declmed with cases, as the Noun is; but also for that some of them being pronounced and uttered of things and persons determinate, do make a most proper demonstration of them accordant to their nature: neither can I see, how he who hath expressly named Socrates, hath declared his person more, than he who said. This man here.  
To come now unto that which they term a Participle, surely it is a very medley and mixture of a Noun and a Verb, and not a part of speech subsisting alone of itself, no more than those Nouns or names which are common to Masculine and Feminine: and these Participles are ranged with them both; with Nouns in respect of their cases, and with Verbs in regard oftenses: and verily the logicians call such, terms reflected, as for example, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, wiisely foreseeing; is a reflection of a wise foreseer: and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, minding sobriety, is a reflection of a sober minded person, that is to say, as if they had the nature and power of Nouns and appellations.  
As touching Prepositions, a man may liken them very well to pennaches, crests, or such like ornaments above morions or head attires, or else to bases, predstals, and footsteps under statues and pillars: forasmuch as they are not so much parts of speech, as busy and conversant about them: but see I pray you whether they may not be compared to truncheons, pieces, and fragments of words, like as those who when they write a running hand in haste, do not always make out the letters full, but use pricks, minims and dashes. For these two Verbs 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, be both of them manifest clippings of the full and complete words 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, whereof the one signifieth to enter in, the other to go forth. Likewise 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is a plain abbreviation of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to be borne, or have being before. Also 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to sit down, or cause one to sit down. Semblable 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 men are disposed to say for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say to fling stones, and to dig through walls, when they are disposed to make haste to speak short. And therefore a man may well say, that every one of these, excepting Noun and Verb, do some good in our speech, and help well in a sentence, but for all that, they cannot be called either elements of speech: for there is none but the Noun and the Verb, as it hath been said before, that maketh this composition, containing verity and falsity, which some term proposition, others axiom, and 〈◊〉 nameth speech or oration.     

A COMMENTARY OF THE CREATION OF THE SOUL, WHICH PLATO DESCRIBETH IN HIS BOOK TIM A US.  

The Summarie.  
AMong those discourses which may exercise the wits, and busy the brains of most curious spirits, those of Plato may be ranged, which in diverse places of his dialogues, but especially in his Timaeus he hath delivered, and namely, where he treateth of nature metaphysically, intermingling with a certain deep and profound manner of doctrine (as a man may perceive by his writings) his resolutions as I may say irresolute, proceeding all from the ignorance of the sacred story and the true sense of Moses. As for example, that which he saith as touching the soul of the world: an absurd and fantastical opinion, if it be not handled and expounded aright. Our author being minded in this treatise to dispute philosophically upon the creation of the said soul, runneth thorough numbers, tones, tunes and harmonies, aswell terrestrial as celestial, for to declare the meaning of Plato: but with such brevity in many places, that a man had need to read with both his eyes, and to have his mind wholly intentive and amused upon his words, for the under standing of him. Meanwhile, this would be considered, seeing that in such matters we have (God be thanked) sufficient to resolve us in the word of God, and the good books of the doctors of the church, all this present discourse should be read, as coming out of the hands of a man walking in darkness; and to speak in one word, of one blind himself and following a blind guide: to the end that in stead of highly admiring these subtleties of Plato, as some in these days do, whose heads are not stayed and well settled, we might know that the higher that man in his wisdom mounteth with his pen, far from God's school, the less he is to be received and accepted of.   

A COMMENTARY OF THE creation of the soul, which Plato describeth in his book Timaeus.  
The father to his two sons AUTOBULUS and PLUTARCH, Greeting.  
FOrasmuch as ye are of this mind, that whatsoever I have here and there said and written in diverse places by way of exposition touching that which I supposed in mine opinion Plato held, thought and understood concerning the soul, aught to be reduced & brought together into one; and that I should do well to declare the same at large in a special 〈◊〉 apart by itself, because it is not a matter which otherwise is easy to be handled and managed; as also for that seeming as it doth, somewhat contrary to most of the Platonique philosophers themselves: in which regard it had need to be well mollified. I will therefore in the first place set down the very text of Plato in his own proper terms, word for word, as I find them written in his book entitled Timaeus.  
Of that indivisible substance which always continueth about the same things; as also of that which is divisible by many bodies, he composed a third kind of substance in the mids of them both, holding partly of the nature of The same, and in part of The other: and this he ordained and set in the mids between the indivisible substance conversant about the same things, and the other which is divisible by bodies. Then taking these three natures or substances, he mixed them altogether into one form or idea, and fitted perforce the nature of The other, which was unto ward to be mixed, to that nature of The same. Having thus mingled them with Substance, and of three made one, he divided this whole again into such portions, as were fit and convenient: each one of them being mingled with The same, with The other, and with Substance. And this division of his he began in this manner, etc.  
To begin withal if I should discourse unto you at this present what a number of disputations and contentious debates, these words have ministered unto those who took upon them to expound the same, it were for myself a piece of work endless, and for you who have read the most part of them together with me, a labour needless. But seeing that of the most principal and excellent professors, Xenocrates hath drawn some unto his opinion, in defining the substance of the soul to be a number moving itself: and others have ranged themselves to Crantor of Soli, who affirmed the 〈◊〉 to be tempered of the nature intellectual & of the other which is opinionative about objects sensible; I suppose that these two sentences being well displayed and opened will make the way and give you an easy entrance to the understanding and finding of that which we seek for and is in question. And verily there need not many words for the exposition of them both. For 
* 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  the one sort of them think that Plato meaneth nothing else but the generation of number, by the said mixture of indivisible with divisible: for that unity is indivisible, and plurality divisible: of which twain is engendered and produced number, whiles unity doth determine plurality, and limit out an end to that which is infinite, to wit, the binary or two indeterminate: which is the reason that Zaratas the master of 〈◊〉 called two the mother, and one the father of numbers: as also for that the better numbers be those which resembled unity: and yet for all that this number is not the soul, because that both the motor and the moovable is wanting: but when The same and the other were mingled together, of which the one is the beginning of motion and mutation, the other of rest and station, then cometh the soul to have a being, which is as well the principal, to stay and to be stayed, as it is to move and to be moved.  
But Crantor and his followers supposing that the proper and principal operation of the soul was to judge things intelligible and sensible, together with the similitudes and dissimilitudes which they have, as well themselves, as one in respect of another, affirm, that the soul is composed of All, to the end that she may judge of all. The which All aforesaid standeth upon four principal kinds; the first is a nature intelligible, which is always one and evermore after the same sort: the second a nature passable and mutable concerning bodies: the third the nature of the same: and the forth the nature of the other: for the two first, participate in some sort both of the same and also of the other. But all these do jointly and equally hold, that the soul was never after a certain time, nor ever engendered, but hath many powers and faculties, into which Plato resolving for speculative disputation sake, the substance of her, supposeth in word only, that she was engendered mixed and tempered, saying moreover that he thought as much of the world: for full well he knew, that eternal it was and ingenerable, but seeing it was not easy to comprehend how, and in what order it was found, composed, governed and administered, for those who at the first presupposed not the creation and generation neither of itself, or of such things as concurred thereto, he therefore took the course to speak in such sort.  
This much you see in sum what they both do say: which when Eudorus well considered, he thought there was good probability both in the one and the other of their opinions, but for mine own part, persuaded verily I am, that neither of them twain hath touched the point, or come near unto the mind and meaning of Plato.  
If we will use the rule of probability & verisimilitude indeed, not fully building our own proper opinions, but be willing for to say something agreeable & accordant thereto; for that mixture of the substance intelligible and sensible which they speak of, giveth not us to understand thereby, that it is the generation of the soul, more than of any other thing whatsoever that a man may name. For the very world and every part thereof is compounded of a substance intelligible or spiritual, and of a substance sensible or corporal: whereof the one hath furnished the thing that is made and engendered with form and shape, the other with subject matter. And as much of the matter as is form by participation or resemblance of the intelligible, becometh incontinently palpable and visible: but the soul is not perceptible by any sense. Neither was it ever found that Plato called the soul number, but always a motion moving of itself, yea the very fountain & beginning of motion. True it is, I confess that embellished he hath & adorned the substance thereof with number, proportion, accord & harmony, which he hath bestowed therein as in a subject capable & susceptible of the most beautiful form that can be imprinted therein, by those qualities before said. And I suppose it is not all one to say that the soul is composed by number, and that the substance thereof is number: for certain it is that it hath the subsistence and composition by harmony, but harmony it is none, according as himself hath showed in his treatise of the soul. Moreover altogether ignorant they are, what Plato meaneth, by the same and the other: for they say, that the same conferreth to the generation of the soul, the power or faculty of station and rest: the other, of motion: whereas Plato himself in his book entitled, The Sophister, putteth down, that which is, the same, the other, motion and station, as five distinct things differing the one from the other, severing them a part, as having nothing to do in common one with another; which they all with one accord, yea and many more even of those who lived and conversed with Plato, fearing and being mightily troubled with, do devise and immagin all that they can, bestir themselves wresting forcibly, heaving and shooving and turning every way, as in case of some abominable thing and not to be named, supposing that they ought either altogether, for his honour and credit to deny, or at least wise to cover and conceal that which he had delivered, as touching the generation or creation of the world, and of the soul thereof, as if the same had not been from all eternity, nor had time out of mind their essence: whereof we have particularly spoken a part else where; and for this present suffice it shall to say by the way, that the arguing and contestation, which Plato confesseth himself to have used with more vehemency than his age would well bear, against Atheists: the same I say they confound and shufflle up, or to speak more truly abolish altogether. For if it be so, that the world be eternal and was never created, the reason of Plato falleth to the ground, namely that the soul being more ancient than the body, and the cause and principal author of all motion and mutation, the chief governor also and head Architect, as he himself hath said, is placed and bestowed therein. But what, and where of the soul is, and how it is said and to be understood, that it is more ancient than the body and before it in time, the progress of our discourse hereafter shall declare: for this point being either unknowen or not well understood, brings great difficulty as I think in the well conceiving, and hindrance in believing the opinion of the truth?  
In the first place therefore I will show what mine own conceit is, proving and fortifying my sentence, and withal, mollifying the same (because at the first sight it seemeth a strange paradox) with as probable reasons as I can devise: which done, both this interpretation and proof also of mine, I will lay unto the words of the text out of Plato, and reconcile the one unto the other. For thus (in mine opinion) stands the case.  
This world (quoth Heraclitus) there was never any god or man that made: as if in so saying he feared, that if we disavow God for creator, we must of necessity confess that man was the architect and maker thereof. But much better it were therefore, that we subscribe unto Plato, and both say and sing aloud, that the world was created by God: for as the one is the goodliest piece of work that ever was made, so the other the most excellent workman and greatest cause that is. Now the substance and matter whereof it was created, was never made or engendered, but was for ever, time out of mind and from all eternity, subject unto the workman for to dispose and order it, yea and to make as like as possible was to himself. For of nothing and that which had no being, there could not possibly be made aught: but of that which was notwell made nor as it ought to be, there may be made somewhat that is good; to wit, an house, a garment, or an image and statue. But before the creation of the world, there was nothing but a chaos, that is to say, all things in confusion and disorder: and yet was not the same without a body, without motion, or without soul: howbeit, that body which it had, was without form and consistence; and that moving that it had, was altogether rash, without reason and understanding: which was no other but a disorder of the soul not guided by reason. For God created not that body which was incorporal, nor a soul which was inanimate; like as we say that the musician maketh not a voice, nor the dancer motion; but the one maketh the voice sweet, accordant and harmonious; and the other, the motion to keep measure, time, and compass with a good grace. And even so, God created not that palpable solidity of a body, nor that moving and imaginative puissance of the soul; but finding these two principles, the one dark and obscure, the other turbulent, foolish and senseless: both imperfect, disordered and indeterminate, he so digested and disposed them, that he composed of them the most goodly, beautiful and absolute living creature that is. The substance then of the body, which is a certain nature that he calleth susceptible of all things, the very seat, the nurse also of all things engendered, is no other thing than this. But as touching the substance of the soul, he termeth it in his book entitled Philebus, infinity, that is to say, the privation of all number and proportion, having in it neither end, limit, nor measure, neither excess nor defect, neither similitude nor dissimilitude. And that which he delivereth in Timaeus, namely, that it is mingled with the indivisible nature, & is become divisible in bodies, we must not understand this to be either multitude in unities, or length and breadth in points or pricks, which things agree unto bodies, and belong rather to bodies than to souls: but that moving principle, disordinate, indefinite, and moving of itself, which he calleth in many places Necessity, the same in his books of laws he termeth directly, a disorderly soul, wicked and evil doing. This is the soul simply, and of itself it is so called; which afterwards was made to participate understanding, and discourse of reason, yea, & wife proportion, to the end that it might become the soul of the world. Semblably, this material principle, capable of all, had in it a certain magnitude, distance, and place: beauty, form, proportionate figure, and measure it had none; but all these it got afterwards, to the end that being thus digested and brought into decent order, it might afford the bodies and organs of the earth, the sea, the heavens, the stars, the plants and living creatures, of all sorts. But as for them who attribute & give that which he calleth in Timaeus, necessity; and in his treatise Philebus, infinity and immensity of excess & defect of too much and too little; unto matter, and not unto the soul: how are they able to maintain that it is the cause of evil, considering that he supposeth always that the said matter is without form or figure whatsoever, destitute of all qualities and faculties proper unto it, comparing it unto those oils, which having no smell of their own, perfumers use in the composition of their odours and precious ointments: for impossible it is that Plato should suppose the thing which of itself is idle, without active quality, without moving and inclination to any thing, to be the cause and beginning of evil, or name it an infinity, wicked & evil doing; not likewise a necessity, which in many things repugneth against God, as being rebellious, and refusing to obey him: for as touching that necessity, which overthroweth heaven, as he saith in his Politics, and turneth it clean contrary; that inbred concupiscence and confusion of the first and ancient nature, wherein there was no order at all, before it was ranged to that beautiful disposition of the world as now it is; how came it among things, if the subject, which is matter, was without all qualities, and void of that efficacy which is in causes? and considering that the Creator himself being of his own nature all good, desired as much as might be, to make all things like unto himself? for a third, besides these two principles, there is none. And if we will bring evil into the world, without a precedent cause & principle to beget it, we shall run and fall into the difficult perplexities of the Stoics; for of those two principles which are, it cannot be that either the good, or that which is altogether without form and quality whatsoever, should give being or beginning to that which is nought. Neither hath Plato done as some that came after him, who for want of seeing and understanding a third principle and cause, between God and matter, have run on end, and tumbled into the most absurd and falsest reasons that is, devising forsooth ay wot not how, that the nature of evil should come without forth casually and by accident, or rather of the own accord: forasmuch as they will not grant unto Epicurus that the least atom that is, should turn never so little or decline a side, saying, that he bringeth in a rash and inconsiderate motion, without any cause precedent; whereas they themselves the meanwhile affirm that sin, vice, wickedness and ten thousand other deformities and imperfections of the body, come by consequence without any cause efficient in the principles. But Plato saith not so, for he ridding matter from all different quality, and removing far from God all cause of evil, thus hath he written as touching the world in his Politics: The world (quoth he) received all good things from the first author who created it; but what evil thing soever there is, what wickedness, what injustice in heaven, the same itself hath from the exterior habitude, which was before, and the same it doth transmit, & give to the creatures beneath. And a little after he proceedeth thus: In tract of time (quoth he) as oblivion took hold and set sure footing, the passion and imperfection of the old disorder came in place and got the upper hand more and more; and great danger there is, least growing to dissolution, it be plunged again into the vast gulf, and bottomless pit of confused dissimilitude.  
But dissimilitude there can be none in matter, by reason that it is without quality, and void of all difference: whereof Eudemus among others being ignorant, mocked Plato for not putting that to be the cause, source, and first original of evil things, which in many places he calleth mother and nurse: for Plato indeed termeth matter, mother and nurse: but he saith likewise: That the cause of evil is the motive puissance resiant in the said matter, which is in bodies become divisible, to wit, a reasonless and disorderly motion; howbeit, for all that, not without soul, which plainly and expressly in his books of laws, he termeth a soul, contrary and repugnant to that which is the cause of all good; for that the soul may well be the cause and principle of motion; but understanding is the cause of order and harmony in motion: for God made not the matter idle, but hath kept it from being any any more 〈◊〉 & troubled with a foolish and rash cause: neither hath he given unto nature the beginnings and principles of mutations and passions, but being as it was enwrapped and enfolded with all sorts of passions and inordinate mutations, he cleared it of all enormities, disorders, and errors whatsoever, using as proper instruments to bring about all this, numbers, measures, and proportions; the effect whereof, is not to give unto things, by moving and mutation the passions and differences of the other and of diversity, but rather to make them infallible, firm, and stable, yea, and like unto those things which are always of one sort, and evermore resemble themselves.  
This is in my judgement the mind and sentence of Plato, whereof my principal proof and argument is this: that by this interpretation is salved that contrariety which men say, and seemeth indeed to be in his writings: for a man would not attribute unto a drunken sophister, much less than unto Plato, so great unconstance and repugnance of words, as to affirm one and the same nature to be created, and uncreated; and namely in his book entitled Phaedrus, that the soul is eternal, and uncreated: but in Timaeus, that it was created and engendied. Now as touching those words of his in the treatise Phaedrus, they are well near in every man's mouth very rife; whereby he proveth that the soul can not perish, because it was never engendered: and semblably he proveth, that generation it had none, because it moveth itself. Again, in the book entitled Timaeus, God (quoth he) hath not made the soul to be younger than the body, according as now in this place we purpose to say, that it cometh after it, for never would he have permitted that the elder being coupled and linked with the younger should be commanded by it. But we standing much (I wot not how) upon inconsiderate rashness and vanity, use to speak in some sort accordingly: for certain it is, that God hath with the body joined the soul, as precedent both in creation and also in power and virtue, like as the dame or mistress with her subject, for to rule and command. Again, when he had said that the soul being turned upon herself, began to live a wise and eternal life, The body of the heaven (quoth he) was made visible, but the soul invisible, participating the discourse of reason and of harmony, engendered by the best of things intellectual and eternal, being likewise itself the best of things engendered and temporal. Where it is to be noted that in this place expressly calling God the best of all eternal things, and the soul the best of things created and temporal, by this most evident antithesis and contrariety, he taketh from the soul that eternity which is without beginning and procreation.  
And what other solution or reconciliation is there, of these contradictions, but that which himself giveth to those who are willing to receive it; for he pronounceth that soul to be ingenerable and not procreated, which moved all things rashly and disorderly before the constitution of the world: but chose he calleth that, procreated and engendered, which Godframed and composed of the first, and of a permanent, eternal, and perfect good substance, namely by creating it wise and well ordered, and by putting and conferring even from himself unto sense, understanding; and order unto motion: which when he had thus made, he ordained and appointed it to be the governor and regent of the whole world. And even after the same manner he pronounceth; that the body of the world is in one sort eternal, to wit, not created, nor engendered; and after another sort both created and engendered. For when he saith that whatsoever is visible, was never at rest, but moved rashly and without all order: and that God took the same, disposed and ranged it in good order: as also when he saith that the four general elements, fire, water, earth, and air, before the whole world was of them framed and ordered decently made a wonderful trouble & trembling as it were in the matter, and were mightily shaken by it, such was their deformity and inequality. It appeareth plainly that he maketh these bodies in some sort to have a being and subsistence before the creation of the world. chose when he saith that the body is younger than the soul, and that the world was made and created in as much as the same is visible and palpable, as having a body, and that all things appear so as they are, when they were once made and created, manifest it is, and every man may see, that he attributeth a kind of nativity to the nature of the body; and vet for all that far is he off, from being contradictory and repugnant to himself so notoriously, and that in the most main points. For it is not the same body nor of the same sort, which he saith was created by God, and to have been before it was; for that were directly the case of some mount-banke or juggling enchanter; but himself showeth unto us, what we are to understand by this, generation or creation: For before time (quoth he) all that is in the world, was without order, measure and proportion: but after that the universal world began to be fashioned, and brought into some decent form, whereas he found the fire first, the water, the earth and the 〈◊〉 pell mell in the same places, and yet having some show and token what they were, but confusedly huddled every where, (as a man may well think that every thing must needs be so, where God is absent) in this case as they were then, God I say finding them, first brought the same into frame and fashion, by the means of forms and numbers. Furthermore, having said before that it was the work not of one only proportion, but of twain, to join and frame together the fabric of the world, a solid mass as it was and carrying a depth and thickness with it: and declared moreover, that God after he had bestowed water and air, between fire and earth, conjoined withal and framed the heaven, together with them. Of these things (quoth he) such as they were, and four in number, the body of the world was in engendered, agreeable in proportion and entertaining amity by that means: Insomuch as being once thus united and compact, there is nothing that can make disunion or dissolution, but he alone who first limited and brought all together; teaching us hereby most plainly that God was the father and author, not of the body simply, nor of the frame, fabric and matter only of the world, but also of that proportion, measure, beauty and similitude which is in the body thereof: semblably thus much we are to think of the soul, as if one were not created by God, nor the soul of the world, but a certain power of motion, fantastical, turbulent, subject unto opinion, stirring and moving of itself, and always, but without any order, measure, or reason whatsoever. The other, when God had adorned it with numbers & proportions convenient, he ordained to be the regent & governess of the world created like as itself was also created. Now that this is the true sentence & meaning of Plato, and not by a fantastical manner of speculation and inquisition, as touching the creation or generation, as well of the world as of the soul: this besides many others, may be an argument, that of the soul, he saith it was created and not created; of the world always, that it was engendered and created, but never eternal and not created. To prove this, we need not for to cite testimonies out of the book Timaeus, considering that the said book throughout, from the one end to the other, treateth of nothing else, but of the generation or creation of the world. And of other books, in his Atlantic Timaeus making his prayers, nameth him who beforetime was by his work, and now by his word, God. And in his Politic, his Parmenidian guest saith, that the world being framed and made by God, became partaker of many good things: and in case there be any evil thing in it, the same is a remnant mingled within the first habitude and estate wherein it was at first, before the constitution thereof, all irregular and disorderly. And in his books of Commonwealth, speaking of that number, which some call the Marriage, Socrates began to discourse and say thus: The God (quoth he) who is created and engendered, hath his period and conversation, which the perfect number doth comptise. In which place, what can he call the God created and engendered, but the world. *****  
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The first copulation is of one and two, the second of three and four, the third of five and six; of which there is not one that maketh a quadrate number either by itself or by others: the fourth is of seven and eight, which being joined to the first, make in all the square quadrat number six and thirty.  
But of those numbers which Plato hath set down the quaternary, hath a more perfect and absolute generation; namely, when even numbers are multiplied by even intervals, and uneven numbers likewise by odd intervals: for first it containeth unity as the very common stock of all numbers as well even as odd and of those under it; two and three be the first flat and plain numbers, and after them four and nine are the first squares, then follow eight and seven and twenty, the first cubique numbers, putting the unity out of this account. By which it appeareth that his will was not, that these numbers should be all set one above another directly in a right line; but apart, one after another alternatively, the even of the one side and the odd of the other, according to the description above made. Thus shall the files or conjugations also be of like with like, and make the notable numbers, aswell by composition or addition as by multiplication of one with another: by composition, thus, Two and three make five; four & nine make thirteen; eight and seven and twenty arise to five and thirty. For of these numbers the Pythagoreans call five, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as much to say, as a sound, supposing that of the spaces and intervals of Tone, the fifth, was the first that spoke or sounded: thirteen they termed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the Remanent or Defect, like as Plato did; despairing to divide a Tone in two equal portions: and five and thirty they term Harmony, for that it is composed of the first numbers cubique, proceeding from even and odd of the four numbers, to wit, six, eight, nine and twelve, containing an Arithmetical and Harmonical proportion. But this will appear more evidently by this figure here described and represented to the eyes. Suppose then there be a figure set down in form of a tile, called Parallelogrammon, with right angles, A.B.C.D.  
But forasmuch as the numbers proposed, afford not places for the medieties which are inferred; necessary it was to extend the numbers to larger terms and bonds, retaining still the same proportions: in regard whereof, we must say somewhat what they be, and treat first of these medieties. The former then, is that which both surmounting, & being also surmounted in equal number, is called in these days Arithmetical: the other which surmounteth, and is surmounted by the same part of their extremities, is named Hypenantia, that is to say, subcontrary; as for example: The two limits or extremities and the mids of the arithmetical, be six, nine and twelve: for nine which is in the mids, surmounteth six just as much in number as it is surmounted of twelve, that is to say, by three: but of the subcontrary, these be the extremities and the mids, six, eight, and twelve, for eight which is the mids, surmounteth six by two, and is surmounted of twelve by four, which four is the third part of twelve, like as two is the third part of six. Thus it falleth out in the medietie Arithmaticall, the mids surmounteth the one of these extremities, and is surmounted of the other, equally by the same part of the own, but in the subcontrary by the same part, not of the own, but of the extremities out gone of the one, and outgoing the other: and hereupon it is called subcontrary, and the same they likewise call harmonical, because it affourdeth to the extremities the first resonances, to wit, between the greatest and the least Diapason, that is to say, an eight; between the greatest and the mids, Diapente, that is to say, a five; & between the mids and the least, Diatesseron, that is to say, a fourth: for the greatest term or extremity being set upon the note or string Nete, and the least upon Hypate, the mids will be found just upon Mese, that is to say, the mean, which maketh in regard of the greatest Diapente, and of the least Diatessaron: so that by this reason, eight shall be upon the mean, twelve upon Neat, and six upon Hypate: but how to know easily and readily these medieties aforesaid, Eudorus hath showed the manner plainly and simply: And first and foremost in the Arithmetical, consider thus much: for if you take the two extremities, and put them together, and then the moiety of the entire sum, the same will fall out to be the medietie Arithmetical: or take the moiety of each one of the 〈◊〉, & add them one to the other, that which ariseth thereof shall be mediatie arithmetical, in duples & triples alike: but in the subcontrary, or harmonical, if the two extremities be one to the other in proportion duple, take the half of the greater, and the third part of the less, and the number arising of those two shall be the medietie Harmonical: but in case the two extremities be in proportion triple, then chose a man ought to take the moiety of the less, and the third part of the greater, for then the sum will be the medietie that he looketh for: as for example, let the less extremity be in triple proportion six, and the greater eighteen, if you take the half of six which is three, and the third part of eighteen which is six, you shall come to nine, for the medietie which doth surmount, and is surmounted by the same part of the two extremities, that is to say, the one half. Thus you see how the medieties are taken: now the same must be interjected and placed between, for to fill and make up the places or intervals double and triple; but of the number proposed, some have no place of the middle, others, not sufficient; and therefore the manner is to augment and set them out, in retaining always still the same proportions, and so by that means make places and receptacles sufficient for to receive the said medieties or mediocrities: First therefore, for the less end or 〈◊〉, in stead of one they put six, because of all numbers it is the first that hath a half and a third part, and multiply all the numbers under by six, as it is written underneath, for to receive both the medieties in duple intervals: 12. 2. 1. 3. 18. 24. 4.  9 54. 48. 8.  27. 162. 〈◊〉 for that Plato hath said, the intervals being made sesquialterall, sesquitertia, and sesquioctaves, out of these links in the precedent distances, he filled all the epitrites, with the interval of sesquioctave, leaving one part of each, and this distance of this part being left number to number, having for the terms & extremities, two hundred fifty six, and two hundred forty three, etc. Upon these words of the text, forced they were to reduce these numbers, and make them greater, forby order two ought to have sesquioctave proportion, seeing that six of itself could not have proportion sesquioctave, & if it were divided by cutting the units piece-meal, the intelligence and doctrine thereof would be very intricate and hard to be conceived, therefore he called this operation in some sort multiplication, like as in the harmonical mutation, where if you extend and augment the first number, necessarily the description of all the other notes must be stretched out and enlarged likewise. And therefore Eudorus following herein Crantor, taketh for the first number three hundred fowrescore and four, which ariseth by multiplying threescore and four, by six: and these were induced so to do by the number threescore and four, having for the sesquioctave, eight, which is the proportion between threescore and four and threescore and twelve. But it agreeth better with the text, and the words of Plato, to suppose a moiety. For the default which they call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, will have the sesquioctave proportion in the numbers which Plato hath set down, two hundred six and fifty, and two hundred three and forty, having put for the first one hundred fourscore and twelve: and if the double of it be supposed for the first, the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 shall be of the same proportion, but in number double, which five hundred and twelve hath to four hundred eighty four: for two hundred fifty & six are in epitrite or sesquitertiall proportion to one hundred fourscore and twelve, and five hundred and twelve to four hundred fourscore and four. And verily, the reduction to this number was not without reason and proportion, but yielded a probable reason to Crantor: for the number of threescore and four is a cube, proceeding from the first quadrate, and a quadrate likewise, arising from the first cube, and being multiplied by three, the first odd number: the first triangular number, the first perfect number and sesquialter, make one hundred fourscore and twelve, which number also (as we will show) hath his sesquioctave. But first of all you shall understand better what is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as also what is the meaning of Plato, if you call to mind a little, that which is usually taught and delivered in the Pythagoreans schools: for Diastema, that is to say, intervals or space in matter of song, is whatsoever is between two sounds different in Tenor or Tension. Of these intervals, one is called Tonus, to wit, that whereof the harmony Diapente surmounteth Diatessaron. Of this entire Tone, as Musicians do hold, cut in twain, by the moiety are made two intervals, and both of them, the one aswell as the other, go under the name Haemitonium. But the Pythagoreans do not think that it can be equally divided: whereas therefore the two sections be unequal, they call the less 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the default, because it is somewhat less than the one half. And therefore some masters of Music there be, who make the accord Diatesseron, of two Tones and a Demi-tone or Haemitonion: others again of two Tones and a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. So as it seemeth that the testimony of hearing acordeth with the harmonical Musicians; and of demonstration with the Mathematicians: and their proof of demonstration goeth in this manner. This is put down by them for certain, and approved by their instruments, that Diapason hath a double proportion, Diapente a sesquialterall, Diatessaron a sesquitertiall, and a Tone a sesquioctave. And the truth hereof, a man may try presently by an experiment, namely, by hanging two weights double, unto two strings that be equal, or by making two concavities in pipes, the one twice as long as the other, otherwise equal: for the shawme or hautboys, which is the longer, will sound more base and loud, as Hypate in regard of Neat: and of the two strings, that which was stretched by the heavier weight will sound higher & smaller as Neat in comparison of Hypate: and this is the very consonance Diapason. Semblably, three compared unto twain, be it in length or in weight, will make Diapente; and four to three, Diatessaron: for the one hath the proportion epitrite, and the other hemiolion. And if the unequalitie of the foresaid lengths or weights be in proportion hemioctave, that is to say, of seven to eight, it will make the interval Toniaeon, not altogether an harmonical accord, howbeit (as one would say) somewhat musical and melodious; for that these sounds, if one strike, touch or sound one after another, make a pleasant noise and delectable to the ears; but if altogether, the noise will be troublesome and offensive: whereas chose, in consonances and accords, howsoever one touch them, either together, or one after another, the ear receiveth the consent and accord with great delight. And yet this may moreover be showed by reason, for the harmony Diapason is composed of Diapente and of Diatessaron, like as in number the double is composed of Hemiolion and Epitritos; for twelve is in proportion of Epitritoes to nine, and Hemiolion to eight, and double to six: so that the double proportion is compounded of the sesquialterall and the sesquitertion, like as Diapason of Diapente and Diatessaron: but as there Diapente is greater than Diatessaron by a Tone, so here in numbers, Hemiolion is greater than Epitritoes by a sesquioctave. This being thus proved by demonstration, let us see now, whether our sesquioctave may be divided into two equal sections; for if it can not, no more then, can the Tone: and for that eight and nine make the first proportion sesquioctave, and have no interval between; both the one and the other being doubled, the number falling out between, maketh two intervals; so that it appeareth, that if the two intervals be equal, the sesquioctave may be equally divided in twain. Now the double of nine is eighteen, and of eight, sixteen, which admit between them, seventeen. So it falleth out that one of the intervals is greater, and the other less; for the former is of eighteen to seventeen, and the other of seventeen to sixteen. Then the sesquioctave proportion is divided into portions and sections unequal, and so consequently the tone also: and therefore this division being made, none of the sections is properly a Demytone, but one of them by good right hath been termed by the mathematicians 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: and this is it that Plato said: God when he filled the epitrites with sesquioctaves, left a portion of each: whereof there is the same reason and proportion, that two hundred fifty six have unto two hundred forty three; for take a Diatessaron in two numbers, which have between them a proportion Epitritos, as two hundred fifty and six, to one hundred ninety two; of which let, the less number, one hundred ninety two beset upon the base note of a tetracord, and the greater, to wit, two hundred fifty and six upon the highest note: It must be showed, that if this be filled with two sesquioctaves, there remaineth an interval as great as is between two hundred fifty six and two hundred forty three. For if the base sound be stretched one tone; which is the proportion sesquioctave it maketh two hundred and sixteen: and again if it be stretched another tone, it becometh two hundred forty three, which surmounteth two hundred & sixteen, by twenty & seven, and two hundred and sixteen surmounteth one hundred fourscore & twelve by four and twenty, of which, the seven and twenty is the sesquioctave of two hundred and sixteen, and four and twenty, of one hundred fourscore and twelve: and therefore of these three numbers, the greatest sesquioctave is of the midst, and the middle of the least; and the distance or interval, from the least to the greatest, to wit, from one hundred fourscore and twelve unto two hundred forty and three, two tones filled with two sesquioctaves: which interval being taken away, there remaineth the interval of the whole, which is between two hundred forty and three, and two hundred fifty and six, and that is thirteen: and that is the reason why they called that number 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, a default or residue.  
For mine own part, I think verily, that the sense of Plato is most clearly expounded and declared in these numbers. Others having put down the ends and terms of Diatesseron, for the treble two hundred eighty eight, and for the base, two hundred sixteen; go through with the rest proportionably, save only that they take the two defaults or remnants, between the two extremities: for the base being set up one tone or note, maketh two hundred forty three: and the treble being let down another note, becometh two hundred fifty six: for these be sesquioctaves, two hundred forty three, and two hundred sixteen; likewise two hundred eighty eight, and two hundred fifty six; so that either of the intervals is Toniaeon: and there remaineth that which is between two hundred forty three, and two hundred fifty six, which is not a Demytone, but less: for two hundred eighty eight, is more than two hundred fifty six, by thirty two; and two hundred forty three, more than two hundred sixteen, by twenty seven; and two hundred fifty six more than two hundred forty three, by 13: and both these are lesser than the advantages or surplussages by half: and therefore Diatessaron is found to be of two tones and a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and not of two and a half. And thus you see the demonstration of this: and so it is no hard matter to understand by that which we have delivered: what is the reason why Plato having said, that intervals sesquialterall, sesquitertian and sesquioctaves are made by filling the sesquitertians with sesquioctaves; made no mention of the seqsuialterons, but hath left them behind, namely, for that the sesquialter is filled, when one putteth a sesquioctave to asesquitertiall, or rather a sesquitence to a sesquioctave.  
These things thus showed in some sort by way of demonstration: now to fill the intervals, and to interject the Medieties if none before had showed the means and manner how, I would leave you to do it for your exercise: but the same having been done already by many worthy personages, and principally by Crantor, Clearchus, and Theodorus, all borne in the city Soli: It will not be impertinent to deliver somewhat as touching the difference between them; for Theodor us maketh not two files of nnmbers as the other do, but rangeth them all in the same line directly one after another, to wit, the duple and the triple: and principally he groundeth and fortifieth himself by this position (which they so call) of the substance drawn out in length, making two branches as it were from one trunk, and not four of twain: then he saith, that the interpositions of the Medieties ought so to take place; for otherwise there would be a trouble and confusion: and anon passeth immediately from the first duple to the first triple, when they should be that which ought to fulfil the one and the other. On the other side, there maketh for Crantor, the position and situation of plain numbers with plain, squares with squares, and cubes with cubes, which are set one against another in opposite files, not according to their range, but alternatively, ******************* 
here is a 〈◊〉; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  which is of one sort as Idea or form: but that which is divided by bodies, is the subject and the matter; and the mixture of them both in common, is that which is complete and perfect.  
As touching then the substance indivisible, which is always one and of the same sort; we are not thus to think, that it admitteth no division for the smallness thereof, like to those little bodies called Atomies: but that of it which is simple, pure, and most subject to any passion or alteration whatsoever, always like itself, and after one manner, is said to be indivisible, and to have no parts; by which simplicity, when it cometh to touch in some fort, such things as be compounded, divisible, and carried to and fro, it causeth that diversity to cease, restraineth that multitude, and by means of similitude, reduceth them to one and the same habitude. And if a man be disposed to call that which is divisible by bodies, matter, as subject unto it, and participating the nature thereof, using a certain homonymy or equivocation, it mattereth not much, neither skilleth it as touching the thing in question: but those who would have the corporal matter to be mixed with the indivisible substance, be in a great error: first, because Plato hath not now used any names thereof, for that he hath evermore used to call it a receptacle to receive all, and a nurse, not divisible by bodies, but rather a body divided into individual particulars. Again, what difference would there be, between the generation of the world, and of the soul, if the constitution of the one and the other, did consist of matter and things intelligible?  
Certes, Plato himself as one who would in no wife admit the soul to be engendered of the body, saith: That God put all that which was corporal within her; and then, that without forth the same was enclosed round about with it: In sum, when he had framed and finished the soul according to proportion, he inferreth and annexeth afterwards a treatise of matter, which before when he handled the creation of the soul, he never required nor called for, because created it was without the help of matter.  
The like to this may be said by way of confutation against Posidonius and his sectaries; for very far they went not from matter; but imagining that the substance of terms and extremities, was that which he called divisible by bodies, and joining with the intelligible, they affirmed and pronounced, that the soul is the Idea of that which is distant every way, and in all the dimensions, according to the number which containeth harmony, which is very erroneous: For the Mathematics (quoth he) are situate between the first intelligible and sensible things: but the soul having of intelligible things an eternal essence, and of sensible objects, a passable nature: therefore meet it is that it should have a middle substance between both. But he was not ware, that God after he had made and finished the soul, used the bounds & terms of the body, for to give a form to the matter, determining the substance thereof dispersed, and not linked or contained within any limits, by environing it with superficies, composed of triangles, all joined together. And yet more absurd than that it is, to make the soul an Idea, for that the soul is always in motion; but the Idea is immooveable, neither can the Idea be mixed with that which is sensible, but the soul is always linked fast with the body: beside, God did imitate Idea as one who followed his pattern; but he wrought the soul as his piece of work: And that Plato held the soul not to be a number, but rather a thing ordained by number, we have already showed and declared before.  
But against both these opinions and their patrons, this may be opposed in common: That neither in numbers nor in terms and limits of bodies, is there any appearance or show of that puissance, whereby the soul judgeth of that which is sensible; for the intelligence and faculty that it hath, was drawn from the participation and society of the intelligible principle: But opinions, beliefs, assents, imaginations, also to be passive and sensitive of qualities inherent in bodies, there is no man will think that they can proceed from unities, pricks, lines, or superficies: and yet not only the souls of mortal men have the power to judge of all the exterior qualities perceptible by the senses; but also the very soul of the world, as Plato saith, when it returneth circularly into herself, and toucheth any thing that hath a substance dissipable and apt to be dispersed; as also when it meeteth with aught that is indivisible, by moving herself totally, she telleth in what respect any thing is the same, and in what regard diverse and different; whereto principally each thing is meet, either to do or to suffer, where, when, and how it is affected, alwel in such as are engendered, as in those that are always the same. Moreover, making a certain description with all of the ten predicaments, he declareth the same more clearly afterwards: True reason (quoth he) when it meeteth with that which is sensible, and if therewith the circle of the other goeth directly to report the same, throughout the whole soul thereof, then there be engendered opinions and beliefs that be firm and true: but when it is conversant about that which is intelligible and discoursing by reason, and the circle likewise of the same, turning roundly with facility, doth show the same, then of necessity there is bred perfect and accomplished science; and in whatsoever these two things be infused, if a man call it otherwise than soul, he saith any thing rather than the truth: whence cometh it then that the soul had this motion opinative, which comprehendeth that which is sensible, diverse and different from the other intellective that endeth in science? Hard it were to set this down, unless a man firmly presuppose that in this place, and at this present, he composeth not the soul simply, but the soul of the world, with the parts above mentioned, of a better substance, which is indivisible; and of a worse that he calleth divisible by bodies; which is nothing else, but an imaginative & opinionative motion, affected & accordant to that which is sensible, not engendered, but as the other of an eternal subsistence: for nature having the 〈◊〉 virtue, had also the faculty opinionative: but the intellective power is unmovable, impassable, founded & set upon that substance, which abideth always in one sort: whereas the other is divisible and wandering, in as much as it toucheth a matter that is always floating, carried to and fro and dissipable. For the matter sensible had before time no order at all, but was without all form, bound or limitation whatsoever, and the faculty therein had neither express opinions articulate and distinct, nor her motions all certain and composed in order: but for the most part resembling turbulent and vain dreams, troubling that which was corporal, unless haply they fell upon any thing that was better. For between two it was, having a nature conformable, and accordant to the one and the other: challenging matter by that which is sensitive, and by the judicial part those things which are intelligible. And this declareth he himself in these proper terms: By my reckoning (quoth he) let this be the sum of the whole account that these three things had their being three ways before the heaven was, to wit, essence, space, and generation. As for space or place, he calleth matter by that name, as it were the seat, and otherwhiles a receptacle: the essence, that which is intelligible; and the generation of the world as yet not made, can be no other thing but a substance subject to motions and alterations, situate between that which imprinteth a form and which is imprinted, dispensing and distributing the images from thence hither: which is the reason it was called divisible, for that of necessity both the sensitive must be divided and go with the sensible, and also the imaginative with the imaginable. For the sensitive motion being proper unto the soul moveth toward the sensible without: but the intelligence & understanding was of itself, stable, firm and immovable: howbeit being infused once into the soul and become master and lord thereof, it rolleth and turneth upon itself, and accomplisheth a round & circular motion, about that which is always permanent, and touching that principally which is, and hath being. And therefore hard was the mixtion and association which mingled the divisible with the indivisible, that which is every way moovable, with that which never moveth, and forcing in one word the other to meet and join with the same. So the other was not motion, no more than the same was station; but the beginning both of Diversity and also of Identity or The sameness: for the one and the other descend from diverse principles, to wit, the same from unity, and the other, from binary, and were at the first mingled 〈◊〉 here in the soul; as tied by numbers, proportions and medieties harmonical: and the other being imprinted into the same, maketh difference: but the same infused into the other, causeth order; as it appeareth manifestly in the first powers of the soul, to wit, the faculties of moving and of judging. As for motion, it showeth incontinently about the heaven, diversity in identity by the revolution of the planets, and identity in dive sity by the settled order & situation of the fixed stars: sor in these, the same beareth sway and is more predominant; but chose, the other, in those that be nearer to the earth. But judgement hath two principles, to wit, understanding, from the same, for judging of things universal; and sense, from the other, to judge of particulars. Now reason is mingled of them both, being intelligence in things general and intelligible; but opinion only in matters sensible, using for instruments, both the fancies and imaginations between, and also the memories; whereof the former make the other in the same; but the latter, the same in the other. For intelligence is the motion of the intelligent about that which is stable and permanent; but opinion is the mansion of the sentient about that which moveth. As for imagination or fancy, being a connexion of opinion to the sense, the same, placeth it in memory; and chose, the other stirreth it in the difference and distinction of that which is past, and that which is present, touching both identity and diversity together.  
Now the better to understand the proportion wherewith he made the soul, we must take 〈◊〉 pattern and example, from the constitution of the body of the world: for whereas the two extremes, to wit, pure fire and earth, were by nature hard to be tempered one with another; orto say more truly, impossible to be mixed and incorporate together: he placed in the 〈◊〉 between, air before fire, and water before earth: and so contempered first these two mean elements, and afterwards by their help, the other extremes also, which he fitted and framed together, both with the said means, and also with themselves one with another. And here again, the same and the other, being contrary puissances and extremities, fight one against the other as mere enemies, he brought together, not immediately by themselves, but by putting between other substances, to wit, the indivisible, before the same, and the divisible before the other, according as in some sort the one had affinity and congruency with the other: afterwards when these were mixed together, he contempered likewise the extremes, and so warped and wove, as one would say, the whole form of the soul, making as far as it was possible, of things unlike, semblable, and of many one. But some there be who give out, that 〈◊〉 was not well said of Plato: That the nature of the other, was hard to be mixed and tempered; considering (say they) that it is not altogether insusceptible of mutation, but a friend to it, and rather the nature of the same, being firm and hard to be turned and removed, admitteth not easily any mixture, but flieth and rejecteth it, to the end that it may remain simple, pure, and without alteration: but they who reprove this, are ignorant that the same, is the Idea of such things as be always of one sort; and the other, the Idea of those that change. Also that the effect of this, is evermore to divide, separate, and alter that which it toucheth; and in a word, to make many of one: but the effect of that is, to conjoin and unite by similitude, many things thereby into one form and puissance. Thus you see what be the powers and faculties of the soul of this universality, which entering into the frail, mortal, and passable instruments of bodies, however they be in themselves incorruptible, impatible and the same; yet in them now appecreth more the form of an indeterminate duality: but that form of the simple unity, showeth itself more obscurely, as deeply settled within: howbeit for all that, hardly shall one see and perceive in a man, either passion altogether void of reason, or motion without understanding, wherein there is no lust, no ambition, no joy or grief: and therefore some philosophers there be, who would have the perturbations of the mind to be reasons; as if forsooth, all desire, sorrow, and anger, were judgements. Others also do hold, that all virtues be passions: for in 〈◊〉 (say they) there is four, intemperance, pleasure, injustice, lucre. Howbeit, the soul being both contemplative, and also active at once, as it doth contemplate universal thing; so it practiseth particulars, seeming to conceive the one by intelligence, and to perceive the other by sense: common reason meeting always the same, in the other, and likewise, the other, in the same, endeavoureth verily to sever by diverse bonds and partitions, one from many; and the indivisible from the divisible, but it can not bring it so about, as to be purely in the one or the other, for that the principles be so interlaced one within another, and huddled pellmell together.  
In which regard, God hath appointed a certain receptacle for the same, and the other, of a divisible, and indivisible substance, to the end, that in diversity there should be order; for this was as much as to be engendered. Seeing that without this, the same should have had no diversity, and consequently no motion nor generation; neither should the other have had order, and so by consequence also, neither consistence nor generation: for if it should happen to the same, to be diverse from the other, and again, to the other, to be all one with the same; such a communion and participation, would bring forth of itself nothing generative, but require some third matter to receive them, and to be digested and disposed by them. And this is that which God ordained and composed first, in defining and limiting the infinity of nature, moving about bodies, by the firm steadiness of things intellectual. And like as there is one kind of brutish voice, not articulate nor distinct, and therefore not significant; whereas speech consisteth in voice, that giveth to understand what is in the mind: and as harmony doth consist of many sounds and intervals; the sound being simple and the same, but the interval a difference and diversity of sounds, which when they be mixed and tempered together, make song and melody: Even so the passable part of the soul, was infinite, unstable, and disordinate; but afterwards became determinate, when terms and limits were set to it, and a certain form expelled to that divisible and variable diversity of motion. Thus having conceived and comprised the same, and the other, by the similitudes and dissimilitudes of numbers, making accord of difference: thereof the life of the universal world became wise and prudent, the harmony consonant, and reason drawing with her 〈◊〉, tempered with grace and persuasion, which the common sort call fatal destiny; Empedocles named concord and discord together: Heraclitus the opposite tension and harmony of the world, as of a bow or harp, wherein both ends bend one against another: Parmemdes, light and darkness: Anaxagoras, understanding and infinity: Zoroaster, God, and the devil; terming the one Oromasdes, and the other Arimanius: But Euripides did not well to use the disjunctive for the copulative, in this verse, 
Jupiter, nature's necessity,  
Or human mind, whether he be?  For in truth, that puissance which pierceth and reacheth through all things, is both necessity, and also a mind. And this is it which the Egyptians would covertly give us to understand, under the vail of their mystical fables, that when Horus was condemned and dismembered, his spirit and blood was given and awarded to his father, but his flesh and grease to his mother: But of the soul there is nothing that remaineth pure and sincere, nothing unmixed and apart from others; for as Her aclitus was wont to say: Hidden harmony, is better than the apparent: for that therein, God who tempered it, hath bestowed secretly and concealed, differences and diversities: and yet there appeareth in the unreasonable part, turbulent perturbations, in the reasonable settled order: in senses necessity and constraint; in the understanding full power and entire liberty: but the terminant and defining power, loveth the universal and indivisible, by reason of their conjunctions and consanguinity. chose, the dividing puissance, inclineth and cleaveth to particulars by the divisible. The total universality joieth in a settled order, by the means of the same, and again, so far forth as need is, in a mutation by the means of the other: but the difference of inclinations to honesty or dishonesty, to pleasure, or displeasure; the ravishments and transportations of the spirit in amorous persons, the combats in them, of honour against voluptuous wantonness; do evidently show, and nothing so much, the commixion of the nature divine and impassable with the mortal and passable part in bodily things; of which himself calleth the one the concupiscence of pleasure ingenerate and inbred in us, the other an opinion induced from without, desirous of the sovereign good: for the soul of itself produceth and yieldeth passibility; but the participation of understanding cometh to it without forth, 〈◊〉 by the best principle and cause, which is God: so the very nature of heaven is not exempt from this double society and communion; but that a man may see how otherwhiles it doth incline and bend another way, by the revolution of the the same which is more predominant, and so doth govern the world: and a portion of time will come, like as it hath been often heretofore, when as the wisdom thereof shall be dulled and dazzled, yea and laid asleep, being filled with the oblivion of that which is meet and decent for it: and that which from the beginnings is familiar and conformable to the body, shall draw, weigh down, and turn back the way and course of the whole universality on the right hand: but break and undo the form thereof quite it shall not be able, but reduce it again to the better, and have a regard unto the first pattern of God, who helpeth the endeavours thereof, and is ready to reform and direct the same.  
Thus it is showed unto us in many places, that the soul is not altogether the work of God; but having a portion of evil inbred in her, she hath been brought into order and good dispose by him who hath limited infinity by unity; to the end that it should become a substance bounded within the own terms: and hath set by the means of the same and the other, order, change, difference, and similitude: and hath contracted and wrought a society, alliance and amity of all things one with another, as far as possible it was, by the means of numbers and proportions. Of which point, albeit you have heard much speech, and read many books and writings; yet I shall not do amiss, but greatly to the purpose, if briefly I discourse thereof. First setting down the words of Plato. God (quoth he) deducted first from the universal world, one part: and then double so much: afterwards a third portion, to wit, the one, and half of the second, and the triple of the first: Soon after a fourth, to wit, the double of the second: & anon a fifth, namely the triple of the third: After that a sixth, to wit, the octuple of the first, and a seventh, which was the first seven twenty fold. This done he filled the double and triple intervals; cutting from them also certain parcels from thence, which he interjected berweene these: in such sort as in every interval there were two medieties: the one surmounting, and surmounted by the same portion of the extremites: the other, surmounting by equal number, one of the extremities and surmounted of another by the like. But seeing the intervals carry the proportions sesquialterall, sesquitercian and sesquioctave: of these ligaments in the first precedent distances, he filled up all the sesquiterces with the interval of the sesquioctave, leaving of each of them one part: And this distance of the part or number being left of number to number, it had for the terms and bonds thereof in proportion to that which is between, two hundred fifty six, and two hundred forty three. Here first and foremost a question is moved as touching the quantity of these numbers: and secondly, concerning the order: and thirdly, of their power. For the quantity and sum: what they be which he taketh in the duple intervals? For the order, to wit, whether they ought to be set and disposed all in one range, as Theodor us did? or rather as Crantor, in the figure of the letter lamda. 〈◊〉. setting upon the point or top thereof unity or the first, & then in one file apart, the duples, and the triples in another, for the use and power, namely what they confer to the constitution and composition of the soul. As concerning the first, we will reject those who say, that it sufficeth in these proportions to consider of what nature be the intervals, and of what the midieties which fill them up, in what numbers soever a man may suppose that they have places capable between of the proportions aforesaid: for that the doctrine goeth after the same manner. And albeit that which they say, were true, yet the proof and demonstration thereof is but slender without examples, and hindereth another speculation, wherein there is contained a pleasant kind of learning and philosophy. If then, beginning at unity, we put apart by themselves the numbers duple and the triple as he himself teacheth us, there will be of the one side two, four, and eight, on the other, three, nine, and twenty seven; which are in all seven, taking the unity as common, and proceeding forward in multiplication unto four. For it is not in this place only, but also in many others, where the consent and agreement is very evident, that is between the quarternary and the septenary. And as for that quaternity of the Pythagoreans so much voiced and so highly by them celebrated, it is of thirty six, which hath this admirable matter in it above all others, that it is compounded of the four first even numbers, & of the four first odd numbers: and it ariseth by the fourth couple or conjugation of number, ranged in order one after the other. **********************************  
For the first is of one and two: the second of one and three which be odd. For setting one in the first place, as indifferent and common to both; then taketh he eight, and twenty seven, showing and as it were pointing with the finger, what place he giveth to the one and the other kind.  
But to treat hereof after a more exact and exquisite manner, appertaineth unto others: But that which remaineth is proper to the subject matter in hand. For it was not upon any ostentation of skill and sufficiency in the Mathematical arts that Plato hath inserted within a treatise of natural philosophy, this Arethmeticall and harmonical medieties, but as a discourse very meet and fit to serve for the composition and constitution of the soul; howsoever there be some who seek for these proportions in the swiftness more or less of the wandering spheres; others rather in their distances; some in the magnitudes of the stars; and others again, after a more curious manner, in the Diamiters of the Epicycles, as if that creator had in regard thereof, and for this cause applied and fitted the soul distributed into seven parts, unto the celestial bodies. Many there be moreover who bring hither and accommodate to this matter the Pythagoreans inventions, tripling the distances of bodies from the midst: which they do after this manner, setting upon fire unity; and upon the earth opposite unto ours, three; upon the earth nine; upon the Moon twenty seven; upon Mercury fowrescore and one; upon Venus two hundred forty three; and upon the Sun himself 729. for that it is both quadrat and cube: which is the reason that they call the sun also one while quadrat and another while cube: and after the same sort they reduce the other stars by way of triplation. But these philosophers do miscount greatly, and stray far from reason and proportion indeed, if so be that Geometrical demonstrations do avail aught: yet in comparison of them, well fare they who go to work another way; and albeit they prove not their positions exactly, yet (I say) they come nearer to the mark, who give out, that the Diameter of the sun, compared to the Diameter of the earth, is in the same proportion that twelve is to one: that the Diameter or Dimetient line of the earth is triple to that of the moon: and the least fixed star that is to be seen, hath no less a Diameter, than the third part of the Diameter of the earth: also that the total globe of the earth, compared with the sphere of the moon, carrieth the proportion of twenty seven to one: The Diameters of Venus and the earth, are in double proportion, but their globes or spheres bear octuple proportion, to wit, eight for one. Semblably, the interval of the ecleptory, and the shadow which causeth the eclipse, is triple to the Diameter of the moon. Also the latitude of the moons declination from the zodiac on either side, is one twelfth part: likewise that the habitudes and aspects of her to the sun, in distances triqueter, or quadrangular, take the forms and figurations either of the half moon, at the first quarter, or else when she swelleth and beareth out on both sides: but after she hath passed six signs of the zodiac, she maketh a full compass, and resembleth a certain harmonical symphony of Diapason in Hexatonos. And forasmuch as the sun about the solstices or tropicks, as well of summer as winter moveth least, & most slowly; but chose, about the two equinoxes in Spring and Autumn, most swiftly, and exceeding much: the proportion of that which he taketh from the day, and putteth to the night, or chose, is after this manner in the first thirty days; for in that space after the solstice in winter, he addeth to the day the sixth part of that exuperance, whereby the longest night surmounteth the shortest day: and in another thirty days following after that, a third part, and so forward in the rest of the days one half, until you come to the equinox, in fextuple and triple intervals, to make even the inequality of the times. But the Chaldeans say, that Spring in regard of Autumn carrieth proportion Diatessaron, in respect of winter Diapente, and in comparison of summer Diapason: But if Euripides hath well limited the four quarters of the year when he said: 
For summer hot, four months or deined be,  
For winter cold likewise are other four:  
Shorter is rich Autumn by one 〈◊〉,  
And pleasant Spring whiles it remains in flower.  than the seasons do change after the proportion Diapason. Some attribute to the earth, the place of the musical note Proslambanomenos: unto the moon Hypate: unto Mercury and Lucifer Diatonos and Lichanos: the sun they set upon Mese (they say) containing Diapason in the mids, distant from the earth one fifth or Diapente, and from the sphere of the fixed stars a fourth, or Diatesseron. But neither the pretty conceited imagination of these toucheth the truth any way, nor the reckoning and account of those other, cometh precisely to the point. Well, those who affirm that these devices agree not to the mind of Plato, are yet of opinion, that those other agree very well to the propositions described in the Tablature of musicians, which consisteth of five tetrachords, to wit, the first Hypaton, as one would say, of base notes; the second, Meson, that is to say, of means; the third, Synemmenon that is to say, of conjuncts; the fourth, Diezeugmernon, that is to say, of disjuncts; & the fifth, Hyperbolaeon, to wit, of the high and excellent notes: semblably, say they: The planets be set in five distances, where of the one is from the moon unto the sun, and those which have the same revolution with him, as Mercury and Venus; a second, from these three unto the fiery planet Mars; the third, from thence to Jupiter; the fourth, from him to Saturn; and the fifth reacheth unto the starry sky: so that the found'st and notes which determine the five terrachords, answer to the proportion of the planets or wandering stars. Moreover, we know very well, that the ancient musicians, did set down no more notes but two Hypates, three Netes, one Mese, and one Parame: so as their musical notes were equal in number to the planets: but our modern masters of music, have added that which is called Proslambanomenos, namely, lower by one note than Hypate, and inclining to the base: and so the whole composition they made Disdiapason; not keeping and observing the order of the consonances according to nature, for Diapente is before Diatesseron, by adding one note or tone to Hypate toward the base; whereas it is certain that Plato took one note to it toward the treble; for he saith in his books of Commonwealth: That every one of the eight spheres hath a siren sitting upon it, causing the same to turn about, and that each one of them hath a several and proper voice of their own: but of altogether there is contempered a certain harmony: these sirens being disposed to solace themselves, sing for their pleasure divine and heavenly tunes, dancing withal a sacred dance, under the melodious consent of eight strings: as also there were eight principal terms at first of proportions double and triple; counting for one of these terms or limits unity to either part: but the more ancient sort have given unto us nine muses, to wit, eight as Plato himself saith, about the celestial bodies, and the ninth about the terrestrial, called forth from the rest to dulce and set them in repose, in stead of error, trouble, and inequality. Consider now I pray you, whether the soul being become most just and most wise, doth not manage the heaven and celestial things by the accords and motions therein? And thus endued she is by proportions harmonical; the images where of are imprinted upon the bodies and visible parts of the world which are seen: but the first and principal power is visibly inserted in the soul which showeth herself accordant & obeisant to the better & more divine part, all the rest consenting likewise thereto. For the sovereign creator, finding a disorder and confusion in the motions of this disordinate and foolish soul, being evermore at discord with herself, divided and separated some; reconciled and reunited others; using thereto numbers and proportions; by means where of, the most deaf bodies, as blocks and stones, wood, barks of trees, and the very rennets and maws of beasts, their guts, their galls and sinews, being framed, contempered, and mixed together in proportion, exhibit into us the figures of statues wonderful to see to, and drogues and medicines most effectual, yea and sounds of musical instruments right admirable. And therefore Zeno the Citiean, called forth young men to see and behold minstrels playing upon flutes and hautboys: That they might hear (quoth he) and learn, what sweet sounds and melodious noises, horns, pieces of wood, canes and reeds do yield, yea and whatsoever matters else musical instruments be made of, when they meet with proportions and accords. As for that which the Pythagoreans were wont to say and affirm, namely, that all things resembled number, it would ask a long discourse for to declare it. But that all the gods who were before at discord and debate, by reason of their dissimilitude, and whatsoever else jarred, grew to accord and consonance one with another, where of the cause was the contemperature, moderation and order of number and harmony, the very Poets were not ignorant of, who use to call such things as be friendly, 〈◊〉 and pleasing, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: but adversaries and enemies they term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as if discord and enmity were nothing else but disproportion: and verily that Poet whoever he was, that made a funeral ditty for Pindarus, when he said thus of him, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
To stranger's kind he was and affable,  
To citizens friendly and pliable.  showed very well, that he held it for a singular virtue to be sociable, and to know how to sort and agree with others: like as the same Pindar us himself, 
When God did call, he gave attendance,  
And never bragged of all his valiance,  meaning and signifying Cadmus. The old Theologians and Divines, who of all Philosophers are most ancient, have put into the hands of of the images of the gods, musical instruments, minding nothing less thereby, than to make this god or that a minstrel, either to play on lute or to sound the flute, but because they thought there was no greater piece of work than accord and harmonical symphonic could beseem the gods. Like as therefore, he that would seek for sesquitertian, sesquialterall or double proportions of Music, in the neck or bridge, in the belly or back of a lute, or in the pegs and pings thereof, were a ridiculous fool (for howsoever these parts ought to have a symmetry and proportion one to another in regard of length and thickness; yet the harmony where of we speak, is to be considered in the sounds only.) Even so, probable it is, and standeth with great reason, that the bodies of the stars, the distances and intervals of spheres, the celerity also of their courses and revolutions, should be proportionate one unto the other, yea and unto the whole world, as instruments of music well set and tuned, albeit the just quantity of the measure be unknowen unto. But this we are to think, that the principal effect and efficacy of these numbers and proportions, which that great and sovereign Creator used, is the consonance, accord, and agreement of the soul in itself; with which she being endowed, she hath replenished both the heaven itself, when she was settled thereupon, with an infinite number of good things; and also disposed and ordained all things upon the earth, by seasons, by changes and mutations, tempered and measured most excellently well and with surpassing wisdom, aswell for the production and generation of all things, as for the preservation and safety of them, when they were created and made.    

AN EPITOME OR breviary of a Treatise as touching the creation of the Soul, according to Plato in Timaeus.  
THis Treatise, entitled, Of the creation of the soul, as it is described in the book of of Plato named Timaeus, declareth all that Plato, and the Platoniques have written of that argument; and inferreth certain proportions and similitudes Geometrical, which he supposeth pertinent to the speculation and intelligence of the nature of the soul: as also certain Musical and Arithmetical Theorems. His meaning and saying is, that the first matter was brought into form and shape by the soul. He attributeth to the universal world a soul; and likewise to every living creature a soul of the own by itself, which ruleth and governeth it. He bringeth in the said soul in some sort not engendered, and yet after a sort subject to generation. But he affirmeth that eternal matter to have been form by God; that evil and vice is an imp springing from the said matter, To the end (quoth he) that it might never come into man's thought, That God was the author or cause of evil.  
All the rest of this breviary, is word for word in the Treatise itself, therefore may be well spared in this place, and not rehearsed a second time.   

OF FATAL NECESSITY.  
This little Treatise is so piteously torn, maimed, and dismembered throughout, that a man may sooner divine and guess thereat (as I have done) than translate it. I beseech the readers therefore, to hold me excused, in case I neither please myself, nor content them, in that which I have written.  
Endeavour I will, and address myself to write unto you (most dear and loving friend Piso, as plainly and compendiously as possible I can) mine opinion as touching Fatal destiny, for to satisfy your request: albeit you know full well how wary and precise I am in my writing. First and foremost therefore, thus much you must understand, That this term of Fatal destiny is spoken and understood two manner of ways: the one, as it is an action, and the other, as it is a substance. In the first place, Plato hath figuratively drawn it forth, & under a type described it as an action, both in his diologue entitled Phaedrus, in these words: It is an Adrastian law or inevitable ordinance, which always followeth and accompanieth God. And also in his treatise called Timaeus, after this manner: The laws which God hath pronounced and published to the immortal souls, in the procreation of the universal world. Likewise, in his books of Commonwealth, he saith, That Fatal necessity is the reason and speech of Lachesis the daughter of Necessity. By which places he giveth us to understand, not tragically, but after a theological manner, what his mind and opinion is. Now if a man (taking the said places already cited & quoted) would expound the same more familiarly in other words, he may declare the former description in Phaedrus after this sort, namely, that Fatal destiny is a divine reason or sentence intransgressible and inevitable, proceeding from a cause that cannot be diverted nor impeached. And according to that which he delivereth in Timaeus, it is a law consequently ensuing upon the nature and creation of the world, by the rule whereof all things pass and are dispensed, that be done. For this is it that Lachesis worketh & effecteth, who is in truth the daughter of Necessity, as we have both already said, & also shall better understand by that which we are to deliver hereafter in this and other treatises at our leisure. Thus you see what Destiny is, as it goeth for an action; but being taken for a substance, it seemeth to be the universal soul of the whole world, and admitteth a tripartite division. The first Destiny is that which erreth not; the second seemeth to err; and the third is under heaven & conversant about the earth: of which three, the highest is called Clotho; that next under it is named Atropos; and the lowest, Lachesis: and she receiveth the influences of her two celestial sisters, transmitting and fastening the same upon terrestrial things, which are under her government. Thus have we showed summarily, what is to be thought & said as touching Destiny, being taken as a substance; namely, What it is; what parts it hath; after what sort it is; how it is ordained; and in what manner it standeth, both in respect of itself, and also in regard of us: but as concerning the particularities of all these points, there is another fable in the Politics of Plato, which covertly in some sort giveth us intelligence thereof; and the same have we assayed to explain & unfold unto you, as well as possibly we can. But to return unto our Destiny as it is an action, let us discourse thereof, forasmuch as many questions, natural, moral and rational depend thereupon. Now for that we have in some sort sufficiently defined already, what it is, we are to consider consequently in order, the quality and manner thereof; howsoever there be many that think it very strange and absurd to search thereinto. I say therefore, that Destiny is not infinite, but sinite and determinate, however it comprehend as it were within a circle the infinity of all things that are, and have been time out of mind, yea and shall be worlds without end: for, neither law, nor reason, nor any divine thing whatsoever, can be infinite. And this shall you the better learn and understand, if you consider the total revolution and the universal time, when as the eight spheres, as Timaeus saith, having performed their swift courses, shall return to the same head and point again, being measured by the circle of The same, which goeth always after one manner: for in this definite and determinate reason, all things aswell in heaven as in earth, the which do consist by the necessity of that above, be reduced to the same situation, and brought again to their first head and beginning. The only habitude therefore of heaven, which standeth ordained in all points, aswell in regard of itself, as of the earth, and all terrestrial matters, after certain long revolutions, shall one day return, yea and that which consequently followeth after, and those which are linked in a continuity together, bring each one by consequence that which it hath by necessity. For to make this matter more plain, let us suppose that all those things which are in and about us, be wrought and brought to pass by the course of the heavens and celestial influences, all being the very efficient cause both of that which I write now, and also of that which you are doing at this present, yea and in that sort as you do the same: so that hereafter, when the same cause shall turn about and come again, we shall do the very same that now we do, yea and after the same manner; yea we shall become again the very same men. And even so it shall be with all other men: and look whatsoever shall follow in a course or train, shall likewise happen by a consequent and dependent cause: and in one word, whatsoever shall befall in any of the universal revolutions; shall become the same again. Thus apparent it is, as hath already been said, That Destiny being in some sort infinite, is nevertheless determinate and not infinite; as also, that according as we have showed before, it is evident that it is in manner of a circle: for like as the motion of a circle in a circle, and the time that measureth it is also a circle; even so the reason of those things which are done and happen in a circle, by good right may be esteemed and said to be a circle.  
This therefore, if nought else there were, showeth unto us, in a manner sufficiently, what is destiny in generality, but not in particular, nor in each several respect: What then is it? It is the general, in the same kind of reason, so as a man may compare it with civil law: For first and foremost, it commandeth the most part of things, if not all, at leastwise by way of supposition, and then it compriseth as much as is possible all matters appertaining to a city or public state, generally: and that we may better understand both the one and the other, let us exemplify and consider the same in specialty: The civil or politic law speaketh and ordaineth generally of a valiant man, as also of a runaway coward, and so consequently of others: howbeit, this is not to make a law of this or that particular person; but to provide in general principally, and then of particulars by consequence, as comprised under the said general; for we may very well say, that to remunerate and recompense this or that man for his valour is lawful; as also to punish a particular person for his cowardice, and forsaking his colours; for that the law potentially and in effect, hath comprised as much, although not in express words: like as the law (if I may so say) of Physicians, and of masters of bodily exercises, comprehendeth special and particular points within the general: and even so doth the law of nature, which first and principally doth determine general matters; and then particulars secondarily & by consequence. Semblably, may particular and individual things in some sort be said to be destined, for that they be so by consequence with the generals. But haply some one of those who search and inquire more curiously and exactly into these matters will hold the contrary, and say; that of particular & individual things, proceed the composition of the generals, and that the general is ordained and gathered for the particular. Now that for which another thing is, goeth always before that which is for it; but this is not the proper place to speak of these quiddities; for we are to refer them to some other: howbeit, that destiny doth not comprehend all things purely and expressly, but only such as be universal and general, is resolved upon for this present, and serveth for that which we have to say hereafter, yea, and agreeth also to that which hath been delivered somewhat before; for that which is finite and determinate, properly agreeable to divine providence, is more seen in universal and general things, than in particular; of this nature is the law of God, and such is likewise the civil law, whereas infinity consisteth in particulars.  
After this we are to declare, what meaneth this term, By supposition: for surely destiny is to be thought such a thing. We have then called, By supposition, that which is not set down of itself, nor by itself, but supposed and joined after another; and this signifieth a suit and consequence: This is the law or ordinance of Adrastia, that is to say, a decree inevitable; unto which, if any soul can associate itself, the same shall be able to see by consequence, all that will ensue, even unto another general revolution, and be exempt from all evil; which if it may be able always to do, it shall neither sustain any damage nor do harm. Thus you see what it is that we call, By supposition & in general. Now that Fatal destiny is of this kind evidently appeareth, as well by the substance as the name thereof; for it is called in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as if one would say 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is as much as dependent and linked, and a law it is and ordinance, for that things therein be ordained and disposed consequently, and in manner of those which are done civilly.  
Hereunto is to be annexed a treatise of relation, that is to say, what reference and respect hath Fatal destiny unto divine providence, as also unto fortune: likewise, what is that which is in us; what is contingent; and such like things. Moreover, we are to decide, wherein and how it is false; wherein also, and how it is true; that all things happen and come to pass by Fatal destiny: for 〈◊〉 it import and imply thus much, That all things are comprised and contained in Fatal destiny, we must grant this proposition to be true: and say one put thereto all things done among men, upon the earth, and in the very heaven, and place them within Fatal destiny, let us grant as much for the present. But if we understand that this word Fatal (as it rather see meth) doth import not all things, but that only which followeth and is dependent, than we may not grant and say, that all things be comprehended in Fatal destiny; considering all that which the law doth comprehend, and where of it 〈◊〉, is not lawful, nor according to law: for why? it compriseth treason; it treateth of cowardice; of running away from ones colours and place in battle; of adultery and many things semblable: of which we cannot say, any one is lawful: forasmuch as, even to perform valorous service in the wars, to kill tyrants, or to exploit any virtuous deed, I would not term lawful, because properly that is lawful, which is commanded by the law; and if the law did command those things, how can they avoid to be rebellious and transgressors of the law, who have not done valiant exploits in arms, have not killed tyrants, nor performed any other notable acts of virtue? and in case they be offenders of the law, why are they not punished accordingly? But if to punish such, be neither just nor reasonable, then confess we must, that these matters be not legal, nor according to law; for legal and according to law is that, which is namely prescribed, set down, and expressly commanded by the law, in any action whatsoever. Semblably, those things only be Fatal and according to destiny, which are done by a divine disposition proceeding, so that Fatal destiny may well comprise all things: howbeit many of those which be comprised therein, and in manner all that went before, to speak properly, cannot be pronounced Fatal, nor according to Fatal destiny, which being so, we ought to declare now in order consequently, how that which is in our own power, to wit, free will, how fortune, possible, contingent, and other such like things, which be ranged and placed among the premises, may subsist safely with fatal distiny; and how fatal distiny may stand with them: for fatal distiny comprehendeth all, as it seemeth: and yet these things happen not by any necessity, but every of them according to there own nature. The nature of possible is to have a presubsistence as the gender, and to go before the contingent, and the contingent as the subject matter ought to be presupposed before the things which are in our power: for that which is in us, as a lord and master useth the contingent. And fortune is of this nature, to intercurre between our free will and what is in us, by the property of contingency inclining to the one side and to the other, which you may more easily apprehend and understand, if you consider, how every thing that is produced forth, yea and the production itself and generation, is not without a certain puissance: and no puissance or power there is without a substance: as for example the generation of man, and that which is produced and engendered, is not without a power, and the same is about the man, but man himself is the substance. Of the puissance or power being between, cometh the substance which is the puissant: but the production and that which is produced, be both things possible. There being therefore these three, puissance, puissant, and possible: before puissance can be, of necessity there must be presupposed a puissant, as the subject thereof: and even so it must needs be that puissance also subsist before that which is possible. By this deduction then, in some sort is declared, what is that which we call possible; so as we may after a gross manner define it to be, that which puissance is able to produce: and to speak more properly of the same, by adjoining thereto thus much, provided always that nothing without-forth do impeach or hinder it. But among possible things, some there be that never can be hindered, as namely in heaven, the rising and setting of the stars, and such like: others may be impeached, as the most part of human affairs, yea and many meteors in the air. As for the former, as things happening by necessity, they be called necessary; the other for that they fall out sometime chose, we term contingent; and in this sort may they be described. Necessary is that possible thing, which is opposite to impossible: contingent is that possible, whereof possible also is the contrary. For that the sun should go down, is a thing both necessary & possible, as being contrary unto this impossibility, namely, that the sun should not set at all: but that when the sun is set, there should come rain or not rain, are both of them possible and contingent. Again of things contingent, some there be which happen oftentimes and for the most part; others rare and seldom; some fall out indifferently, as well one way as another, even as it happeneth. And plain it is, that these be opposite and repugnant to themselves: as for those which happen usually and very often, contrary they be to such things as chance but seldom: and these indeed for the most part are subject to nature: but that which chanceth equally, one way as well as another, lieth in us and our will: for example's sake, that under the Dog star it should be hot and cold; the one commonly and for the most part, the other very seldom, are things both, submitted to nature: but to walk or not to walk and such things whereof the one and the other be subject to the free will of man, are said to be in us and in our choice and election: but rather and more generally, they be said to be in us. For as touching this term, To be in us, it is to be understood two manner of ways, and thereof are two kinds, the one proceedeth from passion as namely from anger or concupiscence; the other from discourse of reason or judgement and understanding, which a man may properly say, to be in our election. And some reason there is that this possible contingent which is named to be in us, and to proceed from our appetite and will, should be called so, not in the same regard, but for diverse: for in respect of future time it is called possible and contingent; but in regard of the present it is named, In us and in our free will: so as a man may thus define and distinguish of these things: Contingent is that which both itself and the contrary whereof is possible: that which in us, is the one part of contingent, to wit, that which presently is in doing according to our appetite. Thus have we in manner declared, that by nature possible goeth before contingent, and contingent subsisteth before that which in us; also, what each of them is, and whereupon they are so called, yea and what be the qualities adjoining thereto: it remaineth now, that we should treat of Fortune and casual adventure, and of whatsoever beside, that requireth discourse and consideration. First, this is certain, that Fortune is a kind of cause: but among causes, some are of themselves, others by accident: as for example, of an house or ship, the proper causes and of themselves, be the Mason, Carpenter or Shipwright; but by accident, the Musician and Geometrician, yea, and whatsoever incident to the mason, carpenter, or shipwright, either in regard of body or mind, or outward things: whereby it appeareth, that the essential cause which is by itself, must needs be determinate, certain in one; whereas the accidental causes are not always one and the same, but infinite, and indeterminate; for many accidents in number infinite, and in nature different one from another, may be together in one and the same subject. This cause then by accident, when it is found not only in such things which are done for some end, but also in those wherein our election and will taketh place, is called fortune: as namely, to find treasure when a man diggeth a hole or grave to plant a tree in, or to do and suffer any extraordinary thing, in flying, pursuing, or otherwise going and marching, or only in retiring: provided always, that he doth it not to that end which ensueth thereupon, but upon some other intention. And hereupon it is, that some of the ancient philosophers have defined fortune, to be a cause unknowen, and not foreseen by man's reason: But according to the Platoniques, who come nearer unto it in reason, it is defined thus: Fortune is an accidental cause in those things that are done for some end, and which are in our election; and afterwards they adjoin moreover, not foreseen nor known by the discourse of human reason; although that which is rare and strange, by the same means, appeareth also in this kind of cause by accident. But what this is, if it appear not manifestly by the oppositions and contradictory disputations, yet at leastwise it will be declared most evidently, by that which is written in a treatise of Plato, entitled Phaedon, where these words are found. What? Have you not heard how & in what manner the judgement passed? Yes iwis: For one there was, who came and told us of it: whereat we marveled very much, that seeing the sentence of judgement was pronounced long before, he died a good while after. And what might be the cause thereof, O Phaedon? Surely, there happened unto him, O Echecrates, a certain fortune: For it chanced that the day before the judgement, the prow of the galley which the Athenians sent to isle Delos was crowned: In which words it is to be noted, that by this term; There happened, you must not understand, There was; but rather, it so befell, upon a concourse and meeting of many causes together, one after another. For the priest adorned the ship with coronets for another end and intention, and not for the love of Socrates; yea, and the judges had condemned him also for some other cause: but the event itself was so strange & admirable, as if it had happened by some providence, or by an human creature, or rather indeed by some superior nature. And thus much may suffice as touching fortune, and the definition thereof: as also, that necessarily it ought to subsist together with some one contingent thing of those which are meant to some end; whereupon it took the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  name: yea, and there must be some subject before of such things which are in us and in our election.  
But casual adventure reacheth and extendeth farther than fortune: for it compriseth both it, and also many other things which may chance aswell one way as another: and according as the very etymology and derivation of the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, showeth it is that which happeneth for and in stead of another, namely, when that which was ordinary sell not out, but another thing in am thereof: as namely, when it chanceth to be cold weather in the Dog days; for sometimes it falleth out to be then cold: and not without cause. In sum, like as that which is in us and arbitrary, is part of contingent; even so is fortune a part of casual or accidental adventure: and both these events are conjunct and dependent one of another; to wit, casual adventure hangeth upon contingent, and fortune upon that which is in us and arbitrary; and yet not simply and in general, but of that only which is in our election, according as hath been before said. And hereupon it is, that this casual adventure is common aswell to things which have no life, as to those which are animate; whereas fortune is proper to man only, who is able to perform voluntary actions. An argument whereof is this, that to be fortunate, happy and blessed, are thought to be all one; for blessed happiness is a kind of well doing; and to do well, properly belongeth to a man and him that is perfect. Thus you see what things are comprised within fatal destiny, namely, contingent, possible, election, that which is within us, fortune, casual accident or chance & adventure, together with their circumstant adjuncts, signified by these words, haply, peradventure or perchance: howbeit, we are not to infer, that because they be contained within destiny, therefore they be fatal.  
It remaineth now to discourse of divine providence, considering that itself comprehendeth fatal destiny. This supreme and first providence therefore, is the intelligence and will of the sovereign god, doing good unto all that is in the world; whereby all divine things universally and throughout, have been most excellently and wisely ordained and disposed. The second providence, is the intelligence and will of the second gods who have their course thorough the heaven; by which, temporal and mortal things are engendered regularly and in order; as also whatsoever pertaineth to the preservation and continuance of every kind of thing. The third, by all probability and likelihood may well be called the providence and prospicience of the Daemonds or angels, as many as be placed and ordained about the earth as superintendents, for to observe, mark and govern men's actions. Now albeit there be seen this threefold providence, yet properly and principally that first and supreme is named Providence: so as we may be bold, and never doubt to say, howsoever herein we seem to contradict some Philosophers, That all things are done by fatal destiny, and by providence, but not likewise by nature: howbeit, some by providence; and that after diverse sorts, these by one, and those by another: yea and some also by fatal destiny. As for fatal destiny, it is altogether by providence; but providence in no wise by fatal destiny: where, by the way, this is to be noted, that in this present place I understand the principal and sovereign providence. Now whatsoever is done by another (be it what it will) is evermore after that which causeth or maketh it; even as that which is erected by law is after the law; like as what is done by nature, must needs succeed and come after nature. Semblably, what is done by fatal destiny, is after fatal destiny, & of necessity must be more new & modern: and therefore the supreme providence is the ancientest of all, excepting him alone, whose intelligence it is or will, or both twain together, to wit, the sovereign author, creator, maker and father of all things.  
And for what cause is it, saith Timaeus, that he hath made & framed this fabric of the world? for that he is all good, and in him being all good, there can not be imprinted or engendered any envy: but seeing he is altogether void and free from it, his will was, that as much as possibly might be, all things should resemble himself. He then who shall receive and admit this for the most principal and and proper original of the generation and creation of the world, such as wise men have delivered unto us by writing, is in the right way, and doth very well. For God willing that all things should be good, and nothing at all (to his power) evil, took all that was visible, restless as it was, and moving still rashly, confusedly, irregularly and without order, which he brought out of confusion, and ranged into order, judging this to be every way far better than the other: for neither it was, nor is convenient and meet, for him who is himself right good, to make any thing that should not be most excellent and beautiful. Thus therefore we are to esteem that providence (I mean that which is principal and sovereign) hath constituted and ordained these things first, and then in order such as ensue and depend thereof, even as far as to the souls of men. Afterwards having thus created the universal world, he ordained eight spheres, answering in number to so many principal stars; and distributed to every one of them a several soul; all which he set, each one (as it were) within a chariot over the nature of the whole, showing unto them the laws and ordinances of Fatal destiny *** What is he then who will not believe, that by these words he plainly showeth and declareth Fatal destiny, and the same to be (as one would say) a tribunal, yea, & a politic constitution of civil laws, meet and agreeable to the souls of men? whereof afterwards he rendereth a reason. And as touching the second providence, he doth after a sort expressly signify the same in these words, saying: Having therefore prescribed all these laws unto them, to the end that if afterwards there should be any default, he might be exempted from all cause of evil: he spread and sowed some upon the earth, others about the moon, and some again upon other organs and instruments of time: after which distribution, he gave commandment and charge to the young gods for to frame and create mortal bodies, as also to make up and finish that which remained and was wanting in man's soul; and when they had made perfect all that was adhaerent and consequent thereto, then to rule and govern after the best and wisest manner possible, this mortal creature, to the end that itself should not be the cause of the own evils and miseries: for in these words where it is said: That he might be exempt, and not the cause of any evil ensuing afterwards, he showeth clearly and evidently to every one the cause of Fatal destiny. The order also and office of these petie-gods declareth unto us the second providence, yea, and it seemeth that in some sort it toucheth by the way, the third providence, in case it be so, that for this purpose these laws and ordinances were established, because he might not be blamed or accused as the author of any evil in any one afterwards: for God himself being clear & exempt from all evil, neither hath need of laws, nor requireth any Fatal destiny: but each one of these petie-gods, led and haled by the providence of him who hath engendered them, doth their own devoir and office, belonging unto them. That this is true, and the very mind and opinion of Plato, appeareth manifestly in my conceit, by the testimony of those words which are reported by the lawgiver in his books of laws in this manner: If there were any man (quoth he) so by nature sufficient, or by divine fortune so happily borne, that he could be able to comprehend this, he should require no laws to command him: for no law there is, nor ordinance of more worth and puissance, than is knowledge and science: neither can he possibly be a servile slave or subject to any, who is truly and indeed free by nature, but he ought to command all. For mine own part thus I understand and interpret the sentence of Plato: For whereas there is a triple providence: the first, as that which hath engendered Fatal destiny, in some sort comprehendeth it: the second being engendered with it, is likewise wholly comprised in it: the third engendered after Fatal destiny, is comprised under it, in that manner, as, That which is in us, and fortune, as we have already said: for those whom the assistance of the power of our Daemon doth aid (according as Socrates saith) expounding unto Theages what is the inevitable ordinance of Adrastia, these (I say) are those whom you understand well enough; for they grow and come forward quickly with speed, so as, where it is said, that a Daemon or angel doth favour any, it must be referred to the third providence; but that suddenly they grow and come to proof, it is by the power of Fatal destiny: And to be short, it is very plain and evident, that even this also is a kind of destiny. And peradventure it may seem much more probable, that even the second providence is comprehended under destiny; yea, and in sum, all things whatsoever be made or done, considering that destiny according to the substance thereof, hath been rightly divided by us into three parts. And verily that speech as touching the chain and concatenation, comprehendeth the revolutions of the heavens, in the number and range of those things which happen by supposition: but verily of these points I will not debate much, to wit, whether we are to call them, Happening by supposition, or rather conjunct unto destiny; considering that the precedent cause and commander of destiny itself, is also fatal. And thus to speak summarily, and by way of abridgement, is our opinion: but the contrary sentence unto this, ordaineth all things to be not only under destiny, but also according to destiny, and by it. Now all things accord unto the other, and that which acordeth to another, the same must be gran-to be the other: according then to this opinion, contingent is said to be the first; that which is in us the second; fortune the third; accident or casual chance and adventure the fourth, together with all that dependeth thereupon, to wit, praise, blame, and those of the same kind; the fifth and last of all, may be said to be the prayers unto the gods, together with their services and ceremonies. Moreover, as touching those which are called idle, and harvest arguments, as also that which is named beside or against destiny, they are no better than cavils and sophistries according to this opinion; but according to the contrary sentence, the first and principal conclusion is, that nothing is done without cause, but all thing depend upon precedent causes: the second, that the world is governed by nature, which conspireth and is compatible with itself; the third may seem rather to be testimonies unto these; whereof the first is divination, approved by all nations, as being really and truly in God; the second the aequanimitie and patience of wise men, taking and bearing well all accidents and occurrents whatsoever, as coming by divine ordinance; the third, which is so common a speech, and divulged in every man's mouth, namely, that every proposition is either true or false. Thus have we drawn this discourse into a small number of short articles, to the end that we might remember and comprise in few words, the whole matter and argument of Destiny. All which points, both of the one and the other opinion, are to be discussed and examined with more diligent inquisition, whereof particularly we will treat afterwards.   

A COMPENDIOUS REVIEW AND DISCOURSE, THAT THE STOICS DELIVER MORE STRANGE OPINIONS, THAN DO THE POETS.  

The Summarie.  
APetie declaration this is against the sect of the Stoics, which briefly and in a word is maketh odious; giving out in plain terms, that such persons be the loudest liars in the world; and that their opinion as touching the change and alteration of that party who rangeth himself unto them, is so monstrous and ridiculous, that the discovery only thereof is a sufficient refutation.   

A COMPENDIOUS REVIEW and discourse, That the Stoics deliver more strange opinions, than do the Poets.  
PIndarus was reproved, for that after a strange manner, and without all sense and probability he feigned Caeneus one of the Lapithae, to have had a body so hard, as it could not be pierced by any weapon of iron and steel, but that he remained unhurt, and so afterwards 
Went under earth without en wound,  
When with stiff foot he cloven the ground.  But this Lapith of the Stoics, to wit, their imagined wise man, being forged by them of impassibility, as of a metal harder than the diamond, is not such an one as is not otherwhiles 〈◊〉, diseased and assailed with pain: howbeit, as they say, he abideth still fearless and without sorrow and heaviness; he continueth invincible, he sustaineth no force nor violence, howsoever he be wounded, what pain soever he suffereth, be he put to all tortures, or see his native country sacked and destroyed before his face, or what calamities else beside be presented to his eyes. And verily, that Caeneus whom Pindarus describeth, notwithstanding 〈◊〉 were smitten, and bore many strokes, yet was unwounded for all that: but the wise man whom the Stoics imagine, although he be kept enclosed in prison, yet is not restrained of liberty; say he be pitched down from the top of a rock, yet sustaineth no violence; is he put to the strappado, to the rack or wheel, yet for all that is he not tormented; and albeit he fry in the fire, yet he hath no harm; nay, if in wrestling he be foiled and take a fall, yet he persisteth unconquered; when he is environed within a wall, yet is he not besieged; and being sold in port sale by the enemies, yet is he no captive, but remaineth impregnable; resembling most properly for all the world, those ships which have these goodly inscriptions in their poups, Happy voyage, lucky navigation, Saving providence, and Remedy against all dangers: and yet the same nevertheless be tossed in the seas, split upon the rocks, cast away and drowned. jolaus, as the Poet Euripides hath feigned, by a certain prayer that he made unto the gods, of a feeble and decrepit old man, became all of a sudden a young and lusty gallant, ready for to fight a battle: but the Stoics wise man, who longer ago than yesterday, was most hateful, wretched and wicked, all at once to day is changed into a good and virtuous person; he is of a riveled, pale, lean and poor silly aged man, and as the Poet Aeschylus saith, 
Who suffereth pangs in flank, in reins and back,  
With painful cramps, stretched as upon aracke.  become, a lovely, fair, beautiful, and personable youth, pleasant both to God and man, Minerva in Homer rid Ulysses from his wrinkles, his baldness, and ill fovoured deformity, that he might appear full of favour and amiable: but this wise man of there making, albeit withered old age leave not his body, but chose increase still and grow more and more with all the discommodities that follow it, continuing still for example sake bunch backed, if he were so before, one eyed, and toothless, yet forsooth is not for all this, foul, deformed and ill favoured. For like as by report the bettils fly from good and sweet odours, seeking after stinking scents, even so the Stoics love (conversing with the most foul ill-favoured and deformed, after that by their sapience and wisdom they be turned into all beauty and favour) departeth and goeth from them. With these Stoics he who in the morning haply was most wicked, will prove in the evening a right honest man: & who went to bed foolish, ignorant, injurious, outrageous, intemperate, yea a very slave, a poor & needy beggar, will rise the morrow morning, a king, rich, happy, chaste, just, firm and constant, nothing at all subject to variety of opinions: not for that he hath all on a sudden put forth a beard, or become under grown, as in a young and tender body: but rather engendered in a weak, soft, effeminate and inconstant soul, a perfect mind, perfect understanding, sovereign prudence, a divine disposition, comparable to the gods, a settled and assured science, not wandering in opinions and an immutable and steadfast habitude: neither went that lewd wickedness of his away by little & little, but all at once (I may well neeresay) he was transmuted from a most vile beast into a demi god, a daemon, or a very god indeed. For so soon once as a man hath learned virtue in the Stoics school, he may say thus unto himself: 
Wish what thou wilt, and what thou list to crave,  
All shall be done; do thou but ask and have.  This virtue brings riches, this carrieth with it royalty, this giveth good fortune, this makes men happy, standing in need of nothing, contented in themselves, although they have not in all the world so much as a single drachm of silver, or one grey groat. Yet are the fables of Poets devised with more probability and likelihood of reason: for never do they leave Hercules altogether destitute of necessaries: but it seemeth that he hath with him always one living source or other, out of which there runneth evermore foison and plenty for himself and the company about him. But he who hath once gotten the goat Amalthea by the head, and that plentiful horn of abundance which the Stoics talk of, he is rich incontinently, and yet beggeth his bread and victuals of others; he is a king, although for a piece of money he teacheth how to resolve syllogisms: he only possesseth all things, albeit he pay rend for his house, buyeth his meal and meat with the silver that many times he taketh up of the usurer, or else craveth at their hands who have just nothing of their own to give. True it is indeed, that Ulysses the king of Ithaca begged alms, but it was because he would not be known; counterfeiting all that he could 
To make himself a beggar poor,  
Like one that went from door to door.  whereas he that is come out of the Stoics school, crying aloud with open mouth, I only am a king, I am rich and none but I, is seen oftentimes at other men's doors standing with this note, 
Give Hipponax a cloak, his naked corpse to fold,  
For that I quake and shiver much for cold.     

THE CONTRADICTIONS OF STOIC PHILOSOPHERS.  

The Summarie.  
PLutarch being of the Academic sect, directly contrary to the Stoics, examineth in this treatise the opinons of those his adversaries, and showeth by proper 〈◊〉 out of their own writings, and namely of Chrysippus their principal doctor, that there is nothing firm and certain in all their doctrine: perusing and sifting to this end the chief points of all the parts of philosophy, not binding himself precisely to any special or der, but proposing matters according as they come into his remembrance, or were presented to his etes. Moreover, in the recital of then repugnancics and contradictions, he 〈◊〉 certain expositions, to aggravate the absurdity of this sect of his adversaries, and to withdraw the reader from them: which is a very proper and singular manner of declaiming and disputing against inveterate errors, and such as have a great name in the world: for in showing that those who are reputed most able and sufficient to teach and maintain them, know not what they say, and do confound themselves, is as much as to reproach every man who doth adhaere unto them, with this imputation, that his is deprived of common sense, in receiving that for a certain verity, wherein their very 〈◊〉 are not well resolved, or admitting that which they practise, otherwise than they say.   

THE CONTRADICTIONS of Stoic philosophers.  
FIrst above all things, I would have to be seen a conformity and accord between the opinions of men and their lives: for it is not so necessary, that the orator, according as Lysias saith, and the law, should sound the same note, as requisite that the life of a philosopher should be conformable and consonant to his words and doctrine: for the speech of a philosopher is a voluntary and particular law which he imposeth upon himself, if it beso as men esteem, that philosophy is (as no doubt it is) the profession of that which is serious, grave, and of weighty importance, and not a gamesome sport, or vain and toyish prattling, devised only for to gain glory. Now we see, that Zeno himself hath written much by way of disputation and discourse; Cleanthes likewise, and Chrysippus most of all, concerning the politic government of commonwealth, touching rule and obedience, of judgement also and pleading at the bar: and yet look into all their lives throughout, you shall not find that ever any of them were captains and commanders, neither lawgivers, nor senators, & counsellors of State, ne yet orators or advocates pleading judicially in court before the judges; nay, they were not so much as employed in any war, bearing arms, and performing mattiall service for the defence of their countries: you shall not find (I say) that any of them was ever sent in embassage, or bestowed any public largesse or donative to the people; but remained all the time of their life (and that was not short, but very long) in a strange and foreign country, feeding upon rest and repose, as if they had tasted of the herb Lotus in Homer, and forgotten their native foil, where they spent their time in writing books, in holding discourses, and in walking up and down. Hereby it manifestly appeareth, that they lived rather according to the sayings and writings of other, than answerable to that which themselves judge and confess to be their duty, having passed the whole course of their life in that quiet repose, which Epicurus and Hieronymus so highly praise and recommend. And verily to prove this to be a truth, Chrysippus himself in his fourth book entitled, Of Lives, is of opinion, and so hath put down in writing, that a scholastical life, to wit, that of idle students, differeth not from the life of voluptuous persons. And to this purpose I think it not amiss to allege the man's speech word for word: They (quoth he) who think that this scholastical and idle life of students even from the first beginning, is most of all beseeming and agreeable to philosophers, in my conceit, seem much deceived weening as they do, that they are to philosophize for their pastime or recreation, and so to draw out in length the whole course of their life at their book in their studies, which is as much to say in plain terms, as to live at ease and in pleasure. Neither is this opinion of theirs to be hidden and dissembled; for many of them give out as much openly, howsoever others, and those not a few deliver the same more obscurely; and yet where is he who grew old and aged more in this idle scholastical life, than Chrysippus, Cleanthes, Diogenes, Zeno and Antipater? who forsook and abandoned even their native countries, having no cause or occasion in the world to complain of or to be discontent; only to this end, that they might lead their lives more sweetly at their pleasure, studying and disputing with ease, and letting out their girdle slack as they list themselves. To approve this that I say, Aristocreon the disciple of Chrysippus, and one of his familiar friends, having caused a statue of brass to be erected for him, set over it these elegant verses in manner of an epigram: 
This image, Aristocreon erected fresh and new  
For Chrysip, Academic knots who like an axe did hew  Lo, what manner of person was Chrysippus, an aged man, a philosopher, one who praised the life of kings, and of those who are conversant in weal public, and he who thought there was no difference between the idle scholastical life, and the voluptuous. And yet others among them as many I mean as deal in state affairs, are found to be more repugnant and contradictory to the resolutions of there own sect: for they bear rule as chief magistrates, they are judges, they be Senators and set in counsel, they ordain and publish laws, they punish malefactors, they honour and reward those that do well; as if they were cities indeed wherein they govern and manage the state; as if those were senators, counsellors and judges, who yearly always are by lot created or otherwise to such places; captains and commanders who are elected by the suffrages and voices of citizens; and as if those were to be held good laws which Clisthenes, Lycurgus & Solon made: and yet the same men they avow and maintain to have been witless fools, and lewd persons. Thus you see how albeit they administer the common weal, yet they be repugnant to their own doctrine.  
In like manner Antipater, in his book of the dissension, between Cleanthes, and Chrysippus reporteth, that Zeno and Cleanthes would never be made citizens of Athens, for fear forsooth lest they might be thought to offer injury to their own country. Now if they herein did well, let Chrysippus go, and say we nothing of him that he did amiss, in causing himself to be enroled and immatriculated in the number of Athenian citizens; for I will not stand much upon this point: only this I hold, that there is a strange and wonderful repugnance in their deeds and actions, who reserve still the bare names of their native countries, and yet bereave the same of their very persons and their lives, conversing so far off in foreign lands: much like as if a man who hath cast off and put a way his lawful wedded wife, should dwell, live and lie ordinary with another as his concubine, yea and beget children of her body, and yet will in no wise espouse her and contract marriage with her, lest forsooth he might seem to do wrong and injury to the former. Furthermore Chrysippus in his treatise that he made of Rhetoric writing thus, that a wise man will in such sort plead, make orations to the people, and deal in state matters, as if riches reputation and health were simply good things, testifieth hereby and confesseth that his precepts and resolutions induce men not to go forth of doors nor to intermeddle in politic and civil affairs, and so by consequence that their doctrines and precepts cannot sort well with practice, nor be agreeable unto the actions of this life.  
Moreover, this is one of Zenoes' quodlibets or positions: that we ought not to build temples to the honour of the gods: for that a temple is no such holy thing, nor so highly to be esteemed considering it is the workmanship of masons, carpenters and other artificers: neither can any work of such artisans be prised at any worth. And yet even they who avow and approve this as a wise speech of his, are themselves professed in the religious mysteries of those churches; they mount up to the castle and frequent there the sacred temple of Minerva; they adore the shrines and images of the gods; they adorn the temples with chaplets and guarlands, notwithstanding they be the works of masons, carpenters and such like mechanical persons. And will these men seem indeed to reprove the Epicureans as contrary to themselves, who denying that the gods be occupied or employed in the government of the world, yet offer sacrifice unto them, when as they check and refute themselves much more in sacrificing unto the gods within their temples and upon their altars, which they maintain that they ought not to stand at all, nor once to have been built?  
Zeno putteth down & admitteth many virtues according to their several differences, like as Plato doth, to wit, prudence, fortitude, temperance & justice; saying that they be all in very deed and in nature inseparable nor distinct a sunder: howbeit in reason diverse and different one from another. And again when he would seem to define them severally one after another, he saith That fortitude is prudence in the execution of matters: justice is prudence in the distribution of things, etc. as if there were no more but one sole virtue, which according to diverse relations, unto affairs and actions, seemeth to differ and admit distinction. So you see, that not Zeno alone seemeth to be repugnant unto himself in these matters, but Chrysippus also, who reproveth Ariston for saying, that all virtues are nothing else but the diverse habitudes and relations of one and the same, and yet defendeth Zeno when he defineth each virtue in this wise by itself.  
As for Clearches in his commentaries of nature, having set this down, that the vigour and firmitude of things, is the illision and smiting of fire, which if it be in the soul so sufficient, that it is able to perform the duties presented unto it, is called strength and power, he annexeth afterward these words: And this very power and strength (quoth he) when as it is employed in such objects where in a man is to persist, and which he ought to contain, is called Continency; if in things to be endured and supported, than it is named Fortitude; if in estimation of worthiness and desert, beareth the denomination of Justice; if in choises or refusals, it carrieth the name of Temperance. Against him who was the author of this sentence, 
For bear thy sentence for to pass, and judgement see thou stay,  
Until such time as thou hast heard what parties both can say.  Zeno alleged such a reason as this on the contrary side. Whether the plaintiff who spoke in the first place hath plainly proved his cause or no, there is no need at all to hear the second, for the matter is at an end already, and the question determined: or whether he hath not proved it, all is one; for it is even the same case, whether he that is cited be so stubborn as not to appear for to be heard, or if he appear, do nothing else but cavil and wrangle: so that prove he or prove he not his cause, needless it is to hear the second plead. And yet even he who made this Dilemma, and wrote against the books of Policy and common wealth that Plato composed, taught his scholars how to affoile and avoid such Sophistical arguments, yea and exhorted them to learn Logic with all diligence, as being the art which showeth them how to perform the same. Howbeit a man might come upon him by way of objection in this manner: Certes, Plato hath either proved or else not proved those points which he handled in his Politics: but whether he did or no, there was no necessity at all to write against him as you did; for it was altogether vain, needless and superfluous. And even the same may be said of Sophistical arguments and cavillations.  
Chrysippus is of opinion, that young scholars and students should first learn those arts which concern speech, as Grammar, Logic and Rhetoric; in the second place, moral sciences; in the third, natural philosophy; and after all these, in the last place, to hear the doctrine as touching religion and the gods: which being delivered by him in many passages of his writings, it shall be sufficient to allege that only which he hath written thus word for word in the third book of his Lives. First and foremost (quoth he) it seemeth unto me, according to the doctrine of our ancients, that of Philosophical speculations there be three kinds; Logical, as touching speech; ethical, concerning manners; and Physical, belonging to the nature of things: of which, that which is respective unto speech ought to precede and be ranged first; secondly, that which treateth of manners; thirdly, that which handleth natural causes. Now of these Physics and natural arguments, the last is that which treateth of God: and this is the reason that the precepts and traditions of divine matters and of religion, they called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as one would say, the very last and coming in the end. Howbeit, this treatise of the gods, which by his saying ought to be set last, himself in the very same book, rangeth above manners, and setteth before all other moral questions. For neither seemeth he to speak of the ends, nor of justice, nor of good and evil things, nor of marriage, nor of the nouriture and education of children, 〈◊〉 yet of law nor of the government of the Commonwealth in any sort; but as they who propose and publish decrees unto cities and States, make some preamble before of good luck or happy fortune; so he useth the preface of Jupiter, of Fatal destiny, of Divine providence: also, that there being but one world, the same doth consist and is maintained by one mighty power. Which points, no man doth firmly believe nor can be resolutely persuaded in, unless he wade deeply into the profoundest secrets and discourses of natural Philosophy. But harken I beseech you, a little, to that which he saith of these matters, in his third book of the gods: It is not possible (quoth he) to find out any other fountain and original beginning of justice, than from Jupiter and common nature: for from hence it must needs be, that every such thing is derived, if that we mean to discourse of good things and evil. Again, in his Treatise of natural positions, there is no other way, or at leastwise not a better, of proceeding to the discourse of good things and bad, nor of of virtues, nor of sovereign felicity, than from common nature, and the administration of the world. Moreover, as he goeth forward in another place, We are to annex and adjoin hereunto (quoth he) a treatise of good and evil things, considering there is not a better beginning thereof, nor yet a reference and relation more proper: neither is the speculation and science of nature in any other respect requisite or necessary to be learned, but only for to know the difference of good and evil. And therefore according to Chrysippus, this natural science both goeth before and also followeth after moral things; or to say a truth at once in more express terms, it were a strange and difficult inversion of order, to hold, that it is to be placed after them, considering that without it it were impossible to comprehend any of the other: and a very manifest repugnance it were to affirm, that science natural is the beginning of moral, which treateth of good and evil, and yet ordain nevertheless, that it should be taught not before, but after it. Now if any man say unto me, that Chrysippus in his book entitled, The use of speech, hath written, that he who first learneth Logic, I mean the knowledge and philosophy concerning words, ought not altogether for to forbear the learning of other parts, but that he ought to take a taste of them, according as he hath means thereto, well may he speak a truth, but withal, confirm he shall my accusation still of his fault: for he fighteth with himself, in ordering one while that a man should learn in the last place and after all, the science that treateth of God, as if that were the reason why it was called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is as much as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Final; and another while teaching clean contrary, that the same is to be learned even with the very first, and at the beginning: for then farewell all order for ever, and welcome confusion, if we must learn all things huddled together at all times. But yet this is not the worst, for having set this down for a reasolution: That the doctrine as touching good things and evil, aught to begin and proceed from the knowledge of God; yet, he will not have them who settle themselves and enter into the study of moral philosophy, to take their beginning there: but that in learning this, to catch somewhat of that by the way, even as much as they have easy means to come by; and afterwards to repass from moral philosophy unto Theology, without which (he saith) there can be neither entrance nor progress in the knowledge of manners.  
Moreover (he saith) that, To dispute of one and the same question, pro & contra, to and fro, he disalloweth not simply and in generality: but his advice is, to use the same so warily and with such discretion, as otherwhiles orators do in pleading, when they allege the reasons of their adversaries, not to uphold and maintain the same, but only for to refure and disproove that likelihood and probability which they pretend: For otherwise (quoth he) thus to do, is the manner of those skeptics, who be always doubtful, and withhold their consent in every thing: a mere shift that serveth their turn, for whatsoever they hold: but as for those who would work and establish in men's hearts, a certain science, according to which they might undoubtedly guide and conduct themselves, they ought to sound and search the contrary, and from point to point by stepmeale, to direct their novices newly entered, even from the beginning to the very end: wherein there falleth out otherwhiles fit opportunity to make mention of contrary sentences and opinions, for to refute and resolve that which might seem to have appearance of truth; as the manner is in pleading before judges: for these be the very words and proper terms that he useth. Now what an absurd and impertinent a thing it is, that philosophers should think they were to put down the contrary opinions of other philosophers, and not withal, their reasons and arguments, but only as advocates pleading at the bar to disable and weaken their proofs, and so to weary their adversaries; as if disputation were only to win the honour of victory, and not to find out a truth: we have elsewhere discoursed against him sufficiently. But that himself not here and there in his disputations, but oftentimes and in many places hath confirmed with might and main, yea, and with so great asseveration and contention, contrary resolutions, unto his own opinions, that it were a right hard matter for any man to discern, which of them he approoveth most, they themselves in some sort do say, who admire the subtlety of the man, and the vivacity of his spirit, who also both think and stick not to affirm, that Carneades spoke nothing of his own invention, but by the help and means of which arguments Chrysippus used to prove his own assertions, he returned the same chose upon himself to confute his precepts, insomuch as eftsoons in disputation he would, alluding to a verse in Homer, cry out aloud in this manner: 
Unhappy man, thus for to do,  
Thine own pure strength will work thy woe.  as if he lay open and ministered great advantages and means against himself, to those who went about for to infringe and calumniate his opinions. But as touching those treatises and discourses which he hath put forth and set out against ordinary custom, his followers do so gloriously boast and joy, that they give out, if all the books of the Academiques that ever lived, were laid together, they deserved not to be compared with that which Chrysippus wrote in calumniation of the senses: an evident sign either of their ignorance who say so, or else of their own blind self-love. Howbeit, certain it is, that afterwards being desirous to defend custom and the senses, he was found much inferior to himself, and the latter treatise came far short of the former, and was nothing at all so pithy; in such sort as he is contradictory and repugnant to himself: whiles he always prescribeth and willeth to confer and oppose contrary sentences, not as one patronizing any, but making an ostentation that they be false: and afterwards showeth himself to be a more vehement accuser, than a defender of his own proper sentences; and counseling others to take heed of repugnant and contrary disputations, as those which distract and impeach their perception, himself is more studious and diligent to address such proofs as overthrow perception, than those which are to establish and confirm the same: and yet that he feared no less, he declareth plainly in the fourth book of his lives, where he writeth thus: We are not rashly nor without good respect and advisement to admit and allow repugnant disputations and contrary opinions to be proposed, nor to answer those probable arguments which are brought against true sentences: but herein we must warily go to work, and carry ourselves so, as fearing 〈◊〉 lest the hearers being thereby distracted and diverted, let go this apprehension and conception, and be not of sufficient capacity to comprehend their solutions, but after such a feeble sort, as that their comprehensions be ready to falter and shake, considering that even they who customably comprehend sensible objects and other things which depend of senses, quickly forego the same, being distracted as well by Megarian interrogatories, as by others more forcible, and in greater number. Now would I gladly demand of these Stoics whether they think these Megarian interrogatories more puissant than those which Chrysippus hath written in six books; or rather Chrysippus himself would be asked the question. For mark I pray you, what he hath written of the Megarian disputation in his book entitled; The use of speech, after this manner: Such a thing as befell in the disputation between Stilpo and Menedemus, both renowned personages for their learning and wisdom; and yet the whole manner of their arguing is now turned to their reproach and plain mockery, as if their arguments were either very gross, or else too captious & sophistical: and yet good sir these arguments which it pleaseth you to scorn and term the reproach of those who make such interrogatories, as containing in them notorious lewdness, you fear lest they should divert any from perception: And even your own self 〈◊〉 so many books as you do against custom whereunto you have adjoined whatsoever you could devise and invent, labouring to surmount and surpass Arcesilaus; did you never expect and look to scare and terrify any of the readers that should light upon them? For Chrysippus verily useth not only slender and naked arguments in disputing against custom, but as if he were an advocate pleading at the bar, moveth affections being passionate and affectionate himself, breaking out eftsoons into these terms of giving the fool, and imputing vanity and sottishness; and to the end that he might leave no place for contradiction at all, but that he delivereth repugnances and speaketh contraries, thus hath he written in his Positions natural. A man may very well, when he hath once perfectly comprised a thing, argue a little on the contrary side, and apply that defence which the matter itself doth afford: yea and otherwhiles, when he doth comprehend neither the one nor the other, discourse of either of them pro & contra, as much as the cause will yield. Also in that treatise of his concerning the use of speech, after he had said, we ought not to use the power and faculty of disputation, no more than arms or weapons, in things that tend to no purpose, and when the case requireth it not, he addeth soon after these words: For we ought to employ the gift of reason and speech to the finding out of truth, and such things as resemble it: and not chose; howsoever many there be that are wont so to do. And peradventer by these Many, he meaneth those Academics, who ever doubt and give no assent to any thing: and they verily, for that they comprehend neither the one nor the other, do argue on both parts to and fro, that it is perceptible: as if by this only or especial means the truth yielded a certain comprehension of itself, if there were nothing in the world comprehensible. But you who accuse and blame them, writing the contrary to that which you conceive as touching custom, and exhorting others to do the same, and that with an affectionate defence, doeplainly confess, that you use the force of speech and eloquence, in things not only unprofitable, but also hurtful, upon a vain ambtious humour of showing your ready wit, like to some young scholar.  
These Stoics affirm, that a good deed, is the commandment of the law, and sin the prohibition of the law: and therefore it is that the law forbiddeth fools and lewd folk to doemany things, but prescribeth them nothing; for that indeed they are not able to do aught well. And who seeth not that impossible it is for him who can do no virtuous act, to keep himself from sin and transgression? Therefore they make the law repugnant to itself, if it command that which to perform is impossible, and forbid that which men are not able to avoid. For he that is not able to live honestly, cannot choose but bear himself dishonestly; and whosoever he be, that cannot be wise, must of necessity become a fool: and even themselves do hold that those laws which are prohibitive, say the same thing, when they forbid one, and command likewise another. For that which saith thou shalt dot steal, saith verily the same, to wit, Steal not, but it forbiddeth withal to steal; and therefore the law forbiddeth fools and lewd persons nothing, for otherwise it should command them somewhat. And thus they say that the Physician biddeth his apprentice or Chirurgeon to cut or to cauterize, without adding thereto these words, handsomely, moderately, and in good time. The Musician likewise commandeth his scholar to sing or play upon the harp a lesson, without putting thereto, in tune, accord and good measure. Howbeit they punish and chastise those that do amiss and contrary to the rules of art, for that they were willed and enjoined to do the thing well, but they did it ill. And even so a wise man commanding his servant to say or do a thing, if he punish him for doing it untowardly, out of season, and not as he ought, certain it is that he commanded him to perform a good duty, and not a mean and indifferent action. Now if wise men command fools and lewd persons to do things indifferent, what should hinder them but that the commandments of the laws may be semblable?  
Moreover, that instinct or natural motion which is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, according to him, is nothing else but the reason of man, inciting him to do a thing, as himself hath written in his treatise of the law, ergo, that diversion, chose called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, can be nothing else but reason withdrawing a man from the doing of a thing: and therefore that inclination is a reasonable inclination: and this marry caution, is as much as the reason of a wise man, forbidding him to do a thing: for to beware, and to take heed, is the part and property of wise men and not of fools. If then the reason of a wise man be one thing, and the law another, wise men have this wary caution repugnant unto the law: but in case law, and the reason of a wise man be both one, it will be found that the law forbiddeth wise men to do those things, which they doubt and be afraid of. To foolish and wicked persons (quoth 〈◊〉) there is nothing profitable, neither hath such an one, use or need of aught. Having delivered this sentence in his first book of perfect duties or offices, he cometh afterwards and saith, that utility or commodiousness and grace pertain and reach unto mean and indifferent things, whereof according to the Stoics doctrine there is not one profitable: and more than that, he saith there is nothing proper, nothing meet and convenient for a foolish lewd man: and so by consequence it followeth upon these words; there is nothing strange, nothing unfitting for a wise and honestman, like as nothing fit and familiar for a lewd fool: for as goodness is proper to the one, so is lewdness to the other. How cometh it then to pass that he maketh our heads to ache again, with telling us so often in all his books as well of natural philosophy as moral, that presently from our nativity and birth, 〈◊〉 be affectionate to ourselves, to our proper members, and to the issue descending from us 〈◊〉 in the first book of Justice he saith, that even wild beasts are propense and affected unto their young according as their need and necessity requires, all save fishes: for their young fry are nourished by themselves. But there is no sense, where is no sensible object, nor appropriation, where nothing is proper and familiar: for surely this appropriation seemeth to be the sense and perception of that which is familiar. And this opinion is conformable to their principles.  
Moreover, Chrysippus, albeit in diverse places he write many things contrarily, yet he acordeth to this sentence manifestly, that there is no one vice greater, nor sin more grievous than another; as also reciprocally, there is not one virtue more excellent, not one virtuous deed (which they call perfect duty) better than another, considering that he hath this in the first book of Nature: that like as it beseemeth Jupiter well, to magnify and glorify himself and his life, as also if we may so say, to bear his head aloft, highly to esteem his own greatness, and to speak big, considering he leadeth a life worthy of grandeloquence and haughty speech: even so it befitteth and becometh all honest men to do the like, considering that in no respect they be inferior to Jupiter. And yet himself again in the third book of Justice saith, that those who affirm Pleasure to be the end and sovereign good of man, overthrow Justice; but whosoever say it is simply good, do not destroy Justice. And the very words which he useth, be these: Peradventure (quoth he) it may be, that if we leave unto Pleasure this attribute, To be simply and only good, although it be not the end of all good things, and that honesty and virtue is of the kind of those things which be eligible for themselves: haply, by this means we may save Justice, in esteeming Honesty and Justice to be a more perfect and absolute good thing than is Pleasure: but in case it be so, that the thing only which is honest is good, he erreth much who affirmeth that pleasure is good; howbeit, less than he who should say that it is the end of all good things; for that as the one doth abolish and destroy utterly all Justice, the other doth so preserve and maintain it: for according to the latter of the twain, all human society perisheth, whereas the former reserveth yet some place for bounty and civil humanity. I let pass to relate what he saith in the book entitled, Of Jupiter, namely, that virtues grow, that they also pass; because I would not be thought to lie at vantage, and to catch at words; howsoever Chrysippus himself in this kind of reprehension dealeth bitterly with Plato and other Philosophers, for taking hold of words: but whereas he forbiddeth to praise all that is done virtuously, he giveth us to understand, that there is some difference in duties and offices. Now this is the very text in his treatise of Jupiter. For albeit virtuous acts be commendable, yet we are not to infer thereupon and say, that we ought to commend all that seemeth to proceed from virtue, as namely, to praise for a valiant act, the stiff stretching out of the finger; or for temperance and continenencie, the abstinence from an old trot, who hath one foot already in her grave; or for prudence, to understand aright and without error, that three will not make four: for he that went in hand to praise and commend a man for such things as these, should show himself to be very bold and absurd even in the highest degree. And as much as this in a manner writeth he in the third book of the gods: For I think verily (quoth he) that the praises of such matters be impertinent and absurd, although they seem to depend of virtue, as namely, to forbear an old trot now at the pits brink, or to abide a flie-biting. What other accuser should he look for then of his opinions, but himself: for if it be so, that he is absurd who commendeth these things, then must he be thought much more absurd, who supposeth each one of these virtuous deeds to be not only great, but also most magnificent. For if it be a valiant act to endure the biting of a fly; and likewise the part of a chaste and continent person, to abstain from carnal dealing with an old woman ready to drop into her grave; than it makes no matter, but it is all one, to praise an honest man 〈◊〉 for one thing as another. Moreover, in his second book of Friendship, whenas he giveth a precept, that we ought not to dissolve amities for every fault or defect, he userh these very terms: For there be faults (quoth he) which we must overpass quite, and make no stay at them; others there be again, whereat we should a little stand, and take offence; and others besides, which require more chastisement; but some there are, which we must think 〈◊〉 to break friendship for ever. And more than all this, in the same book he saith, that we ought to converse and be acquainted with some more, and with others less, according as they be our friends more or less: which difference and diversity extendeth very far, insomuch as some are worthy of such an amity, others of a greater; some deserve thus much trust and confidence, others more than it: and so it is in other matters semblable. And what other is his drift in all these places, but to put a great difference between those things, for which friendships are engendered? And yet in his book of Honesty, to show that there is nothing good but that which is honest, he delivereth these words: A good thing is eligible and to be desired: that which is eligible and desirable, is also acceptable: that which is acceptable, is likewise commendable: and that which is commendable, is honest withal. Again, a good thing is joious and acceptable: joious is venerable, and venerable is honest. But these speeches are repugnant to himself: for be it, that all that is good were laudable (and then chastened to forbear for to touch an old riveled woman, were a commendable thing) or say that every good thing were neither venerable nor joious and acceptable; yet his reason falleth to the ground: for how can it be that others should be thought frivolous and absurd in praising any for such things, and himself not worthy to be mocked and laughed at, for taking joy and pleasing himself in such ridiculous toys as these?  
Thus you see how he showeth himself in most part of his writings; and yet in his disputations which he holdeth against others, he is much more careless to be contrary and repugnant to himself: for in his treatise which he made as touching exhortation, reproving Plato for saying, that it was not expedient for him to live at all, who is not taught, nor knoweth not how to live, he writeth in these very terms: This speech of his (quoth he) is both contradictory & repugnant to itself, and beside, hath no force nor efficacy at all to exhort: for first and foremost in showing us that it were expedient for us, not to live at all, and giving us at it were counsel to die, he exhorteth us to any thing rather than to the practice of study of philolosophie, because it is not possible for a man to philosophize, unless he live: neither can he become wise, survive he never so long, if he lead an evil and ignorant life. And a little after he saith farther: That it is as meet and convenient also even for lewd and wicked persons to remain alive. But I care not much to set down his very words: First of all, like as virtue barely in itself considered, hath nothing in it, for which we should desire to live: even so vice hath as little, for which we ought to leave this life. What need we now turn over other books of Chrysippus and drip leaf by leaf, to prove how contrary and repugnant he is to himself: for even in these which now we cite and allege, he cometh out otherwhiles with this saying of Antisthenes, for which he commendeth him, namely, that a man is to be provided either of wit to understand, or else of a with to under-hang himself: as also this other verse of Tyrtaus: 
The bounds of virtue first come nigh,  
Or else make choice before to die.  And what other meaning is there of these words but this, that it is more expedient for foolish and lewd persons to be out of the world, than to live: and in one passage, seeming to correct Theognis: He should not (quoth he) have said 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 etc. 
A man from poverty to fly,  
(O Cyrnus) ought himself to cast  
Headlong, from rocks most steep and high,  
Or into sea as deep and vast.  But rather thus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. 
Aman from sin and vice to fly, etc.  What other things else seemeth he to do, than to condemn and scrape out of other men's writings, the same things, propositions and sentences, which himself hath inserted in his own books? For he reproveth Plato when he proveth and showeth, that it is better not to live at all, than to lead a life in wickedness or ignorance: and in one breath he giveth counsel to Theognis to set down in his poesy; That a man ought to fling himself down headlong into the deep sea, or to break his neck from some high rock for to avoid sin and wickedness. And praising as he did Antisthenes for sending fools and witless folk, to an halter wherewith to hang themselves; he blamed him nevertheless who said, that vice was not a sufficient cause, wherefore we should shorten our lives. Moreover, in those books against Plato himself, concerning justice, he leapeth directly at the very first into a discourse as touching the gods, and saith: That Shafalus did not divert men well from evil doing, by the fear of the gods: affirming moreover, that the discourse which he made as touching divine vengeance, might easily be infringed and refuted, for that of itself it ministereth many arguments and probable reasons on the contrary side; as if the same resembled for all the world the fabulous tales of Acco and Alphito, wherewith women are wont to scar their little children, and to keep them from doing shrewd turns. Thus deriding, traducing, and backbiting Plato, he praiseth elsewhere, and in many places else allegeth these verses out of Euripides: 
Well, well, though some this doctrine do deride,  
Be sure, in heaven with other gods beside,  
Sits Jupiter, the deeds of men who see,  
And will in time revenged surely be.  Semblably, in the first book of Justice, when he had alleged these verses here out of Hesiodus, 
Then Saturn's son, god Jupiter, great plagues from heaven did send,  
Even dearth and death, both which, of all the people made an end.  he saith, that the gods proceed in this wise, to the end that when the wicked be thus punished, others also advertised and taught by their example, might beware how they commit the like, or at leastwise sin less.  
What should I say moreover, how in this treatise of Justice, having affirmed, that those who hold pleasure to be good, but not the sovereign end of good, may in some sort withal preserve & maintain justice, for, so much he hath put down in these very terms: For haply, admitting pleasure to be good although not the supreme good or the end: and honesty to be of the kind of those things, which are eligible and to be desired for their own sake, we may by that means save justice, while we permit and allow that which is honest and just to be a greater good than pleasure. Having (I say) delivered the same also in his books of pleasure: yet in his treatise against Plato, reproving him for ranging health in the number of good things, he affirmeth, that not only justice, but also magnanimity, temperance, and all other virtues are abolished and perish, in case we hold that either pleasure, or health, or any other thing whatsoever, can be numbered and reputed among good things, unless the same be honest. Now as touching the apology or answer that may be made in defence of Plato, I have elsewhere written against Chrysippus: but even in this very place there is manifestly to be seen a repugnancy and contradiction against himself: considering that one while he saith, that justice may stand well enough, if a man suppose pleasure joined with honesty to be good; and another while chose, he findeth fault with all those, who repute any thing else to be good, but only that which is honest; as if thereby they abolished and overthrew all virtues. And because he would leave no means at all to salve and save his contradictions, writing of justice against Aristotle, he challengeth him for untruth, in that he affirmeth, that if pleasure were granted to be the sovereign good, both Justice were overthrown, and therewith also every virtue beside: For this is certain (quoth he) that those who are of this opinion, do indeed abolish Justice; howbeit I see no let why other virtues may not stand, if not those which be of themselves expetible, yet such at leastwise as be good and virtuous really. And thereupon he proceedeth presently to name them every one severally. But it were not a miss to recite his ownelwords as he delivered them: For suppose (quoth he) that by this discourse and reason, Pleasure seem the very end of all good things, yet we are not to infer hereupon, that all is comprised under it: and therefore we must say, that neither any virtue is to be desired, nor vice to be eschewed for itself, but all these things are to be referred unto a scope and mark proposed: and yet in the mean time what should hinder, but that fortitude, prudence, continence, patience, and other such virtues, may be good and expetible, like as their contraries bad and to be avoided. What man therefore was there ever in his speeches and disputations more rash and audacious than he? considering that he charged the two princes of Philosophers with imputations: the one for abolishing all virtue, in that he confessed not that only to be good which is honest: and the other, in that if pleasure were supposed and set down to be the end of good things, he thought not that all virtues except only Justice might subsist and be maintained? what a wonderful liberty, and monstrous licentiousness rather is this, in discoursing of one and the same subject matter, to tax and reprove that in Aristotle, which he setteth down himself: and afterwards in accusing Plato, to subvert and undo the very same? And yet in his demonstrations, as touching Justice, he affirmeth expressly that every perfect duty, is a lawful deed and a just action. Now, whatsoever is performed by continence, by patience, by prudence, or by fortitude is a perfect duty, ergo, it followeth, that it is likewise a lawful action. How chanceth it then that he leaveth not justice for them, in whom he admitteth prudence, continence, and valour, considering that all the acts which they perform according to these virtues, be perfect duties, and by consequence just and lawful operations?  
Whereas Plato, in a certain place hath written, that injustice being a certain intestine sedition and corruption of the soul, never casteth off and loseth her power even in those who have it within them: for she causeth a wicked man to fight with himself, she troubleth, vexeth, and tormenteth him. Chrysippus' reproving this assertion of his, saith, that it was falsely and absurdly spoken, that any one could do wrong or injury to himself: For (quoth he) all injury and outrage must needs be to another: but afterwards forgetting himself and what he had said, in that treatise of his entitled, The demonstrations of justice, he affirmeth, that whosoever doth injustice, wrongeth himself, and in offering injury to another, doth himself wrong, in that he is the very cause why himself transgresseth the laws: wherein unworthily he hurteth and woundeth his own person. Lo what he said against Plato, discoursing that injustice could not be against a man's self, but against another: For to be particularly and privately unjust, there must (quoth he) be many such as speak contrary one unto another: and otherwise this word injustice is taken as if it were amongst many that are in such fort injuriously affected one to another: whereas no such matter can properly and fitly argree to one alone, but in as much as he is so disposed and affected to another. But contrary to all this, in his demonstrations he argueth and reasoneth thus, to prove that the injust man doth wrong and injury to himself: The law (quoth he) followeth expressly, to be the author or cause of transgression; but to commit injustice is a transgression: he therefore who causeth himself to do injury, transgresseth the law of himself. Now be that trespasseth against any one, doth him wrong and injury: he therefore who wrongeth any other whomsoever, doth injure to himself. Again, sin is of the kind of hurts and damages that are done; but every man that sinneth, offendeth and sinneth against himself: and therefore, whosoever sinneth, hurteth also and endamageth himself unwoorthily; and if he do so, then by consequence he must needs wrong himself. Furthermore, thus also he reasoneth: He that suffereth hurt and damage by another, woundeth and offendeth himself withal unworthily: and what is that else but to do wrong and injury? he therefore that receiveth injury of any other whatsoever, wrongeth his own self. That the doctrine of good things and evil (which himself bringeth in and approoveth) he saith, is most accordant unto man's life, yea and connexed as much as any thing else with those prenotions and anticipations which by nature are inbred and ingenerate in us: for, so much hath he delivered in his third book of Exhortations: but in the first book he affirmeth quite contrary, that this doctrine doth divert and withdraw a man from all things else, as if they were of no moment nor helpful and effectual any jot to the attaining of happiness & sovereign felicity. See how he acordeth herein with himself, when he affirmeth that doctrine of his which plucketh us away from life, from health, from indolence and integrity of senses; and teacheth beside that whatsoever we crave in our prayers at gods hands, concern us not at all nor appertain unto us, to be most accordant unto human life, and the common prenotions & inbred anticipations of knowledge abovesaid. But to the end that no man might deny that he is repugnant and contrary to himself, lo what he saith in his third book of justice. This is it (quoth he) that by reason of the surpassing grandeur & beauty of our sentences, those matters which we deliver, seem feigned tales and devised fables exceeding man's power and far beyond human nature. How can it be that any man should more plainly confess, that he is at war with himself, than he doth who saith that his propositions and opinions, are so extravagant and transcendent, that they resemble counterfeit tales, and for their excellency surmount the condition and nature of man: and yet forsooth for all this, that they accord and agree passing well with human life, yea and come nearest unto the said inbred prenotions and anticipations that are in us.  
He affirmeth that the very essence and substance of infelicity, is vice; writing and firmly maintaining in all his books of moral and natural philosophy, that to live in vice, is as much as to live in misery and wretchedness: but in the third book of Nature, having said before that it were better and more expedient to live a senseless fool, yea though there were no hope that ever he should become wise, than not to live at all, he addeth afterwards thus much: For there be such good things in men, that in some sort the very evil things go before, and are better than the indifferent in the mids between. As for this, how he hath written elsewhere, that there is nothing expedient and profitable in fools, and yet in this place setteth down in plain terms, that it is expedient to live foolish and senseless, I am content to overpass; but seeing he saith now that evil things go before, and one better than the indifferent or mean (which with them of his sect are neither good nor ill) surely it is as much as if he affirmed that evil things are better than things not evil: and all are, as to say that to be wretched is more expedient than not to be wretched: and so by that means, he is of opinion, that not to be miserable is more unprofitable than to be miserable; and if it be more unprofitable, than also it must be more hurtful and damageable. But being desirous in some sort to mollify this absurdity, and to salve this sore, he subnexeth as touching evil things, these words: My meaning is not (quoth he) that they should go before and be preferred, but reason is the thing wherewith it is better to live, although a man should ever be a fool, than not to live at all. First and foremost then, he calleth vice an evil thing, as also whatsoever doth participate of vice and nothing else: now is vice reasonable, or rather to speak more properly, reason delinquent: so that to live with reason, if we be fools and void of wisdom, what is it else, but to live with vice? now to live as 〈◊〉, is all one as to live wretched. Wherein is it then, and how cometh it about, that this should go before mean and indifferent things? for it was not admitted that happy life should go before misery: neither was it ever any part (say they) of Chrysippus his meaning to range and count among good things, To remain alive; no more than among bad, To depart this life: but he thought that these things were of themselves indifferent and of a middle nature; in which regard otherwhiles it is meet for happy men to leave this life, and for wretches to continue alive. And what greater contrariety can there be, as touching things eligible or refusable, than to say that for them who are happy in the highest degree, it is sit and beseeming to forego and for sake the good things that be present, for want of some one thing that is indifferent? And yet Chrysippus is of this mind, that no indifferent thing is of the own nature to be desired or rejected; but that we ought to choose that only which is good, and to shun that alone which is bad: so as according to their opinion, it comes to pass, that they never divert their dessignments or actions to the pursuit after things desirable, nor the avoidance of things refusable; but another mark it is that they shoot & aim at, namely, at those things which they neither eschew nor choose, & according thereto, they live & die. Chrysippus avoweth & confesseth that there is as great a difference between good things & bad, as possibly may be; as needs there must, in case it be true, that as the one sort of them cause those in whom they are, to be exceeding happy, so the other, extreme wretched & miserable. Now in the first book of the end of good things, he saith that aswell good things as bad, be sensible; for these be his very words: That good and evil things be perceptible by sense, we must of necessity acknowledge upon these arguments: for not only the very passions indeed of the mind, together with their parts and several kinds, to wit, sadness, fear and such like, be sensible; but also a man may have a sense of theft, adultery, and semblable sins; yea and of folly, of cowardice, and in one word, of all other vices, which are in number not a few: and not only joy, beneficence, and other dependences of virtuous offices, but also prudence, valour and the rest of the virtues, are object to the sense. But to let pass all other absurdities contained in these words, who will not confess, but that there is a mere contradiction in that which they delivered, as touching one that becomes a wise man, and knows not thereof? for, considering that the present good is sensible, and much different from that which is evil, that one possibly should of a wicked person prove to be virtuous, and not know thereof, & not have sense of virtue being present, but to think that vice is still within him; how can this otherwise be, but most absurd? for either no man can be ignorant and out of doubt, whether he hath all virtues together; or else he must confess, that there is small difference and the same hard to be discerned, between vice and virtue, felicity and infelicity, a right honest life, and a most dishonest, in case a man should pass from the one to the other, and possess one for the other, without ever knowing it.  
One work he wrote, entitled, Of lives, and the same divided into four books: in the fourth whereof, he saith, That a wise man meddleth not with great affairs, but is occupied in his own business only, without being curious to look into other men's occasions: his very words to this purpose, be these; For mine own part, of this opinion I am, that a prudent man gladly avoideth a stirring life, intermeddleth little, and in his own matters only: for to deal simply in a man's own affairs, and to enter into little business in the world, be both alike commendable parts, and the properties of civil and 〈◊〉 persons. And in manner the same speeches or very like thereto, he hath delivered in the third book of such things as be expetible and to be chosen for themselves, in these terms: For in truth (quoth he) it seemeth, that the quiet life should be without danger, and in perfect security, which few or none of the vulgar sort are able to comprehend and understand. Wherein first and foremost, it is evident, that he cometh very near to the error of Epicurus, who in the government of the world disavoweth divine providence: for that he would have God to rest in repose, idle, and not employed in any thing. And yet Chrysippus himself, in his first book of Lives saith: That a wise man willingly will take a kingdom upon him, yea, and think to make his gain and profit thereby: and if he be not able to reign himself, yet he will at leastwise converse and live with a king, yea, go forth with him to war, like as Hydanthyrsus the Scythian did, and Leucon of Pontus. But I will set down his own words, that we may see whether, like as of the treble and base strings, there ariseth a consonance of an eight; so there be an accord in the life of a man, who hath chosen to live quietly without doing aught, or at leastwise to intermeddle in few affairs, yea, and yet afterwards accompanieth the Scythians riding on horseback, and manageth the affairs of the kings of Bosphorus upon any occasion of need that may be presented? For as touching this point (quoth he) that a wise man will go into warlike expeditions with princes, live, and converse with them, we will consider again thereof hereafter; being as it is, a thing that as some upon the like arguments imagine not, so we for the semblable reasons admit and allow. And a little after: Not only with those who have proceeded well in the knowledge of virtue, and been sufficiently instituted and trained up in good manners, as were Hydanthyrsus and Leucon abovesaid. Some there be who blame Calisthenes for that he passed over the seas to king Alexander into his camp, in hope to re-edify the city Olynthus, as Artstotle caused the city Stagyra to be repaired, who highly commend Ephorus, Xenocrates and Menedemus, who rejected Alexander: But Chrysippus driveth his wise man by the head forward, for his gain and profit, as far as to the city Panticapaeum, and the deserts of Scythia. And that this is (I say) for his gain & profit he showed before, by setting down three principal means, beseeming a wise man for to practise and seek his gain by: the first by a kingdom, and the beneficence of kings; the second by his friends; and the third besides these, by teaching literature: and yet in many places he wearieth us with citing this verse of Euripides: 
For what need mortal men take pain?  
Only for things in number 
* See a little after.  twain.  But in his books of Nature he saith: That a wise man if he have lost the greatest riches that may be, esteemeth the loss no more than if it were but a single denier of silver, or one grey groat. Howbeit, him whom he hath there so highly extolled and puffed up with glory, here he taketh down and abaseth as much, even to make him a mere mercenary pedant, and one that is feign to teach a school: for he would have him to demand and exact his salary sometime before hand of his scholar, when he enters into his school; and otherwhile after a certain prefixed time of his schooling is come and gone: And this (quoth he) is the honester and more civil way of the twain; but the other is the furer, namely, to make him pay his money aforehand; for that delay and giving attendance is subject to receive wrong and sustain loss: and thus much he uttereth in these very terms: Those teachers that be of the wiser sort, call for their schoolage and minervals of their scholars, not all after one manner, but diversely: a number of them, according as the present occasion requireth, who promise not to make them wise men, and that within a year; but undertake to do what lies in them, within a set time agreed upon between them. And soon after, speaking of his wise man: He will (quoth he) know the best time, when to demand his pension, to wit, whether incontinently upon the entrance of his scholar, as the most part do; or to give day, and set down a certain time; which manner of dealing is more subject to receive injury, howsoever it may seem more honest and civil. And how can a wise man, tell me now, be a despiser of money, in case he make a contract and bargain at a price to receive money, for delivering virtue; or if he do not deliver it, yet require his salary nevertheless, as if he he had performed his part fully? Either how can he be greater than to sustain a loss and damage, if it be so that he stand so strictly upon this point, and be so wary, that he receive no wrong by the payment of his wages? For surely no man is said to be injuried, who is not hurt nor endamaged: and therefore how ever otherwise he hath flatly denied, that a wise man could receive warning; yet in this book he saith, that this manner of dealing, is exposed to loss and damage.  
In his book of Commonwealth, he affirmeth, that his citizens will never do any thing for pleasure, no nor address and prepare themselves therefore, praising highly Euripides for these verses: 
What need men, but for two things, only swink?  
Bread for to eat, and water shear to drink.  And soon after, he proceedeth forward, and praiseth Diogenes, for abusing himself, by forcing his nature to pass from him in the open street, and saying withal to those that stood by: Oh, that I could chase hunger as well from my belly. What reason then is there, in the selfsame books to commend him for rejecting pleasure, and withal for defiling his own body as he did, so beastly in the sight of the whole world, and that for a little filthy pleasure? In his books of Nature, having written that nature had produced and brought forth many living creatures for beauty only, as delighting and taking pleasure in such lovely variety, and therewith having adjoined moreover a most strange and absurd speech, namely, that the peacock was made for his tails sake, and in regard of the beauty thereof: clean contrary to himself, in his books of Commonwealth, he reproveth very sharply those who keep peacocks and nightingales, as if he would make laws quite contrary to that sovereign lawgiver of the world, deriding nature for taking delight, and employing as it were her study in bringing forth such creatures; unto which a wise man will give no place in his city and commonwealth. For how can it otherwise be but monstrous and absurd for to find fault with those who nourish such creatures, as if it were wantonness so to do, in case he praise the divine providence for creating them? In his fifth book of Nature, after he had showed that wal-lice or punaises serve in good stead to awaken us out of sleep, as also that mice advertise us to beware and take heed where we lay up and bestow every thing; and that it is probable that nature taketh pleasure in producing fair creatures, and joieth in diversity, he cometh out with this sentence word for word: This appeareth most evidently in the peacocks tail: for here he signifieth that this bird was made for the tails sake, and not chose; and so when the cock was once created, the hen followed after.  
In his book of commonwealth when he had said, that we are come almost to the painting of dunghills, a little after: There be some (quoth he) who adorn & embellish their cornfields, with vines climbing and growing upon trees, ranged directly in order, as also with myrtle rows; who nourish also peacocks and doves, yea and partridges, for to hear them call and record unto them, as also nightingales for their pleasant song. But I would gladly know of him, what he thinketh, and what his conceit is of bees and of honey; for it would by good consequence follow, that he who had said, that punaises and wall lice were profitably created; should also infer that bees were made for no profit. Now if he allowed these a place in his Commonwealth, how is it that he forbiddeth his citizens to entertain those things which delight the ear. To be brief, like as he were very absurd who should find fault with those guests at a feast, who fell to eat comfits, and sweet banqueting conceits, to drink wine also, and to feed of delicate viands; and in the mean while commend the man who invited them to such dainties, and provided the same for them: even so, he who praising the divine providence for creating delicate fishes, dainty birds, sweet honey, and pleasant wine, should reprove those who reject not these gifts, nor be content to eat bare bread, and drink shear water, things that be ever at hand, and which are sufficient for our food, were as far out of reason, and makes no reckoning at all how he doth contradict himself, and what contrary opinions he holdeth.  
Moreover, having in his treatise of Exhortations said, that it was no reason, that folk should be defamed or blamed, for having to do carnally with their own mothers, daughters, or sisters; for eating any kind of meats whatsoever, for going directly out of the bed from a woman, or from a dead body and mortuary, unto a temple or sacrifice: And herein (quoth he) we ought to have a regard and eye unto brute beasts, and taking example by them, to collect and conclude, that in all this, there is no absurdity at all, nor any thing against nature; for fitly and to the purpose very well a man may allege this, and compare the usage of other creatures, to show that they neither being coupled together nor engendering, no nor dying in temples, do pollute and defile the divinity. Contrary to all this, in the fifth book of nature he saith: That the poet Hesiodus did very well to admonish and forbid us, not to piss into fountains, nor running rivers; yea, and much rather to forbear to make water against an altar, or any image and statue of the gods: neither mattereth, or skilleth it all, if dogs, affes, and young children, do so, seeing they have no discretion nor consideration in such things: and therefore it is very absurd to say in one place: That it is meet to consider the savage example of wild beasts; and in another, as absurd to allege the same.  
Some philosophers there be, who imagine a certain accessary motion from without in the principal part of our soul; for that a man seemeth to give the head and liberty unto diverse inclinations, when he is forced to a thing by outward causes: which motion appeareth principally in doubtful and variable things; for when of two objects equal in power, and every way semblable, we are of necessity to choose one, and there is no cause at all to incline us more to the one than to the other, this foresaid accessary and adventitious puissance, coming in otherwise, and seizing upon the inclination of the soul, decideth all the doubt. Against these philosophers, Chrysippus disputing, as if they did violence to nature by the contrary, and by devising an effect without a cause; among sundry other examples, allegeth the cockall bone, the balance, and many such like things which cannot fall, incline and bend now on one side, and then on another, without some cause & difference which is entirely in them, or 〈◊〉 cometh from without forth: for this is generally held; that whatsoever is without cause can have no subsistence, no more than mere hazard and chance: but in these adventitions and accessary motions which they suppose, there be certain hidden irreptitious causes, which secredy move and induce our appetite and inclination, even without our knowledge to one part or other: and this is that which he often repeateth in the most notable works that he hath put forth; but that which himself afterward delivereth clean contrary, because it is not exposed so openly to the view of the whole world, I will allege verbatim as he hath delivered it: For in his treatise concerning the office of a Judge, supposing for example sake, that two curriers who ran a course, were come both together unto the goal, he demandeth what the Judge should do in this case; namely, whether it were lawful for him, to give unto whether of them he pleased, the victorious branch of the date tree? this being supposed withal, that they were both so inward & familiar with him, that he should rather gratify them both, even out of his own in some sort, than seem to defraud either of them of the victorious garland, which seemeth to be common to them both: Whether (I say) it be lawful for him to incline unto one or to the other, and so award the victory as if they had drawn lots therefore: To incline (I say) casually & without any reason; like as when two groats are presented unto us, every way semblable one to the other, we incline rather to that which we take. And in the sixth book of Duties, having said, that there be certain things that require no great ado, nor intentive consideration, he is of opinion, that in such cases we are to yield the choice into the casual propension of the mind, even as to the adventurous hazard of a lot: as for example; if the question be to make trial of the said two groats, one saith, this is the better, and another that: but for that we are to take one of the twain, without more ado and farther trial of their betterness, we take that which comes first; and in another place he saith: in putting this to the aventure of a lot, it falleth out otherwhiles, that we hit upon the worse: in these places the casual inclination of the mind, to the first object, and the putting of the matter to the hazard of a lot, is nothing else but to bring in a choice of things indifferent without any cause.  
In the third book of Logic, having premised thus much, that Plato, Aristotle and their successors and disciples even as far as to Polemon and Straton, had bestowed great study and traveled much therein: but above all others, Socrates, with this addition, that a man would wish with so many and such noble personages to err for company: he cometh in afterwards with these words: If they had (quoth he) treated and discoursed hereof cursarily or by the way, a man haply might laugh at this place well enough: but since that they have so seriously and exactly disputed of Logic, as if it were one of the greatest faculties and most necessary sciences, it is not like that they were so grossly deceived, being men throughout all the parts of philosophy, so singular as we repute them to be. How is it then, may a man reply and say, that you neverrest baying and barking at these so worthy and excellent personages, and convincing them as you suppose to have erred? For there is no likelihood that they writing so diligently and exactly as they have done of Logic, should of the principles and elements, of the end of good things, of Justice and the gods, write carelessly and after a loose manner, howsoever you are disposed to 〈◊〉 their treatises and discourses, blind, repugnant to themselves, and stuffed with an infinite 〈◊〉 of faults and errors. In one place he denieth that the vice 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say a joy to see evil happen unto another, hath any being or real subsistence: For that (quoth he) no good man was ever known to rejoice at the harm of another: but in his second book as touching Good, having declared what Envy is, namely a grief for another man's well far: because men are desirous to detract and debase their neighbours, to the end they might be superiors themselves: he addeth afterwards, the joy for another man's harm, and that in these words: Annexed thereunto (quoth he) is the joy for another man's harm, because men are desirous that their neighbours about them, should be brought low for the like causes: but when they decline and turn to other natural affections, there is engendered Pity and Mercy: In which words it appeareth that he ordaineth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to be a thing really subsistent as well as envy and pity, which notwithstanding elsewhere he said had no being at all in the world no more than the hatred of wickedness or the desire of filthy lucre.  
Having in many places affirmed, that men are never a whit more happy, for long continuance of felicity, but that they be still as happy who enjoy felicity but one minute of an 〈◊〉: in as many other places again he avoucheth the contrary, saying that a man should not so much as put forth his finger for a transitory and momentany prudence, which endureth but a while, & passeth away like unto the flash and leame of a lightning. But it shall suffice to relate the very words, which he hath written in his sixth book of moral questions as touching this matter: for when he had premised thus much, that every good thing doth not cause equal joy, nor all virtuous duties like vantery, he cometh after with these words: For if a man is to have prudence one moment of time, or the last day only of his life, he should not so much as hold up or stretch out his finger for a prudence that lasteth so small a while: although no man is said to be the more blessed for long continuance of happiness, neither is eternal beatitude more expetible or desirable, than that which passeth away within a minute of an hour. Now if he had thought that prudence were a good thing bringing forth blessedness, as Epicurus did, a man could have found fault with nothing else but the absurdity only of so strange an opinion and paradox. But seeing that prudence is no other thing than beatitude, of itself, and even very felicity, how can it be avoided that herein there should not be a contradiction and repugnancy of speech, namely, to say that transitory happiness is as eligible and as much to be desired, as that which is perpetual: and to hold, that the felicity of one moment is worth nought  
He affirmeth that virtues do follow and accompany one another not only in this respect, that he who hath one, hath likewise all the rest, but also in this that he who worketh by one, worketh with all according to the other: neither (saith he) is any man perfect, unless he be possessed of all virtues. Howbeit in the sixth book of moral questions, Chrysippus saith that neither a good and honest man doth always bear himself valiantly, nor a naughty man behave himself cowardly, for that as certain objects be presented into men's fantasies, it behoveth one man to persevere and persist in his judgements, and another to forsake and relinquish the same: for probable he saith it is that even the wicked man is not always lascivious. Now in case it be so, that to be a valiant man, is as much as to show valour, and to be a coward, the same that to use cowardice, they speak contraries who affirm, that a naughty person practising one vice, worketh by all together: and that a valiant man useth not always valour, nor a dastard cowardice.  
He denieth Rhetoric to be an art, as touching the ornament, dispose and order of an oration pronounced: and beside in the first book he hath thus written: And in mine opinion requisite it is to have not only a regard of an honest, decent & simple adorning of words, but also a care of proper gestures, actions, pauses and stays of the voice, as also a meet conformation of the countenance and the hands. Being as you see thus exquisite and curious in this passage: yet in the same book clear contrary, having spoken of the collision of vowels, and hitting one of them upon another: We are not only (quoth he) to neglect this, and to think of that which is of greater moment and importance but also to let pass certain obscurities and defects, solaecismes also and incongruities, of which many others would be ashamed. Now one while to permit and allow such exquisite curiosity in the orderly dispose of a manstongue, even as far as to the decent setting of the countenance and gesture of the hands: and another while not to bash at the committing of gross incongruities, defects and obscurities, is the property of a man who cares not what he saith, but speaks whatsoever comes in his head.  
Over and beside in his natural positions, treating of those things which require the view of the eye and experience, after he had given warning that we should go warily to work, and not rashly yield our assent thereto, he saith, Let us not therefore be of Plato's opinion, to think that our liquid food, to wit, our drink, passeth directly to the lungs, and our dry nourishment, that is, our meat, into the stomach; neither let us fall into such like errors as these. For mine own part, thus I think, That for a man to reprehend others, and afterwards to incur the same faults and errors which he reproved, is the greatest repugnancy and contrariety that may be, and the foulest and most shameful fault of all others. And verily himself saith, that the connexion's which are made by the ten principal Axioms, that is to say, Propositions, exceed in number ten hundred thousand; when as neither he had by himself diligently enough inquired and searched into the thing, nor by other men well exercised in that art of Arethmeticke, attained to the truth. And yet Plato had to testify on his side, the most renowned Physicians that were, namely, Hypocrates, Philistion and Dioxippus the disciple of Hypocrates: also of Poets, Euripides, Alcaeus, Eupolis and Eratosthenes, who all with one voice affirm, that the drink passeth by the lungs. And as for all the Arithmeticians well practised in the knowledge of numbers, they reprove Chrysippus: and Hipparchus among the rest, proving and showing that in the foresaid speech of his, he erred most grossly in his computation, if it be true that the affirmative maketh of the said ten Axioms to the number of 103049 connexion's, and the negative 952, over and above three hundred and ten thousands. Some of the ancients said of Zeno that it befell unto him as unto one who had sour wine of his own, which he could not sell and, make away either for vinegar or wine: for, that precedent of his which they call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 could not put off neither for a thing that is good, nor so much as indifferent. But Chrysippus hath made the matter far more intricate and different: for in some passages of his, he saith, that they are stark mad, who make no account of riches, health, voidness of pain and integrity of the body, nor care how to attain thereto; and having alleged this verse out of Hesiodus, 
O Perses, borne of noble race,  
Thy business ply, and work apace.  he addeth thereto and saith, it were mere madness to advise the contrary, and say, 
O Perses, borne of noble race,  
Ply not thy work in any case.   
And in his treatise of Lives he writeth, that a wise man will court it with kings and princes, if he may raise his commodity and gain thereby; yea, he will keep a school and teach for money, taking of some scholars his 〈◊〉 aforehand, and bargaining with others for a 〈◊〉 time. Also in the seventh book of his offices, he saith, that he will not stick to tumble down upon his head, and that three times, so he may be sure to have a talon for his labour. In his first book of Good things, he permitteth and granteth unto whosoever will, to call those 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or precedents aforesaid, Good, and the contrary thereto, Bad, in these very terms: If a man list (quoth he) according to such premutations as these, he may call one thing good unto himself, and another thing ill; so as he have an eye and regard unto the things, and wander not inconsiderately, nor fail in the understanding of things signified, but otherwise accommodate himself to the use and custom of the denomination. Having thus in this place set his Precedent so 〈◊〉 and linked it with Good; in other passages he saith clean contrary, that none of all this concerneth us at all, but reason doth divert and pluck us quite away from all such things: for, so much hath he set down in his first book of Exhortations. But in the third book of Nature, he saith, that some kings and rich persons are reputed blessed and happy; which is as much as if they were to be accounted happy, who made water in golden chamber pots, or swept the flower with the golden trains of their costly robes. But a good man, if he lose his whole patrimony and all his estate, weigheth it no more than the loss of a groat or single denier, and maketh no greater matter of sickness, than of stumbling or tripping alittle with his foot. And therefore, filled he hath with such contrarieties, not 〈◊〉 only, but also providence. For virtue will appear exceeding base, mechanical and foolish, if it be employed in things so vile and contemptible, commanding a man to sail for them as far as to Bosporus, yea and to throw himself upon his head. And Jupiter is very ridiculous, delighting to be called either Ctesius, that is to say, The enricher and donor of possessions, or Epicar pius, that is to say, The giver of 〈◊〉, or Charidotes, that is to say, The gratifier and author of favours: for that unto lewd and 〈◊〉 persons he affordeth golden chamber pots, and robes guarded and bordered round 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 with gold; but vouchsafeth unto good men, trash hardly worth a groat, when they are become rich through the providence of Jupiter. And yet Apollo is much more ridiculous, if it be so, that he sits giving answers and oracles as touching golden chamber pots, guards and fringes of gold, yea and the tripping and stumbling of the foot. This repugnance and contrariety they make more evident and apparent still by their demonstration: For that (〈◊〉 they) which may be well or ill used, is neither good nor bad. Now, certain it is, that all evil and foolish persons use riches, health and strength of the body, amiss; and therefore none of these may be called Good. If then, God give not virtue unto men, but Honesty cometh of it self, and yet bestoweth riches and health without virtue, surely it is upon them who will not use the same well but ill, that is to say, unprofitably, shamefully and mischievously. And verily if the gods can give virtue, they are not good if they do not: and again, if they can not make good men, neither are they able to help them any way, considering, that without it, there is nothing good nor profitable. For, to say that the gods judge those to be good by virtue and by strength, who are otherwise good than by them, is to no purpose, but a vain conceit: for even so good men do judge the evil by virtue and by strength: so that by this reckoning, they profit men no more, than they be profited by men. And verily Chrysippus judgeth neither himself to be a good man, nor any either of his scholars or teachers. What is their opinion then, think you, of others, if it be not that which themselves say, namely, that they are mad and senseless fools, that they be miscreants and infidels, lawless, and in one word, come to the very height and pitch of all infelicity and misery? And yet forsooth they hold, that men so wretched and unhappy as they be, are notwithstanding governed and ruled by divine providence. Now, if the gods, changing their mind, should determine to hurt, afflict, plague, destroy and crush us quite, they could not bring us to a worse state and condition, than wherein we are already; according as Chrysippus saith, That man's life can not be brought to a lower ebb, nor be in worse plight and case than now it is, insomuch as if it had a tongue and voice to speak, it would pronounce these words of Hercules: 
Of miseries (to say I dare be bold)  
So full I am, that more I can not hold.  And what assertions or sentences may a man possibly find more contrary and repugnant one against another, than those of Chrysippus, as touching both gods and men, when he saith, That the gods are most provident over men, and careful for their best; and men notwithstanding are in as woeful state as they may be?  
Certain Pythagoreans there are, who blame him much, for that in his book of Justice he hath written of dunghill cocks, that they were made and created profitable for man's use: For (quoth he) they awaken us out of our sleep, and raise us to our work; they hunt, kill and devour scorpions; with their fight they animate us to battle, imprinting in our hearts an ardent desire to show valour: and yet eat them we must, for fear that there grow upon us more pullen, than we know what otherwise to do withal. And so far forth mocketh he and scorneth those who find fault with him for delivering such sentences, that he writeth thus in his third book of the Gods, as touching Jupiter the Saviour, Creator and Father of justice, law, equity and peace: And like as cities (quoth he) and great towns, when they be over full of people, deduct and send from thence certain colonies, and begin to make war upon some other nations; even so God sendeth the causes that breed plague and mortality: to which purpose he citeth the testimony of Euripides and other authors, who write that the Trojan war was raised by the gods, for to discharge and disburden the world of so great a multitude of men wherewith it was replenished. As for all other evident absurdities delivered in these speeches, I let pass, for my purpose is not to search into all that which they have said or written amiss, but only into their contradictions and contrarieties to themselves. But consider, I pray you, how Chrysippus hath alwaics attributed unto the gods the goodliest names and most plausible terms that can be devised; but chose, most savage, cruel, inhuman, barbarous and Galatian deeds. For such general mortalities and carnages of men, as the Trojan war first brought, and afterwards the Median and Peloponnesiacke wars, are nothing like unto colonies that cities send forth to people and inhabit other places; unless haply one would say, That such multitudes of men that die by war and pestilence, know of some cities founded for them in hell and under the ground to be inhabited. But Chrysippus maketh God like unto Deiotarus the king of Galatia, who having many sons, and minding to leave his realm and royal estate unto one of them and no more, made away & killed all the rest besides him, to the end that he being left alone, might be great and mighty: like as if one should prune and cut away all the branches of a vine, that the main stock might thrive and prosper the better: and yet the cutter of the vine disbrancheth it when the shoots be young, small and tender: and we also take away from a bitch many of her whelps when they be so young as that they can not yet see, for to spare the dam: whereas 〈◊〉 who hath not only suffered and permitted men to grow unto their perfect age, but 〈◊〉 given them himself their nativity and growth, punisheth them and plagueth them afterwards, devising sundry means, and preparing many occasions of their death and destruction, when as indeed he should rather have not given unto them the causes and principles of their generation and birth. Howbeit, this is but a small matter in comparison; and more grievous is that which I will now say; for there are no wars bred among men, but by occasion of some notable vice; seeing the cause of one is fleshly pleasure; of another, avarice; and of a third, ambition and desire of rule. And therefore, if God be the author of wars, he is by consequence, the cause of wickedness, and doth provoke, excite and pervert men: and yet himself in his treatise of judgement, yea and his second book of the Gods, writeth that it stands to no sense and reason that God should be the cause of any wicked and dishonest things. For like as the laws are never the cause of breaking and violating the laws, no more are gods of impiety: so that there is no likelihood at all that they should move and cause men to commit any foul and dishonest fact. Now what can there be more dishonest, than to procure and raise some to work the ruin and perdition of others, and yet Chrysippus saith, that God ministereth the occasions and beginnings thereof. Yea, but he chose (will one say) commendeth Euripides, for saying thus: 
If Gods do ought that lewd and filthy is,  
They are no more accounted Gods, iwis.  And again, 
Soon said that is: men's faults t'excuse,  
Nothing more ready than Gods t' accuse.  as if forsooth we did any thing else now, but compare his words and sentences together that be opposite and mere contrary one unto another. And yet this sentence which now is here commended, to wit, 
Soon said that is, etc.  we may allege against Chrysippus, not once, nor twice nor thrice, but ten thousand times. For first, in his treatise of Nature, having likened the eternity of motion to a drench or potion made confusedly of many herbs and spices, troubling and turning all things that be engendered, some after one sort and some after another, thus he saith, Seeing it is so, that the government and administration of the universal world proceedeth in this sort, necessary it is that according to it we be disposed in that manner as we are; whether it be that we are diseased against our own nature, maimed or disinembred, Grammarians or Musicians. And again, soon after, according to this reason, we may say the like of our virtue or vice, and generally of the knowledge or ignorance of arts, as I have already said. Also within a little after, cutting off all doubt and ambiguity: There is no particular thing, not the very lest that is, which can otherwise happen than according to common nature, and the reason thereof: now that common nature, and the reason of it is fatal destiny, divine providence and Jupiter, there is not one, search even as far as to the Antipodes, but he knoweth: for this sentence is very rife in their mouths: And as for this verse of Homer, 
And as each thing thus came to pass,  
The will of Jove fulfilled was.  he saith that well and rightly he referred all to destiny, and the universal nature of the world, whereby all things are governed. How is it possible then, that these two positions should subsist together, namely, that God is in no wise the cause of any dishonest thing: and, that there is nothing in the world be it never so little that is done, but by common nature, and according to the reason thereof? For surely, among all those things that are done, necessarily there must be things dishonest: and yet Epicurus turneth and windeth himself on every side, imagining and devising all the subtle shifts that he can to unloose, set free, and deliver our voluntary free will from this motion eternal, because he would not leave vice excusable & without just reprehension; whereas in the mean while he openeth a wide window unto it, and giveth it liberty to plead: That committed it is not only by the necessity of destiny, but also by the reason of God, and according to the best nature that is. And thus much also moreover is to be seen written word forword: For considering that common nature reacheth unto all causes; it cannot otherwise be, but all that is done, howsoever, and in what part soever of the world, must be according to this common nature, and the reason thereof, by a certain stint of consequence without impeachment; for that there is nothing without, that can impeach the administration thereof, neither moveth any part, or is disposed in habitude otherwise, than according to that common nature. But what habitudes and motions of the parts are these? Certain it is that the habitudes be the vices and maladies of the minds, as covetousness, lechery, ambition, cowardice, and injustice: as for the motions, they be the acts proceeding from thence, as adulteries, thefts, treasons, manslaughters, murders, and parricides, Chrysippus now is of opinion, That none of all these, be they little or great, is done without the reason of Jupiter, or against law, justice, and providence: insomuch as to break law, is not against law; to wrong another, is not against justice; nor to commit sin against providence. And yet he affirmeth, that God punisheth vice, and doth many things for the punishment of the wicked. As for example, in the second book of the gods: Otherwhiles there happen (quoth he) unto good men grievous calamities, not by way of punishment, as to the wicked, but by another kind of economy and disposition, like as it falleth out usually unto cities. Again, in these words: First, we are to understand, evil things and calamities as we have said heretofore; then to think, that distributed they are according to the reason and dispose of Jupiter, either by way of punishment, or else by some other economy of the whole world. Now surely, this is a doctrine hard to be digested, namely, that vice being wrought by the disposition and reason of God, is also punished thereby: howbeit, this contradiction he doth still aggravate and extend in the second book of Nature, writing thus: But vice in regard of grievous accidents, hath a certain peculiar reason by itself: for after a sort it is committed by the common reason of nature, and as I may so say, not unprofitably in respect of the universal world: for otherwise than so, there were no good things at all: and then proceeding to reprove those who dispute pro & contra, and discourse indifferently on both parts, he (I mean) who upon an ardent desire tobroch always and in every matter some novelties & exquisite singularities above all other, saith, It is not unprofitable, to cut purses, to play the sycophants, or commit loose, dissolute, and mad parts: no more than it is incommodious, that there should be unprofitable members, hurtful and wretched persons: which if it be so, what manner of god is Jupiter, I mean him, of whom Chrysippus speaketh, in case (I say) he punish a thing, which neither cometh of itself, nor unprofitably: for vice according to the reason of Chrysippus were altogether irreprehensible, and Jupiter to be blamed, if either he caused vice, as a thing unprofitable, or punished it when he had made it not unprofitably. Moreover, in the first book of Justice, speaking of the gods, that they oppose themselves against the iniquities of some: But wholly (quoth he) to cut off all vice, is neither possible nor expedient, is it if it were possible, to take away all injustice, all transgression of laws, and all folly. But how true this is, it pertaineth not to this present treatise for to inquire and discourse. But himself taking away and rooting up all vice as much as lay in him, by the means of philosophy, which to extirp, was neither good nor expedient, doth herein that which is repugnant both to reason and also to God. Furthermore, in saying that there be certain sins and iniquities, against which the gods do oppose themselves, he giveth covertly to understand, that there is some odds and inequality in sins. Over and beside, having written in many places, that there is nothing in the world to be blamed, nor that can be complained of, for that all things are made and finished by a most singular and excellent nature: there be chose, sundry places, wherein he leaveth and alloweth unto us certain negligences reprooveable, and those not in small and trifling matters. That this is true, it may appear in his third book of Substance; where having made mention, that such like negligences might befall unto good & honest men: cometh this to pass (quoth he) because there be some things where of there is no reckoning made, like as in great houses, there must needs be scattered and lost by the way some bran, yea and some few grains of wheat, although in generality the whole beside, is well enough ruled and governed? or is it because there be some evil and malignant spirits, as superintendents over such things, wherein certainly such negligences are committted, & the same reprehensible? and he saith moreover, that there is much necessity intermingled among. But I mean not hereupon to stand, nor to discourse at large, but to let pass what vanity there was in him, to compare the accidents which befell to some good and virtuous persons, as for example, the condemnation of Socrates, the burning of Pythagoras' quick by the Cylonians, the dolorous torments that Zeno endured under the tyrant Demylus, or those which Antiphon suffered at the hands of Dionysius, when they were by them put to death, unto the brans that be spilled and lost in great men's houses. But that there should be such wicked spirits deputed by the divine providence, to have the charge of such things, must needs redound to the great reproach of God, as if he were some unwise king who committed the government of his provinces unto evil captains and rash headed lieutenants, suffering them to abuse and wrong his best affected subjects, and winking at their reckless negligence, having no care or regard at all of them. Again, if it be so, that there is much necessity and constraint mingled among the affairs of this world, then is not God the sovereign lord and omnipotent master of all, neither be all things absolutely governed and ruled by his reason and counsel.  
Moreover he mightily opposeth himself against Epicurus and those who take from the administration of the world divine providence, confuting them, principally by the common notions and conceptions inbred in us as touching the gods, by which persuaded we are that they be gracious benefactors unto men. And for that this is so vulgar and common a thing with them needless it is to cite any express places to prove the same: And yet by his leave, all nations do not believe that the gods be bountiful and good unto us. For do but consider what opinion the Jews and Syrians have of the gods: look into the writings of Poets, with how many superstitions they be stuffed. There is no man in manner to speak of who imagineth or conceiveth in his mind, that god is either mortal and corruptible, or hath been begotten: And Antipater of Tarsis (to pass others over in silence) in his book of Gods, hath written thus much word forword. But to the end (quoth he) that this discourse may be more perspicuous and clear, we will reduce into few words the opinion which we have of God. We understand therefore by God a living nature or substance happy, incorruptible, and a benefactor unto men: and afterwards in expounding each of these terms and attributes, thus he saith: And verily all men do acknowledge the gods to be immortal. It must needs be then, that by Antipater's saying, Chrysippus of all those, is none. For he doth not think any of all the gods to be incorruptiblesave Jupiter only: but supposeth that they were all engendered a like, and that one day they shall all likewise perish. This generally throughout all his books doth he deliver: howbeit one express passage will I allege out of his third book of the gods. After a diverse sort (quoth he) for some of them are engendered and mortal: others not engendered at all. But the proof and demonstration here of, if it should be fetched from the head indeed, appertaineth more properly unto the science of Natural Philosophy. For the Sun and Moon and other gods of like nature, were begotten: but Jupiter is sempiternal. And again somewhat after: The like shall be said of Jupiter and other gods, as touching their corruption and generation: for some of them do perish: but as for his parts they be incorruptible. With this I would have you to compare, a little of that which Antipater hath written: Those (quoth he) who deprive the gods of beneficence and well doing, touch but in some part the prenotion and anticipation in the knowledge of them: and by the same reason they also who think they participate of generation and corruption. If then he be as much deceived and as absurd, who thinketh that the gods be mortal and corruptible, as he who is of opinion that they bear no bountiful and loving affection toward men, Chrysippus is as far from the truth as Epicurus, for that as the one bereaveth God of immortality and incorruption, so the other taketh from him bounty and liberality.  
Moreover Chrysippus in his third book of the gods speaking of this point, and namely how other gods are nourished, saith thus: Other gods (quoth he) use a certain nourishment, whereby they are maintained equally: but Jupiter and the world after a nother sort, than those who are engendered, and be consumed by the fire. In which place, he holdeth, that all other gods be nourished, except Jupiter and the world. And in the first book of Providence, he saith that Jupiter groweth continually until such a time, as all things be consumed in him. For death being the separation of the body and soul, seeing that the soul of the world never departeth at all but augmenteth continually, until it have consumed all the matter within it, we cannot say that the world dieth. Who could speak more contrary to himself, than he who saith that one and the same god is nourished and not nourished? And this we need not to infer and conclude by necessary consequence, considering that himself in the same place hath written it plainly. The world only (quoth he) is said to be of itself sufficient: because it alone hath all in itself whereof it standeth in no need, of itself it is nourished and augmented, whereas other parts are transmuted and converted one into another. Not only then is he contradictory and rupugnant to himself in that he saith, other gods be nourished, all except the world and Jupiter, but also here in much more, when he saith that the world groweth by nourishing itself: whereas chose there had been more reason to say, the world only is not augmented, having for food the destruction thereof: but on the contrary side, other gods do grow and increase, in as much as they have their nourishment from without: and rather should the world be consumed into them, if it be true that the world taketh always from itself, and other gods from it. The second point contained in that common notion and opinion imprinted in us as touching the gods, is that they be blessed, happy and perfect. And therefore men highly praise Euripides for saying thus. 
If God 〈◊〉 God indeed and really,  
He needs none of this poets vertly;  
His 〈◊〉 in hymns and verses for to write:  
Such 〈◊〉 wretched are which they indite.  Howbeit our Chrysippus here, in those places by me alleged saith, that the world alone is of itself sufficient, as comprehending within it all that it hath need of. What then ariseth upon this proposition, that the world is sole-sufficient in itself, but this, that neither the Sun nor the Moon, nor any other of the gods whatsoever is sufficient of itself, and being thus insufficient, they cannot be blessed and happy.  
Chrysippus is of opinion, that the infant in the mother's womb, is nourished naturally, no otherwise than a plant within the earth; but when it is borne, and by the air cooled and hardened (as it were) like 〈◊〉, it moveth the spirit, and becometh an animal or living creature; and therefore it is not without good reason, that the soul was called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in regard of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, refrigeration. But not forgetetting to be contrary unto himself, he supposeth that the soul is the more subtle, rare, and fine spirit of nature: For how is it possible that a subtle thing should be made of that which is gross, and that a spirit should be rarefied by refrigeration and astriction or condensation? Nay, that which more is, how cometh it about, that 〈◊〉 as he doth the soul of an infant to be engendered by the means of refrigeration, he should think the sun to become animat, being as it is of a fiery nature, & engendered of an exhalation transmuted into fire? For thus he faith in his third book of Nature: The mutation (quoth he) of fire is in this manner; by the air it is turned into water, and out of water having earth under it, there ex haileth air, which air coming to be subtilized, the fire is produced and environeth it round about; & as for the stars, they are set on fire out of these, together with the sun; what is more contrary, than to be set on fire and to be cooled? what more opposite to subtilization and rarefaction, than inspissation and condensation? the one maketh water and earth, of fire and air; the other turneth that which is moist and terrestrial, into fire and air. And yet in one place he maketh kindling of fire, and in another refrigeration, to be the cause of quickening and giving soul unto a thing: for when the said firing and inflammation comes general throughout, than it liveth and is become an animal creature; but after it cometh to be quenched and thickened, it turneth into water and earth, and so into a corporal substance. In the first book of Providence, he writeth thus: For the world being throughout on fire, presently it is with all, the soul and governor of itself; but when it is turned into moisture and the soul left within it, and is after a sort converted into a soul and body, so as it seemeth compounded of them both, than the case is altered: In which text he affirmeth plainly, that the very inanimat parts of the world by exustion and inflammation, turn and change into the soul thereof; and chose by extinction, the soul is relaxed and moistened again, and so returneth into a corporal nature. Hereupon I infer that he is very absurd, one while to make of senseless things, animat and living, by way of refrigeration; and another while to transmure the most part of the soul of the world into insensible and inanimat things.  
But over and above all this, the discourse which he maketh as touching the generation of the soul, containeth a proof & demonstration contrary to his own opinion; for he saith: That the soul is engendered after that the infant is gone out of the mother's womb; for that the spirit than is transformed by refrigeration; even as the temper is gotten of steel. Now to prove that the soul is engendered, and that after the birth of the infant, he bringeth this for a principal argument; Because children become like unto their parents in behaviour and natural inclination; wherein the contrariety that he delivereth is so evident, as that a man may see it by the very eye; for it is not possible that the soul which is engendered after birth, should be framed to the manners and disposition of the parents before nativity; or else we must say (and fall out it will) that the soul before it was in esse, was already like unto a soul; which is all one, as that it was by similitude and resemblance, and yet was not, because as yet it had not a real substance: Now if any one do say, that it ariseth from the temperature and complexion of the bodies, that this similitude is imprinted in them, howbeit when the souls are once engendered, they become changed, he shall overthrow the argument and proof, whereby it is showed that the soul was engendered; for hereupon it would follow, that the soul although it were ingenerable, when it entereth from without into the body, is changed by the temperature of the like.  
Chrysippus' sometime saith, that the air is light, that it mounteth upward on high; and otherwhiles for it again: that it is neither heavy nor light. To prove this, see what he saith in his second book of Motion, namely, that fire having in it no ponderosity at all, ascendeth aloft: semblably the air; and as the water is more conformable to the earth, so the air doth rather resemble the fire. But in his book entitled Natural arts, he bendeth to the contrary opinion, to wit, that the air hath neither ponderosity nor lightness of itself: He affirmeth that the air by nature is dark, and for that cause by consequence it is also the primitive cold; and that tenebrosity or darkness is directly opposite unto light and clearness, and the coldness thereof to the heat of fire. Moving this discourse in the first book of his Natural questions, contrary to all this in his treatise of Habitudes, he saith: That these habitudes be nothing else but airs: For that bodies (quoth he) be 〈◊〉 by them, and the cause why every body contained by any habitude is such as it is, is the continent air; which in iron is called hardness, in stone, spissitude or thickness; in silver whiteness; in which words there is great contrariety, and as much false absurdity: for if this air remain the same still as it is in the own nature, how cometh black in that which is not white, to be called whiteness; softness in that which is not hard, to be named hardness; or rare in that which is not solid and massy, to be called solidity? But in case it be said, that by mixture therein it is altered, and so becometh semblable, how then can it be an habitude, a faculty, power, or cause of these effects, whereby itself is brought under and subdued? for that were to suffer rather than to do; and this alteration is not of a nature containing, but of a languishing impotency, whereby it loseth all the properties and qualities of the own: and yet in every place they hold, that matter of itself idle and without motion, is subject and exposed to the receipt of qualities, which qualities are spirits, and those powers of the air, which into what parts soever of the matter they get and insinuate themselves, do give a form and imprint a figure into them. But how can they maintain this, supposing as they do, the air to be such as they say it is; for if it be an habitude and power, it will conform and shape unto itself, every body, so as it will make the same both black and soft: but if by being mixed and contempered with them, it take forms contrary unto those which it hath by nature, it followeth then, that it is the matter of matter, and neither the habitude, cause, nor power thereof.  
Chrysippus hath written often times, that without the world there is an infinite voidness; and that this infinity hath neither beginning, middle, nor end. And this is the principal reason whereby they resute that motion downward of the 〈◊〉 by themselves, which Epicurus hath brought in: for in that which is infinite, there are no local differences, whereby a man may understand or specify either high or low. But in the fourth book of Things possible, he supposeth a certain middle space and mean place between: wherein he saith the world is founded. The very text where he affirmeth this runneth in these words. And therefore we must say of the world that it is corruptible: and although it be very hard to prove it, yet me thinks rather it should be so, than otherwise. Nevertheless, this maketh much to the inducing of us to believe that it hath a certain incorruptibility, if I may so say, namely the occupation or taking up of the middle place, wherein it standeth, because it is in the mids: for if it were thought otherwise to be founded, it were altogether necessary that some corruption should take hold of it. And again, a little after: for even so in some sort hath that essence been ordained from all eternity, to occupy the middle region, being presently at the very first such as if not by another manner, yet by attaining this place, it is eternal and subject to no corruption. These words contain one manifest repugnance and visible contrariety, considering that in them he admitteth and alloweth in that which is infinite a middle place. But there is a second also, which as it is more dark and obscure, so it implieth also a more monstrous absurdity than the other: for supposing that the world can not continue incorruptible, if it were seated and founded in any other place of the infinity, than in the mids; it appeareth manifestly that he feared, if the parts of the substance did not move and tend toward the mids, there would ensue a dissolution & corruption of the world. But this would he never have feared, if he had not thought that bodies naturally from all sides tend to the mids not of the substance but of the place that containeth the substance; where of he had spoken in many places, that it was a thing impossible and against nature, for that within voidness there is no difference, by which bodies can be said to move more one way than another: and that the construction of the world is cause of the motion to the centre, as also that all things from every side do bend to the mids. But to see this more plainly, it may suffice to allege the very text in his second book of Motion: for when he had delivered thus much, That the world is a perfect body, and the parts of the world not perfect, because they are respective to the whole, and not of themselves. Having also discoursed as touching the motion thereof: for that it was apt and fitted by nature to move itself in all parts, for to contain and preserve, and not to break, dissolve and burn itself, he saith afterwards, But the universal world tending and moving to the same point, and the parts thereof having the same motion from the nature of the body; like it is, that this first motion is naturally proper to all bodies, namely, to incline toward the mids of the world, considering that the world moveth so in regard of itself; and the parts likewise, in that they be the parts of the whole. How now my goodfriend, may some one say, what accident is befallen unto you, that you should forget to pronounce these words withal, That the world, in case it had not fortuned for to settle in the mids, must needs have been subject to corruption and dissolution? For if it be proper and natural to the world to tend always to the same middle, as also to address the parts thereof from all sides thereto, into what place soever of the voidness it be carried and transported, certes thus 〈◊〉 and embracing (as it were) itself, as it doth, it must needs continue incorruptible, immortal, and past all danger of fracture or dissolution: for to such things as be broken, bruised, dissipated and dissolved, this is incident, by the division and dissolution of their parts, when each one runneth and retireth into their proper and natural place, out of that which is against their own nature. But you sir, supposing that if the world were seated in any other place of voidness but in the mids, there would follow a total ruin and corruption thereof; giving out also as much, and therefore imagining a middle in that where naturally there can be none, to wit, in that which is infinite, have verily quit clean and fled from these tensions, cohaerences and inclinations, as having in them no assured means for to maintain and hold the world together, and attributed all the cause of the eternal maintenance and preservation thereof, unto the occupation of a place. And yet, as if you took pleasure to argue and convince yourself, you adjoin to the premises, thus much: In what sort every several part moveth, as it is coherent to the rest of the body, it stands with good reason, that after the same manner it should move by itself alone; yea, if for disputation's sake we imagine and suppose it to be in some void part of this world: and like as being kept in and enclosed on every side, it would move toward the mids, so it would continue in this same motion, although by way of disputation we should admit, that all on a sudden there should appear some vacuity and void place round about it. And is it so indeed, that every part what ever it be, compassed about with voidness, foregoeth not her natural inclination to move & tend to the mids; and should the world itself, unless some fortune & blind chance had not prepared for it a place in the mids, have lost that vigour & power which containeth and holdeth all together, & so some parts of the substance of it move one way, and some another? Now surely herein there be many other main contrarieties repugnant even to natural reason; but this particularly among the rest, encountereth the doctrine of God & divine providence, to wit, that in attributing unto them the least and smallest causes that be, he taketh from them the most principal and greatest of all other. For what greater power can there be, than the maintenance and preservation of this universal world, or to cause the substance united together in all parts to cohaere unto itself? But this according to the opinion of Chrysippus, happeneth by mere hazard and chance: for if the occupation of a place, is the cause of world's incorruption and eternity, and the same chanced by fortune, we must infer there upon, that the safety of all things dependeth upon hazard and adventure, and not upon fatal destiny and divine providence. As for his doctrine & disputation 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say of things possible, which Chrysippus hath delivered directly agaisnt that of fatal destiny, how can it choose but be repugnant to itself: for if that be not possible, according to the opinion of Diodorus, which either is or shall be true, but whatsoever is susceptible naturally of a power to be, although the same never come into act or esse, is to be counted possible; there will be a number of things possible which never shall have being, by destiny invincible, inexpugnable, & surmounting all things. And therefore either this doctrine overthroweth all the force and puissance of destiny: or if it be admitted as Chrysippus would have it, that which potentially may be, will fall out oftentimes to be impossible; & whatsoever is true, shall be also necessary, as being comprised & contained by the greatest and most powerful necessity of all others; and whatsoever is false, impossible, as having the greatest and most puissant cause withstanding and impeaching it ever for being true. For look whose destiny it is to die in the sea, how can it possible be, that he should be 〈◊〉 of death upon the land? And how is it possible, that he who is at Megara should come to Athens, being hindered and prohibited by fatal destiny?  
Moreover his resolutions as touching fantasies and imaginations repugn mainly against fatal destiny: For intending to prove that fantasy is not an entire and absolute cause of assent he saith, that Sages and wise men will prejudice and hurt us much, by imprinting in our minds false imaginations, if it be so that such fantasies do absolutely cause assent. For many times wise men use that which is false, unto lewd and wicked persons, representing unto them a fantasy that is but only probable, and yet the same is not the cause of assent: for so also should it be the cause of false opinion and of deception. If then a man would transfer this reason and argument from the said wise men unto fatal destiny, saying that destiny is not the cause of assents (for so he should confess that by destiny were occasioned false assents, opinions and deceptions, yea and men should be endamaged by destiny) certes the same doctrine and reason which exempteth a wise man from doing hurt at any time, showeth withal that destiny is not the cause of all things. For if they neither opine nor receive detriment by destiny: certainly they do no good, they are not wise, they be not firm and constant in opinion, neither receive they any good and profit by destiny: so that this conclusion which they hold for most assured, falleth to the ground and cometh to nothing, namely, that fatal destiny is the cause of all things. Now if peradventure one say unto me, that Chrysippus doth not make destiny the entire and absolute cause of all things, but only a procatarctical and antecedent occasion, here again will he discover how he is contradictory to himself, whereas he praiseth Homer excessively for saying thus of Jupiter: 
Take well in worth therefore what he to each of you shall send;  
And whether good or bad it be, do not with him contend.  As also where he highly extolleth Euripides for these verses: 
O Jupiter what cause have I to say,  
That mortal wretches we should prudent be?  
Depend we do of thee, and nothing may  
Bring to effect, but that which pleaseth thee.  Himself also writeth many sentences accordant hereunto, and finally concludeth, that nothing doth rest and stay, nothing stir and move, be it never so little, otherwise than by the counsel and mind of Jupiter, whom he saith to be all one with fatal destiny. Moreover the antecedent cause is more feeble and weak than that which is perfect and absolute, neither attaineth it to any effect, as being subdued & kept down, by others mightier than itself, rising up & making head against it. And as for fatal destiny Chrysippus himself pronouncing it to be a cause invincible, inflexible, and that which cannot be impeached, calleth it Atropos & Adrastia, as one would say, a cause that cannot be averted, avoided or undone. Likewise necessity and Pepromene, which is as much to say as setting down 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, an end and limit unto all things. How then? whether do we not say, that neither assents, virtues, vices, nor well or ill doing, lie in our free will and power: if we affirm fatal destiny is to be maimed or unperfect and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, a fatality determining all things, to be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, without power to finish and effect aught: and so the motions and habitudes of Jupiter's will to remain imperfect and unaccomplished? for of these conclusions the one will follow, if we say that destiny is an absolute and perfect cause: and the other, in case we hold that it is only a procatarctical or antecedent occasion. For being an absolute and all sufficient cause, it overthroweth that which is in us, to wit, our free will: and again, if we admit it to be only antecedent it is marred for being effectual and without the danger of impeachment. For not in one or two places only but every where in manner throughout all his commentaries of natural philosophy he hath written, that in particular natures and motions there be many obstacles and impediments, but in the motion of the universal world there is none at all. And how is it possible that the motion of the universal world should not be hindered and disturbed, reaching as it doth unto particulars, in case it be so, that they likewise be stopped and impeached. For surely the nature in general of the whole man is not at liberty and without impediment, if neither that of the foot nor of the hand, be void of obstacles: no more can the motion or course of a ship be void of let and hindrance, if there be some stay about the sails, & oars, or their works. Over & beside all this, if the fantasies and imaginations, are not imprinted in us by fatal destiny, how be they the cause of assents? Or if because it imprinteth fantasies that lead unto assent, thereupon all assents are said to be by fatal destiny, how is it possible that destiny should not be repugnant to itself? considering that in matters of greatest importance, it ministereth many times different fantasies; and those which distract the mind into contrary opinions? whereas they affirm that those who settle unto one of the said fantasies, and hold not of their assent and approbation do err and sin: For if they yield (say they) unto uncertain fantasies they stumble and fall: if unto false, they are deceived: if to such as commonly are not conceived and understood, they opine. For of necessity it must be one of these three: either that every fantasy is not the work nor effect of destiny; or that every receipt & ascension of fantasy is not void of error; or else that destiny itself is not irreprehensible. Neither can I see how it should be blameless, objecting such fancies & imaginations as it doth: which to withstand and resist, were not blamable, but rather to give place and follow them: and verily in the disputations of the Stoics against the Academics, the main point about which both Chrysippus himself, and Antipater also contended and stood upon, was this: That we do nothing at all, nor be inclined to any action, without a precedent consent: but that these be but vain fictions and devised fables, and suppositions, that when any proper fantasy is presented, incontinently we are disposed, yea, and incited thereto, without yielding or giving consent. Again, Chrysippus saith: That both God and the wise man do imprint false imaginations, not because they would have us to yield or give our consent unto them, but that we should do the thing only, and incite ourselves to that which appeareth: As for us, if we be evil by reason of our infirmity, we condescend to such fancies and imaginations. Now the repugnance and contrariety in these words is easily seen; for he who would not have us to consent unto the fantasies which he presenteth unto us, but only to work and do them, be he God or wise man, knoweth well enough that such fantasies are sufficient to cause us to fall to operation, and that those assents are altogether superfluous: and so if he knowing that the fantasy imprinteth no instinct into operation without consent, ministereth unto us false or probable fantasies: wilful and voluntary is the cause that we stumble, err, and offend, in giving our assent to such things as are not perfectly understood and comprehended.    

OF COMMON CONCEPTIONS AGAINST THE STOICS.  

The Summarie.  
HAving showed in my former discourse, that the Stoics are contradictory to themselves in all the principal articles of their doctrine, and so consequently that he needed no more but their own words to condemn them: In this dialogue he joineth more closely to them, disputing against their rules and precepts, which he examineth and refuteth; whereas before he was content to oppugn them by their own selves. For to make an entrance into this dialogue, he bringeth in Lamprias, requesting Diadumenus to rid him of those scruples that certain Stoics had 〈◊〉 into his head: Where unto the other acordeth, and so they enter into the matter. The sum of whose whole discourse throughout is this: That the Stoics would by their principles abolish man's senses, and the common conceptions proceeding from thence, there by more easily to establish their own paradoxes: whom he refuteth, dividing his dialogue into three principal parts: in the first where of is considered, the moral; in the second, the natural; in the third, the metaphysical or supernatural philosophy of the Stoics: Howbeit, he observeth no exact order nor method, in the disposition of his matters, but entereth out of one discourse into another, according as things were presented unto him, and came first into his mind, yet in such sort, as there is sufficient to content the reader, who is desirous to know what was the sect and doctrine of the Stoics, and the manner of the ancient Academics in their disputations: which being referred to the true mark and scope indeed, of all that which we may learn in the world, teacheth every man to humble himself before the majesty of him who is only wise, and out of whose sacred word we ought to fetch the resolution of the questions debated here in this dialogue, but of those above the rest, which treat of manners, religion, and divinity.   

OF COMMON CONCEPTIons against the Stoics.  LAMPRIAS. 
IT should seem verily that you Diadumenus pass not much what any man either thinks or says of you & other Academics, such as yourself, in that you do philosophize clean contrary to the common notions and conceptions, confessing as you do, that you make no great account of the five natural senses, from whence proceed the most part of the said common conceptions, having for their foundation and seat, the belief and assurance of the imaginations which appear unto us. But I pray you for to assay and go in hand to cure me, either by some words, or charms and enchantments, or by what other means and kinds of physic that you know, coming as I do unto you, full in mine own conceit of great trouble and strong perturbation, so exceedingly troubled I have been, and held in perplexed suspense, I may tell you, by certain Stoics; men otherwise the best in the world, and I may say to you, my inward and familiar friends: howbeit, over bitterly bend, and in hostile manner set against the Academy, who for very small matters uttered by me, modestly and in good sort, withal respect and reverence, have (I will not lie unto you) reproved, checked, and taken me up very unkindly, with some hard words, and breaking forth in heat of choler, called our ancient Philosophers, Sophisters, corrupters, and perverters of good sentences in Philosophy, yea, and seducers of those who otherwise walked in the true path and train of doctrine surely established; with many other more strange terms, both speaking and thinking of them very basely; until in the end as if they had been driven with a tempest, they fell upon the Common conceptions, reproaching those of the Academy, as if they brought in some great confusion and perturbation in the said notions: and one among them there was, who stuck not to say; That it was not by fortune, but by some divine providence that Chrysippus was borne and came into the world, after Arcesilaus, and before Carneades: of which twain, the one was the great author and promoter of the injury and outrage done unto custom; and the other flourished in name and renown above all other Academics. Now Chrysippus coming as he did between them, by his writings contrary to the doctrine of Arcesilaus, stopped up the way also against the powerful eloquence of Carneades, and as he left unto the senses many aids and succours, as it were to hold out a long siege; so he removed out of the way, and fully cleared all the trouble and confusion about anticipations and common conceptions, correcting each one, and reducing them into their proper place; insomuch, as whosoever afterwards would seem to make new troubles, and violently disquiet matters by him settled, should not prevail nor gain aught, but incur the obloquy of the world, and be convinced for malicious persons, and deceitful sophisters. Having thus (I say) by these words been chafed and set on fire this morning among them, I had need of some means to quench the heat as it were of an inflammation, and to rid me of these doubts, which are risen in my mind.  DIADUMENUS. 
It fareth haply with you, as with many of the vulgar sort; but if you believe the poets who give out, that the ancient city Sipylus in Magresia, was in old time destroyed and overthrown by the providence of the gods, when they chastised and punished Tantalus; you may as well be persuaded by our old friends the Stoics to believe, that nature hath brought forth into the world, not by chance and fortune, but by some special divine providence, Chrysippus, when she was minded to pervert and overturn the life of man and course of the world, turning all things up side down, and chose down side up: for never was there man better made and framed for such a matter than he. And as Cato said of that julius Caesar Dictator, that before him there was never known any to come sober and considerate to manage affairs of state with a purpose to work the ruin of the common weal; even so this man in mine opinion, with most diligence, greatest eloquence, & highest conceit of spirit seemeth as much as lieth in him to destroy and abolish custom. And there witness against him no less even they who magnify the man otherwise: namely, when they dispute against him as touching that sophism or syllogism which is called Pseudomenos, for to say my good friend, that the augmentation composed of contrary positions is not notoriously false, and again to affirm, that syllogisms having their premises true, yea and true inductions, may yet have the contrary to their conclusions true, what conception of demonstrations, or what anticipation of belief is there, which it is not able to overthrow?  
It is reported of the Pourcuttle or Pollyp fish, that in winter time he gnaweth his own cleys and pendant hairy feet, but the Logic of Chrysippus, which taketh away and cutteth off the principal parts of it, what other conception leaveth it behind but that which well may be suspected? For how can that be imagined steady and sure which is built upon foundations that abide not firm, but wherein there be so many doubts and troubles? But like as they who have either dust or dirt upon their bodies, if they touch another therewith or rub against him, do not so much trouble and molest him, as they do begrime and bewray themselves so much the more and seem to exasperate that ordure which pricketh and is offensive unto them; even so, some there be who blame and accuse the Academics, thinking to charge upon them those imputations, wherewith themselves are found to be more burdened. For who be they that pervert the common conceptions of the senses more, than do these Stoics? But if you think so good, leaving off to accuse them, let us answer to those calumniations and slanders which they would seem to fasten upon us.  LAMPRIAS. 
Me thinks Diadumenus that I am this day much changed, and become full of variety: me thinks I am a man greatly altered from that I was ere while: for even now I came hither much dismayed and abashed, as being depressed, beaten down and amazed; as one having need of some advocate or other to speak for me and in my behalf: whereas now I am clean turned to an humour of accusation, and disposed to enjoy the pleasure of revenge, to see all the pack of them detected and convinced, in that they argue and dispute themselves against common conceptions and anticipations, in defence whereof they seem principally to magnify their own sect, ** saying that it alone doth agree and accord with nature.  DIADUMENUS 
Begin we than first, with their most renowned propositions, which they themselves call paradoxes, that is to say, strange and admirable opinions: avowing as it were by that name & gently admitting such exorbitant absurdities; as for example that such Sages as themselves are only kings, only rich and fair, only citizens, and only Judges: or pleaseth it you that we send all this stuff to the market of old and stale merchandise, and go in hand with the examination of these matters which consist most in action and practice, whereof also they dispute most seriously?  LAMPRIAS 
For mine own part I take this to be the better. For as touching the reputation of those paradoxes, who is not full thereof, and hath not heard it a thousand times?  DIADUMENUS. 
Consider then in the first place this, whether according to common notions, they can possibly accord with nature, who think natural things to be indifferent: and that neither health, nor good plight and habitude of body nor beauty, nor clean strength be either expetible, profitable, expedient, or serving in any stead to the accomplishment of that perfection which is according to nature: nor that the contraries hereunto are to be avoided, as hurtful, to wit, maims and mutilations of members, deformities of body, pains, shameful disgraces and diseases. Of which things rehearsed, they themselves acknowledge that nature estrangeth us from some, and acquainteth us with other. The which verily is quite contrary to common intelligence, that nature should acquaint us with those things which be neither expedient nor good, & alienate us from such as be not hurtful nor ill: and that which more is, that she should either train us to them or withdraw us from them so far forth, as if men miss in obtaining the one, or fall into the other, they should with good reason abandon this life, and for just cause depart out of the world. I suppose that this also, is by them affirmed against common sense, namely, that nature herself is a thing indifferent: and that to accord and consent with nature hath in it some part of the sovereign good. For neither to follow the rule of the law nor to obey reason is good and honest, unless both law and reason be good and honest. But this verily is one of the least of their errors. For if Chrysippus in his first book of exhortations hath written thus: A blessed and happy life consisteth only in living according to virtue: and as for all other accessaries (quoth he) they neither touch nor concern us at all, neither make they any whit to beatitude: he cannot avoid but he must avow, that not only nature is indifferent, but also which is more, senseless and foolish, to associate and draw us into a league with that which in no respect concerneth us, and we ourselves likewise are no better than fools, to think that the sovereign felicity, is to consent and accord with nature which leadeth and conducteth us to that which serveth nothing at all to happiness. And yet what agreeth and sorteth sooner to common sense, than this, that as things eligible are to be chosen and desired for the profit and help of this life; so natural things serve for to live answerable to nature? But these men say otherwise: for although this be their supposition that to live according to nature is the utmost end of man's good, yet they hold, that things according to nature be of themselves indifferent. Neither is this also less repugnant to common sense and conception, that a well affected, sensible and prudent man, is not equally inclined and affectionate to good things that be equal and alike: but as some of them he weigheth not, nor maketh any account of, so for others again he is priest to abide and endure all things, although I say the same be not greater or less, one than another. For these things they hold to be equal, namely, for a man to fight valiantly in the defence of his country, and chastened to turn away from an old trot, when for very age she is at the point of death: for both the one and the other do that alike which their duty requireth. And yet for the one, as being a worthy and glorious thing, they would be priest and ready to lose their lives, whereas to boast and vaunt of the other were a shameful and ridiculous part. And even Chrysippus himself, in the treatise which he composed of Jupiter, and in the third book of the Gods, saith that it were a poor, absurd and foolish thing to praise such acts, as proceeding from virtue, namely to bear valiantly the biting of a fly, or sting of a wespe, and chastened to abstain from a crooked old woman, stooping forward & ready to tumble into her grave. Do not these Philosophers than teach and preach even against common sense and notion, when those actions which they are ashamed to commend, they avow and confess to be excellent, and nothing in the world better? For where is that expetible, or how can that be approovable, which deserveth not that a man should praise and admire it, but is such as whosoever do commend and admire the same, they are reputed no better than sots and absurd fools? And yet I suppose you will think it more against common sense and reason, that a wise and prudent man should not care nor regard a jot whether he enjoy or enjoy not the greatest goods in the world, but carry himself after one and the same manner in things indifferent, as he would in the management and administration of those good things which are so singular. For we all, 
As many as on fruits do feed,  
Which for our use the earth doth breed.  are of this judgement, that the thing which being present bringeth us help and profit, and if it be away, we desire to have, and find a miss of it, is good, expetible and profitable: but that which a man passeth not for, neither in earnest nor in game, and where of he maketh no account either for his sport, pastime or commodity and ease, the same is indifferent: for by no other mark do we distinguish a diligent, painful and industrious man in deed, from a vain busy body, and a curious meddler in many matters, than by this, That as the one traveleth and troubleth himself in unprofitable trifles or things indifferent, so the other laboureth for such as be commodious and expedient. But these Philosophers do quite contrary: for according to their doctrine, a wise and prudent man, although he meet with many conceptions and the memories of the said comprehensions, yea and remember diverse things whereof he hath a certain and perfect knowledge, thinketh some few of them to concern him; and as for the rest, making no reckoning of them, he supposeth that he neither loseth nor winneth, by remembering that he had the other day the comprehension, that is to say, the certain knowledge either of Dion sneezing or Theon playing at tennis. And yet every comprehension in a wise man, and all memory that is firm and surely settled, is presently science, yea and a great good thing, nay the greatest that is. How then? for I would gladly know, whether a wise man were secure and careless alike, when his health faileth, when some one of his senses decayeth or is amiss, and when he loseth his goods, thinking none of all this to touch him; or whether when he feeleth himself sick, giveth unto Physicians their fees when they come unto him; and for to gain riches, saileth to Leucon a great prince and potentate about Bosporus, or traveleth as far as to Indathyrsus the Scythian king, as Chrysippus saith; and of his senses, if he lose some, he will not endure to live any longer? How is it then, that these men do not acknowledge and confess that they deliver doctrine even against common notions, who about things indifferent, cark, care and travel so much; and yet take the matter indifferently, and reak not much whether they enjoy or be without great good things?  
Moreover, this also is an opinion of theirs, even against common conceptions, That he who is a man, feeleth no joy when out of the greatest evils and most grievous calamities he entereth into a world of good things and a most blessed and happy state. And yet thus doth their wise man: for passing from extreme vice, unto exceeding great virtue; escaping also out of a most miserable life, and attaining unto the happiest condition that is, he showeth no sign or token at all of joy: neither doth so great a change lift up his heart, or once move him, seeing himself how he is delivered out of the greatest misery and wickedness that may be, and arrived now to a most firm assured accomplishment of all felicity and goodness. Again, contrary it is to common sense, That this should be the greatest good of a man, namely, a constant judgement and immutable resolution; and yet that he who is mounted up to the height and pitch of all, hath no need hereof, neither careth for it when it is come; insomuch as many times he will not once put forth his finger for this assurance and stability, notwithstanding they esteem it to be the sovereign and perfect good. Neither do these Stoics stay here, but still broach more paradoxes & strange opinions, namely, that continuance of time be it never so long, augmenteth not any good thing: but if a man chance to be wise and prudent but the minute only of an hour, he is nothing inferior in felicity to him, who all his time hath lived in virtue, and led his whole life blessedly therein. Howbeit, as bravely and as stoutly as they deliver these positions, yet on the other side, they stick not to say, that transitory virtue which continueth but a while, is worth nothing: for what would it avail or benefit him who incontinently is to suffer shipwreck and to perish in the sea, or otherwise to be thrown headlong down from some steep rock, if he were possessed of wisdom a while before? And what would it have booted Lichas being flung by Hercules as it were out of a sling into the mids of the sea, if suddenly he had been changed from virtue to vice? These positions therefore savour of these men, who not only philosophize against sense and common notions, of the whole world, but also confusedly huddle their own conceits, making a mish-mash of them and contradicting themselves, if it be so that they think, that the holding and possessing of virtue a short time, wanteth nothing of sovereign felicity, & withal, make no account of so short a virtue, as if in deed it were nothing worth. And yet this is not it that a man would wonder most at in their strange doctrine, but this rather, that they eftsoons give out and say: That when this sovereign virtue & felicity is present, he that is possessed of it, hath no sense nor feeling thereof; neither perceiveth he how being erewhile most miserable and foolish; he is now all at once become both wise & happy: for not only it were a pretty jest, and ridiculous conceit to say; That a wise and prudent man is ignorant even of this one point, that he is wise; and knoweth not that he is now past ignorance, and want of knowledge: but also to speak all in a word; they make goodness to be of no moment, nor to carry any weight and poise with it, they make it I say very obscure, enervat and feeble, in case when it cometh, a man is not able to feel and perceive it: for according to them, it is not by nature imperceptible; and even Chrysippus himself hath expressly written in his books entitled, Of the end, That good is perceptible by sense; and as he thinketh, so he maketh proof and demonstration thereof. It remaineth therefore that it is long either of weakness or smallness that it is not perceived, when they who have it present, feel it not, nor have any knowledge thereof. Moreover, it were very absurd to say, that the eye sight should perceive and discern things that be but whitish a little, or middle colours between, and not be able to see those that be exceeding white in the highest degree; or that the sense of feeling should apprehend that which is meanly hot or warm, and yet have no sense at all of such things, as be excecding hot. But there is more absurdity in this, that a man should comprehend that which meanly and commonly is according to nature, to wit, health, or the good plight of the body; and be ignorant again of virtue, when it is present, considering withal, that they hold it to be principally and in highest degree accordant to nature; for how can it otherwise be, but against common sense, to conceive well enough the difference between health and sickness, and to be ignorant of that distinction which is between wisdom and folly; but to think the one to be present when it is gone, and when a man hath the other, not to know so much, that he hath it? Now forasmuch as after that one advanced and proceeded forward as far as may be, he is changed into felicity and virtue, one of these two must of necessity follow; that either this estate of progress and profit, is neither vice nor infelicity; or else that there is no great difference and distance between vice and virtue; but that the diversity of good things and evil is very small and unperceptible by the sense, for otherwise men could not be ignorant when they had the one or the other, or think they had the one for the other: so long then as they depart not from any contrariety of sentences, but will allow, affirm, and put down all things whatsoever, to wit, That they who profit and proceed are still fools and wicked; that they who are become wise and good, know not so much themselves, but are ignorant thereof; that there is a great difference between wisdom and folly: Think you, that they show a wonderful constance and uniformity in the maintenance of their sentences and doctrines?  
Well, if in their doctrine they go against common sense, and are repugnant to themselves; certes, in their life, in their negotiations and affairs, they do much more: for pronouncing flatly, that those who be not wise, are all indifferently and alike, wicked, unjust, disloyal, faithless, and foolish; and yet forsoorth, some of them they abhor and will not abide, but be ready to spit at them; others, they will not vouchsafe so much as to salute if they meet with them upon the way; and some again they will credit with their moneys, nominate and elect by their voices to be magistrates, yea and bestow their daughters upon them in marriage. Now in case they hold such strange and extravagant positions in sport and game, let them pluck down their brows, and not make so many surrowes as they do in their foreheads: but if in earnest, and as grave Philosophers, surely, I must needs tell them, that it is against common notions, to reprove, blame, and rail upon all men alike in words, and yet to use some of them in deeds as honest persons, & others hardly to entreat as most wicked; and for example, to admire Chrysippus in the highest degree, & make a god of him; but to mock and scorn Alexinus, although they think the men to be fools alike, and not one more or less foolish than the other. True it is say they; and needs it must be so. But like as he who is but a cubit under the top of the water, is no less strangled and drowned than he who lies five hundred fathom deep in the bottom of the sea: even so they that be come within a little of virtue, are no less in vice still than those who are agreat way off: and as blind folk be blind still, although haply they shall recover their eyesight shortly after; even so they that have well proceeded and gone forward, continue fools still and sinful, until such time as they have fully attained to virtue; but contrary to all this, that they who profit in the school of virtue, resemble not those who are stark blind, but such rather as see not clearly; nor are like unto those who be drowned, but unto them that swim, yea and approach near unto the haven; they themselves do bear witness by their deeds, and in the whole practice of their life; for otherwise they would not have used them for their counsellors, captains, and lawgivers, as blind men do guides for to lead them by the hands, neither would they have praised and imitated their deeds, acts, sayings and lives of some as they did, if they had seen them all drowned alike and suffocated with folly and wickedness.  
But letting that go by, consider these Stoics, that you may wonder the more at them in this behalf, that by their own examples they are not taught to quit and abandon these wise men who are ignorant of themselves, and who neither know nor perceive, that they cease to be stifled and strangled any longer, and begin to see the light, and being risen aloft, and gotten above vice and sin, take their wind and breath again. Also it is against common sense, that for a man furnished with all good things, and who wanteth nothing of perfect bliss and happiness, it should be meet and befitting, to make himself away and depart voluntarily out of this life; yea, and more than so; that he who neither presently hath, nor ever shall have any good thing; but chose, is continually haunted and persecuted with all horrible calamities, miseries, and mishaps that can be, should not think it fit and convenient for himself to leave and for sake this life, unless some of those things which they hold be indifferent, be presented, and do befall unto him. Well these be the goodly rules and trim laws in the Stoics school; and verily many of their wise men they cause indeed to go out of this life, bearing them in hand, that they shall be more blessed and happy; although by their saying a wise man is rich, fortunate, blessed, happy every way, sure, and secured from all danger: chose, a fool and lewd man is able to say of himself, 
Of wteked parts (to say I dare be hold)  
So full I am, that unneath I can hold.  And yet forsooth, they think it meet and seemly for such as these to remain alive, but for those to forego this life. And good cause why, quoth Chrysippus, for we are not to measure our life by good things or evil, but by such as are according to nature. See how these Philosophers maintain ordinary custom, and teach according to common notions. Say you so (good sit) ought not he who maketh profession of looking into the estate of life and death, to search also and consider 
What rule at home in house, what work there is;  
How things do stand; what goes well, what antis.  Should not he (I say) ponder and examine as it were by the balance, what things incline and bend more to felicity and what to infelicity, and thereby to choose that which is profitable? but to lay his ground and make his reckoning to live happily or no by things indifferent, which neither do good nor hurt? According to such presuppositions and principles as these, were it not convenient for him who wanteth nothing of all that is to be avoided, to choose for to live: & chose, for him to leave this life, who enjoieth all that is to be wished for and desired? And albeit (my good friend Lamprias) it be a senseless absurdity, to say that those who taste of no evil, should forsake this life: yet is it more absurd and beside all reason, that for the not having of some indifferent thing, a man should cast away and abandon that which is simply good; like as these men do, leaving felicity and virtue, which they presently enjoy, for default of riches and health, which they have not. And to this purpose we may well and fitly allege these verses out of Homer: 
And then from Glaucus, Jupiter all wit and sense did take,  
When he with Diomedes would a foolish bargain make;  
For brazen armour to exchange his own of gold most fine,  
An hundred 
* Or pieces of come having the form ofan ox stamped upon them.  oxen richly worth, for that which went for nine.  And yet those arms made of brass, were of no less use in battle, than the other of gold: whereas the decent feature of the body and health, according to the Stoics, yield no profit at all, nor make one jote for felicity. Howbeit, these men for all that, are content to exchange wisdom for health, inasmuch as they hold that it would have become Heraclitus well enough and Pherecydes, to have cast off their wisdom and virtue, had it been in their power so to do, in case thereby they might have been rid of their maladies, the one of the lousy disease, and the other of the dropsy. And if Circe had filled two caps with several medicines and potions, the one making fools of wise men, and the other, wise men of fools, ulysses ought to have drunk that of folly, rather than to change his human shape into the form of a beast, having in it wisdom withal, and by consequence felicity also. And they say, that even wisdom and prudence itself teacheth as much and commandeth in this wise: Let me alone, and suffer me to perish, in case I must be carried to and fro in the form and shape of an ass. But this wisdom and prudence will some man say, which prescribeth such things, is the wisdom of an ass; if to be wise and happy is of itself good, and to bear the face of an ass indifferent. There is (they say) a nation of the Aethiopians where a dog is their king; he is saluted by the style and name of a king, and hath all honours done unto him, and temples dedicated, as are done unto kings. But men they be that bear rule and perform those functions and offices which appertain unto governors of cities and magistrates. Is not this the very case of the Stoics? for virtue with them hath the name, and carrieth the show and appearance of good, it alone they say, is expetible, profitable, and expedient; but they frame all their actions, they philosophize, they live and die, according to the will, prescript, & commandment as it were of things indifferent. And yet there is not an Aethiopian so hardy as to kill that dog their king; but he sitteth upon a throne under a cloth of estate, and is adored of them in all reverence: but these Stoics destroy this virtue of theirs, and cause it to perish whiles they are wholly possessed of health and riches. But the corollary which Chrysippus himself, hath for a finiall set unto these their doctrines, easeth me of farther pains, that I need not to stand more upon this point: For whereas (quoth he) there be in nature things good, things bad, and things mean or indifferent; there is no man but he would choose rather to have that which is good, than the indifferent, or that which is bad: and to prove the truth hereof, let us take witness of the very gods, when as we do crave of them in our prayers and orisons, principally the possession and fruition of good things; if not, yet at leastwise the power and grace to avoid evils; but that which is neither good nor evil, we never desire for to have in stead of good; mary we can be content and wish to enjoy it, in am of evil. But this Chrysippus here inverting and perverting clean the order of nature, transposeth and transferreth out of the middle place between, the mean and indifferent into the last, and reducing the last bringeth it back into the mids; giving as tyrants do to wicked persons, the pre-eminence of superior place, with authority and credit unto evil things; enjoining us by order of law, first to seek for that which is good; secondly, for that which is evil; & last of all to repute that worst, which is neither good nor evil: as if a man should next unto heaven set hell, and reject the earth and all the elements about it into the pit of Tartarus beneath: 
Right far remote, where under ground  
The gulf that lies, no man can sound.  Having then said in his third book of Nature: That it is better for a man to live in the state of a fool, yea though he never should become wise, than not to live at all; he addeth thus much moreover word for word: For such are the good things of men, that even the evil things after a sort are preferred before those which are mean and in the mids between; not that these go before, but reason, with which jointly to live, availeth more although we should continue fools all the days of our life: yea and to be plain, albeit we should be wicked, unjust, breakers of the laws, enemies to the gods, and in one word, wretched and unhappy; for all these concur in those that live fools. Is it better than to be unhappy, than not unhappy; to suffer harm, rather than not to suffer harm; to commit injustice, than not to commit injustice; to transgress the laws, than not to transgress the laws: which is as much to say, as is it fit and expedient to do those things which are not fit and expedient; and beseemeth it to live otherwise than it beseemeth? Yea forsooth: For worse it is to be without reason and senseless, than to be foolish. What ail they then, and what takes them in the head, that they will not avow and confess that to be evil, which is worse than evil? And why do they affirm that we are to avoid folly alone, if it be meet to fly no less, nay rather much more, that disposition which is not capable nor susceptible of folly? But wherefore should any man be offended and scandalised hereat, if he call to mind that which this philosopher wrote in his second book of Nature, where he avoucheth: That vice was not made without some good use and profit, for the whole world? But it will be better to recite this doctrine, even in his own words, to the end that you may know in what place they range vice, and what speech they make thereof, who accuse Xenocrates and Speusippus, for that they reputed not health to be an indifferent thing, nor riches unprofitable. As for vice (quoth he) it is limited in regard of other accidents beside: for it is also in some sort according to nature; and if I may so say, it is not altogether unprofitable in respect of the whole, for otherwise there would not be any good; and therefore it may be inferred, that there is no good among the gods, in as much as they can have none evil: neither when at any time Jupiter having resolved the whole matter into himself, shall become one, & shall take away all other differences, will there be any more good, considering there will be no evil to be found. But true it is, that in a dance or quire, there will be an accord & measure, although there be none in it that singeth out of tune & maketh a discord: as also health in man's body, albeit no part thereof were pained or diseased: but virtue without vice can have no generation. And like as in some medicinable confections there is required the poison of a viper or such like serpent, and the gall of the beast Hvaena; even so there is another kind of necessary convenience between the wickedness of Melitus, and the justice of Socrates; between the dissolute demeanour of Cleon, and the honest 〈◊〉 of Pericles. And what means could Jupiter have made, to bring forth Hercules and Lycurgus into the world, if he had not withal made Sardanapalus and Phalaris for us? And it is a great marvel if they 〈◊〉 not also, that the Phthisicke or ulcer of the lungs, was sent among men for their good plight of body, and the gout for swift footmanship: and Achilles had not worn long hair, unless Thersites had been bald. For what difference is there between those that allege these doting fooleries or rave so absurdly; and such as say that looseness of life and whoredom were not unprofitable for continence, and jniustice for justice? So that we had need to pray unto the gods that there might be always sin and wickedness, 
False leasing, smooth and glozing tongue,  
Deceitful trains and fraud among.  in case when these be gone, virtue depart and perish withal. But will you see now and behold the most elegant devise and pleasantest invention of his? For like as Comedies (quoth he) carry otherwhiles ridiculous Epigrams or inscriptors, which considered by themselves, are nothing worth, how be it they give a certain grace to the whole Poem: even so, a man may well blame and detest vice in itself, but in regard of others it is not unprofitable. And first to say that vice was made by the divine providence, even as a lewd Epigram composed by the express will of the Poet, surpasseth all imagination of absurdity: for if this were true, how can the gods be the givers of good things, rather than of evil? or how can wickedness any more be enemy to the gods, or hated by them? or what shall we have to say and answer to such blasphemous sentences of the Poets, sounding so ill in religious ears, as these: 
God once disposed some house to overthrow,  
Twixt men some cause and seeds of strife doth sow.  Again: 
Which of the gods twixt them did kindle fire,  
Thus to contest in terms of wrath andire.   
Moreover, a foolish and lewd epigram doth embellish and adorn the Comedy, serving to that end for which it was composed by the Poet, namely, to please the spectators, and to make them laugh. But Jupiter whom we surnamed, Paternal, Fatherly, Supreme, Sovereign, Just, Righteous, and according to Pindarus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the best and most perfect artisan, making this world as he hath done, not like unto some great Comedy or Interlude, full of variety, skill, and witty devices, but in manner of a city common to gods and men, for to inhabit together with justice and virtue in one accord and happily, what need had he, to this most holy and venerable end, of thieves, robbers, murderers, homicides, parricides and tyrants? for surely vice and wickedness was not the entry of some morisque-dance or ridiculous eare-sport, carrying a delectable grace with it and pleasing to God; neither was it set unto the affairs of men for recreation and pastime, to make them sport, or to move laughter, being a thing that carrieth not so much as a shadow, nor representeth the dream, of that concord and convenience with nature, which is so highly celebrated and commended. Furthermore, the said lewd epigram, is but a small part of the Poem, and occupieth a very little room in a Comedy: neither do such ridiculous compositions abound overmuch in a play, nor corrupt and mar the pleasant grace of such matters as seem to have been well and prettily devised: whereas all human affairs are full throughout of vice: and man's life even from the very first beginning and entire as it were of the prologue unto the final conclusion of all and epilogue, yea and to the very plaudite, being disordinate, degenerate, full of perturbation and confusion, and having no one part thereof pure and unblamable, as these men say, is the most filthy unpleasant and odious interlude of all others, that can be exhibited. And therefore gladly would I demand and learn of them, in what respect was vice made profitable to this universal world: for I suppose he will not say it was for divine and celestial things: because it were a mere reciculous mockery to affirm that unless there were bred and remained among men vice, malice, avarice, and losing, or unless we rob, peeled and spoiled, unless we slandered and murdered one another, the sun would not run his ordinary course, nor the heaven keep the set seasons and usual revolutions of time, 〈◊〉 yet the earth seated in the midst and centre of the world, yield the causes of wind and rain. It remaineth then, that vice & sin was profitably engendered for us and for our affairs: and haply this is it which they themselves would seem to say. And are we indeed the better in health for being sinful? or have we thereby more plenty and abundance of things necessary? availeth our wickedness ought to make us more beautiful and better favoured, or serveth it us in any stead to make us more strong and able of body? They answer No. But is this a silent name only, and a cretaine blind opinion and weening of these nightwalking Sophisters, and not like indeed unto vice which is conspicuous enough & exposed to the view of the whole world, in such sort as it is not possible that it should bring any detriment or aught that is unprofitable, and least of all, o good god, of virtue, for which we were borne. And what absurdity were it to say, that the commodious instruments of the husband man, the mariner or the carter, should serve their turns for to attain unto their purpose and intended end: but that which hath been created by God for virtue, should corrupt, mar, and destroy virtue? But peradventure it is more than time now, to pass unto some other point, and to let this go.  LAMPRIAS 
Nay I beseech you good sir of all loves and for my sake do not so: For I desire to know and understand how these men bring in evil things before the good, and vice before virtue.  DIADUMENUS. 
You say well, and certes my friend this is a point worth the knowledge: much vain jangling and prittle prattle verily do these men make, but in the end they come to this conclusion, that prudence is the science of good things & evil together: for that otherwise it could not stand but must needs altogether fall to the ground: For like as if we admit that there be truth, it cannot otherwise be but that falsity and untruth should be likewise hard by: so it is meet and stands to good reason, that if there be good things, the evil also must have their being.  LAMPRIAS 
To grant the one of these not to be amiss said, yet me thinks I see of myself, that the other is clean contrary. For I discern very well the difference: because that which is not truth, must immediately be false: but that which is not evil, is not by and by good: For between true and false there is no mean: but betwixt good and evil there is: to wit, indifferent. Neither followeth it necessarily, that both good and evil things should have their substance together, and that if the one be, the other likewise should ensue. For it may be that nature had good, and required not the evil, so that it might have that which was neither good nor evil. But as touching the former reason, if your Academics say aught of it. I would gladly hear from your mouth.  DIADUMENUS. 
Yes mary (quoth he) much there is alleged by them, but for this present relate I will, that which is most necessary. First and foremost, a mere folly it is to think that good things and evil have their subsistence for prudence sake. For chose, when good and evil was before, than prudence followed after: like as physic ensued upon things wholesome and breeding diseases, which are supposed to have been before. For surely the good and the evil came not up nor were brought forth, to the end that there should be prudence: but that faculty or power whereby we judge and discern between evil and good is called prudence: like as the sight is a sense which serveth to distinguish black from white, which colours had not their being first, to the end that we should have our seeing, but chose need we had of our seeing for to discern the said colours. Secondly when the world in that general confiagration, which they hold and talk of, shall be all on a light fire and burnt, there will remain behind nothing that evil is, but all shall then be wise and prudent: And therefore confess they must, will they nill they, that there is prudence although there be no evil, neither is it necessary, that if wisdom be, evil also should have a being. But say it were absolutely so, that prudence were the science of evil and good, what harm or absurdity would follow, if upon the abolishing & annulling of evil things there were no prudence any more, but some other virtue in lieuthereof, which were not the science of evil and good together, but only of good? Like as among colours, if the black were quite perished and gone for ever, who will force us to confess that the sense of seeing is likewise lost? And who would impeach or debar us for saying that sight is not the sense of discerning black and white? Surely if any man would force upon us the contrary, what inconvenience and absurdity were there to answer him thus, Sir if we have not that sense that you speak of, yet we have another sense and natural power instead of it, whereby we apprehend colours that be white and not white. And verily for mine own part I do not think that if there were no bitter things in the world, our taste should be therefore utterly lost, or the sense of feeling in case all dolour and pain were gone: no more am I persuaded that prudence should be abolished, if all evil were rid out of the way. But like as those senses would remain to apprehend sweet savours and pleasant objects of feeling, so this prudence also would continue to be the sciences of things good and not good. As for those who are of another opinion, let them take the name to themselves, so they leave us the thing indeed. But over and beside all this, what should hinder us to say, that the evil is in cogitation and intelligence; but good in reality and essence? like as, I suppose the gods enjoy the real presence of health, where as they have the intelligence of the fever and pleurisy: considering that we also, albeit we were pestered with all the evils in the world, and had no affluence at all of good things as these men say, yet we want not the understanding what is prudence, what is good and what is felicity.  
And this is a wonderful thing, if there being no virtue present, yet some there are who teach what virtue is, and inform us in the comprehension thereof; whereas if there were no such thing, it is impossible to have the intelligence of it; for do but consider what they would persuade us to, who reason philosophically against common conceptions, namely, That by foolishness and ignorance, we comprehend wisdom and prudence; but prudence without folly and ignorance, cannot conceive so much, as ignorance itself. And if nature had necessarily need of the generation of evil, certes, one example or two at the most of evil were sufficient; or if you will have it so, requisite it was that there should be brought forth ten wicked persons, or a thousand, or ten thousand, and not such an infinite multitude of vices, as the sands of the sea, the dust, or the feathers of diverse plumed birds, could not afford so great a number: but of virtue not so much as a bare dream or vain vision. They that were the wardens and masters at Lacedaemon, of those public halls or dining places called Phiditia, were wont to bring forth and show openly unto their youth, two or three of their slaves called Helotae, full of wine, and stark drunken, that they might know thereby, what a shameful and foul thing it was to be drunken, and so take heed of that vice, and learn to be sober. But in this life there be many such examples of vice in our actions; for there is not so much as one sober unto virtue, but we all trip and stumble, nay we wander as if our brains turned round about, living shamefully in misery; and so far forth are we intoxicate with our own reason and self conceit, filled with so great perturbation and folly, that we may be well and fitly likened to those dogs which as Aesop tells the tale, seeing 〈◊〉 skins floating above the water, gaped so greedily for to have them, that they would needs drink up all the sea before them, for to be sure of the said skins; but ere they could come by them, they drunk so much as they burst again: and even we hoping by reason to acquire glory and reputation, and thereby to attain unto virtue, are spoiled, marred, and destroyed therewith, before we can reach thereunto, being before hand laden with a mighty deal of mere, heady, and bitter vice, if it be so, as these men give it out, that even they who have made good progress and proceeded to the end, feel for all that no ease, no alteration, no remission or breathing time at all from folly and infelicity. But mark I pray again, how he who saith, that vice was not produced and brought forth into the world unprofitably, depainteth it unto you what manner of thing he describeth it to be, and what an heritage it is for him who hath it? For in his treatise of Duties or Offices he saith: That the vicious and sinful person, hath no want nor need of anything; that nothing is profitable, nothing meet and convenient for him. How then is vice commodious, wherewith neither health itself is expedient, nor store of money, ne yet advancement and promotion? And hath a man no need of those things, whereof some are precedent, pre-eminent, and to be preferred, yea, and believe me, very profitable and commodious; others according to nature, as they themselves term them? And of all these doth no man find need, unless he become wise? And so by this reckoning, hath the lewd and foolish man no need to become wise; neither be men thirsty or hungry, before they are made wise? So that if they be dry, have they no need of water, nor if hungry, bread? 
Resembling right those gentle guests, who nought else did require,  
But under roof to shroud their heads, and warm themselves at fire.  And so belike he had no need of covert nor of mantel, who said: 
Give Hipponax a cloak his corpse to fold,  
For why, I shake and shiver hard for cold?  But will you pronounce a paradox indeed, such an one as is extravagant and singular by itself? Say hardly then; That a wise man wanteth nought, and hath need of nothing; he is rich, he is full and fortunate, he is of himself sufficient, blessed, happy, & every way absolute. But what a dizziness & giddiness of the brain is this to say; That he who is indigent of nothing, yet hath need of the good things which he hath; and that the lewd and vicious person is indigent of many things, and yet needeth nothing? for this is the very assertion which Chrysippus holdeth: That wicked persons have no need, and yet are indigent, turling, shifting, and transposing the common notions, like unto cockall bones or chesse-men upon the board. For all men deem thus, that to have need, goeth before indigence, supposing him that standeth in need of things which are not ready at hand, nor easy to be gotten, is indigent. To make this more plain, no man is said to be indigent of horns or of wings, for that he hath no need of them; but we say truly and properly, that some have need of armour, of money, and of apparel, when in the penury and want of these things, they neither have them nor can come by them, to supply their necessity. But these Stoics are so desirous to be thought always for to broach somewhat against common sense and conception, that many times they forget themselves and slip out of their own proper opinions, so much affected they are and given to new conceits; like as in this place, if you please to cast your eye unto Chrysippus, and look somewhat behind, calling to mind what hath heretofore been delivered.  
This is one of his positions, affirmed even against common sense, and vulgar opinion, that no evil and foolish man can find good and profit by any thing; and yet many of them by institution and teaching, proceed forward and profit; many who were slaves, become enfranchised; besieged, are delivered; drunken, are guided and lead by the hand; sick and diseased, are cured of their maladies: but for all this forsooth, they are never the better whatsoever is done unto them; no benefits they receive, no benefactors they have, no nor neglect those who deserve well of them: and so vicious persons are not unthankful, no more than are good and wise men. And thus ingratitude is not at all, nor hath any being; for that the good never intervert, nor miscognize the favour and benefit which they have received; and the wicked are capable of none at all. But see (I pray you) what shift they make to salve & answer all this: They say (forsooth) that grace, favour, or benefit is ranged in the number of mean things: and that to help or be helped, appertaineth only to the wise. True it is say they, that wicked receive also a grace or benefit. What is that? Those who have part in a benefit, have not they also a part of use and commodity? and whereto a grace or benefit reacheth, doth nothing that is commodious and convenient, extend thither? And is there ought else that maketh a demerit or pleasure done to be a grace, than that the party who doth the pleasure should in some respect be commodious unto the needy receiver?  LAMPRIAS. 
But let these matters pass, and tell us what is that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, utility, which they prize so highly, and whereof they make so great account?  DIADUMENUS. 
This is a thing (I may tell you) which they reserve and keep as a great matter and a singularity for their Sages only, and yet leave them not so much as the name of it. If one wise man, say they, do but put forth his finger prudently, wheresoever it be, all the wise men that are in the whole continent and habitable world find this 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and utility by it. This is the only gift and work of the amity that is among them, and in this do determine and end the virtues of wise men, namely, the intercourse of common profit and utility, passing to and fro between them. As for Aristotle, he doted, Xenocrates also doted, who taught and affirmed that men had help from the gods, help from their parents, and help by their teachers and schoolmasters: but never understood they this wonderful help and commodity, which these wise men receive one from another, when they be moved to virtue, although they be not together, no nor so much as know one another. And verily all men do think, that to gather, to lay up, to keep, to dispense and bestow, is condrucible and profitable, when there is received profit and commodity by such things. And a good substantial householder buys himself locks and keys, he keepeth his cellars, his closerts and coffers, 
Taking great joy his chamber door with hand for to unlock,  
Where lies of gold and silver both, his treasure and his stock.   
But to gather and lay up, to keep with great care, diligence and pain, those things which are for nothing profitable, is neither honourable, nor yet seemly and honest. If then Ulysses being 〈◊〉 by Circe to make that fast knot, had with it tied sure and sealed up as it were, not the gifts and presents which Alcinous gave him, to wit, trefeets, pots, plate clothes, apparel and gold; but some trash, as sticks, stones and other pelf raked together, thinking it a great felicity for him to possess and keep charily such riffraff and trumpery: who would have praised and commended him for it, or imitated this foolish forecast, witless, providence, and vain diligence? And yet this is the goodly and beautiful honesty of the Stoics profession in general, this is their honourable gravity, this is their beatitude; and nothing else is it, but an heaping up, a keeping and preserving of things unprofitable and indifferent. For such be those which they say are according to nature; and much more those outward matters: forasmuch as sometime they compare the greatest riches with fringes and chamberpots of gold, yea and (I assure you) otherwhiles as it falleth out, with oil cruets. And afterwards, like as those who think they have most insolently and proudly abused with blasphemous words and polluted the temples, the sacred ceremonies and religious services of some gods or divine powers, presently change their note, and become penitent persons, and falling down prostrate, or sitting humbly below upon the ground, blesle and magnify the heavenly power of the Godhead; even so they, as incurring the vengeance and plague of God for their presumptuous follies, arrogant and vain speeches, are found puddering and raking again in these indifferent things, nothing indeed pertinent unto them; setting out a throat and crying as loud as they can, what a gay matter, what a goodly and honourable thing it is, to gather and lay up such commodities, and especially the communion and fellowship of enjoying and using them: also that whosoever want the same, and can not come by them, have no reason to live any longer; but either to lay violent hands on themselves, or by long fasting and abstinence from all viands, to shorten their lives, bidding virtue farewell for ever. And these men verily, howsoever they repute Theognis to be a man altogether of a base and abject mind, for saying thus in verse, 
Aman from poverty to fly,  
O Cyrmis, ought himself to cast  
Headlong from rocks most steep and high,  
Or into sea as deep and vast.  themselves mean while in prose give these exhortations, and say, that to avoid a grievous malady, and escape exceeding pain, a man ought (if he had not a sword or dagger near at hand, nor a poisoned cup of hemlock) to cast himself into the sea, or else fall headlong and break his neck from some steep rock: yet affirm they, that neither the one nor the other is hurtful, evil or unprofitable; nor maketh those miserable, who fall into such accidents. Whence then shall I begin (quoth he) what groundwork and foundation of duty shall I lay, or what shall I make the subject and matter of virtue, leaving nature, and abandoning that which is according to nature? And whereat (I pray you, good sit) begin Aristotle and Theophrastus? what principles take Xenocrates and Polemon? And even Zeno himself, hath he not followed them, in supposing Nature and that which is according to Nature, for to be the elements of felicity? But these great clerks verily, rested here in these things, as eligible, expetible, good and profitable; adjoining moreover unto them, virtue, which emploieth the same, and worketh by each of them according to their proper use; thinking in so doing, to accomplish a perfect and entire life, and to consummate that concord and agreement which is in truth sortable and consonant unto Nature. For they made no confused mish-mash, nor were contrary to themselves, as those who leap and mount on high from the ground, and immediately fall down upon it again, and in naming the same things, meet to be chosen, and yet not expetible; proper and convenient, and withal not good; unprofitable, and yet fit for good uses; nothing at all pertinent unto us, and yet forsooth, the very principles of duties and offices. But look what was the speech of these noble and famous personages, the same also was their life; their deeds (I say) were answerable and conformable to their words. chose, the sect of these Stoics, doth according to that crafty woman whom Archilochus describeth, to carry water in the one hand, and fire in the other: for in some of their doctrines and assertions they receive and admit nature, in another they reject her: or to speak more plainly; in their acts and deeds they adhere and cleave unto those things which are according to nature, as being eligible and simply good; but in their disputations and discourses they refuse and condemn the same as things indifferent and nothing available to virtue for the acquiring of felicity: nay, that which worse is, they give her hard and reproachful terms. And forasmuch as all men generally are persuaded in their minds, that the sovereign good is a thing joious, exoptable, happy, most honourable, and of greatest dignity, 〈◊〉 of itself, and wanting nothing. See now this sovereign good of theirs, and examine it according to this common opinion: To put forth ones finger like a sage and wise Philosopher, doth this make that joious good? or what exoptable thing I pray you, is a prudent torture? who casteth himself down headlong from an high rock, so he do it with a colour of reason and honesty, is he happy and fortunate? is that most honourable and of greatest price and dignity, which reason many times chooseth to reject, for another thing that of itself is not good? is that all-sufficient in itself, accomplished and perfect, which whosoever do presently enjoy, if haply they can not obtain with all, some one of these indifferent things, they will not deign to live any longer? was there ever known any discourse or disputation wherein use and ordinary custom suffered more outrage and abuse, which stealing and plucking from it the true and natural conceptions, as legitimate children of her own, putteth in the place, bastards, changelings, of a monstrous and savage kind, and constraineth it to love, cherish and keep them in am of the other? And thus have they done in treating of good things and evil, expetible and to be avoided, proper and strange; which ought to have been more clearly and plainly distinguished, than hot from cold, or white colours from black. For the apprehensions and conceits of these qualities, are from without forth brought in by the senses natural; but the other are within us, taking their original from those good things that we have within us. Now these men entering into the question and common place of sovereign felicity, with their Logic subtleties, as if they were to handle the lying sophism called Pseudomenos; or that masterfull manner of reasoning named Kyritton, have not solved one of the doubts and questions which there were, but moved and raised an infinite number of others that were not there before.  
Moreover, there is no man who knoweth not that there being two sorts of good things; the one which is the very utmost end, and the other, the means to attain thereto: the one is more excellent and perfect of the twain. And Chrysippus himself knoweth well enough this difference, as it may appear by that which he hath written in his third book of Good things: for he disagreeth with those who are of opinion, that the end of sovereign good, is science; and putteth this down in his treatise of Justice: If there be any who supposeth that pleasure is the end of good things, he thinketh not that justice can be safe; if not the final end, but simply good and no more, he is of another mind. I do not think that you would hear me at this present to rehearse his own words, for his third book as touching Justice, is extant and to be had every where. When as they say therefore (my friend) elsewhere, that no good thing is greater or less than another, but that the final end is equal with that which is not the end, and no better than it, it is evident that they be contrary and repugnant not only to the common notions, but also to their own very words. And again, if of two evils, the one maketh us worse than we were when it came unto us; and the other hurteth us indeed, but maketh us not worse: that evil in mine opinion is the greater which maketh us worse: neither doth that more hurt, which causeth us not to be the worse. And Chrysippus verily confesseth, that there be certain fears, sorrows and deceitful illusions, which well may hurt and offend us, but not make us worse. But read over and peruse the first of those books which are written against Plato as concerning Justice: for in respect of other causes, it were very well done and worth your labour, to note the frivolous babbling in that place of this man, where he makes no spare to deliver all matters and doctrines whatsoever indifferently, even those aswell of his own sect as of other strangers, flat opposite to common sense: as for example, That it is lawful to propose two ends and two scopes of our life, and not to refer all that ever we do unto one end. And yet more than that, is this also a common notion, That the end verily is one, but every thing that is done, aught to have a relation to another; and yet of necessity, they must abide the one or the other. For if the first things according to nature be not expetible for themselves and the last end; but rather the reasonable election and choice of them; and if every man doth what lies in him, to have and obtain those things which are first according to nature, and all actions and operations have their reference thither, namely, to acquire and enjoy the principal things according to nature: if (I say) they think so, it must needs be that without aspiring and aiming for to get and attain those things, they have another end to which they must refer the election and choice of the said things, and not the things themselves: for thus will be the end, even to know how to choose them well and to take them wisely; but the things themselves and the enjoying of them, will be of small moment, being as a matter and subject which hath the dignity and estimation: for thus I suppose they use and put down in writing this very word to show the difference.  LAMPRIAS. 
Certes you have passing well and worthily reported unto us, both what they say, and how they deliver it.  DIADUMENUS. 
But mark I beseech you, how they fare like unto those who will needs strain themselves to leap over and beyond their own shadow; for they leave not behind, but carry evermore with them some absurdity in their speech, and the same far remote always from common sense: for as if one should say, That an archer doth all that lieth in him, not to hit the mark, but to do all that ever he can; he might be justly taken for a man, who spoke enigmatically & by dark riddles, and uttered strange and prodigious words: even so do these old doting fools, who with all their power endeavour to maintain, that to obtain the things according to nature, is not the end of aiming and aspiring to things according to nature; but forsooth to take and choose them; and that the desire of health and seeking after it in any man, endeth not in health of each one, but chose, that health is referred to the appetite and seeking after it: saying moreover, that to walk, to read, or speak aloud, to endure sections or incisions, yea and to take purging medicines, so all be done by reason, are the ends of health, and not it, the end of those means. Certes, these men dote, rave, & speak idly, as well as they who should say; let me go to supper, that we may sacrifice, bath, or sweat in the stouph. Nay (that which more is) that which these men say, perverteth order and custom, and containeth a confusion, shuffling & turning upside down of all our affairs whatsoever: We study not say they, to walk in due time, for to concoct & digest our meats well; but we concoct and digest our meat, because we might walk in due season. Why? Hath nature given us health for Ellebore, or rather brought forth Ellebor for health sake? For what could be uttered more strange and absurd, than such propositions as these? and what difference is there between him who saith, that health was made for medicinable drogues, and not drogues medicinable for health? and another who holdeth, that the gathering, the choice, the composition and use of such medicines, is to be preferred before health itself? or rather he thinks that health is not in any respect expetible: but he setteth down the very end in the penning and handling of those medicines, affirming forsooth that appetite is the end of fruition, and not fruition of appetite: And why not (quoth he) all while there be added thereto these terms; considerately and with reason. True will we say again, if a man have regard unto the obtaining and enjoying of the thing which he pursueth; for otherwise that considerate reason is to no purpose, in case all be done for to obtain that, the fruition whereof is neither honourable nor happy.  LAMPRIAS. 
And since we are fallen upon this discourse, a man may say, that any thing else whatsoever, is according to common sense rather, than to hold, that without having notice or conception of good, a man may desire and pursue after it; for you see how Chrysippus himself driveth Ariston into these straits, as to imagine and dream of a certain indifference in things tending to that which is neither good nor ill, before that the said good and ill is sufficiently known and understood; for so it might seem that this indifference must needs subsist before if it be so, that a man cannot conceive the intelligence of it, unless the good were first understood, which is nothing else but the only and sovereign good indeed.  DIADUMENUS. 
But consider I pray you, and mark now this indifference 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  taken out of the Stocks school, and which they call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, after what manner, and whereby it hath given us the mean to imagine and conceive in our mind that good? for if without the said good, it is not possible to conceive and imagine the indifference respective to that which is not good; much less the intelligence of good things yieldeth any cogitation unto them, who had not before some prenotion of the good. But like as there is no cogitation, of the art of things which be wholesome or breeding sickness in them who had not a precogitation before of those things: even so it is impossible for them to conceive the science of good and evil things, who had no fore-conceit what were good and what were evil? What then is good? nothing but prudence; and what is prudence, nothing but science: and so according to that old common proverb 
* A byword which noteth the 〈◊〉 of fault in arguing, called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 like as 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 also of the 〈◊〉 round within the motter.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Jupiter's Corinth; is oftentimes applied unto their manner of reasoning. For let be I pray you, the turning of the pestle round about, because you may not be thought to scoff and laugh at them, although in truth their speech is much after that manner; for it seemeth that for the intelligence of good, one hath need to understand prudence: & again, to seek for prudence in the intelligence of good; being driven to pursue the one always for the other, and so to fail both of the one and the other, which implieth a mere contrariety, in that we must always understand the thing before, which cannot be understood apart. Besides, there is another way, whereby a man may perceive and see, not the perversion and distortion, but the very eversion and destruction of all their reasons.  
They hold that the very substance of good, is the reasonable and considerate election of that which is according to nature; now this election is not considerate which is directed to some end, as is before said: And what is this? Nothing else say they, but to discourse with reason in the elections of those things which be according to nature. First and foremost then, the conception of the sovereign good, is perished and clean gone; for this considerate discoursing in elections, is an operation depending of the habitude of good discourse; and therefore being compelled to conceive this habitude from the end, and the end not without it, we come short of the intelligence of them both. And again, that which yet is more, by all the reason in the world, it must needs be that the said reasonable and considerate election, was the election of things good, profitable, and cooperant to the attaining of the end. For to choose such things, which be neither expedient, nor honourable, nor yet any way eligible; how can it stand with reason: for suppose it were as they say; that the end were a reasonable election of things which have some dignity and worthiness, making unto felicity. See I beseech you how their discourse and disputation ariseth unto a trim point and goodly conclusion in the end: For the end (say they) is the good discourse, in making choice of those things which have dignity, making unto happiness. Now when you he are these words, think you not my good friend, that this is a very strange and extravagant opinion?  LAMPEIAS'. 
Yes verily; but I would willingly know, how this happeneth?  DIADUMENUS. 
Then must you lay your ear close, and hearken with great attention, for it is not for every one to conceive this enigmatical riddle: But hear you sir, and make me answer: Is not the end by their saying, the good discourse in elections according to nature?  DIADUMENUS. 
That is their saying.  LAMPRIAS. 
And these things which be according to nature, they choose (do they not) as good, or having some dignities and preferences inducing to the end, or to some other thing else.  DIADUMENUS. 
I think not so: but surely, to the end.  LAMPRIAS 
Having discovered thus much already, see now to what point they are come, namely, that then end is to discourse well of felicity.  DIADUMENUS. 
They say directly, that they neither have nor conceive any other thing of felicity, but this precious rectitude of discourse touching the elections of things that are of worth. Howbeit some there be who say that all this refutation is directed against Antipater alone, and not the whole sect of the Stoics, who perceiving himself to be urged & hardly pressed by Carneades, fell into these vanities and foolish shifts for his evasion.  
Moreover, as touching that which is discoursed and taught in the Stoics school, Of Love, ven against common notions, it concerneth all the Supposts in general of that sect, who have every one of them their hand in the absurdity thereof: for they avouch that young youths, are foul and deformed, if they be vicious and foolish: but the wise only are beautiful: and yet of these that are thus fair and beautiful, there was never any one yet either beloved, or lovely and amiable. And yet this is not so absurd: but they say moreover, that such as are in love with those who be foul, cease to love them when they are become fair. And who hath ever seen or known such a kind of love which should kindle and show itself presently upon the discovery of the body's deformity and the soul's vice: and incontinently, be quenched and vanish away after the knowledge of passing beauty, together with justice and temperance? And verily such I suppose do properly resemble these gnats, which love to settle upon vinegar, sour wine or the foam thereof: but the good and pleasant potable wine they care not for, but fly from it. As for that emphatical appearance of beauty (for that is the term they give it) which they say is the alluring & attractive bait of love: first and foremost it carrieth no probability with it nor likelihood of reason. For in those who are most foul and wicked in the highest degree there can be no such emphatical appearance of that beauty: in case it be so as they say that the lewdness of manners 〈◊〉 in the face and infecteth the visage: for there be some of them who expound this strange position as strangely, saying that a foul person is worthy to be loved, because there 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 hope and expectance that one day he will become fair: mary when he hath gotten this beauty once, and is withal become good and honest, than he is beloved of no man. For love say they, is a certain hunting as it were after a young body, as yet rude and unperfect, howbeit framed by nature unto virtue.  LAMPRIAS. 
And what other thing do we now, my good friend, but refute the errors of their sect, who do thus force, pervert and destroy all our common conceptions with their actions which be senseless, and their words and terms as unusual and strange? For there was no person to hinder this love of wise men toward young folk if affection were away: although all men and women to, both think and imagine love to be such a passion, as the wooers of Penelope in Homer seem to acknowledge, 
Whose heat of love was such that in their hart  
They wished in bed to lie with her apart.  Like as Jupiter also said to Juno in another place of the said poet: 
Come let us now to bed both go, and there with sweet delight  
Solace ourselves: for never erst before remember I  
That any love to women fatre no nor to Goddess bright  
Thus tamed my hart, or pricked me so, with them to company.   DIADUMENUS 
Thus you see how they expel and drive moral philosophy into such matters as these, 
So tntricate and tortuous,  
So winding qutte throughout  
That nothing sound is therein found,  
But all turns round about.  And yet they deprave vilipend, disgrace and flout all others, as if they were the men alone who restored nature and custom into their integrity as it ought to be, instituted their speech accordingly: But nature of itself doth divert and induce, by appetitions, pursuits inclinations and impulsions, each thing to that which is proper and fit for it. And as for the custom of Logic being so wrangling and contentious as it is, it receiveth no good at all nor profit: like as the ear diseased by vain sounds is filled with thickness and hardness of hearing. Of which if you think so good we will begin anew and discourse else were another time: but now for this present let us take in hand to run over their natural philosophy, which no less troubleth and confoundeth common anticipations and conceptions in the main principles and most important points, than their moral doctrine as touching the ends of all things. First and foremost this is apparently absurd and against all common sense, to say, that a thing is, & yet hath no being nor essence: and the things which are not, yet have a being: which though it be most absurd, they affirm even of the universal world: for putting down this supposition that there is round about the said world a certain infinite voidness, they affirm that the universal world is neither body nor bodiless: whereupon ensueth that the world is, and yet hath no existence. For they call bodies only, existent: for as much as it is the property of a thing existent, to do and suffer somewhat: And seeing this universal nature hath no existence; therefore it shall neither do nor suffer aught: neither shall it be in any place, for that which occupieth place is a body, but that universal thing is not a body. Moreover that which occupieth one and the same place is said to remain and rest: and therefore the said universal nature doth not remain, for that it occupieth no place: and that which more is, it moveth not at all, first because that which moveth aught to be in a place and room certain. Again, because whatsoever moveth, either moveth itself, or else is moved by another: now that which moveth itself, hath certain inclinations either of lightness or ponderosity: which ponderosity and lightness, be either certain habitudes, or faculties & powers, or else differences of each body: but that universality, is no body: whereupon it must of necessity follow that the same is neither light nor heavy, and so by good consequence hath in it no principle or beginning of motion; neither shall it be moved of another, for without & beyond it there is nothing: so that they must be forced to say, as they do indeed, that the said universal nature doth neither rest nor move. In sum, for that according to their opinion, we must not say in any case that it is a body, and yet the heaven, the earth, the living creatures, plants, men and stones be bodies: that which is no body itself shall by these reckonings have parts thereof, which are bodies and that which is not ponderous, shall have parts weighty, and that which is not light, shall have parts light: which is as much against common sense and conceptions, as dreams are not more; considering that there is nothing so evident and agreeable to common sense than this distinction, If any thing be not animate, the same is inanimate: and again, if a thing be not inanimate, the same is animate. And yet this manifest evidence they subvert and overthrow, affirming thus as they do, that this universal frame is neither animate nor inanimate. Over and beside, no man thinketh or imagineth that the same is unperfect, considering that there is no part thereof wanting: and yet they hold it to be unperfect: For (say they) that which is perfect, is finite and determinate; but the whole and universal world, for the infiniteness thereof is indefinite. So by their saying, some thing there is, that is neither perfect not unperfect. Moreover, neither is the said universal frame a part, because there is nothing greater than it; nor yet the whole: for that which is whole, must be affirmed like wise to be digested and in order; whereas being as it is, infinite, it is indeterminate and out of order. Furthermore, The other, is not the cause of the universal world, for that there is no other beside it; neither is it the cause of The other, nor of itself, for that it is not made to do any thing: and we take a cause to be that which worketh an effect. Now set case we should demand of all the men in the world, what they imagine NOTHING to be, and what conceit they have of it, would they not say (think you) that it is that which is neither a cause itself, nor hath any cause of it; which is neither a part, nor yet the whole; neither perfect nor unperfect; neither having a soul, nor yet without a soul; neither moving nor still & quiet, nor subsisting; and neither body nor without body? For what is all this, but Nothing? yet, what all others do affirm and verify of Nothing, the same do they alone of the universal world: so that it seemeth they make All and Nothing, both one. Thus they must be driven to say, that Time is nothing, neither Praedicable, nor Proposition, nor Connexion, nor Composition, which be terms of Logic, that they use, no Philosophers so much; and yet they say, that they have no existence nor being. But (that which more is) they hold that Truth, although it be, yet it hath no being nor subsistence, but is comprehended only by intelligence, is perceptible and believed, although it have no jote of essence. How can this be salved and saved, but that it must surpass the most monstrous absurdity that is? But because it may not be thought that all this smelleth overmuch of the quirks and difficulties in Logic, let us treat of those which are more proper unto Natural philosophy. Forasmuch therefore, as 
Jupiter is the first, the mids, the last, even all in all,  
By him all things begin, proceed, and have their finiall.  they themselves give out, they of all men especially aught to have reform, rectified redressed and reduced to the best order, the common conceptions of men as touching the Gods, if haply there had crept into them any error and perplexed doubt; or if not so, yet at leastwise, to have let every man alone, and left them to the opinion which the laws and customs of the countries wherein they were borne, prescribed unto them as touching religion and divinity. 
For neither now nor yesterday  
These deep conceits of God began,  
Time out of 〈◊〉, they have been ay,  
But no man knows, where, how, nor when.  But these Stoics having begun even from the domestical goddess Vesta (as the proverb saith) to alter and change the opinion established and received in every country, touching religion and the belief of God, they have not left so much as one conceit or cogitation that way sound, sincere and incorrupted. For where is or ever was the man, besides themselves, who doth not conceive in his mind, that God is immortal and eternal? what is more generally acknowledged in our common conceptions as touching the Gods, or what is pronounced with more assent and accord than such sentences as these? 
And there the Gods do always joy  
In heavenly bliss, without annoy.  Also, 
In heaven the Gods immort all ever be:  
On earth below, pooremort all men walk we.  Again, 
Exempt from all disease and erasie age,  
The Gods do live enjoy, and pain feel none:  
They fear no death nor dread the dark passage  
Over the Frith of roaring Acheron.  There may peradventure be found some barbarous and savage nations, who think of no God at all; but never was there man having a conception and imagination of God, who esteemed him not withal to be immortal and everlasting. For even these vile wretches called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Atheists, such as Diagor as, Theodor us, and Hippon, godless though they were, could never find in their hearts to say and pronounce, That God was corruptible. Only, they could not believe and be persuaded in their mind, that there was any thing in the world not subject to corruption. Thus howsoever they admitted not a subsistence of immortality & incorruptibility, yet retained they the common anticipation of the Gods: but Chrysippus & Cleanthes, having made the heaven, the earth, the air and sea to ring again, as a man would say, with their words, and filled the whole world with their writings of the Gods, yet of so many Gods, they make not one immortal, but Jupiter only; and in him they spend and consume all the rest: so that this property in him, to resolve and kill others, is never a jote better, than to be resolved and destroyed himself. For as it is a kind of infirmity, by being changed into another for to die; so it is no less imbecility to be maintained and nourished by the resolution of others into itself. And this is not like to many other absurdities collected and gathered by consequence out of their fundamental suppositions, or inferred upon other affertions of theirs; but even they themselves cry out with open mouth expressly in all their writings, of the gods, of providence, of destiny and nature, that all the gods had a beginning of their essence, and shall perish and have an end by fire, melted and resolved, as if they were made of wax or tin. So that to say that a man is immortal, and that God is mortal, is all one, and the one as absurd and against common sense as the other: nay rather I cannot see what difference there will be between a man and God, in case God be defined, a reasonable animal, and corruptible: for if they oppose and come in with this their fine and subtle distinction, that man in deed is mortal, but God not mortal, yet subject to corruption; mark what an inconvenience doth follow and depend thereupon: for of necessity they must say, either that God is immortal and corruptible withal; or else neither mortal nor immortal: than which a man can not (if he would of purpose study for it) devise a more strange and monstrous absurdity. I speak this by other; for that these men must be allowed to say any thing, neither have there escaped their tongues and pens, the most extravagant opinions in the world.  
Moreover Cleanthes minding still to fortify and confirm that burning and conflagration of his, saith: That the sun will make like unto himself, the moon with all other stars, and turn them into him. But that which of all others is most monstrous, the moon and other stars, being forsooth gods, work together with the sun, unto their own destruction, and confer somewhat to their own inflammation. Now surely this were a very mockery, and ridiculous thing for us to power out our prayers and orisons unto them for our own safety, and to repute them the saviours of men, if it be kind and natural for them to make haste unto their own corruption and dissolution. And yet these men cease not by all the means they can to insult over Epicurus, crying, Fie, fie for shame, & redoubling, Out upon him, for that by denying the divine providence, he troubled & confounded the general prenotion and conception mour minds of the gods; for that they are held and reputed by all men, not only immortal and happy, but also human and benign, having a careful eye, and due regard to the good and welfare of men, as in truth they have. Now if they who take away the providence of God, do withal abolish the common prenotion of men as touching God; what do they then, who avouch that the gods indeed have care of us; but yet are helpful to us in nothing, neither give they us any good things, but such only as be indifferent; not enduing us with virtue, but bestowing upon us riches, health, procreation of children, and such like, of which there is not one profitable, expedient, eligible or available. Is it not certain that these 〈◊〉 throw the common conceptions that are of the gods? neither rest they here, but fall to flouting, frumping, and scoffing, whiles they give out that there is one god, surnamed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the superintendant over the fruits of the earth; another 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the patron of generation; anothe 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the protector of plants; another 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the precedent of physic and divination; mean while neither is health simply good, nor generation, ne yet fertility of the ground and abundance of fruits, but indifferent, yea and unprofitable to those who have them.  
The third point of the common conception of the gods is, that they differ in nothing so much from men, as in felicity and virtue: but according to Chrysippus, they are in this respect nothing superior to men: for he holdeth, that for virtue Jupiter is no better than Dion; also that Jupiter & Dion being both of them wise, do equally and reciprocally help one another: for this is the good that the gods do unto men, and men likewise unto the gods, namely, when they prove wise and prudent, and not otherwise. So that if a man be no less virtuous, he is not less happy; insomuch as he is equal unto Jupiter the saviour in felicity, though otherwise infortunate, and who for grievous maladies and dolorous dismembering of his body, is forced to make himself away, and leave his life, provided always that he be a wise man. Howbeit, such an one there neither is nor ever hath been living upon the earth: whereas chose infinite thousands and millions there are and have been of miserable men and extreme infortunate under the rule and dominion of Jupiter, the government & administration whereof is most excellent. And what can there be more against common sense, than to say, that Jupiter governing and dispensing all things passing well, yet we should be exceeding miserable? If therefore (which unlawful is once to speak) Jupiter would no longer be a saviour, nor a deliverer, nor a protector, and surnamed thereupon Soter, Lysius, and Alexicacoes, but clean contrary unto these goodly and beautiful denominations, there can not possibly be added any more goodness to things that be, either in number or magnitude as they say; whereas all men live in the extremity of misery and wickedness, considering that neither vice can admit no augmentation, nor misery addition: and yet this is not the worst nor greatest absurdity: but mightily angry and offended they are with Menander for speaking as he did thus bravely in open theatre: 
I hold, good things exceeding mean degree,  
The greatest cause of human misery.  For this (say they) is against the common conception of men; mean while themselves make God, who is good and goodness itself, to be the author of evils: for matter could not verily produce any evil of itself, being as it is without all qualities; and all those differences and varieties which it hath, it received of that which moved and form it, to wit, reason within, which giveth it a form and shape, for that it is not made to move and shape itself. And therefore it cannot otherwise be, but that evil if it come by nothing, should proceed and have being from that which is not; or if it come by some moving cause, the same must be God. For if they think that Jupiter hath no power of his own parts, nor useth each one according to his own proper reason; they speak against common sense, and do imagine a certain animal, whereof many parts are not obeisant to his will; but use their own private actions and operations, whereunto the whole, never gave incitation, nor began in them any motion. For among those creatures which have life and soul, there is none so ill framed and composed, as that against the will thereof, either the feet should go forward, or the tongue speak, or the horn push and strike, or the teeth bite; whereof God of necessity must endure & abide the most part, if against his will, evil men being parts of himself do lie, do circumvent and beguile others, commit burglary, break open houses, to rob their neighbours, or kill one another. And if according as Chrysippus saith, it is not possible that the least part should be have itself otherwise than it pleaseth Jupiter, and that every living thing doth rest, stay, and move, according as he leadeth, manageth, turneth, stayeth and disposeth it: 
Now well I wot, this voice of his,  
Sounds worse and more mischcivous is.  For more tolerable it were by a great deal to say, that ten thousand parts, through the impotency and feebleness of Jupiter, committed many absurdities perforce even against his nature and will, than to avouch that there is no intemperance, no deceit and wickedness, where of Jupiter is not the cause  
Moreover seeing that the world by their saying is a city, and the Sarres citizens: if it be so, there must be also tribes and magistracies: yea and plain it is, that the Sun must be a Senator, yea & the evenning star, some provost, major or governor of the city. And I wot not well whether he who taketh in hand to confute such things, can broach and set abroad other greater absurdities in natural matters than those do, who deliver and pronounce these doctrines. Is not this a position against common sense to affirm, that the seed should be greater and more than that which is engendered of it? For we see verily that nature in all living creatures, and plants even those that be of a wild and savage kind, taketh very small and slender matters, such as hardly can be seen, for the beginning & the generation of most great and huge bodies. For not only of a grain or corn of wheat it produceth a stalk with an ear, and of a little grape stone it bringeth forth a vine tree, but also of a pepin, kernel, akorne or berry escaped and fallen by chance from a bird, as if of some sparkle it kindled and set on fire generation, it sendeth forth the stock of some bush or thorn or else a tall and mighty body of an oak, a date or pine tree. And hereupon it is that genetal seed is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in Greek, as one would say 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the enfolding and wrapping together of a great mass into a small quantity: also nature taketh the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as it were 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the inflation and defusion of proportions and numbers, which are opened & loosened under it. And again, the fire which they say is the seed of the world, after that general conflagration, shall change into the own seed, the world, which from a smaller body and little mass is extended into a great inflation and defusion, yea and moreover occupieth an infinite space of voidness which it filleth by his augmentation: but as it is engendered, that huge greatness retireth and settleth anon, by reason that the matter is contracted and gathered into itself upon the generation. We may hear them dispute, and read many of their books, and discourses, wherein they argue and cry out aloud against the Academics, for confounding all things with their Aparalaxies, that is to say, indistinguible identities striving and forcing to make in two natures, one endued with the like quality. And yet what man living is their who conceiveth and knoweth not as much? or supposeth not the contrary, namely, that it were a mervellous strange thing & a very absurdity, if neither stockedove to stockedove, be to be, wheat-corne to wheat-corne, and as the common proverb goeth, one fig unto another hath been at all times alike and semblable.  
But this in very deed and truth is cleanc contrary to all common sense, that these men hold and affirm: how in one substance, there be properly and particularly two qualified, and how the same substance having particularly one qualified, when there cometh another to it, receiveth and keepeth them both, the one as well as the other. For if we admit two, I avouch it may as well have three, four, five and as many as one will name, in one and the same substance, I say not in diverse parts, but all equally and indifferently, though they were infinite, even in the whole. Now Chrysippus saith, that Jupiter, as also the world, resembleth a man, and providence the soul: when as then that conflagration of the world shall be, Jupiter, who only of all the gods is immortal, shall retire unto providence, and both twain shall remain together in the substance of the sky. But leave we now the gods for this present, and pray we unto them that they would vouchsafe to give unto the Stoics, a common sense and understanding according with other men, and let us see now what they say as touching the elements. This first and foremost standeth not with the received conceit and opinion of the world, that a body should be the place of a body, and that one body should enter and pierce through another body, considering that neither the one nor the other containeth vacuity: but that which is full entereth into that which is full, and that which hath no distance receiveth into itself that which is mingled with it, but that which is full and solid, hath no void distance in itself by reason of continuity. And these men verily not thrusting one into one, nor two nor three, nor ten together, but cast all parts of the world cut piece-meal, into one, which they first meet with, even the least that is by sense perceptible: saying moreover that it will contain the greatest that shall come unto it. Thus in a bravery after their old manner in many other things, make of that which convinceth and refelleth them, one of their sentences and resolutions, as they who take for 〈◊〉, those things which be repugnant to common sense. And thus upon this supposal, there must needs enfue many monstrous and prodigious positions when they once confusedly mingle whole bodies with whole: and among those absurd paradoxes this also may go for one, That three be four. For even that which others bring in & allege for an example of that which cannot fall into man's imagination, they holder for an undoubted truth: saying, that when one cyath of wine is mingled with two of water, it wanteth not but is equal in the whole, and thus confounding them together, they bring it so about, that one is made twain, by the equal mixture of one with two: for that one remaineth, and is spread as much as twain, making that which is equal to a duple. Now if by the mixture with two, it taketh the measure of two in the defusion, this must needs be the measure together, both of three and of four: of three because one is mingled with twain: and of four, for that being mingled with twain, it hath as much in quantity, as those wherewith it is mingled. This fine device happeneth unto them, because they put bodies within a body, and for that it cannot be imagined how they cause one to contain another. For, of necessity it must be that bodies making a penetration one within another by mixture, that the one should not contain and the other be contained, nor the one receive and the other be received within. For so this should not be a commixion but a contiguity and touching of superficies one close to another, whiles one entereth within forth, and the other encloseth without, when the other parts remain pure and entire without mixture, and so shall be one of many diverse and differing afunder. But it cannot otherwise be as they would have it, that when there is a mixture, the things mingled, should not be mixed one within another: and that one self same thing being within should not withal be contained: and likewise in receiving, contain another: and possible it is not, that either the one or the other should be: but fall out it will, that the two which be mingled, should pierce one within the other; neither can so much as one part of the one or the other remain by itself apart, but necessarily they be all full one of another. And here ariseth that leg of Arcesilaus, so much talked of in the schools, which insulteth and danceth upon their monstrous absurdities with much laughter; for if these mixtions be through the whole, what should hinder, but that if a leg be cut off, putrefied, cast into the sea, and in process of time all diffused; not only the fleet of Antigonus might fail in and thorough it, as said Arcesilaus, but also the 1200. sail of Xerxes, yea and the three hundred galleys of the Greeks might give a naval battle within the said leg? for fail it never will to be extended and spread more and more, nor the less cease within the greater, 〈◊〉 yet will that mixture ever come to an end, no nor the extremity of it touch where it will end, and so pierce not thorough the whole, but will give over to be mingled: or if it be not mixed throughout the whole, surely the said leg will not afford room so much as for the greeks to give a naval battle in it, but even the same must needs putrify and be changed. But if a cyath of wine, or no more but one drop, falling into the Aegean or Candiot-sea, pass directly into the Ocean, or main Atlantic sea, it shall not touch only the superficial part of the water fit, but spread throughout, in breadth, depth & length. And verily Chrysippus admitteth so much in the very beginning of his first book as touching Natural questions, saying that one drop of wine will not fail but be mingled throughout the whole sea. And that we should not marvel so much hereat, he saith moreover, that the said drop by the means of mixture, will extend throughout the whole world: which is so absurd and without all appearance of reason, as I cannot devise any thing more. And is not this also against common sense, that in the nature of bodies, there is no supreme, nor first or last, to conclude & determine the magnitude of the body? but that which is proposed as the subject, runneth on still infinitely without end, so as whatsoever is added, yet somewhat more seemeth may be put thereto? for we cannot conceive or comprehend one magnitude greater or less than another, if it be incident to both parts thus to proceed in infinitum, which is as much as to take away the whole nature of inequality. For of two magnitudes that be understood unequal, the one cometh first short of the last parts, and the other goeth beyond and surpasseth; but if there be no inequality of length in them, it followeth that there will be no unevenness in the upper superfices nor asperity: for this unevenness is nothing else, but the inequality of the superficies with itself; but asperity is an inequality of the superficies with hardness. Of which qualities they allow none, who determine no body in an extreme or utmost part, but draw out all still by a multitude of parts infinitely: and yet who knoweth not evidently, that man is compounded of a greater number of parts, than is his finger, and the world more than a man? for all men know and think as much, unless they become Stoics: but prove they once to be Stoics, they both say and opine the contrary; namely, that man is not composed of more parts than is his finger, nor the world of more than is man: for section reduceth bodies into infinitum; and in things infinite there is neither more nor less; neither is there any multitude that surpasseth; neither shall the parts of that which is left, cease to be always subdivided still, yea and to furnish out a multitude of themselves. How then do they wind out of these difficulties and untie these knots? certes, with great slight, very subtly and valiantly: for Chrysippus saith, that when we be demanded, if we have any parts, and how many there be? also whether they be compounded of other, and of how many? we are to fly unto this distinction; supposing and setting down, that the whole entire body, consisteth of head, breast and legs, as if this were all that was demanded and doubted of. But if they should proceed in their interrogatories to the extreme parts: then saith he, no such answer is to be made, but we are to say, neither that they consist of any certain parts, nor likewise of how many? neither of infinite nor determinate. But I think it were better if I alleged his very own words, to the end you may see how he keepeth and observeth the common conceptions, forbidding us as he doth, to think, imagine or say, of what parts, and how many each body is compounded, and that it consisteth neither of finite or infinite. For if there were a mean between finite and infinite, like as there is between good and bad, to wit, indifferent; he should pronounce what the same was, and so salve the difficulty. But, if as that which is not equal, incontinently becometh unequal; and that which is not corruptible, presently is incorruptible; so that which is not finite, is immediately infinite, I suppose, that to say, A body is composed of parts neither finite or infinite, is all one as to say, that an argument is composed neither of true nor of false propositions, and a number neither of even nor odd. But after all this, vaunting himself youthfully, he letteth not to say, that whereas a pyramid consisteth of triangles, the side sinclining to the commissure or joint, are unequal, and yet exceed one another, in that they be bigger. Thus you see how trimly he kept and observed common conceptions; for if there be any thing greater, and yet surpasseth not, there must be also somewhat less, and yet the same faileth not, and so there shall be also something unequal, that neither exceedeth nor wanteth, which is as much to say, as it shall be equal and yet unequal, not greater but yet greater, not less and yet less. See moreover I pray you a little, how he answereth unto Democritus disputing and doubting physically and earnestly, if a cone or round pyramid be cut at the base thereof by the plumb or level, what we ought to conceive and judge as touching the superficies of the sections whether they be equal or unequal: for if they be unequal, they will make the said cone or pyramid uneven; and admitting many deep rabbotted incisions, and rough asperities in manner of steps and grease: and if they be equal, than the sections also must be equal, and so it will be found that the round pyramid or cone shall have the same befall unto it that a cylinder hath, namely, to consist of circles equal and not unequal, which were very absurd. Herein, making Democritus to be an ignorant person and one who knew not what he said, he cometh in with this, and saith, that the superficies be neither equal nor unequal, but that the bodies be unequal, in that the superficies be neither equal nor unequal. Now to set down by way of ordinance and to affirm, that allowing the superficies to be unequal, it may fall out, that bodies should not be unequal, were the part of a man who permitteth himself to have a wonderful liberty to write and speak whatsoever comes into his head. For both reason and manifest evidence, giveth us to understand quite contrary, namely, that of unequal bodies the superficies also be unequal, and the bigger that a body is, the greater is the superficies, unless the excess whereby it surpasseth the smaller, be altogether devoid of a superficies: for if the superficies of greater bodies exceed not those of the lesser, but rather fail before they come to an end, than we must of necessity say, that a part of that bodic which hath an end, is without end, and not determinate: for if he allege and say that he is driven perforce thereunto, lest the inequality of superficies might seem to make unequal incisions, there is no such cause why he should fear: for those rabbotted incisions which he suspecteth in a cone or round Pyramid, it is the inequality of the bodies, and not of the superficies that causeth them. So that it were a ridiculous folly, by taking away the superficies, for to be convinced to leave an inequality and unevenness of the bodies. But to persist still in this matter, what can there be more contrary to common conception, than to feign and devise such stuff? for if we admit that one superficies is neither equal nor unequal to another, we we may consequently affirm, that neither magnitude is equal or unequal, nor number either even or odd; considering that we can not set down nor conceive in our mind, any mean between unequal and unequal, which is neuter. Moreover, if there were any superficies neither equal nor unequal, what should let but that we may imagine circles also neither equal nor unequal? for verily these superficies of the sections of cones or round Pyramids, be circles: and if we allow thus much in circles, than we may aswell admit so much of the Diameters of circles, namely, that they be neither equal nor unequal. And if this go for good, of angles likewise and triangles, of Parallellograms, and of superficies parallel or equally distant. For if longitudes be neither equal nor unequal one to another, then shall not weight, nor percussion, no nor bodies be equal or unequal. Furthermore, how dare they reprove those who bring in vacuities, and certain indivisible bodies maintaining combat one against another, supposing that they neither stir nor stand still; when as they themselves maintain that such propositions as these be false? If any things be not equal one to the other, the same be unequal one to the other: and these things here be not equal one to the other; neither are they unequal one to the other. But forasmuch as he saith, that there is something greater, which notwithstanding surpasseth not; it were good reason therefore to doubt and demand, whether the same be agreeable and fitting one to the other? and if they agree, how then can either of them be the bigger? Now if it be not sortable, how is it possible that the one should not exceed, and the other come short? for these things can not hang together, to say, that neither the one nor the other surpasseth: and it agreeth not with the greater: or it agreeth, and yet the one is greater than the other. For of necessity it must follow, that those who retain not nor observe common conceptions, be troubled with such perplexities.  
Over and beside, it is against all common sense, to say that no one thing toucheth another: as also, that bodies touch one another, and yet do in no part touch. Now it must needs be, that they admit this, who allow not the least parts of a body, and so they suppose always something before that which seemeth to touch, and never cease to pass on farther still: which is the thing that they principally object against those, who defend & maintain the indivisible parcels called 〈◊〉; namely, that there is no total touching, but that it is a mixture, considering that such indivisible bodies have no parts. How is it then, that they themselves fall not into the like inconvenience, seeing they admit no part to be either first or last? for that they say, bodies do touch one another mutually in the whole by a certain term or extremity, and not by a part, and the said term or point is no body. Then a body shall touch a body, by a thing which is no body: and chose, shall not touch, the incorporal being between. And if it touch, it shall do likewise and suffer somewhat, being itself a body, by that which is incorporal and no body. For the property of bodies, is to do and suffer somewhat mutually, yea, and to touch one another: and if the body have a touching in part by the means of that which is incorporal, it shall likewise have a general and total connexion, even a mixtion and incorporation. Again, in these connexion's and mixtures, necessary it is that terms or extremities of bodies, either continue or not continue, but perish: but both the one and the other is against common sense. For even they themselves allow not corruptions and generations of things incorporal: and impossible it is, that there should be a mixtion or total touching of bodies retaining still their proper terms and extremities. For it is this term or extremity that determineth and constituteth the nature of a body: and as for mixtions (if there were no approaching nor application of parts to parts) they confound all things wholly which are mixed. And as these men say, we must admit the corruption of extremities in mixtures; and likewise again, their generations, in the distractions & separations of them. But no man there is able to comprehend this easily: for in regard that bodies touch one another, they also are pressed, thrust and crushed one by the other. And impossible it is, that a thing incorporal should suffer or do thus; neither can we imagine so much: yet would they constrain us to think no less. For if a sphere or bowl touch a flat or plain body only by a point, certain it is, that it may be trained and rolled along the said plain or flat body, by a point. And if the foresaid bowl be painted in the superficies thereof with vermilion, it shall imprint a red line only upon the same plain body; and being yellow, or of a fiery colour, it shall likewise give the same tincture to the superficies of the flat body. Now that a thing incorporal should either give or take a colour, is against all common sense. And if we imagine a bowl of earth, of Crystal or glass, to fall from on high upon a smooth body of stone, it were against all reason to think that it would not break the same into pieces, namely, when as it shall light upon that which is solid, hard, and able to make resistance: but more unreasonable it were to say, that it were broken by a term or point that is incorporal: in such manner, as in every sort, their anticipations & common conceptions as touching things incorporal and bodies, must needs be troubled and confounded, or rather utterly abolished, in supposing thus many things impossible.  
Against common sense it is to say, that there is a future time, and a time past, but none at all present; as also, that the time which was erewhile and not long since, hath a subsistence, whereas that which now is hath no being at all. And yet this is an usual and ordinary matter with these Stoic philosophers, who admit not the least time that is between, and will not allow the present to be indivisible; but of all that which a man doth think and imagine as present, they affirm the one part to be of that which is already past, and the other of the future; insomuch as there remaineth and is 〈◊〉 in the mids no piece at all of the time present; in case of that which is said to be the very instant, part is attributed unto things past, and part to things to come; whereupon of necessity one of these twain must follow, that either in admitting the tense, It was; or It shallbe; the tense It is, must wholly be abolished, or in admitting the present time, It is, one part thereof is past, and the other to come: as also to say, that of that which is, part is yet future, and part already past: likewise of that which now is present, one parcel is before, and another behind; in such sort as present, is that which yet is not present, and not present any more; for that is not present any longer, which is already past; nor present at all, which is yet to come: And thus in dividing the present, they must also needs say, that of the year and of the light, part was of the year past, and part of the year to come; likewise of that which is together and at once, there is some before, and some after: For no less troubled are they, in huddling and confounding after a strange manner these terms, Not yet, Already, No more, Now & not now, as if they were all one; whereas other men do conceive and think, that these terms, Ere while, or not long since, & a while after or anon, are different parts from the present time, setting the one before, & the other after the said present. And among these, Archidemus who affirmeth that the present Now, is a certain beginning, joint or commissure of that which is already past and near at hand to come, seeth now how in so saying, he utterly abolisheth all time; for were it true that Now is no time, but only a term of extremity of time & that every part of time is as it were Now, it would seem then, that this present Now, hath no part at all, but is resolved wholly into ends & extremities, joints, commissures, & beginnings. As for Chrysippus' willing to show himself witty & artificial in his divisions, in that treatise which he composed as touching voidness, and in other places affirmeth, that the Past and the Future of time subsisteth not, but hath subsisted; and that the present only hath being: But in the third, fourth, & 〈◊〉 books of Parts, he avoucheth, that of the instant or present, part is Future, & part Past; in such sort as by this means he divideth the substance of time, into those parts of subsistent, which are not subsistent, or to speak more truly, he leaveth no part at all subsistent, if the instant & present hath no part at all, which is not either past or to come: and therefore the conceit that these men have of time, resembleth properly the holding of water in a man's hand, which runneth and sheddeth the more, by how much harder it is pressed together. Come now unto actions and motions, all light and evidence is by them darkened, troubled, and confounded; for necessarily it ensueth, that if the Instant or present is divided into that which is past, and to come, part of that which now moveth at this instant, should partly be moved already, and in part to remove afterwards, and withal, that the beginning and end of motion should be abolished: also that of no work there should be any thing first or last, all actions being distributed and dispersed together with time: for like as they say, that of the present, some is past, and some to come: even so of every action in doing, some part is already done, and other resteth to be done. When had then beginning, or when shall have end, To dine, to write, & to go, if every man who dineth, hath dined already, and shall dine; and whosoever goeth, hath gone and shall go? and that which is (as they say) of all absurdities most monstrous, if it be granted, that he who now liveth, hath lived already, & shall live; life had neither beginning, nor ever shall have end: but every one of us as it should seem by this reckoning, was borne without beginning of life, & shall die without giving over to live: for if there be no extreme part, but ever as one that now liveth shall have somewhat of the present remaining for the future, it will never be untruly said; Socrates shall live, so long as it shall be truly said, Socrates liveth; so that as often as it is true, Socrates liveth, so often it is false, Socrates is dead. And therefore if it be truly said in infinite parts of time, Socrates shall live; in no part of time shall it ever be truly said, Socrates is dead. And verily what end shall there be of any work? & where shall any action stay & cease, in case as often as it shall be truly said; a thing is now doing, so often likewise it shall be truly said, It shall be done: for lie he shall who saith, This is the end of Plato writing or disputing; for that one day Plato shall cease to write or dispute: if at no time it be a lie to say, of him that disputeth, He shall dispute; or of him who writeth, He shall write. Moreover, of that which is done, there is no part, which either is not finished already, or shall be finished, and either is past or to come. Besides, of that which is already done, or of that which shall be done, of that which is past or future, there is no sense. And so in one word, and to speak simply, there is no sense of any thing in the world; for we neither see nor hear that which is past or to come; ne yet have we any sense of things which have been or which shall be; no nor although a thing should be present, is it perceptible & subject to sense, in case that which is present, be partly to come, and in part passed already; if I say one part thereof hath been, and another shall be: and yet they themselves cry out upon Epicurus, as if he committed some great indignity, and did violence to common conceptions, in moving as he doth all bodies with equal celerity, and admitteth no one thing swifter than another: But far more intolerable it is, and farther remote from common sense to hold, that no one thing can reach or overtake another: 
No not although Adrastus' horse  
So swift, a Tortoise flow should course.  according as we say in our common proverb: which must of necessity fall out, if things move according to Before and Behind; and in case the intervals which they pass through, be divisible into infinite parts, as these men would have them: for if the tortoise be but one furlong before the horse, they who divide the said interval or space between into infinite parts, and move both the one and the other according to Prius and Posterius, shall never bring the swiftest close unto the slowest, for that the slower always winneth some space or interval, before that which is divisible, into other infinite intervals. And to say, that water which is powered forth out of a cup or bowl, shall never be powered all clean out; how can this choose but be against common sense? & doth not this consequently follow upon those things that these men avouch? for never shall a man comprehend or conceive that the motion of things infinitely divisible, according to before, hath fully performed the whole interval, but leaving always some space divisible, it will evermore make all the effusion, all the running forth or shedding of the liquor, all the motion of a solid body; or the fall of a weighty poise, to be imperfect. I let pass many absurdities delivered in their doctrine; and touch those only, which are directly against common sense.  
As for the question touching augmentation, it is very ancient: For according as Chrysippus saith; it was by Epicharmus put forth. And for that the Academics thought it to be not very easy and ready all of a sudden to be cleared; these men come with open mouth against them, accusing them for overthrowing all anticipations, whereas they themselves keep not at all the common conceptions: and that which more is, pervert the very senses. For whereas the question is plain and simple; these men grant and allow such suppositions as these, that all particular substances flow and run, partly by yielding and sending forth somewhat out of themselves, and in part by receiving other things from without; and that by reason of the number and multitude of that which comes in, or goes out, things continue not one and the same, but become altered and diverse by the foresaid additions and detractation, so as their substance receiveth a change. Also that contrary to all right and reason, custom hath so far prevailed, that such mutations be called augmentations and diminutions: whereas rather they ought to be termed generations, and corruptions, for that they force an alteration of one present state and being, into another; but to grow and diminish are passions and accidents of a body, and subject that is permanent. Which reasons and assertions being after a sort thus delivered in their schools, what is it that these defenders of Perspicuity and Evidence, these canonical reformers (I say) of common notions would have? namely, that every one of us should be double like twins, or of a twofold nature: not as the poets feigned the Molionides, to be in some parts 〈◊〉 and united, and in other severed and disjoined, but two bodies, having the same colour, the same shape, the same weight and place: a thing that no man ever saw before: mary these Philosophers only have perceived this duplicity, this composition and 〈◊〉; whereby every one of us are two subjects, the one being substance, the other ** the one of them runneth and floweth continually, and yet without augmentation and diminution, or remaining in the same state such as it is; the other continueth still, and yet groweth and decreaseth, and yet suffereth all things quite contrary to the other, wherewith it is concorporate, united, and knit, leaving to the exterior sense no show of distinct difference. And yet verily it is said of that 〈◊〉, how in old time he had so quick and piercing an eyesight, that he was able to see through stocks and stones. And one there was by report, who fitting in Sicily, could from a watchtower sensibly discern the ships sailing out of the haven of Carthage, which was distant a day & a nights failing with a good forewind. And as for Callicrates and Myrmecides, they have the name to have made chariots so small, as that the wings of a fly might cover them: yea & in a millet grain or sesam seed to have engraven Homer's verses. But surely this perpetual fluxion & diversity in us, there was never any yet that could divide & distinguish: neither could we ourselves ever find that we were double, & that partly we ran out continually, and in part again remained always one and the same, even from our nativity to our end. But I am about to deal with them more simply and plainly; for whereas they devise in every one of us four subjects, or to speak more directly, make each of us to be four, it shall suffice to take but two, for to show their absurdity. When we do hear Pentheus in a tragedy saying, that he seeth two Suns, and two cities of Thebes, we deem of him, that he seeth not two, but that his eyes do dazzell and look amiss, having his discourse troubled, and understanding clean transported. And even these persons, who suppose and set down, not one city alone, but all men, all beasts, all trees, plants, tools, vessels, utensils, and garments, to be double, and composed of two natures; reject we not and bid farewell, as men who would force us not to understand any thing aright, but to take every thing wrong? Howbeit, haply herein they might be pardoned and winked at, for feigning and devising other natures of subjects, because they have no means else, for all the pains they take, to maintain and preserve their augmentations: But in the soul, what they should ail, what their meaning might be, and upon what grounds and suppositions, they devised to frame other different sorts and forms of bodies, and those in manner innumerable, who is able to say? or what may be the cause, unless they meant to displace, or rather to abolish and destroy altogether the common and familiar conceptions, inbred in us, for to bring in and set up new fangles, and other strange and foreign novelties? For this is wonderful extravagant and absurd, for to make bodies of virtues and vices, and beside of sciences, arts, memories, fancies, apprehensions, passions, inclinations and assents: and to affirm that these neither lie, nor have any place subsisting in any subject, but to leave them one little hole like a prick within the heart, wherein they range and draw in, the principal part of the soul, and the discourse of reason, being choked up as it were with such a number of bodies, that even they are not able to count a great sort of them, who seem to know best how to distinguish and discern one from another. But to make these not only bodies, but also living creatures, and those endued with reason, to make (I say) a swarm of them, & the same not gentle, mild, & tame, but a turbulent sort & rabble by their malicious shrewdness, opposite & repugnant to all evidence, & usual custom, what wanteth this of absurdity in the highest degree. And these men verily do hold that not only virtues & vices be animal and living creatures, nor passions alone, as anger, wrath, envy, grief, sorrow & malice, nor apprehensions only, fantasies, imaginations, and ignorances, nor arts and mysteries, as the shoemakers & smithscraft: but also over and beside all these things, they make the very operations and actions themselves to be bodies, yea and living creatures: they would have walking to be an animal dancing likewise, shoping, saluting, and reproachful railing: and so consequently they make laughing & weeping to be animal. And in granting these, they admit also, coughing, sneezing and groaning, yea and withal, spitting, reaching, snitting and snuffing of the nose and such like actions, which are as evident as the rest. And let them not think much and take it grievously, if they be driven to this point by way of particular reasonning, calling to mind Chrysippus, who in his third book of Natural questions saith thus: What say you of the night, is it not a body: evening, morning, midnight, are they not bodies? Is not the day a body? The new moon is it not a body? the tenth, the fifteenth, the thirtieth day of the moon, the month itself, Summer, Autumn, and the whole year, be they not bodies? Certes all these things by me named they hold with tooth and nail, even against common prenotions: But as for these hereafter, they maintain contrary to their own proper conceptions, when as they would produce the hottest thing that is by refrigeration, and that which is most subtle by inspissation. For the soul is a substance most hot and consisting of most subtle parts: which they would make by the refrigeration and condensation of the body, which as it were by a certain perfusion and tincture it hardeneth & altereth the spirit, from being vegetative to be animate. They say also that the Sun is become animate, by reason of the moisture turned into an intellectual and spiritual fire. See how they imagine the Sun to be engendered and produced by refrigeration? Xenophanes, when one came upon a time and told him that he had seen Eels to live in hot scalding water, Why do we not seeth them then (quoth he) in cold water? If therefore they will cause heat by refrigeration, and lightness by astriction and condensation: it followeth on the other side again, by good consequence, that by keeping a certain proportion and correspondensie in absurdity, they make heat by cold, thickening by dissolving, and weighty things by rarefaction. As for the very substance and generation of common conception and sense, do they not determine it even against common sense itself? For conception is a certain fantasy or apprehension: and this apprehension is an impression in the soul. The nature of the soul is an exhalation, which by reason of the rarity thereof can hardly receive an impression: and say that it did receive any, yet impossible it were to keep and retain it. For the nutriment and generation of it consisting of moist things, holdeth a continual course of succession and consumption. The commerce also and mixture of respiration with the air, engendereth continually some new exhalation turning and changing by the flux of air coming in and going forth reciprocally. For a man may imagine rather that a river of running water keepeth the forms, figures & images imprinted therein, than a spirit carried in vapours & humours, to be mingled with another spirit or breath from without continually, as if it were idle and strange unto it. But so much forget they or misunderstand themselves, that having defined common conceptions to be certain intelligences laid up apart: memories to be firm permanent, & habitual impressions having fixed sciences likewise, every way fast and sure, yet within a while after they set under all this a foundation and base, of a certain slippery substance, easy to be dissipated, carried continually, and ever going and coming to and fro. Moreover this notion and conception of an element and principle, all men have imprinted in their mind, that it is pure, simple, not mingled nor compofed: for, that which is mixed, cannot be an element nor a principle, but rather that, whereof it is mixed and composed.  
Howbeit these men devising God the principle of all things to be a spiritual body, and a mind or intelligence seated in matter, make him neither pure nor simple, nor uncompound, but affirm that he is composed of another and by another. As for matter, being of itself without reason and void of all quality, it carrieth with it simplicity, and the very natural property of a principle: and God, if it be true, that he is not without body and matter, doth participate of matter as of a principle. For if reason and matter, be all one and the same, they have not done well to define matter for to be reasonless: but if they be things different, then doth God consist of both twain, and not of a simple essence, but compounded, as having taken to his intellectual substance a bodily nature out of matter. Furthermore, considering they call these four primitive bodies, to wit, earth, water, air and fire, the first elements, I can not see how they should make some of them simple, and others mixed or compound: for they hold, that the earth and water cannot contain either themselves or any other, and that it is the participation of spirit and fellowship of fire, whereupon dependeth the preservation of their unity: as for the air and fire by their own power they fortify themselves, which being meddled with the other two, give them their force vigour and firmitude of substance. How is it then, that either earth is an element or the water, seeing neither of them both is simple, first, or sufficient to keep and preserve itself, but having need of another without to contain them always in their being and to save them? for they have not left so much as any thought that they be a substance. But surely this reason of theirs as touching the earth, that it consisteth of itself, containeth much confusion and great uncertainty, for if the earth be of itself, how cometh it to pass that it hath need of the air, to bind and contain it? for so it is no more earth of itself, nor water; but the air hath by thickening & hardening matter, made thereof the earth: and chose, by dissolving and mollifying it, hath created the water: and therefore we may infer thus much, that neither of these is an element, seeing that some other thing hath given them their essence and generation. Over and beside, they affirm, that substance and matter are subject to qualities, and so in manner do yield their limit and definition: and then on the other side, they make the said qualities to be bodies; wherein there is a great confusion: for if qualities have a certain proper substance, whereby they are termed and be really bodies indeed, they require no other substance, for that they have one of their own: but if they have this only under them which is common, and which they call essence or matter, certain it is, that they do but participate of the body; for bodies they are not. For that which is in the nature of the subject and doth receive, must of necessity differ from those things which it receiveth, and whereof it is the subject. But these men see by the half; for they term the matter 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, without qualities: but they will not name the qualities 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, void of matter. And yet how is it possible to make a body without quality, but we must imagine a quality without a body? for that reason, which coupleth a body with all manner of qualities, permitteth not the thought to comprehend any body without some quality. Either therefore he that fighteth against a bodiless quality, seemeth to resist likewise a matter void of quality; or if he separate the one from the other, he parteth and divideth them both asunder. And as for that reason which some of them seem to pretend, as touching a substance which they name 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, not because it is void of all quality, but because it is capable forsooth of every quality; it is contrary to common notion, and nothing so much. For no man taketh or imagineth that to be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, unqualified, which is participant of all qualities and uncapable of none; nor impassable, that which is apt to receive and suffer every passion; nor immoovable, which is moovable every way. And as for this doubt, it is not solved, that howsoever we always understand matter with some quality, yet we conceive withal, that matter and quality be different one from the other.    

AGAINST COLOTES, THE EPICUREAN.  

The Summarie.  
WE have in many places before, but principally in two several Treatises of the former tome, perceived how Plutarch is quite contrary unto the Epicureans, and namely, in one of those Treatises he dealeth with a certain book (which he now expressly refuteth) where Colotes endeavoured to prove, that a man can not possibly live well, according to the opinions of other Philosophers, Plutarch showeth on the contrary side, that impossible it is to lead a joyful life after the doctrine of Epicurus, and that it is accompanied with overweening, impudence and slanderous calumniation. And not contenting himself thus to have confuted them of purpose once or twice, he setteth upon them in this discourse, and particularly he copeth with Colotes, whose sloth, filthiness and impiette he here describeth. The sum of all which declamation is this, That these Epicureans are not any way worthy the name of Philosophers: who chose tread and trample under foot all the parts of true Philosophy, discovering in their writings aswell as throughout all their lives, mere beastly brutality. But all that is delivered in this Treatise may be reduced well to two principal points: The one containeth a defence or excuse of the doctrine taught by Democritus, Empedocles, Parmenides, Socrates, and other ancient Philosophers, slandered by Colotes, who extolled far above them, the traditions and precepts of his master. The other discovereth diverse absurdities and strange opinions of the Epicureans, even by their own testimonies: whom Plutarch refelleth sound; handling in this disputation many articles of Philosophy, Natural, Moral and Supernatural: and particularly of the Senses, of Nature, of the Atoms, of the Universal world, of the Knowledge of man, of the Opinion of the Academics, of the Apprehensions, faculties, passions and affections of the soul: of the certainty of things sensible, of the falsity and truth of imaginations, of the use of Laws, of the profit of Philosophy, of the sovereign good, of religion, and of other such matters, the principles whereof the Epicureans abolished, bringing in paradoxes wonderful strange, for to shuffle things confusedly, and make all uncerteine. All which is marked particularly in the train and course of the authors own words, and therefore needless it is to specify thereof any more, because I would avoid tantologies & unnecessary repetitions. True it is, that in certain refutations Plutarch is not so firm as were to be desired: but that may be imputed to his ignorance of the true God. As for the rest, it may suffice & serve, to know the misery & wretchedness of the Epicureans: and that other Philosophers had many good parts, and delivered many beautiful speeches, whereof all virtuous persons may reap and gather great fruit in applying and referring the same to their right use. And for to close up all, he maketh a comparison between true Philosophers and the Epicureans, proving in very many places, that Colotes and his fellows like himself, are people not only unprofitable, but also most pernicious, and so by consequence unworthy to live in the world.   

AGAINST COLOTES THE Epicurean.  
COlotes, whom Epicurus was wont (o Saturninus) to call by way of slattering diminution, Colatar as and Colatarius, composed and put forth a little book, which he entitled, That there could be no life at all according to the opinions of other Philosophers: and dedicated the said book unto king Ptolemaeus. Now what came into my mind to speak against this Colotes, I suppose you would take pleasure to read the same in writing; being as you are, a man who loveth elegancy and all honest things, especially such as concern the knowledge of antiquity; & beside, esteemeth it the most prince like exercise and royal study, to bear in mind and have always in hand, as much as possibly may be the discourses of ancient Sages. Whereas therefore of late this book was in reading, one of our familiar friends, one whom you know well enough, Aristodemus by name, an Aegian borne, a man exceeding passionate, and of all the Academics a most sranticke sectary of Plato, although he carry not the ferula like unto the mad supposts of Plato, I wot not how contrary to his usual manner, was very patient and silent all the while, giving care most civilly even to the very end. But so soon as the lecture was done: Go to now my masters (quoth he) whom were we best to cause for to arise and fight with this fellow in the quarrel and defence of Philosophers? For I am not of Nestor's mind, neither do I greatly praise him, for that when there was to be chosen the most valiant warrior of those nine hardy knights who were presented, to enter into combat with Hector hand to hand, committed the election unto fortune, and put all to the lot: But you see also (quoth I) that even he referred himself to be ordered by the lot, to the end that the choice might pass according to the dispose and ordinance of the wisest man: 
The lot out of the helmet than did fall,  
Of Ajax, whom themselves wished most of all.  And yet if you command me to make election, 
How can I ever put out of mind,  
Divine Ulysses, a prince so kind?  Consider therefore and be well advised how you may be able to refel this man. Then Aristodedemus: But you know full well (quoth he) what Plato sometime did, who being offended with his boy that waited upon him, would not himself swinge him, but caused Speusippus to do so much for him, saying withal, That he was in a fit of choler. And even so, I say as much to you, Take the man to you I pray, and entreat him at your pleasure; for myself am very angry with him. Now when all the rest of the company were instant with me, and prayed me to take this charge in hand: Well I see (quoth I) that I must speak, seeing you will needs have it so: but I am afraid lest I may seem myself to be more earnestly bend against this book than it deserveth, in the defence and maintenance of Socrates, against the incivility, rudeness, scurrility, and insolence of this man, who presenteth (as one would say) unto him hay, as if he were a beast, and demandeth how he may put meat into his mouth, and not into his care: whereas haply the best way were to laugh only at him for such railing, especially considering the mildness and gentle grace of Socrates in such cases. Howbeit in regard of the whole host beside of other Greek Philosophers, namely, Democritus, Plato, Empedocles, Parmenides, and Melissus, who by him are foully reviled, it were not only a shame to be tongue tied and keep silence, but also mere sacrilege and impiety, to remit any jot, or forbear to speak freely to the utmost in their behalf, being such as have advanced philosophy to that honour and reputation which it hath. And verily our parents together with the gods have given us our life: but to live well, we suppose and that truly, that it cometh from the philosophers, by the means of that doctrine which we have received from them, as cooperative with law and justice, and the very bridle that doth chastise and restrain our lusts. Now to live well, is to live sociably, friendly, temperately, and justly: of which good qualities and conditions, they leave us not so much as one, who cry out with open mouth, that the sovereign good of man lieth in his belly, and that all the virtues in the world if they were put together, they would prise no better worth than one cracked brazen piece of coin, without pleasure, and in case all manner of delights were quite removed from them. Also the annex here to their discourses, as touching the soul & the gods, wherein they hold that the soul perisheth, when it is once separate from the body: and that the gods meddle not with our affairs. Moreover the Epicureans reproach other Philosophers, for that by their wisdom and sapience, they undo man's life: and they again object unto them, that they teach men to live loosely, basely, and beastly. And verily such matters as these be mingled in all the writings of Epicurus, and spread throughout his whole philosophy. But this Colotes here having made an extract of certain words or voices void of matter and substance, and drawn some pieces and broken fragments without reasons and arguments for to prove and confirm his doctrines, or to give light for their understanding and credit, hath made his book in manner of a shop full of all sort of wares; or of a table or stall representing strange shows and monsters: which you (I say) know best of all others, for that you have continually in your hands and do read the works of ancient writers. So he seemeth unto me that like to the Lydian, he openeth not one gate and no more upon him, but enwrappeth Epicurus in very many doubts & difficulties, and those of all other, the greatest: for he begins with Democritus, who no doubt received at his hands a goodly salary and reward for his apprentissage, being a thing certainly known, that for a long time Epicurus called himself a Democritian, like as others also do say, and namely Leonteus, one of the scholars and disciples of Epicurus, in the highest form: who in a letter which he wrote unto Lycophron, saith, that Epicurus honoured Democritus, for that he attained before him to the true and sound understanding of the truth: and that in general the whole treatise of natural things, was called Democritian, because he light first upon the principles, and met with the primitive fountains and foundations of nature. And Metrodorus said directly and openly of Philosophy, That if Democritus had not led the way, Epicurus had never arrived to wisdom and learning. Now if it be true as this Colotes saith, That to live according to Democritus and other philosopher's opinions, is no life 〈◊〉 all, Epicurus was a very fool for following Democritus as he did, leading him to that doctrine whereby a man could not live. And first he reprooveh him, for that in saying that every thing is no more such than such, he made a confusion of man's life. But so far off was Democritus from holding the said opinion, namely, that nothing is rather such than such: that he oppugned Protagoras the Sophister for saying so, against whom he 〈◊〉 many elegant commentaries, full of good arguments concluding the contrary: which our Colotes never seeing, nor so much as dreaming of, was much deceived in the right understanding of the man's words, and namely in one place where he disertly saith and determineth that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is no more than 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in which place he nameth a body 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and voidness 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: meaning thereby and giving us to understand, that voidness had a proper nature and subsistence of the own, as well as a body. But he who is of opinion, that nothing is more such than such, followeth one of the decrees & sentences of Epiturus, wherein he delivered, that all apprehensions and imaginations that come by sense, are true. For if when two men give out and say, the one, that the wine is hard: the other, that it is sweetand pleasant, neither of them is deceived in his sense but speaketh true, why should the wine be rather harsh than sweet. And yet it is seen oftentimes that one and the same bath, some find to be hot, & others cold: for that, as these command cold water, so those bid hot water to be powered in. It is said that a certain dame or good wife of Lacedaemon went upon a time to visit Berronice the wife of king Deiotarus, but when they approached 〈◊〉 together, they turned away immediately one from the other: the one, as it should seem abhorring the smell of rank butter, and the other offended with the perfume of a sweet ointment or pomander. If then the sense of one be not more true than the sense of another, probable it is and very like that both water is not more cold than hot, and that the ointment and the butter no more scenting pleasantly than stinking strongly. For if a man say, that it seemeth thus to one, and so to another, he affirmeth before he is aware, that they be both the one and the other. And as for these symmetries, proportions and accords of the pores or passages in the organs of the senses, whereof they talk so much: as also the diverse mixtures of seeds, which they say being disseminate and dispersed throughout all savours, odours and colours, do move the sense; do they not directly drive them to this point, that things are no more one than another? For such as think that the sense is deceived, for that they see contrary events and passions do proceed from the same objects, they pacify again and salve this objection, by teaching that whereas all things be mingled and confounded together, yet nevertheless this is more sortable and fitting to one and that to another: whereby there is not the contractation and apprehension of one and the same quality, neither doth the object move all indifferently at once and alike in all parts, but every one meeting with those qualities only, whereunto they have all sense proportionate, they do not well to stand so stiffly upon this, that a thing is coloured or not coloured, white or not white, thinking to fortify and establish their own senses by destroying those of others. Whereas it behoveth neither to oppugn the senses, for they all touch and reach one quality or other (each one drawing as 〈◊〉 of a lively and large fountain, from this confused mixture, that which is fit and suitable) nor accuse and blame the whole, in touching only the parts; ne yet think that all aught to suffer the same thing, considering that one suffereth by one quality and power of it, and another by another. So that now we are to consider and search, what men they be, who bring in this opinion, as touching things that be not such rather than others, rather than these who hold, that whatsoever is sensible is a confused mixture of all qualities together, like unto a wind-instrument composed for all kinds of melodious music? But they confess that all their rules are lost, and their judgement quite gone, if they admit any object in some sort pure and sincere, and allow not each one thing to be many.  
See moreover in this place, what discourse and disputation Polyaenus held with Epicurus in his banquet as touching the heat of wine. For when he demanded in this manner, How now Epicurus, say you not that wine doth heat? one made answer, That he affirmed not universally, that wine did cause heat: and a little after; For it seemeth that wine is not universally a heater, but rather, that such a quantity of wine may be said to enchafe and set such an one in heat. And then adjoining the cause, he allegeth the concurrences, compressions and dispersions of the Atoms; the commixtions and conjunctions of others, when the wine cometh to be mingled with the body: and then he addeth this conclusion; And therefore generally we are not to say that wine doth heat; but so much wine may well heat such a nature, and so disposed: whereas another nature it cooleth in such and such a quantity. For in such a mass, there be those natures and complexions, of which, cold if need were, may be composed, and being joined with others as occasion serveth, may cause a virtue refrigerative. And hereupon it is, that some are deceived, saying that wine universally is hot, and others again, affirming it to be universally cold. He then who saith that the multitude and most part of men do err, in holding that to be simply hot, which doth heat, and that likewise to be cold, which doth cool, is deceived himself, if he thinketh not, that it followeth by good consequence upon that which he hath said, that one thing is more such than such. And afterwards he inferreth this speech, that many times wine entering into the body, bringeth with it neither a calefactive nor a refrigerative virtue; but that when the mass of the body is moved and stirred, so as there is a transposition made of the parts, than the Atoms which are effective of heat, concur together one while into one place, and through their multitude, set the body into an heat and inflammation; but another while by dispersing and severing themselves asunder, infer coldness.  
Moreover he dissembleth not but that he is proceeded thus far, as to say, that whereas we take things to be, and do call them bitter, sweet, purgative, soporiferous, and lightsome, none of them all have any entier quality or perfect property to produce such effects, nor to be active more than passive, all while they be in the body, but that they be susceptible of sundry temperatures and differences. For even Epicurus himself, in his second book against Theophrastus, in saying that colours are not natural unto bodies, but are engendered according to certain situations and positions, respective to the eyesight of man, saith by this reason, that a body is no more destitute of colour, than coloured. And a little before, word for word he writeth thus: But over and beside all this, I know not how a man may say, that these bodies which be in the dark, have any colour at all; and yet oftentimes when the air a like dark is spread round about, some there be who can distinguish the diversity of colours, others perceive nothing at all, by reason of their feeble & dim-sight. Again when we go into a dark house, we see not at our first entrance, any colours, but after we have been there a pretty while, we perceive them well enough: And therefore we are to say, that each body is not rather coloured than not coloured. If then colour be a relative, and hath being in regard of some other things, white also is a relative, and blew likewise: if these, then sweet and bitter semblably: so that a man may truly affirm of every quality, that it is not more such, than not such. For to those who are so disposed, a thing shall be such, and to them that are not so affected, not such. So that Colotes doth all to dash and bewray both himself and his master also, with the same mire and dirt, wherein he saith those do stick who hold that things are not more such than such. What then? doth this egregious clerk herein only show himself, according to the old proverb: 
Aleech professing others for to cure,  
Whiles he himself is full of sores impure?  No verily: but much more yet in his second reprehension, he chaseth ere he is aware Epicurus together with Democritus out of this life: for he giveth out that Democritus said, The atoms are unto the senses by a certain law and ordinance colour, by the said law sweet, and by the same law bitter: Also that he who useth this reason, and holdeth this opinion, knoweth not himself, if he be a man? nor whether he be dead or alive? To contradict these speeches I wot not well how: but thus much I say, that this is as much inseparable from the sentences and doctrine of Epicurus, as figure and weight by their saying from the Atoms: for what saith Democritus? That there be substances in number infinite, which are called Atoms, because they cannot be divided: howbeit different, without quality and impassable, which do move and are carried, dispersed to and fro in the infinite voidness, which when they approach one another, or concur and meet together, or else be interlaced & enfolded one about another, then appeareth of these thus heaped and huddled together, one thing water, another fire, another a plant, and another a man: That all these be Atoms still, termed by him 〈◊〉, and nothing else. For there can be no generation of that which is not; no more than that which once was can become nothing, by reason that these Atoms are so firm and solid, that they can neither change nor alter, not suffer. And therefore neither can there be colour made of those things which have no colour, nor nature or soul of such as be without quality and are impassable. Whereupon Democritus is to be blamed in that he confesseth not those things that be accident unto principles, but supposeth those to be principles, whereto these happen: For he should not have put down principles immutable: or at leastwise, when he had supposed them to be such, not to see withal, that therewith the generation and breeding of all qualities perisheth. And to deny an absurdity when one seeth it, is impudence in the highest degree. As for Epicurus, he saith verily, that he supposeth the same principles that Democritus doth, but he saith not, that colour sweet, white, and other qualities are by law and ordinance. Now if he confess not that he saith, which nevertheless he said, it is no other but an old custom of his, & that which he is wont to do. For much like it is to this, that he will seem to take away divine providence, and yet he saith, that he alloweth piety and religious devotion toward God: And albeit he giveth out that for pleasure, he maketh choice of amity and friendship, yet for his friend's sake he willingly endureth most grievous pains: also for all he supposeth the universal world to be 〈◊〉, yet he taketh not away, above and beneath. But this is not like unto the manner of drinking one unto another at a table, where a man may take the cup in hand and drink what he will, and so give back the rest. But in this disputation especially, it behoved to remember well the notable 〈◊〉 or saying of the wise man. Of what things the beginnings are not necessary, the ends and consequences fall out to be necessary. Necessary it was not therefore to suppose, or (to speak more truly) to wring from Democritus thus much, That Atoms be the principles of the whole and universal world: or when he had supposed and set down this doctrine, and withal made a glorious show of the first probabilities and fair apparences thereof, he should likewise have swallowed that which was troublesome therein, or showed how those bodies which have no quality, could give unto others all sorts of qualities, only by meeting and joining together. As for example, to speak of that which is next to hand, this that we call fire, whence came it, and how groweth it to these indivisible bodies called Atomies? if they neither had heat when they came, nor became hot after they met together? For the former presupposeth that they had some quality, and the latter, that they were fit to receive the same, and to suffer: But neither of them twain ye say, fitteth well with the Atoms, in that they be incorruptible. How then? did not Plato, Aristotle and Xenocrates produce gold, of that which was not gold; and stone of that which is not stone; yea, and many other things out of the four simple bodies called elements? Yes Iwis: but together with the said bodies there concur immediately at the first, the principles also, to the generation of every thing, bringing with them great contributions, to wit, the first qualities which be in them: afterwards, when there come to meet in one and join together, dry with moist, cold with heat, solid and firm with that which is gentle and soft, that is to say, active bodies with such as be apt to suffer, and to receive all change and alteration, then ensueth generation, which is the passage from one temperature to another: whereas this Atom or indivisible body being of itself naked and alone, is destitute of all quality and generative faculty; but when it happeneth to run upon others, it can make a sound and noise only, by reason of the hardness and solidity thereof, but no other accident else; for strike they do, and are stricken again continually: and so far be they off from composing and making by this means a living creature, a soul, or a nature, that they are not able so much as to raise a round mass or heap of themselves together: for that as they jurre and beat one upon another, so they rebound and fly back again asunder. But Colotes verily, as if he dealt with some king that was ignorant and unlettered, falleth again upon Empedocles, breathing out these verses: 
One thing will I say more to thee: there is no true nature  
Of mortal wights: of grisly death, no seed nor geniture.  
A mixture only first there is of things, then after all,  
The same grow to disunion: and this men Nature call.  For mine own part, I do not see how this is repugnant and contrary unto life, among them especially who are of opinion that there is no generation of that which is not at all, nor corruption of that which is and hath being: but the meeting and union of such things as be, is called Generation; the dissolution likewise and disunion of the same, is termed Death and corruption. For, that he taketh Nature for Generation, and that he meaneth so, himself hath declared, when he set Nature opposite unto Death. And if those live not nor can live, who put generation in union, and death in disunion; what thing else do these Epicureans? And yet Empedocles, soldered as it were and conjoining the elements by heats, softness and humidities, giveth them in some sort a mixtion and composition unitive: but they who drive together the Atoms which they say to be immutable, sturdy and impassable, compose nothing that proceedeth from them, but rather make many and those continual percussions of them. For their interlacing which impeacheth dissolution, doth still augment their collision: in such sort, as this is no mixtion nor conglutination, but a certain troublesome striving and combat, which according to them is called Generation. And these Atoms or indivisible bodies which meet together but a moment, if one while they recoil and start back for the resistance of the shock which they have given, and another while return again and recharge after the blow past, they are more than twice so long apart one from another without touching or approaching, so as nothing can be made of them, not so much as the very body without a soul. But sense, soul, understanding and prudence, there is no man able to think and imagine, would he never so feign, how they can be form of voidness and of these Atoms: which neither of themselves apart have any quality, nor yet passion or alteration whatsoever, when they are met together, considering that this meeting is no incorporation nor such a coition as might make a mutual mixture and conglutination, but rather jurrs and reciprocal concussions: in such manner, as according to the doctrine of these folk, supposing as they do, such void, impassable, invisible, undivine and unhelpful principles, yea & such as will not receive any mixture or incorporation whatsoever, To live and to be a creature animal, falleth to the ground and comes to nothing. How cometh it then, that they admit or allow Nature, Soul and Living creature? Forsooth, even as they do an oath, a vow, prayer, sacrifice and adoration of the gods, to wit, in word and mouth only; pronouncing and naming in semblance and outward appearance, that which by their principles and doctrines they quite abolish and annul. And even so, that which is borne, they term Nature, and that which is engendered, Generation: like as they who ordinarily call the frame of wood and timber, Wood itself, and those voices or instruments that accord together, Symphony. And what should he mean to object such speech against Empedocles? Why trouble we and weary ourselves (quoth he) in being so busy about our own selves, in desiring certain things as we do, and avoiding others? for neither are we ourselves, neither live we by using others. But be of good cheer (may one haply say) my loving and sweet Colotarion: have no fear man: no man hindereth you, but that you may regard yourself, teaching that the nature of Colotes, is Colotes himself and nothing else: neither that you need or desire to use certain things. As for these things among you, they be pleasures: showing withal, that it is not the nature of tarts, cakes and marchpanes, nor of odours, nor of love sports that you desire, but tarts and marchpanes themselves, sweet perfumes and women they be that you would have. For the Grammarian who saith, the force and strength of Hercules is Hercules, denieth not thereby that Hercules is: nor those who say that symphonies, accords or opinations are bare prolations or pronunciations, affirm not therewith all, that there be no sounds, nor voices, nor opinions: forasmuch as there be some, who abolishing the soul and prudence, seem not to take away either to live or to be prudent. And when Epicurus saith, The nature of things that have being, are the bodies and the void place of them, do we take his words, as if he meant that nature were somewhat else than the things that be? or that things being, do show their nature and nothing else? even as for examples sake, the nature of voidness, he is wont to call voidness itself: yea, and I assure you, the universal world itself, the nature of all. Now if a man should demand of him: How now Epicurus, say you indeed that this is voidness, & that is the nature of voidness? Yes verily, will he answer again, but this communication of names the one for another, is taken up and in use. And in truth, that the law and custom warranteth this manner of speech, I also avouch.  
And what other thing I pray you hath Empedocles done than taught that nature is nought else but that which is bred and engendered, nor death any thing but that which dieth? But like as Poets otherwhiles by a trope or figurative speech representing as it were the image of things say thus: 
Debate, 〈◊〉, uproar and stomach fell,  
With deadly fude and malice there did dwell.  Even so the common sort of men do use the terms of generation and corruption in things that are contracted together and dissolved. And so far was he from stirring or removing those things that be, or opposing himself against things of evident appearance, that he would not so much as cast one word out of the accustomed use: but so far forth as any figurative fraud might hurt or endamage things, he rejected and took the same away, rendering again the usual and ordinary signification to words, as in these verses: 
And when the light is mixed thus with air in heavenly sky,  
Some man is made or wild beasts kind, or birds aloft that fly:  
Or else the shrubs: and this rightly is cleped their geneture,  
But death, when as dissolved is the foresaid fast jointure.  And yet I say myself, that Colotes having alleged thus much, knew not that Empedocles did not abolish men, beasts shrubs or birds in as much as he saith that all these are composed and finished of the elements mixed together: But teaching and showing them how they were deceived, who find fault with naming this composition a certain nature or life: and the dissolution unhappy fortune and death to be avoided, he annulled not the ordinary and usual use of words in that behalf. For mine own part I think verily that Empedocles doth not alter in these places the common manner of pronouncing and using the said words: but as before it was related, did really as of a different mind as touching the generation of things that had no being, which some call nature. Which he especially declareth in these verses. 
Fools as they be of small conceit, for far they cannot see,  
Who hope that things which never were, may once engendered be,  
Or fear that those which are shall die, and perish utterly.  For these verses are thundered out and do sound aloud in their hearing who have any ears at all, that he doth not abolish generation absolutely, but that alone which is of nothing: nor yet corruption simply, but that which is a total destruction, that is to say, a reduction to nothing. For unto a man who were not willing, after such a savage, rude and brutish manner but more gently to cavil, the verses following after might give a collourable occasion to charge Empedocles with the contrary, when he saith thus: 
No man of sense and judgement sound, would once conceive in mind  
That whiles we living here on earth, both good and bad do find,  
So long only we being have: (yet this, men life do call)  
And birth before, or after death, we nothing are at all.  Which words verily are not uttered by a man, who denieth them their being who are borne and live, but rather by him who thinketh that they who are not yet borne, as also those that be already dead have their being. And even so Colotes doth not altogether reprove him for this: but he saith that according to his opinion we shall never be sick nor wounded. And how is it possible that he who saith that men before life and after life, are accompanied with good and bad indifferently, should not leave for them that be alive the power to suffer? What be those then, good Colotes, who are accompanied with this immunity, that they can neither be hurt nor diseased? Even yourself and such as you are, who be altogether made of an Atom and voidness, for by your own saying, neither the one nor the other hath any sense. But no force. For I here of no harm yet. Mary here is the grief, that by this reason you have nothing in you to cause delight and pleasure, seeing that an Atom is not capaple of such things as move pleasure: and voidness is unapt to be affected by them. But for as much as Colotes for his part would needs immediately after Democritus seem to inter and bury Permenides for ever, and myself in putting off a little and passing over the defence of Parmenides, have between both taken in hand the maintenance of that which was delivered by Empedocles, because me thought they did more properly adhere and hang to those first imputations, let us now come again to Parmenides. And whereas Colotes chargeth him with setting abroad certain shameful sophistries yet hath the man thereby made friendship nothing less honourable nor, voluptuousness and sensuality more audacious and unbrideled. He hath not bereft honesty of that attractive property to draw unto itself, nor of the gift of being venerable of itself: neither hath he troubled & confounded the opinions as touching the gods. And in saying that All is One, I see not how he hath hindered our life. For when Epicurus himself saith, that [All] is infinite, ingenerable and incorruptible, that it cannot be augmented nor diminished, he speaketh and disputeth of All, as of some one thing. And in the beginning of his treatise concerning this matter, having delivered that the nature of All things being, consisteth in small indivisible bodies which he termeth Atoms, and in voidness: he made a division as it were of one thing into two parts: whereof the one in truth is not subsistent, but termed by you impalpable void and bodiless: whereby it cometh to pass, that even with you, All cometh to be but One: unless you will use vain words and void of sense, speaking of voidness, and fight in vain, as with a shadow, against those ancient Philosophers.  
But these Atoms you will say, are according to the opinion of Epicurus in number infinite, and every thing that appeareth unto us, ariseth from them. Behold now what principles you put down for generation, to wit, infinity and voidness: whereof the one is without action, impassable and bodiless: the other, namely, infinity, disorderly, void of reason, incomprehensible, dissolving and confounding itself, for that by reason of multitude it cannot be circumscribed nor contained within limits. But Permenides hath not abolished either fire or water, or any rock, no nor the cities (as Colotes saith) inhabited as well in Europe as in Asia, considering that he hath both 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. some divide this & read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, hath made 〈◊〉 the world.  instituted an orderly dispose & digestion: and also tempering the elements together, to wit, light and dark, of them and by them absolutely finisheth all things visible in the world, for written he hath at large of Earth, of Heaven, of Sun, Moon and stars: as also, spoken much of man's generation: and being as he was a very ancient Philosopher, he hath left nothing in physiology unsaid, and whereof he hath not delivered both by word and writing his own doctrine not borrowed else where, passing over the repugnancy of other received principal opinions. Moreover he of all others first, and even before Socrates himself observed and understood, that in nature there is one part subject to opinion, and another subject to intelligence. And as for that which is opinable, inconstant it is and uncertain, wandering also and carried away with sundry passions and mutations, apt to diminish and pair: to increase also and grow, yea and to be diversely affected, and not ever after one sort disposed to the same in sense alike. As for the intelligible part, it is of another kind: 
For sound it is, whole and not variable,  
Constant and sure, and ingenerable.  as he himself saith, always like to itself & perdurable in the own nature & essence. But Colotes like a 〈◊〉, cavilling at him, & catching at his words, without regard of the matter, not arguing against his reasons indeed, but in words only, affirmeth flatly, that Parmenides overthroweth all things in one word, by supposing that All is One. But he verily on the contrary side abolisheth neither the one nature nor the other, but rendereth to each of them that which is meet, and appertaineth thereto. For the intelligible part he rangeth in the Idea of One, and of That which is, saying that it is and hath being, in regard of eternity and incorruption: that it is one: because it always resembleth itself, and receiveth no diversity. As for that part which is Sensible, he placeth it in the rank of that which is uncerteine, disorderly and ever moving. Of which two, we may see the distinct judgement in the soul, by these verses: 
The one reteins to truth which is sincere  
Persuasive, breeding science pure and clear.  For it concerneth that which is intelligible, and evermore alike and in the same sort. 
The other rests on men's opinions vain,  
Which breed no true belief but uncertain.  For that it is conversant in such things as receive all manner of changes, passions, & mutabilities. And verily how possibly he should admit and leave unto us sense and opinion, and not withal allow that which is sensible and opinable, a man is not able to show. But forasmuch as to that which is existent indeed, it appertaineth to remain in being, and for that things sensible, one while are, and another while are not, but pass continually from one being to another, and alter their estate, insomuch as they deserve rather some other name than this, of being: This speech as touching All, that it should be one, is not to take away the plurality of things sensible, but to show the difference between them and those that be intelligible, which Plato in his treatise of Ideae minding to declare more plainly, gave Colotes some advantage for to take hold of him. And therefore me thinks it good reason to take before me all in one train, that also which he hath spoken against him. But first let us consider the diligence, together with the deep and profound knowledge of this Philosopher Plato, considering that Aristotle, Xenocrates, Theophrastus, and all the Peripatetics have followed his doctrine. For in what blind corner of the world unhabitable wrote he his book? that you Colotes in heaping up together these criminations upon such personages, should never light upon their works, nor take in hand the books of Aristotle as touching the heaven and the soul: nor those compositions of Theophrastus against the Naturalists, nor that Zoroastres of Heraclitus, one book of Hell and infernal spirits, another of Doubts and questions Natural: that also of Dicaearchus concerning the soul. In all which books they are contradictory and repugnant, in the main and principal points of Natural philosophy unto Plato? And verily the prince of all other Peripatetics, Strato, acordeth not in many things with Aristotle, and maintaineth opinions clean contrary unto those of Plato, as touching Motion, Understanding, the Soul, and Generation. And in conclusion, he holdeth that the very world is not animal: and whatsoever is natural is consequent unto that which is casual, and according to fortune. As for the Ideae for which Aristotle every where seemeth to course Plato, and moveth all manner of doubts concerning them in his Ethics or moral discourses, in his Physics, in his Exotericall dialogues, he is thought of some to dispute and discourse with a more contentions and opinative spirit than became a Philosopher, as if he propounded to himself for to convel and debase the Philosophy of Plato, so far was he from following him. What impudent and licentious rashness therefore is this, that one having never known nor seen what these learned clerks had written, and what their opinions were, should coin and devise out of his own fingers ends, and falsely charge upon them, those things which never came into their heads, and in persuading himself that he reproveth and refuteth others, to bring in a proof and evidence written with his own hand, for to argue and convince himself of ignorance, or rash and audacious impudence, saying, that those who contradict Plato, agree with him, and they that repugn against him do follow him? But Plato (quoth he) hath written: That horses are in vain counted by us horses, and men likewise. And in what odd corner of Plato's works hath Colotes found this hidden? As for us we read in all his books, that horses be horses, and men be men, and that fire even by him is esteemed fire; for he holdeth every one of these things to be sensible and opinable, and so he nameth them. But this our trim man Colotes, as though he wanted never a jot of the highest pitch of sapience and knowledge, presumeth forsooth and taketh it to be all one and the same, to say, A man is not, and A man is that, which hath no being. But Plato thinketh that there is a wonderful great difference between these terms, Not to be at all, and To be that which is not: for the former importeth a nullity and abolishment of all substance; and the other showeth the difference of that which is participated and that which doth participate: which distinction and diversity they who came after, have reduced only unto a different range, of kinds, forms, and of certain common and proper qualities or accidents, but higher than so they mounted not, falling down upon some doubts and difficulties more reasonable: for the same reason and proportion there is between the thing participated and participating, as is between the cause and the matter, the original and the image, the power and the passion. Wherein principally differeth that which is by itself, and ever the same, from that which is by another, and never keepeth one state: for that the one never shall be, nor ever was not existent: and for this cause, it is truly and altogether subsistent; whereas the other hath not so much as that being constant, which it happeneth to participate from another, but doth degenerate and grow out of kind, through imbecility; in that the matter doth glide and slide about the form, receiving many passions and mutations bending toward the image of substance, in such sort, as continually it moveth and shaketh to and fro. Like as therefore he who saith, that Plato is not the image of Plato, taketh not away the sense and substance of an image, but showeth the difference between that which is of itself, and the other which is in regard of it: even so they abolish not the nature, the use nor sense of men, who say, that every one of us by participating the Idea of a certain common substance, is become the image of that which giveth similitude and affinity unto our generation. For neither he who saith, that iron red hot is not fire, or the Moon, the Sun, but (to use the very words of Parmenides) 
Aflame that bears a borrowed light,  
wandering about the earth by night.  doth take away the use of a burning gleed, or the nature of the moon: but if he should affirm, that it were no body nor illuminate, than he went against the senses, as one who admitted neither body nor living animal, nor generation nor sense. But he that by opinion imagineth these things to have no subsistence but by participation, and withal, how far they are short and distant from that which hath always being, and which gave them the power to be, considereth not amiss the sensible, but is dim-sighted in the intelligible: neither doth he annihilate and overthrow the passions which arise and appear in us, but showeth unto them that are docible and follow him, that there be other more firm and stable things than these, as touching essence, for that they neither are engendered nor perish, nor yet suffer aught: but teacheth more clearly & purely, noting and touching the difference by the very terms and names, calling the one sort existent, & the other breeding or engendered. The same usually befalleth also to our late 〈◊〉 writers, who deprive many great and weighty things of this denomination of subsistence, as namely, voidness, Time, Place, and generally, the whole kind of those speeches wherein are comprised all things true. For these things being, they say are not; and yet they say some are; yea and use the same aswell in their life as their doctrine and philosophy, as having subsistence & being. But I would gladly demand of this accuser of ours himself, whether he and his fellows in their affairs perceive not this difference, whereby some things be permanent and immutable in their substances, like as they affirm of their Atoms, that they be at all times and continually after one and the same sort, by reason of their impassibility and stiff solidity? whereas all things compounded and compact of them, be flexible, pliable, mutable, breeding and perishing: for that an infinite number of images do pass and flow from them evermore, yea and an innumerable sort of other things, by all likelihood, from out of the ambuent air do reflow and have recourse unto them, for to supply and fill up the heap still, which mass is become much altered, diversified and transvased as it were by this permutation, in that the Atoms which are in the bottom of the said mass can never cease nor give over stirring, but reciprocally beat one upon another, as they themselves affirm. So there is in things such a difference of substance as this: and yet Epicurus is more wise and learned than Plato, in that he termeth all things equally subsisting, voidness impalpable, the Body solid and resisting, the Principles, things composed: and for that he thinketh that the eternal doth not so much as participate in the common substance with that which is engendered; the immortal with that which doth perish; the nature's impassable, perdurable, immutable, which never can fall or be deprived from their being, with those which have their essence in suffering and changing, and never can continue in one and the same state. Now were it so, that Plato had most justly of all men in the world deserved to be condemned for his error herein, yet my good friend, there should no imputation be charged upon him by these our great masters here, who speak purer and finer Greek and more exquisitely than he, but only for confounding some words and speaking improperly; nor to be blamed for abolishing the matters themselves, or taking us out of this life, because he termed them engendered, and not existent, as these men do.  
But seeing we have passed over Socrates after Parmenides, we must now take his defence in hand. Colotes then began directly at the first (as we say in the common proverb) to remove him from the sacred line or tribe: and having related how 〈◊〉 had brought an answer from the Oracle at Delphos, as touching Socrates, which we all know to be so, saith thus: As for this discourse and narration (quoth he) of Chaerephon, for that it is altogether odious, captious, sophistical, and full of untruth, we will overpass. Then is Plato likewise (to say nothing of others) odious and absurd, who hath put the said answer down in writing. Then are the Lacedæmonians more odious and intolerable, who keep that Oracle delivered, as touching Lycurgus, among their most ancient writings and authentical records. Semblably, the discourse and narration of Themistocles was a sophistical and counterfeit device, whereby he persuaded the Athenians to abandon their city, and so in a naval battle defaited the barbarous prince Xerxes. And even so all the noble lawgivers and founders of Greece are to be counted odious and intolerable, who established the most part of their temples, their sacrifices and solemn feasts, by the answer from the Oracle of Apollo. But if it be so, that the Oracle brought from Delphi as touching Socrates, a man ravished with a divine and heavenly zeal to virtue, whereby he was declared and pronounced wise, were odious, feigned and sopsticall: by what name shall we truly and justly call your cries, your shouts, your hideous noises, your applauses and clapping of hands, your adorations and canonisations wherewith you exalt and celebrate him, who incited and exhorted you to continual pleasures one after another, who in one of his letters sent unto Anaxarchus hath written thus: As for me, I invite and call you to continual pleasures, and not to these vain and unprofitable virtues, such as have nothing but turbulent hopes of uncerteine fruits. And yet Metrodorus writing unto Timarchus, saith thus unto him, Come on (quoth he) let us do some goodly and honest thing for those who are fair and beautiful, so that we be not plunged in these semblable and reciprocal affections, but retiring anon out of this base and terrestrial life, let us advance ourselves to these true, holy and divine ceremonies and mysteties of Epicurus. And even Colotes himself hearing 〈◊〉 one day 〈◊〉 of Natural things, fell down at his feet immediately, and took hold of his knees, as if he had been a god. And Epicurus likewise taking no small pride and glory herein, writeth thus unto him again: For as if you adored that which then was delivered by me, there came upon you suddenly a desire and zeal proceeding from no cause in nature, to come toward me, to prostrate yourself upon the ground, to clip and clasp my knees, and to use those gestures unto me, which ordinarily they do, who worship the gods and pray unto them: So that you have (quoth he) made me also reciprocally to deify and adore you. Certes I could find in my heart to pardon them, who say they would not spare for any cost, but give they cared not what for a table or picture, wherein they might see lively represented to the 〈◊〉 this story depainted; namely, how the one lieth prostrate at the others feet, and embraceth his knees: who mutually again adoreth him, and maketh his devout prayers unto him. And yet this devotion and service of Colotes, how well soever it was by him ordered and precisely observed, reaped not the condign fruit thereof: for he was not by him declared A wise man: only this blessing he had from him again, Go thy ways and walk immortal, and repute us also semblably immortal. These men knowing full well in their own consciences that they use such foolish words, ridiculous jestures, and fond passions, yet forsooth they are so bold as to call other men odious. And Colotes verily having given us a taste of his goodly first fruits, & wise positions as touching Natural senses, namely, That we do eat our viands and cates, not hay or forage, and that when the rivers be high, we ferry over them in boats, but when they be low and passable, we wade easily on foot through the fourd, exclaimeth and 〈◊〉 out afterwards: You use o Socrates vain speeches, you entertain those who come and speak unto you with one thing in word, and do practise others clean contrary in deed. And say you so Colotes? First I would gladly know wherein the words of Socrates were vain & arrogant, considering that he was wont ordinarily to say, that he knew nothing at all, but was a learner continually, and went to search and find out the truth? But if haply you should light upon such speeches from Socrates his mouth, as those were which Epicurus wrote unto Idomeneus, send us then the first fruits, for the furniture of our sacred body, for us (I say) & our children: For thus it comes upon me to speak, what more insolent and 〈◊〉 words could you devise to speak? And yet, that Socrates never said otherwise than he did, he hath given us marvelous proofs in the battle of Delium, and in that of Potidea: That which he did during the time of the thirty tyrants against Archelaus and against the people of Athens: his poverty; his death; his carriage and demeanour in all these times and occasions, be they not answerable every way to the sayings and doctrines of Socrates? This had been a true proof indeed, to have showed that he lived and did otherwise than he spoke and taught, in case he had proposed the end of man to be a joyful and pleasant life, and then lived as he did. Thus much as touching the reproachful terms that he hath given Socrates. Moreover, he perceiveth not how himself is attaint even in those points which he reproveth and objected as touching things 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, understanding thereby the crime of 〈◊〉.  evident and apparent. For one of the positions and decrees of Epicurus is this, That no person ought irrevocably to believe or be persuaded to a thing, but only the wise man. Now seeing that Colotes became not one of the Sages, for all that adoration & worship which he performed unto Eptcurus, let him demand first and foremost these questions, How it is, that he falleth to cates, and not to hay, when he hath need of victuals? and why he casteth a rob about his own body, and not upon a pillar? considering that he is not assuredly persuaded, that cates be cates, or that a rob is a rob: But if he do so, namely, feed upon viands, and wear a rob: if he venture not to wade through rivers when they be risen and high; if he fly from serpents and wolves, being not in a sure belief that any thing is such as it seemeth, but doing every thing according as it appeareth unto him; the opinion as touching senses, would not hinder Socrates at all, but that he might likewise use that which seemeth not him. For bread seemed not bread unto Colotes, nor hay to be hay, because he had read those holy canons and sacred rules of Epicurus which fell from heaven out of Jupiter's lap: and Socrates upon a vain arrogance of his own, conceived an imagination of bread that it was hay, and of hay that it was bread. For these wise men here, have better opinions and rules to go by than we. But to have sense, and to receive an impression in the imagination of things evident, is common as well to ignorant persons as to Sages, for that it proceedeth from causes that need no discourse of reason. But that position, that our natural senses are not certain nor sufficient enough to prove a thing, and cause belief, is no hindrance, but that every thing may appear unto us: but when we use the senses in our actions, according to that which appeareth, it permitteth us not to trust them, as if they were every way true and without error: for that sufficeth in them, which is necessary and commodious for use, because there is nothing better. As for Science, knowledge, and perfection, which the soul of a Philosopher desireth to have of every thing, the senses have just none. But of these matters which Colotes hath charged upon many others, he will give us occasion else where to discourse thereof.  
Furthermore, that wherein he doth vilipend and mock Socrates most, in that he demandeth the question, What is man? and in a youthful bravery, and childishly as he saith, affirmeth that he knoweth not, it is evident that even he who derideth him, never came himself where it was, nor attained thereto: whereas Heraclitus chose, as one who had done a great and worthy matter, said thus, I have been seeking out myself. And of all those sentences which are written over the gates of Apollo's temple at Delphos, this was thought to be most heavenly and divine, Know thyself: which gave unto Socrates' occasion first to doubt and inquire thereof; according as Aristotle hath set down in his Platonique questions. But this forsooth seemeth unto Colotes to be a foolish and ridiculous thing. I marvel then why he mocketh not his master likewise for doing so, as often as he writeth and discourseth as touching the substance of the soul, and the beginning of that confused mass: for if that which is compounded of both, as they themselves do teach, to wit, of such a body & soul, be man, he who searcheth the nature of the soul, searcheth consequently the nature of man, even from his principal & chief principle. Now that the same is hardly by reason to be comprehended, but by the outward sense altogether incomprehensible, let us learn not of Socrates, a vain glorious man & sophistical disputer, but rather of these wise men here, who do forge & frame the substance of the soul so far only as to the faculties extending to the flesh, whereby she giveth heat, softness & strength to the body, of I wot not what heat and aireous spirit, never wading so far as to that which is the principal, but faint & give over in the way. For that faculty whereby she judgeth, whereby she remembreth, whereby she loveth or hateth, and in one word, that reason which wisely forseeth & discourseth, he saith, is made of a certain quality which is nameless. Now that this nameless thing is a mere confession of shameful ignorance, in them that say they cannot name that, which indeed they are not able to comprehend and understand, we know well enough. But this also may well deserve pardon, as they are wont to say. For it seemeth that this is no small and light matter neither a thing that every one can find out and reach unto, being deeply settled in the bottom of some by-place far remote and in some obscure and hidden corner, seeing that among so many words and terms which be in use, there is not one significant enough and sufficient to declare and explain the same. And therefore Socrates was no fool nor lob, for seeking and searching what himself was, but they rather be dolts who go about inquiring after any other thing before this, the knowledge whereof is so necessary and hard to be found. For hardly may he hope to attain unto the knowledge of any other thing, who is not able to understand the principal part of himself. But say we should grant and yield thus much unto him, as to confess that there is nothing so vain, so unprofitable and so odious, as for a man to seek himself, we will be so bold as to demand, what confusion of man's life this should be, or how it is that a man cannot continue in life, when he comes to discourse & reason thus with himself, Who and what mought I be? Am I after the manner of some composition, confected and mingled of soul and body? or rather a soul making use of the body, as the horseman doth of his horse? and not a subject composed of horse and man? or whether the principal part of the soul whereby we understand, we discourse, we reason and do every action, is every each one of us? and all the parts besides both of soul and body, be nothing but the organs and instruments serving to this puissance and faculty? Or to conclude, whether there be no substance of the soul apart, but only a temperature and complexion of the body, so disposed, that it hath power to understand and to live. But Socrates herein saith he doth not overthrow the life of man, considering that all natural philosophers do handle this argument, Mary they be those monstrous questions that trouble the commonwealth, and turn all upside down, which are in the Dialogue Phaedrus, wherein he thinketh that he ought to examine and consider himself, namely whether he be a beast more savage, more subtle, cautelous and furious than ever was that Typhon: or rather some animal more tame and gentle by nature, and endued with a portion more divine, and a condition nothing proud and insolent. But yet by these discourses and reasonings he overturneth not the life of man, but he chaseth out of it presumption & arrogance, proud and puffed up opinions and vain overweening of a man's self: For this is that fell Typhon, which your good master and teacher hath made to be so great in you, warring as he doth both against the gods and all good and godly men.  
After he hath done with Socrates and Plato, he falleth in hand with the Philosopher Stilpo. As for the true doctrines and good discourses of the man, whereby he ordered and governed himself, his native country, his friends, & those kings and princes who affected him and made good account of him, he hath not written a word: neither what gravity and magnanimity was in his heart and the same accompanied with mildness, moderation, and modesty: but of those little sentences or propositions which Stilpo was wont to use & cast forth in merriment against the Sophisters, when he was disposed to laugh and play with them, he made mention of one: and without alleging any reason against it or solving the subtlety thereof, he made a tragedy, and kept a foul stir with him about it, saying that by him the life of man and the whole course of this world was subverted: because he said, that one thing could not be affirmed and verified of another. For how should we live (quoth Colotes) if we may not say a good man, or a man is a captain, but we must pronounce apart, man is man, good is good, and captain is a captain: neither ten thousand horsemen, nor a fenced city, but horsemen be horsemen, ten thousand be ten thousand, and so of the rest? But tell me I pray you, what man ever lived the worse for saying thus? And who is he who having heard these words and this manner of arguing, did not conceive and understand strait ways that it was the speech of a man disposed to make some game and disport learnedly, or to propose unto others this Logical quillet for exercise sake? It is not Colotes, such a grievous scandal and heinous matter as you would make it, to say man is not good or horsemen be not ten thousand: marry to affirm that god is not god as you and the rest do, who will not confess that there is a Jupiter precedent over generation, or a Ceres that giveth laws, or a Neptune superintendant over plants, is a dangerous point. This is the separation of names and words that is pernicious, this filleth our life with contemptuous impiety, Atheism & dissolute audaciousness: For when you pluck from the gods these attributes & appellations that essentially be linked & tied to them, you abolish there with all holy sacrifices, divine mysteries, sacred processions and solemnefeasts: for unto whom shall we perform the nuptial sacrifices called Proteleia; unto whom shall we offer the oblations for health named Soteria? How shall we accomplish the rites of Phosphoia, the Bacchanals, and the ceremonies going before marriage, if we leave not any priests of Bacchus, if we admit not Phosphori 〈◊〉, and the saving gods Soteres? For I tell you, this toucheth the main & principal points, this breedeth error in the things themselves & not about certain bare voices in the Syntaxes and construction of words or use of terms. Now if these be matters that trouble and subvert this life of ours, who be they that offend and be delinquent more in their phrase & language than you? who making prepositions to be the only substance of speech, abolish altogether all simple voices, & admitting such as come next hand, you abolish in the mean while the things by them signified; whereby all discipline, doctrines, erudition, anticipations, intelligences, inclinations and assents are performed, and hold generally that all these be just nothing. But as for Stilpo thus the case standeth: If we affirm of an horse, to run: he doth not say that the thing affirmed which the Logicians call Predicatum, is all one with the Subjectum, of which it is affirmed; but that the essential definition of a man is one, and that of good is another; as also, to be an horse is different from to be running: For if we asked the definition of the one and the other, we will not give the same for both, and in that regard, they do amiss who affirm the one of the other. For if a man and Good were all one: likewise, an horse, and to run were both one: how cometh it to pass that the term Good is affirmed of some meat, drogue, or medicine, and to run likewise, of a lion and a dog? But if the Predicatum or thing affirmed be different, than we do not well, to say, Good man, or the horse runneth. Now if Stilpo in these matters do exorbitate and be foully deceived, admitting no copulation at all nor connexion of such things as are said to be in or about the subject, together with the said subject itself: but every one of them if it be not absolutely the very same with that unto which it happeneth, he thinketh not that the same aught to be said and affirmed thereof as an accident: and if therein he be offended with some terms, and go against the ordinary custom of speech, he doth not therefore streightwaies subvert and overthrow man's life, nor human affairs, as all the world may see well enough.  
Colotes now having done with the ancient Philosophers, turneth himself to those of his own time, and yet he nameth not one. Howbeit, he should have done better to have argued aswell against these modern as those ancients, by name, or not at all to have named those of old time. But he who so often hath pricked Socrates, Plato & Parmenides with his pen, showeth plainly, that it was for mere cowardice that he durst not be seen to deal with the living; and not upon any modesty or reverence that he spared their names, considering that he used them, who were far more excellent than they, in no good sort and respect. His meaning was as I suspect and guess, to assail the Cyrenaiques first, and then in a second place the Academics, sectaries of Arcesilaus: for as these were the Philosophers who doubted of all things and yielded their assent in nothing at all; so the other reposing passions and imaginations in themselves, thought that the belies proceeding from thence, was not sufficient to assure & confirm things, but faring like unto those who are besieged within a city, abandoning and forsaking all without, they keep themselves shut within their passions, using this word ordinarily, It seemeth: and of things without, affirming and pronouncing, It is. And therefore (quoth Colotes) they cannot live nor have the use of things. And then, playing his part as it were in a Comedy: These men (saith he) deny that a man, a horse and a wall are; but they say, that they become walls, horses and men; abusing first and foremost cautelously and wickedly these terms, like slanderous and foul mouthed sycophants: for surely this is an ordinary cast and usual with these men. But it behoved to declare the thing itself, according as they teach: for they affirm, that things become sweet, wax bitter, prove lightsome, or grow dark, when each of these hath the proper efficacy of these passions in itself naturally inbred, and such as can not be distracted from it. But if home be said sweet, an olive branch bitter, hail cold, mere wine hot, the air of the night dark; there be many beasts, many things, and many men, that will testify the contrary: whiles some are offended with honey and abhor it, others are delighted with the taste of the olive branch; some are burnt and singed by hail, others cooled with wine; some can not abide the light of the Sun but their sight there with is dazzled and dimmed, others again see well enough by night. And therefore opinion persisting still and abiding in the passions, keepeth itself from offence and error: but going forth once, and busily judging or pronouncing of things exterior, it troubleth many times itself, and repugneth with others, who of the same objects receive contrary passions, and different imaginations. And as for Colotes, he resembleth for all the world young children who newly begin to learn their A. B. C. for being used to pronounce and name the letters which they see engraven in their own battleders, when they find them written elsewhere, they stick at them, and are much troubled: and even so the very words and sayings which he approoveth, praiseth and embraceth in the writings of Epicurus, he will not understand nor acknowledge, when they are uttered by others. For when there is presented unto us one image round and another broken, they who say that the sense verily is truly informed and hath a true impression, but will not suffer us to pronounce that the tower is round, but the oar broken, surely they confirm thereby that their passions be their own fancies and imaginations, but they will not avow and confess, that the things without are so affected. But as they before are to say, that they be not horse or wall, but become horse and wall; even so of necessity we must say, that the sight is imprinted with a round figure or triangular with three unequal sides, but not that a tower is necessarily either triangular in that sort or round: for that the image wherewith the sight is affected may well be broken, but the oar from whence proceedeth the image is not broken. Seeing then there is a difference between the passion and the subject without, either we must say that the belief abideth in the passion, or else that the being which is affirmed by the appearance is convinced of untruth, and not found to be so. And whereas they cry out and be offended and angry about the sense, they do not say that the thing without is hot, but that the passion in the sense is so: is it not all one with that which is spoken as touching the taste, as if one should say, that the thing without is not sweet, but that it is some passion and motion about the sense, that is become such? And he who saith, that he apprehendeth the imagination of a man's form, but perceiveth not that it is a man, whereupon hath he taken occasion to say so? Came it not from them who say that they receive an imagination and apprehension of a bowing form and figure, but the sight doth not affirm that it is bowing and bending, neither that it is round, but some imagination and impression about the sense is become round? True it is will some one say: but as I approach near unto a tower, or else touch an oar, I will pronounce and assirme, that the the one is straight, and the other hath many angles and many faces: But he when he shall come near, will confess and say that it seemeth so and that it appeareth such unto him, but no more. O yes good sir, and more than so, when he seeth and observeth the consequence hereupon, namely, that every fantasy and imagination is semblably of itself sufficient to procure belief, and none at all, in regard of another, but be all of equal condition. But this your opinion is come just to nothing, namely, that fantasies be all true, and none false and incredible, in case you think that these aught to pronounce affirmatively of that which is without, and believe not the other a far off no farther than in that which they suffer: for if they be of equal condition and believed alike, when they are near, and when they be far off, meet it is and just, that either all indifferently or else not these, should have the affirmative judgement following upon them, to pronounce, that a thing is. But if there be a difference of passion in things that be near, & those which are farther off, then is it false that neither imagination nor sense is one more express and evident than another: like unto those which they call attestations which are nothing to the sense, but unto the opinion: so that in following them, they would have their followers to affirm and pronounce of 〈◊〉 things, attributing to opinion the judgement, that a thing is, and to sense, the passion that appeareth: whereby they transport the judgement from that which is always true, unto that which 〈◊〉 often times to be so. But what need is there at this time to show, the confusion and contradiction that is herein? But it seemeth that the reputation of Artesilaus, who of all Philosophers in his time was best beloved and most esteemed, was no small thorn in Epicurus his 〈◊〉, but troubled him beyond all measure: For he giveth out of him, that delivering as he did nothing of his own invention he imprinted in the minds of ignorant and 〈◊〉 men a certain opinion and conceit of him, that he was a 〈◊〉 and very well seen in all kind of literature. But so far was Arcesilaus, from affecting any glory & 〈◊〉 in the world by broaching novelties or strange opinions and derogating from the 〈◊〉 ascribing anything of theirs to himself, that the Sophisters in his days reproved and 〈◊〉 him for 〈◊〉 upon Socrates, Plato, Parmenides and 〈◊〉 the opinions as touching the retention of assent and the incomprehensibility of things who indeed never sought nor 〈◊〉 so much at his hands, only because he would refer the same unto such famous 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 to be confirmed by the authority of their name. How be it for this; thanks be to 〈◊〉 and everyone who saith that the Academic doctrine was more ancient than 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 derived from others before his time unto him. But as for the 〈◊〉 of assent, & the 〈◊〉 of all things, not so much as they verily who have greatly traveled in the matter and have strived to that purpose for to write many great books and large treatises, could ever remove or overthrow: but bringing in at the last out of the very school and doctrine of the Stoics, the cessation from all actions, as it were the fiend Gorgon to scare folk withal, were weary and gave over in the plain field, after they saw once, that what attempt soever they made, & which way soever they turned themselves their instinct and appetition was never so obeisant as to become a consent and approbation, neither received sense for the beginning of propension and inclination, but seemed to present itself to actions, as having no need to be joined with others. For surely with these men the combat is lawful and the conflict just. 
For look what words thou dost to others give,  
The like thou mayst be sure to hear, believe.  And verily to speak unto Colotes, as touching instinct and appetition, is all one as to sound the harp before an ass. But this point of learning would be delivered unto those who can give ear and conceive, that there be in our soul three kinds of motions, Imaginative Appetitive and Assenting. As for the Imaginative, we cannot take it away, would we never so feign; for as things approach and objects be presented, we cannot choose but be informed and receive as it were an impression and suffer by them. The Appetitive being stirred up by the imaginative, moveth a man effectually to those things which are proper and convenient for him, as if in the principal and reasonable part thereof there were some propension and inclination. And verily this motion do not they overthrow and anul who hold off, and keep in their assent, doubting of every thing, but make use of this appetition or instinct, conducting naturally every man to that which is proper and meet for him. What is the only thing then that the Academics fly and avoid? even that wherein alone there is engendered leasing, deceit and falsehood, to opine, to apply the assent, which is ayeelding through imbecility to that which appeareth, and hath no true profit. For our action requireth two things, to wit, the apprehension or imagination of that which is convenient and familiar: and the instinct or appetition driving unto the same: whereof neither the one nor the other is repugnant to the cohibition of assent. For the discourse of reason withdraweth us from opinion, and not from appetition or imagination. When as therefore that which is pleasant and delectable seemeth unto us to be proper for us and familiar, there is no need at all of opinion for to move and carry us to it, but appetition immediately presenteth itself, which is nothing else but amotion and incitation of the mind. Now for that there must be a sense as it were of these things, and the same consisting of flesh and blood, the same pleasure and delight likewise will appear good. And therefore it will semblably seem good unto him who holdeth off his assent, for surely he hath senses, and is made of flesh, blood and bone, and so soon as he hath apprehended the imagination of good, he hath an appetite and desire thereto, doing all that ever he can, not to miss it nor lose the fruition thereof: but as much as is possible to cleave and adhere continually to that which is proper unto him, as being driven and drawn thereto, by Natural and not Geometrical constraints. For these goodly, pleasant, gentle and tickling motions of the flesh, be of themselves without any other teacher attractive enough, as they themselves forget not to say, and are able to draw and train him whosoever he be, that will not confess nor be known, but stoutly denieth that he is made soft and pliable by them. But peradventure you will ask me how it comes to pass that one of these that are so retentive and dainty of their assent, climbeth not up some hill, but to the bane or hot house: or when he riseth and purposeth to go into the market place, why he runneth not his head against a post or the wall, but taketh his way directly to the door? And ask you me this question indeed, you that hold all fences to be infallible, the apprehensions also and imaginations to be certain and true? Forsooth it is because the bane seemeth unto him a bane and not a mountain, the door also appeareth to be a door, and not the wall: And so is it to be said likewise of such otherthings every one: For the doctrine delivered as touching this cohibition of assent, doth not pervert the sense, nor work in it by strange passions and motions any such change and alteration as may trouble the imaginative faculty. Only it taketh away and subverteth opinions, but useth all other things, according to their nature. But impossible it is not to yield consent unto apparent evidences. For to deny those things which we are verily persuaded of and do believe, is more absurd, than neither to deny nor affirm any thing at al. Who be they then that deny such things as they believe, and go against things evident? even they who overthrow divination, and deny that there is any government by divine providence: they who say that neither the 〈◊〉 animal nor the moon, which all men honour and adore, to which they make their prayers and offer sacrifice. As for you, do ye not annul that which is apparent to the whole world, to wit, that naturally infants & young ones, are contained within their mothers and dams? and that between pain and pleasure there is no mean, even against the sense and experience of all men? saying that not to be in pain, is to have pleasure; and not to do, is to suffer; as also, not to joy, is to be sorrowful? But to let pass all the rest, what is more evident, and so fully believed generally, than this, that those who have their brains troubled, and their wits distracted, or otherwise sick of melancholic diseases, ween they see and hear those things which they neither hear nor see? namely, when their understanding comes to be in such sort affected and transported, as to break out into these speeches? 
These women here in habit black clad, hold in their hands,  
To dart at me and burn mine eyes, torches and fiery brands.  Also: 
Lo how she in her arms doth bear  
My mother dear, who did me rear.  These verily, and a number beside of other illusions more strange and tragical than these, resembling the prodigious monsters that Empedocles describeth like antics, which they make sport and laugh at, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 
* Or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  That is to say, 
With crooked shanks and winding feet, resembling rams in pace,  
In body made like ox or cow, like man before, in face.  And all other sorts of monstrous shapes and strange natures, mixed together all in one, fetched from troublesome dreams and alienations of the mind. But these men say, that none of all this is any deception or error of the sight, or vain apparition, but be all true imaginations of bodies and figures, which pass to and fro out of the inconstant air about them. Tell me now, what thing is so impossible in nature, that we need to doubt, if it be possible to believe these? For such things as never any conceited maske-maker or deviser of visards, any inventive potter, glasse-maker, or curious painter and drawer of wonderful shapes, durst join together, either to deceive the beholders, or to make them sport for their pastime: these men supposing verily and in good earnest that they be really subsistent; and that which more is, affirming all firm and constant belief, all certitude of judgement and of truth, to be quite gone for ever, if such things have not their subsistence, these men I say be they, which involve all in obscurity and darkness, who overthrow all appearance, and bring into our judgement fear and terror, into our actions doubtful suspicion; in case our ordinary and usual actions, and such affairs of ours which are daily ready at hand, be carried in the same imagination, belief and persuasion, that these enormous, absurd, and extravagant fancies: for the equality which they suppose in all, plucketh away more credit from things ordinary, than it addeth unto such as be uncouth and unusual: which is the cause that we know Philosophers not a few, more willing to avouch, that no imagination is true, than that all be true without exception; and who distrust all men whom they had not conversed withal, all things which they had not tried, generally all speeches which they had not heard, rather than believe so much as one of these imaginations and illusions which mad and frantic folk, fanatical persons possessed with a furious spirit, or dreamers in their sleeps do apprehend. Seeing then, some imaginations we may utterly abolish, and others not, lawful it is to retain our assent and doubt of things whether they be or no, if there were no other cause else but this discordant, which is sufficient to work in us suspicion of things, as having nothing assured and certain, but all incertitude and perturbation. As for the dissensions and differences about the infinite number of worlds, the nature of the Atoms, being indivisible bodies, and their declinations to a side, although they trouble and disquiet many men, yet this comfort there is and consolation, that in all this there is nothing near at hand to touch us, but rather every one of these questions be far remote, and beyond our senses; whereas this distrust and diffidence, this perturbation and ignorance about sensible things and imaginations, presented to our eyes, our ears and our hands, this doubt, I say, whether they be true or false, what opinion is it that they do not shake and make to waver, what judgement and assent do not they turn upside down? For if men, being not drunk nor intoxicate, nor otherwise troubled in their brains, but sober, well in their wits and sound of judgement, professing also to write of the truth, and of the canons and rules to judge by, in the most evident passions and motions of the sense, set down that for true which can not possibly subsist, and for false that which subsisteth, it is not to be marveled nor thought incredible, if they give no judgement of such things which evidently appear, but rather be of contrary judgements. For a man may less wonder at one for affirming neither the one nor the other, and keeping himself in a mean between two opposites, than for putting down things repugnant and mere contrary. For he that neither affirmeth nor denieth, but holds himself quiet, is less repugnant both unto him who putteth down his opinion, than he who denieth it; and also to him that denieth it, than he who puts it down. And if it be possible to make doubt and stick at these things, it is not impossible then to do so of others; at leastwise according to you who are of opinion, that there is no difference at all between sense and sense, between imagination and imagination: and therefore this doctrine as touching the retention of belief and assent, is not as Colotes saith, a vain fable, nor a captious toy of rash and lightheaded young men, that love to jangle and prate, but a settled resolution and habitual disposition of stayed men, who be wary and take heed that they mistake not any thing, and fall into inconvenience, or abandon at aventure their judgement to the senses, so conjectural and doubtful, and not suffering them to be deceived and carried away with those, who hold that things uncerteine, if they seem and appear, aught to be believed as well as if they were certain, notwithstanding they see so great obscurity and incertitude in imaginations and apparent things: But rather the infinity that you put down, and the images which you dream of be fables. And as for heady rashness and a vain humour of much babble, he engendereth in young students who writeth of Pythocles being not fully eighteen years of age, that there was not in all Greece a better or more towardly nature; as being one who with admiration was able most excellently to express the conceptions of his mind; and that his case was much like to the incomparable beauty of women, wishing and praying therefore, that all those surpassing gifts and most rare parts might not work the young man hatred and envy.  
But busy Sophisters they be, and vain fellows, who against so great and excellent personages, dare write so impudently and proudly: And yet I confess, Plato, Aristotle, Theophrastus, and Democritus gainsaied and contradicted those who wrote before them: Howbeit there was never man known but himself so bold, as to make a book against all indifferently, and with such a proud inscription as he did: And than afterwards forsooth, like unto those who have offended and displeased the gods: in the end of the said book, as one confessing his faults, he saith: That they who have established laws and ordinances, who have erected royal governments and politic rule of cities and states, have set the life of man in great quiet, safety, and security, yea and delivered it from dangerous troubles: which if they were abrogated and put down, we should lead a savage life like wild beasts; one would eat another as they met together; for these be the very words that he useth, though unjustly and untruly: For say a man did abolish laws, and yet withal leave behind unrepealed and uncondemned the doctrines and books of Parmenides, Socrates, Heraclitus, and Plato, we should be far for all that from devouring one another, or living a savage life; for we should fear and forbear dishonest things, we should even for virtue and honesty, honour justice, believe that the gods, good magistrates, and the angels or spirits have the guarding, keeping, and superintendance of man's life, thinking all the gold that is both above and under the ground, not able to counterpeize virtue, and doing willingly by reason and learning as Xenocrates was wont to say, that which now we do perforce for fear of the laws. But when shall our life become beastly, savage, and insociable? Mary when, the laws being taken away, there shall be left remaining, books and discourses, inciting and soliciting men unto pleasure: when it shall be thought and believed, that the world is not ruled and governed by God's providence, when they shall be deemed Sages and wise men, who spit against honesty and virtue, unless it be joined with pleasure, and when they shall deride and mock such sentences as these, 
In Justice is an eye,  
Which all things doth espy.  And 
Godneere doth stand,  
And sees all at hand.  As also this old said saw; God having in his power the beginning, mids, and end of the whole world, passeth directly throughout all nature, and goeth round about, attended upon by Justice, to punish those who transgress the law divine. For they that despise and contemn these instructions as idle fables, and suppose that the sovereign good consisteth in the belly and other parts, whereby we enjoy pleasure, be those who had need of the law, they ought to fear the whip, and stand in awe of some king, prince, and magistrate, who hath the sword of justice in his hand, to the end that they might not devour their neighbour by insatiable gluttony, which upon Atheism and impiety, would grow to excessive outrage: For verily such is the life of brute beasts, for that they know nothing better than pleasure, they have no sense of God's justice, they neither honour nor regard the beauty of virtue: But if nature hath endued them with any hardiness, craft, and industrious activity, they employ the same, to satisfy their fleshly pleasure, and accomplish their lusts. And therefore Metrodorus is reputed a great wise man, for saying, that all the fine, subtle, witty, and exquisite inventions of the soul, have been devised for to please and delight the flesh, or else for the hope to obtain and enjoy the same; and look what art soever tendeth not thereto, is vain & to no purpose. By such discourses and Philosophical reasons as these, down go wholesome laws, and in place thereof enter in lions paws, wolves teeth, ox's paunches, and camels necks and throats: and for want of writings and speech, the very beasts do preach and teach such doctrines and opinions as these, with their bleating, bellowing, neighing, and braying: For all the voice that they have, is nothing but belly cheer, and the pleasure of the flesh, which they either embrace presently, or joy in the expectation thereof; unless haply there be some kind of them that delighteth naturally in gaggling, cackling, and garrulity. So that no man is able to praise those sufficiently, and to their full desert, who to repress such furious and beastly affections, have set down law, established policy and government of State, instituted magistrates, and ordained wholesome decrees and edicts. But who be they that confound, yea, and utterly abolish all this? Are they not those, who give out that all the great empires and dominions in the world are nothing comparable to the crown and garland of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, haply 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, 〈◊〉 and confusion.  fearless tranquillity and repose: Are they not those, who say, that to be a king and to reign is to sin, to err and wander out of the true way leading to felicity: yea and to this purpose write disertly in these terms, we are to show, how to maintain in best sort and to keep the end of nature: and how a man may avoid at the very first not to enter willingly and of his own accord into offices of state and government of the multitude. Over and beside, these speeches also be theirs, there is no need at all henceforth for a man to labour and take pains for the preservation of the Greeks, nor in regard of wisdom and learning to seek for to obtain a crown at their hands, but to eat and drink, O Timocrates, without hurt doing to the body, or rather withal contentment of the flesh. And yet the first and most important article of the digests and ordinance of laws and policy which Colotes so highly commendeth, is the belief and firm persuasion of the gods: whereby Lycurgus in times past sanctified the Lacedemmonians, Numa the Romans, that ancient jon the Athenians, and whereby Deucalion brought all the Greeks universally to religion: which noble and renowned personages made the people devout & affectionate zealously to the gods in prayers, oaths, oracles and prophecies, by the means of hope and fear together, which they imprinced in their hearts: In such sort, that if you travel through the world, well you may find cities without walls, without literature, without kings, not peopled and inhabited, without houses, 〈◊〉, and such as desire no coin, which know not what theatres or public hals of bodily exercise mean: but never was there nor ever shall be any one city seen, without temple, church or chapel, without some god or other, which useth no prayers nor oaths, no prophecies and divinations, no sacrifices either to obtain good blessings or to avert heavy curses and calamities: nay, me thinks a man should sooner find a city built in the air without any plot of ground whereon it is seated, than that any common wealth altogether void of religion & the opinion of the gods should either be first established, or afterwards preserved and maintained in that 〈◊〉. This is it that containeth and holdeth together all human society, this is the foundation, prop and stay of all laws which they subvert and overthrow directly, who goenot round about the bush as they say, nor secretly and by circuit of covert speeches, but openly and even at the first assault set upon the principal point of all, to wit, the opinion of God, and religion: and then afterwards as if they were haunted with the furies, they confess how grievously they have sinned, in shuffling and confounding thus, all rights and laws, and in abolishing the ordinance of justice and policy, to the end that they might obtain no pardon, for to slip and err in opinion, although it be not a part of wise men, yet it is a thing incident to man: but to impute and object those faults unto others which they commit themselves, what should a man call it if he forbeate to use the proper terms & names that it deserveth? For if in writing against 〈◊〉 or Bion the Sophister, he had made mention of laws, of policy, of justice and government of common weal, might not one have said unto him as Electra did to her furious brother Orestes. 
Poor soul, be quiet fear none ill  
Dear hart, in bed see thou be still.  cherishing and keeping warm thy poor body? As for me, let them argue and expostulate with me about these points, who have lived oeconomically or politicly. And such are they all whom Colotes hath reviled and railed upon. Among whom Democritus verily in his writings admonisheth and exhorteth, both to learn military science, as being of all others the greatest, and also to take pains, and endure travels. Whereby men attain to much renown and honour. As for Parmenedes he beawtified and adorned his own native country with most excellent laws which he ordained: in so much as the magistrates every year when they newly enter into their offices, bind the citizens by an oath to observe the slatutes and laws of Parmenides. And Empedocles not only judicially convented and condemned the principal persons of the city wherein he dwelled, for their insolent behaviour and for distracting or embeselling the public treasure, but also delivered all the territory about it from sterility and pestilence, whereunto before time it was subject, by emmuring and stopping up the open passages of a certain mountain, through which the southern wind blue and overspread all the plain country underneath. Socrates after he was condemned to death, when his friends had made means for him to escape, refused to take the benefit thereof, because he would maintain and confirm the authority of the laws; choosing rather to die unjustly, than to save his life by disobeying the laws of his country. Melissus being praetor or captain general of the city wherein he dwelled, defaited the Athenians in a battle at sea. Plato left behind him in writing many good discourses of the laws and of civil government: but much better imprinted he in the hearts and minds of his disciples & familiars, which were the cause that Dion freed Sicily from the tyranny of Dionysius; and Thrace likewise was delivered by the means of Python and Heracledes, who killed king Cotys. Chabrtas and Photion, worthy commanders of the Athenians army, came both out of the school Academia. As for Epicurus he sent as far as into Asia certain persons of purpose to taunt and revile Timocrates, yea and caused the man to be banished out of the king's court, only for that he had offended Metrodorus his brother. And this you may read written in their own books. But Plato sent of those friends which were brought up under him Aristonimus to the Arcadians, for to ordain their common wealth, Phormio to the Elians Menedemus to those of Pyrrha, Eudoxus to the Cnidians, and Aristotle to those of Stagira, who being all his disciples and samiliars, did pen and set down laws. Alexander the Great requested to have from Xenocrates rules and precepts as touching the government of a kingdom. And he who was sent unto Alexander from the Greeks dwelling in Asia & who most of all other set him on a light fire and whetted him on to enterprise the war against the barbarous king of Persia, was Delius an Ephesian, one of Plato's familiars. Zenon also ascholar of Parmenides undertook to kill the tyrant Demylus, and having no good success therein, but missing of his purpose, maintained the doctrine of Parmenides to be pure and fine gold tried in the fire from all base metal, showing by the effect, that a magnanimous man is to fear nothing, but turpitude and dishonour and that they be children and women, or else effeminate and heartless men like women, who are afraid of dolour and pain: for having bitten off his tongue with his own teeth, he spit it in the tyrant's face. But out of the school of Epicurus, and of those who follow his rules and doctrines, I do not ask what tyrant killer there was or valiant man and victorious in feats of arms, what lawgiver, what counsellor, what king or governor of state, either died or suffered torture for the upholding of right and justice: but only which of all these Sages did ever so much as embark and make a voyage by sea in his country's service and for the good thereof? which of them went in embassage or disbursed any money thereabout? or where is there extant upon record any civil action of yours in matter of government. And yet because that Metrodorus went down one day from the city, as far as to the haven Pyraeaeum, & took a journey of five or six miles to aid Mythra the Syrian one of the king of Persias train and court, who had been arrested and taken prisoner, he wrote unto all the friends that he had in the world, of this exploit of his: and this doughty voyage Epicurus hath magnified & exalted in many of his letters. What a do would they have made then, if they had done such an act as Aristotle did who re-edified the city of his nativity Stagira, which had been destroyed by king Philip? or as Theophrastus, who twice delivered and freed his native city being held and oppressed by tyrants? Should not think you the the river Nilus have sooner given over to bear the popyr reed, than they been weary of describing their brave deeds. And is not this a grievous matter and a great indignity, that of so many sects of Philosophers that have been, they only in manner enjoy the good things and benefits that are in cities, without contributing any thing of their own unto them? There are not any Poet's Tragedians or Comedians, but they have endeavoured to do or say always some good thing or other for the defence of laws and policy: but these here, if peradventure they write aught, write of policy, that we should not intermeddle at all in the civil government of state: of Rhetoric, that we should not plead any causes eloquently at the bar: of Royalty, that we should avoid the conversing and living in kings courts: neither do they name at any time those great persons who manage affairs of common weal, but by way of mockery for to debase and abolish their glory. As for example of Epaminondas they say that he had indeed some good thing only in name and word, but the same was but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, as little as might be, for that is the very term that it pleaseth them to use. Moreover they name him heart of iron demanding why he marched up and down through out all Peloponnesus with his army as he did, and sat not rather quiet at home in his own house with a dainty chaplet upon his head given wholly to make good cheer, and to sleep with his belly full in a whole skin. But me thinks I should not for any thing omit in this place to rehearse what Metrodorus hath written in his book of philosophy, wherein abjuring all dealing in government of state, he saith thus, Some there be of these wisemen (quoth he) who being full of vanity and arrogancy, had so deep an insight into the business thereof, that in treating of the rules of good life and of virtue they suffer themselves to be carried away with the very same desires that Lycurgus and 〈◊〉 fell into. What? was this vanity indeed and the abundance of vanity and pride, to set the city of Athens free, to reduce Sparta to good policy, and the government of wholesome laws, that young men should do nothing licentiously nor get children upon courtesans and harlots? and that riches, wanton delicacy, intemperance, looseness & dissolution should bear no sway nor have the command in cities, but law only and justice; for these were the desires of Solon. And thus Metrodorus by way of scorn and contumelious reproach addeth thus much more for a conclusion to the rest, And therefore (quoth he) it is well beseeming a gentleman, to laugh a good and right heartily at all other men, but especially at these Solones and Lycurgi. But verily such an one were not a gentleman Metrodorus, nor well borne, but servile, base, unruly and dissolute and who deserved to be scourged not with the whip which is for free borne persons, but with that whip Astragalote, where with the manner was to whip and chastise those gelded sacrificers called Galley when they did amiss in the ceremonies and sacrifices of Cylote the great mother of the gods. Now, that they warred not against the lawgivers but the very laws themselves, a man may hear and learn of Epicurus; for in his questions he demandeth of himself, whether a wise man being assured that no man ever should know, would do and commit any thing that the law forbiddeth? and he maketh an answer which is not full nor an open, plain and simple affirmation, saying, do it I will, marry confess it and be known thereof I will not. Again, writing as I suppose unto Idomeneus, he admonisheth him not to subject and enthrall his life unto laws and the opinions and reputations of men: unless it be in this regard only that otherwise there is prepared odious whipping cheer and that near at hand. If then it be so, that they who abolish laws, governments and policies, do withal subvert and overthrow man's life: if Metrodorus and Epicurus do no less, withdrawing and averting their friends and followers from dealing in public affairs, and spitefully hating those who do meddle therein, miscalling and railing at the chief and wisest lawgivers that ever were, yea and willing them to contemn the laws, so that they keep themselves out of the fear of the whip and danger of punishment, I cannot see that Colotes hath in any thing so much belied others, and raised false imputations against them, as he hath indeed and truly accused the doctrine and opinions of Epicurus.    

OF LOVE.  

The Summarie.  
THis Dialogue is more dangerous to be read by young men than any other Treatise of Plutarch, for that there be certain glances here and there against honest marriage, to uphold indirectly and under hana, the cursed and 〈◊〉 filthiness covertly couched under the name of the Love of young boys. But minds guarded and armed with true chastity and the fear of God, may see evidently in this discourse the miserable estate of the world, in that there be found patrons and advocates of so detestable a cause; such I mean as in this book are brought in under the persons of Protogenes and Pisias. Mean while they may perceive likewise in the combot of matrimonial love against unnatural Poederastie not to be named, that honesty hath always means sufficient to defend itself for being vanquished, yea and in the end to go away with the victory. Now this Treatise may be comprised in four principal points: of which, the first (after a brief Preface wherein Autobulus being requested to rehearse unto his companions certain reports which before time he had heard Plutarch his father to deliver as touching Love, entereth into the discourse) containeth the history of Ismenodora, enamoured upon a young man named Bacchon; whereupon arose some difference and dispute: of which, Plutarch and those of his company were chosen arbitratours. Thereupon Protogenes seconded by Pisias, (and this is the second point) setting himself against Ismenodora, disgraceth and discrediteth the whole sex of woman kind, and praiseth openly enough the love of males. But Daphnaeus answereth them so fully home and pertinently to the purpose, that he discovereth and detecteth all their filthiness, and confuteth them as be hoovefull it was, showing the commodities and true pleasure of conjugal love. In this defence, assisted he is by Plutarch, who proveth that neither the great wealth, nor the forward affection of a woman to a man, causeth the marriage with her to be culpable or worthy to be blamed, by diverse examples declaring that many women even of base condition, have been the occasion of great evils and calamities. But as he was minded to continue this discourse, news came how Bacchon was caught up and brought into the house of Ismenodora, which made Protogenes and Pisias to dislodge; insomuch as their departure gave entry into the third and principal point concerning Love what it is? what be the parts, the causes, the sundry effects and fruits thereof, admirable in all sorts of persons, in altering them so as they become quite changed and others than they were before: which is confirmed by many notable examples and similitudes. In the last point Plutarch discourseth upon this argument, and that by the Philosophy of Plato and the Egyptians, conferring the same with the doctrine of other Philosophers and Poets. Then having expressly and flatly condemned Paederastie, as a most 〈◊〉 and abominable thing, and adjoined certain excellent advertisements for the entertening of love in wedlock, between husband and wife, of which he relateth one proper example, his speech endeth by occasion of a messenger who came in place, and drew them all away to the wedding of Ismenodora and Bacchon, beforesaid.   

OF LOVE.  FLAVIANUS. 
IT was at Helicon (o Autobulus) was it not, that those discourses were held as touching Love, which you purpose to relate unto us at this present, upon our request and entreaty, whether it be that you have put them down in writing, or bear them well in remembrance, considering that you have so often required and demanded them of your father?  AUTOEULUS. 
Yes verily, in Helicon it was (o Flavianus) among the Muses, at what time as the Thespians solemnised the feast of Cupid: for they celebrate certain games of prize every five years, in the honour of Love, as well as of the Muses, and that with great pomp and magnificence.  FLAVIANUS. 
And wot you what it is that we all here that are come to hear you, will request at your hands?  AUTOBULUS. 
No verily, but I shall know it when you have told me.  FLAVIANUS. 
Mary this it is: That you would now in this rehearsal of yours, lay aside all by-matters and needless preambles, as touching the descriptions of fair meadows, pleasant shades; of the crawling and winding Ivy; of rils issuing from fountains running round about; and such like common places, that many love to insert, desirous to counterfeit and imitate the description of the river Ilissus, of the Chast-tree, and the fine green grass and pretty herbs growing daintily upon the ground, rising up alittle with a gentle assent, and all after the example of Plato in the beginning of his Dialogue Phaedrus, with more curiosity iwis and affectation, than grace and elegancy.  AUTOBULUS. 
What needs this narration of ours (my good friend Flavianus) any such Prooeme or 〈◊〉? for the occasion from whence arose and proceeded these discourses, requireth only an affectionate audience, and calleth for a convenient place as it were a stage and scaffold, for to relate the action: for otherwise, of all things else requisite in a Comedy or Interlude, there wanteth nothing: only let us make our prayers unto the Muse's Mother, Lady Memory, for to be propice unto us, and to vouchsafe her assistance, that we may not miss, but deliver the whole narration. My father long time before I was borne, having newly espoused my mother, by occasion of a certain difference and variance that fell out between his parents and hers, took a journey to Thespiae, with a full purpose to sacrifice unto Cupid the god of Love; and to the feast he had up with him my mother also, for that 〈◊〉 principally appertained unto her to perform both the prayer & the sacrifice. So there accompanied him from his house, certain of his most familiar friends. Now when he was come to Thespiae, he found Daphnaeus the son of Archidamus, and Lysander who was in love with Simons daughter, a man who of all her wooers was best welcome unto her and most accepted: Soclarus also the son of Aristion, who was come from Tithora: there was beside, Protogenes of Tarsos, and Zeuxippus the Lacedaemonian, both of them his old friends and good hosts, who had given him kind entertainment: and my father said moreover, that there were many of the best men in 〈◊〉 there, who were of his acquaintance. Thus as it should seem, they abode for two or three days in the city, entertaining one another gently at their leisure with discourses of learning, one while in the common impaled park of exercises, where they youth used to wrestle, and otherwhiles in the theatres and Shew-places, keeping company together. But afterwards, for to avoid the troublesome contentions of Minstrels and Musicians, where it appeared that all would go by favour, such labouring there was before hand for voices, they dislodged from thence for the most part of them, as out of an enemy's country, and retired themselves to Helicon, and there sojourned and lodged among the Muses: where, the morrow morning after they were thither come, arrived and repaired unto them Anthemion and Pisias, two noble gentlemen, allied both and affectionate unto Barchon, surnamed The Fair, and at some variance one with another by reason of I wot not what jealousy, in regard of the affection they bore unto him. For there was in the city of Thespiae, a certain Dame named Ismenodora, descended of a noble house and rich withal: yea and of wise and honest carriage beside in all her life: for continued she had no small time in widowhood without blame, reproach or touch, notwithstanding she was young, and therewith beautiful.  
This fresh widow whiles she treated of a marriage to be made between Bacchon a young gentleman, a neighbour's child, whose mother was a very familiar friend of hers; a certain young maiden a kinswoman of her own, by often talking with him, and frequenting his company much, fell herself in some fancy with the young man: Thus both hearing and speaking much good and many kind speeches of him, and seeing beside a number of other gentlemen and persons of good worth to be enamoured upon him; by little and little she also fell to be in hot love with the youth: howbeit, with a full intention and resolution to do nothing that should be dishonest, or unbeseeming her place, parentage, & reputation, but to be wedded unto Bacchon lawfully in the open sight of the world, and so to live with him in the estate of wedlock. As the thing itself seemed at the first very strange, so the mother of the young man of one side doubted and suspected the greatness of her state, and the nobility & magnificence of her house & lineage, as not meet & correspondent to his condition, for to be a lover or to be matched there; and on the other side, some of his companions who used to ride forth a hunting with him, considering that the young age of Bacchon was not answerable to the years of Ismenodora, buzzed many doubts in his head, and frighted him from her what they could, saying: That she might be his mother, and that one of her age was not for him; and thus by their jesting and scoffing, they hindered the marriage more, than they who laboured in good earnest to break it: for he began to enter into himself, and considering that he was yet a beardless youth, and scarcely undergrowen, he was abashed and ashamed to marry a widow. Howbeit in the end, shaking off all others, he referred himself to Anthemion and Pisias, for to tell him their minds upon the point, and to advise him for his best: Now was Anthemion his cousin german, one of good years, and elder than himself far; and Pisias of all those that made love unto him, most austere: and therefore he both withstood the marriage, and also checked Anthemion, as one who abandoned and betrayed the young man unto Ismenodora. chose, Anthemion charged Pisias and said he did not well: who being otherwise an honest man, yet herein imitated lewd lovers, for that he went about to put his friend beside a good bargain, who now might be sped with so great a marriage, out offo worshipful an house, and wealthy beside; to the end that he might have the pleasure to see him a long time stripped naked in the wrestling place, fresh still, and smooth, and not having touched a woman. But because they should not by arguing thus one against another, grow by little and little into heat of choler, they chose for umpiers and judges of this their controversy, my father and those who were of his company; and thither they came: assistant also there were unto them, other of their friends, Daphnaeus to the one, and Protogenes to the other, as if they had been provided of set purpose to plead a cause: As for Protogenes who sided with Pisias, he inveighed verily with open mouth against dame Ismenodora: whereupon Daphnaeus: O Hercules (quoth he) what are we not to expect, and what thing in the world may not happen; in case it be so that Protogenes is ready here to give defiance and make war against love, who all his life both in earnest and in game, hath been wholly in love, and all for love, which hath caused him to forget his book, and to forget his natural country, not as Laius did, who was but five days journey distant: for that love of his was slow and heavy, and kept still upon the land: whereas your Cupid, Protogenes 
With his light wings displayed and spread,  
Hath over seafull swiftly fled  from out of Cilicia to Athens, to see fair boys, and to converse and go up and down with them (for to say a truth, the chief cause why Protogenes made a voyage out of his own country, and became a traveller, was at the first this and no other) here at the company took up a laughter, and Protogenes: Think you (quoth he) that I war not against love, and not rather stand in the defence of love against lascivious wantonness, and violent intemperance, which by most shameful acts and filthy passions, would perforce challenge and break into the fairest, most honest, and venerable names that be? Why (quoth Daphnaeus then) do you term marriage and the secret of marriage, to wit, the lawful conjunction of man and wife, most vile and dishonest actions, than which there can be no knot nor link in the world more sacred and holy? This bond in truth of wedlock (quoth Protogenes) as it is necessary for generation, is by good right praised by Politicians and lawgivers, who recommend the same highly unto the people and common multitude: but to speak of true love indeed, there is no jot or part thereof in the society and fellowship of women: neither do I think that you and such as yourselves, whose affections stand to wives or maidens, do love them no more than a fly loveth milk, or a be the honey comb; as caters and cooks who keep fowls in mue, and feed calves and other such beasts fat in dark places, and yet for all that they love them not. But like as nature leadeth and conducteth our appetite moderately, and as much as is sufficient to bread and other viands; but the excess thereof, which maketh the natural appetite to be a vicious passion, is called gourmandise, and pampering of the flesh: even so there is naturally in men and women both a desire to enjoy the mutual pleasure one of another: whereas the impetuous lust which cometh with a kind of force and violence, so as it hardly can be held in, is not fitly called love, neither deserveth it that name: For love if it seize upon a young, kind, and gentle heart, endeth by amity in virtue: whereas of these affections and lusts afterwomen, if they have success and speed never so well, there followeth in the end the fruit of some pleasure, the fruition and enjoying of youth and a beautiful body, and that is all. And thus much testified Aristippus, who when one went about to make him have a distaste and mislike of Lais the courtesan, saying, that she loved him not, made this answer: I suppose (quoth he) that neither good wine, nor delicate fish loveth me, but yet (quoth he) I take pleasure and delight in drinking the one, and eating the other. For surely the end of desire and appetite, is pleasure and the fruition of it. But love if it have once lost the hope and expectation of amity and kindness, will not continue nor cherish and make much for beauty sake, that which is irksome and odious, be it neverso gallant and in the flower and prime of age, unless it bring forth and yield such fruit which is familiar unto it, even a nature disposed to amity and virtue. And therefore it is that you may hear some husbaud in a comedy, speaking tragically thus unto his wife: 
Thou hatest me: and I again, thine hatred and disdain  
Will easily bear: and this abuse turn to my proper gain.  For surely, more amorous than this man is not he, who not for lucre and profit, but for the fleshly pleasure of Venus, endureth a cursed, shrewd and froward wife, in whom there is no good nature nor kind affection. After which manner Philippides the Comical Poet scoffed at the Orator Stratocles and mocked him in these verses: 
She winds from thee, she turns away unkind,  
Hardly thou canst once kiss her head behind.  But if we must needs call this passion Love, yet surely it shall be but an effeminate and bastard love, sending us into women's chambers and cabinets as it were to Cynosarges at Athens, where no other youths do exercise but misbegotten bastards: or rather, like as they say, there is one kind of gentle falcons or royal eagles bred in the mountains, which Homer calleth the Black eagle for game: whereas other kinds there be of bastard hawks, which about pools and meres catch fish or seize upon heavy winged birds and slow of flight; which many times wanting their prey, make a piteous noise and lamentable cry for very hunger and famine: even so the true and natural love is that of young boys, which sparkleth not with the ardent heat of concupiscence, as Anacreon saith the other of maidens and virgins doth: it is not besmered with sweet ointments, nor tricked up and trimmed, but plain and simple always a man shall see it, without any enticing allurements in the Philosopher's schools, or about public parks of exercise and wrestling places, where it hunteth kindly and with a very quick and piercingeie after none but young striplings and springals, exciting and encouraging earnestly unto virtue, as many as are meet and worthy to have pains taken with them: whereas the other delicate and effeminate love, that keepeth home and stirreth not out of doors, but keepeth continually in women's laps, under canapies or within curtains in women's beds and soft pallets, seeking always after dainty delights, and pampered up with unmanly pleasures, wherein there is no reciprocal amity, nor heavenly ravishment of the spirit, is worthy to be rejected and chased far away: like as Solon banished it out of his common wealth, when he expressly forbade all slaves and those of servile condition to love boys or to be anointed in the open air without the baines, but he debarred them not from the company of women. For amity is an honest, civil and laudable thing: but fleshly pleasure, base, vile, and illiberal. And therefore that a servile slave should make love to a sweet youth, it is neither decent, civil nor commendable: for this is no carnal love nor hurtful any way, as that other is of women. Protogenes would have continued his speech and said more, but Daphnaeus interrupting him: Now surely, you have done it very well (quoth he) and alleged Solon trimly for the purpose; and we must belike, take him for the judge of a true lover, and the rule to go by, especially when he saith: 
Thoushalt love boys, till lovely down upon their face doth spring,  
Catching at mouth their pleasant breath, and soft thighs cherishing.  Adjoine also unto Solon (if you think good) the Poet Aeschylus, whereas he saith: 
Unthankful man, unkind thou art  
For kisses sweet which thou hast found,  
Regarding not of thy dear hart,  
The thighs so straight and buttocks round.  Here are proper judges indeed of love. Others I wot well there be, who laugh at them, because they would have lovers like to sacrificers, bowel-priers and soothsayers, to cast an eye to the haunches and the loins: but I for my part, gather from hence a very good and forcible argument in the behalf of women: for if the company with males that is against kind, neither taketh away nor doth prejudice the amity and good will of lovers, far more probable it is that the love to women which is according to nature, is performed by a kind of obsequious favour, and endeth in amity: for the voluntary submission of the female to the male, was by our ancestors in old time, o Protogenes, termed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Grace or Favour: which is the reason that Pindarus saith Vulcan was borne of Juno 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, without the Graces. And Sapph the Poetresse speaking to a young girl not as yet for her tender years marriageable: 
Too young (my child) you seem to me,  
Withouten Grace also to be.  And Hercules was asked the question of one in these terms: 
What did you force the maiden by compulsion,  
Or win her grace and favour with persuasion.  whereas the submission in this kind of males to males, if it be against their will, is named violence and plain rape: but if it be voluntary, and that upon an effeminate weakness they be so far beside their right wits as to yield themselves to be ridden as it were and covered, for those be Plato's words, in manner of four footed beasts; I say such love is altogether without Grace, without decency, most unseemly, filthy and abominable. And therefore I suppose verily, that Solon powered out those verses when he was a lusty yoonker, rank of blood and full of natural seed, as Plato saith: for when he was well stepped in years he sung in another tune and wrote thus: 
The sports of VENUS Lady bright,  
And BACCHUS now are my delight:  
In MUSIC eke I pleasure take:  
For why? these three men joys do make.  when he had retired and withdrawn his life as it were out of a troublesome sea and tempestuous storm of Paederafltum, into the quiet calm of lawful marriage and study of Philosophy.  
Now if we will consider better, & look nearer into the truth, the passion of Love (o Protogenes) be it in one sex or another, is all one & the same: but if upon a froward and contentious humour you will needs divide and distinguish them, you shall find that this love of boys doth not contain itself within compass, but as one late borne and out of the seasonable time of age and course of this life, a very bastard and begotten secretly in darkness, it would wrongfully drive out the true legitimate natural love, which is more ancient. For it was but yesterday or two days ago as one would say my good friend, and namely, since young lads began in Greece to disrobe & turn themselves naked out of their clothes, for the exercise of their bodies, that it crept into these impaled places, where youths prepared themselves for to wrestle: & there closely settling itself, lodged and was installed; where by little and little when the wings were full grown, it became so insolent, that it could not be held in, but offer injury and outrage to that nuptial love, which is a coadjutresse with nature, to immortalize mankind, in kindling it immediately again by generation according as the same is extinguished and put out by death. But this Protogenes here would seem to deny that the said love tendeth to any pleasure: The truth is this, he is ashamed to confess, and afraid to avow so much. But there must needs be devised some pretty reason, and cleanly excuse, for the touching, feeling, and handling of these fair young boys. Well the pretence and colour to cover all, is amity and virtue. He bestreweth himself with dust against he should wrestle, he doth bath and wash in cold water, he knitteth & bendeth his brows full gravely, he giveth it out and maketh his boast that he studieth Philosophy, that he is chaste and continent: and all this is abroad and before folk, for fear of the laws; but when the night comes, and that every man is retired to his rest, 
Sweet is the fruit that stolen is secretly,  
And gathered close, while keeper is not by.  And if as Protogenes saith this Paederastium aimeth not at carnal conjunction, how then can it be love, if Venus be not there? considering that of all other gods and goddesses, her alone Cupid is destined and devoted to serve and attend upon, having neither honour, power nor authority, no farther than she will impart and bestow upon him. And if you say unto me, that there may be some love without Venus, like as there is drunkenness without wine, for a man may drink of a certain decoction of figs, or barley made into malt, & be drunk therewith: I answer you, that as this is but a flatulent exagitation, so the motion of such love is fruitless, unperfect, bringing loathsome satiety, and wearisome fullness soon. Whiles Daphnaeus thus spoke, it appeared evidently, that Pisias found himself galled, and was 〈◊〉 against him. Therefore so soon as he had made an end of his speech, after some little pause: O Hercules (quoth he) what intolerable impudence and inconsiderate rashness is this, that men should confess and avow, that like dogs they be tied to women by their natural parts, and so chase and banish this god Cupid, out of the public places of exercise, out of the open galleries and walks; from the pure conversation in open air, sunshine, and before the whole world for to be ranged and brought, to little spades, hatchets, drogues, medicines, charms and sorceries of these wanton and lascivious women? For to speak of chaste and honest dames, I say, it is not beseeming that they should either love or be loved. And hereat verily my father said, that himself took Protogcnes by the hand, reciting this verse out of the Poet: 
Such words as these no doubt will make  
The Argives, arms anon to take.  For surely Pisias through his insolency, causeth us to side with Daphnaeus, and undertake to maintain his part, seeing he so far exceedeth the bonds of all reason, as to bring into marriage and wedlock, a society without love, and void of that divine instinct of amity, and inspired from heaven above: which we see how we have enough to do for to maintain and hold with all the yokes, bits and bridles, of fear and shame, if this hearty affection and grace be away. Then Pisias, I pass little (quoth he) for all these words: and as for Daphnaeus me thinks I see how it fareth with him, as it doth with a piece of brass, which melteth not so much by force of fire, as it doth by another piece of brass melted, if a man power the same upon it, for then anon it will be liquefied and run together with it. And even so, the beauty of Lysandra doth not so greatly affect and trouble him, as this that conversing along time with one that is inflamed and full of fire, by touching her he is himself all fire: and evident it is, that unless he retire with speed unto us, he will melt and 〈◊〉 to liquor: But I perceive (quoth he) that I do that which Anthemion should most desire and wish, namely, that I am offensive both to the judges and to myself; wherefore I will hold my peace & say no more: You say true indeed (quoth Anthemion) you do me a great pleasure, for you should at the very first have said somewhat to the point, and upon the particular matter now in question: I say therefore (quoth Pisias, but I protest before hand, & that aloud, that for mine own part I will be no hindrance, but that every woman may have her lover) that this young man Bacchon had need to take heed and beware of the riches and wealth of Ismenodora; otherwise if we match him with such an house of so great state and magnificence, we shall ere we be aware consume him to nothing, like a piece of tin among brass. For a great matter I may tell you it were, if being so young as he is, and espousing a wife of mean and simple degree, he should in such a mixture hold his own, and keep the predominance as wine over water. But we may see that this gentlewoman heerel seemeth already to look for to command and be his master: otherwise she would never have refused and rejected so many husbands as she hath done of such reputation, so nobly descended, and so wealthy withal, for to woe and solicit as she doth a very boy new crept out of the shell, no better than a page but the other day, one iwis that had more need to go to school still, and be under a tutor and governor. And hereupon it is, that those husbands who are of the wiser sort, do of themselves cast away, or else clip and cut the wings of their wives, that is to say, their goods and riches, which cause them to be proud and insolent, sumptuous and wasteful, full of shrewdness, vain, light, and foolish; and with these wings they mount many times, take their flight and away; or if they stay at home, better it were for a man to be bound with fetters of gold, as the manner is to encheine prisoners in Aethiopia, than to be tied with the wealth and riches of his wife: But he hath said nothing as yet (quoth Protogenes) hereof, nor once touched this string, namely, how in admitting this marriage, we shall in manner invert and that ridiculously and with absurdity enough the sentence of Hesiodus who giveth counsel in these words: 
At thirty years (not much above nor under) of thine age,  
Wed thou a wife: this is the time, most meet for marriage:  
At fourteen years a damosel doth signs of ripeness show,  
At fifteen would she married be, and her bedfellow know.  And we here clean contrary almost, will match a young man before he be ready for marriage, unto a woman as old again well near as himself, as if one should set dates or figs upon old stocks, to make them ripe. And why not? some one will haply say; for she is enamoured upon him; she burns & is ready to die for love of him, I marvel much who hinders her that she goeth not to his house in a mask, that she sings not lamentable ditties at his door, & amorous plaints, that she adorneth not his images with garlands and chaplets of flowers, and that she entereth not into combat with her corrivals, and win him from them all by fight and feats of activity: for these be the casts of lovers; let her knit her brows; let her forbear to live bravely and daintily, putting on the countenance and habit meet for this passion: but if she be modest, shamefaced, sober, and honest, as that she is abashed so to do; let her sit womanly and decently as it becometh, at home in her house, expecting her lovers and wooers, to come and court her there. For such a woman as doth not dissemble, but bewrayeth openly that she is in love, a man would avoid and detest, so far would he be from taking her to be his wife, or laying for the ground of his marriage such shameless incontinence. Now when Protogenes had made an end of his speech, and paused a while: See you not o Anthemion (quoth Daphnaeus) how they make this a common cause again and matter of disputation, enforcing us to speak still of nuptial love, who deny not ourselves to be the maintainers thereof, nor avoid to enter into the dance as they say, and to show ourselves to be the champions of it? Yes mary do I (quoth Anthemion) & I pray you take upon you to defend at large this love: and withal let us have your helping hand about this point, as touching riches, which Pisias urgeth especially, and wherewith he seemeth to affright us more than with any thing else: What can we do less quoth my father then; for were it not a reproach offered unto woman kind, and would it not greatly redound to their discredit and blame, in case we would reject and cast off Ismenodora, for her love and her wealth sake? But she is brave, she is sumptuous, costly, and bearing a great port: What matters that, so long as she is fair, beautiful, and young? But she is come of a noble house and highly descended? What harm of that if she live in good name, and be of good reputation? for it is not necessary that wives to approve their honesty and wisdom, should be sour, austere, cursed & shrewd: for chaste dames and sober matrons, do indeed detest bitterness, as an odious thing and intolerable. And yet some there be that call them furies, and say they be cursed shrews unto their husbands, when they be modest, wise, discreet, and honest. Were it not best therefore to espouse some odd Abrotonon out of Thracia, bought in open market: or some Bacchis, a Milesian 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, whose open sale is a pawn for assurance, that she will be true and obedient to her husband, as some interpret it.  passing in exchange for raw hides, and prized no dearer: And yet we know there be many men, whom such women as these hold most shamefully under their girdles, and rule as they list: For even minstrel wenches of Samos, and such as professed dancing, as Aristonica, Oenanthe, with her tabor and pipe & Agathocleia, have overtopped kings and princes, yea trodden their crowns and diadems under foot: As for Semiramis a Syrian, she was at first no better than a poor wench, servant and concubine to one of the great king Ninus slaves: but after that the king himself had set his 〈◊〉 and fancy upon her, he was so devoted unto her, & she again so imperiously ruled over him, and with such contempt, that she was so bold to require at his hands, that he would permit her to sit one day upon her royal throne, under the cloth of estate, with the diadem about her head, and so to give audience and dispatch the affairs of the kingdom in stead of him; which when Ninus had granted, & given express charge withal, that all his subjects whatsoever should yield their loyal obedience to her as to his own person, yea and perform whatsoever she ordained and decreed: she carried herself with great moderation in her first commandments, to make trial of the pensioners and guard about her; and when she saw that they gainsaid her in nothing, but were very diligent and serviceable; she commanded them to arrest and apprehend the body of Ninus the king, then to bind him fast, and finally to do him to death. All which when they had fully executed, she reigned indeed, & for a long time in great state and magnificence ruled all Asia. And was not Belestie I pray you a Barbarian woman, bought up even in the very market among other slaves? and yet those of Alexandria have certain temples, chapels & altars, which king Ptolomaeus who was enamoured upon her, caused to be entitled by the name of Venus Belestie? And Phryne the famous courtensan, who both here and also at Delphos is shrined in the same temple and chapel with Cupid, whose statue all of beaten gold standeth among those of kings and queens; by what great dowry was it that she had all her lovers in such subjection under her? But like as these persons through their effeminate softness and pusillanimity, became ere they were aware a very prey and pillage to such women: so on the other side, we find others of base degree and poor condition, who being joined in marriage to noble & rich wives, were not utterly overthrown with such matches, nor struck sail or abated aught of their generosity and high spirit, but lived always loved and honoured by those wives, yea and were masters over them to their dying day. But he that rangeth and reduceth his wife into a narrow compass and low estate, as if one bent a ring to the slenderness of his finger, for fear it should drop off, resembleth those for all the world, who clip and shave the manes of their mares, and pluck the hair off their tails, and then drive them to water, into some river or pool: for it is said, that when they see themselves in the water so ill favouredly shorn and curtailed, they let fall their courage, stomach, and haughty spirit, so as they suffer themselves afterward to be covered by asses. And therefore like as to prefer the riches of a woman above her virtue, or to make choice thereof before nobility of birth were base and illiberal: so to reject wealth joigned with virtue and noble parentage is mere folly. King Antigonus writing unto a captain of his whom he put with a garrison into the fortress Munichia in Athens, the which he fortified with all diligence possible, commanded him not only to make the collar and chain strong, but the dog also weak and lean: giving him thereby to understand, that he should empoverish the Athenians, and take from them all means whereby they might rebel or rise against him. But a man who hath taken to wife a rich and beautiful woman, ought not to make her either poor, or foul and ill-favoured; but rather by his discretion, good government & wisdom, and by making semblance that he is ravished with no admiration of any thing that she hath, to bear himself equal unto her and in no wise subject, giving by his good demeanour and carriage a counterpeise to the balance for to hold her firm, or a weight rather to make her incline and bend that way which is good for them both. Now to return unto Ismenodora, her years are meet for marriage, and her person fit for breeding and bearing children, and I hear say the woman is in the very flower and best of her time; for elder she is not (and with that he smiled upon Pisias) than any of her suitors and corrivals, neither hath she any grey hairs, as some of those that be affectionate to Bacchon and follow him. Now if they think themselves of a meet age to converse familiarly with him, what should hinder her but she should affect and fancy the young man's person as well (if not better) as any young maiden whatsoever. And verily these young folk are otherwhiles hard to be matched, united and concorporated together, and much a do there is but by long continuance of time, to cast aside and shake off wantonness and wildness: for at the first there is many a soul day and blustering tempest, and 〈◊〉 will they abide the yoke and draw together: but especially if there be any inkling or jealousy of other loves abroad, which like unto winds when the pilot is away do trouble and disquiet the wedlock of such young persons as neither be willing to obey, nor have the skill to command. If it be so then, that a nurse can rule her little babe sucking at her pap; a schoolmaster the boy that is his scholar; a master of exercises, the young springal; a lover, the youth whom he loveth; the law and the captain, a man grown and him that is able to bear arms; insomuch as there is no person of what age soever without government, and at his own liberty to do what he list: what absurdity is it if a wife that hath wit and discretion, and is beside the elder govern and direct the life of a young man her husband? being as she is profitable unto him in regard she is the wiser, and beside mild and gentle in her government, for that she loveth him? Over and beside, to conclude, we all that are Boeotians (quoth he) ought both to honour Hercules, and also not to be offended with the marriage of those who are in years unequal, knowing as we do that he gave his own wife Megara being thirty three years old, in marriage to jolaus being then but sixteen years of age. As these words passed to and fro, there came (as my father made report) one of 〈◊〉 companions galloping hard one horseback from out of the city bringing news of a very strange and wonderful occurrent. For Ismenodora, persuading herself (as probable it was) that Bacchon misliked not this marriage in his heart but that he held off, for the respect and reverence that he carried unto those who seemed to divert him from it, resolved, not to give over her suit, nor to cast off the young men. Whereupon she sent for such of her friends, as were lusty young and adventurous gallants, and withal her favourites those that wished well to her love: certain women also who were inward with her and most trusty: and when she had assembled them all together in her house and communicated her mind unto them, she waited the very hour, when as Bacchon was wont ordinarily to pass by her doors, going well and orderly appointed forth to the public place of wrestling. Now when he approached near unto her house all enhuiled and anointed as he was, accompanied only with two or three persons, Ismenodora herself stepped forth of doors, crossed the way upon him and only touched the mandilion that he had about him: which signal being given, all at once her friends leapt forth & fair caught up this fair youth in his mandilion and doublet as he was, and gently carried him into her house, and immediately shut the doors fast locked. No sooner had they gotten him within doors, but the women in the house turning him out of his upper mandilion aforesaid, put upon him a fair wedding rob, & with all the servants of the house ran up and down, and adorned with ivy and olive branches the doors and gates not only of Ismenodora but also of Bacchons' house: and with that a minstrel wench also passed along through the street piping and singing a wedding song. As for the citizens of Thespiae and the strangers who were there at that time, some of them took up a laughter, others being angry and offended hereat, incited the masters and governors of the public exercises (who indeed have great authority over the youth and carry a vigilant eye unto them, for to look nearly unto all their behaviours) whereupon they made no account at all of the present exercises then in hand, but leaving the theatre, to the door they came of Ismenodora, where they fell into hot reasoning and debating of the matter one against another. Now when the said friend of Pisias was come in all haste riding upon the spur with this news, as if he had brought some great tidings out of the camp in time of war, he had no sooner uttered, panting for want of wind and in manner breathless, these words, Ismenodora hath ravished Bacchon, but Zeuxippus, as my father told the tale, laughed heartily, and out of Euripides (as he was one who always loved to read that Poet) pronounced this sentence: 
Well done fair dame: you having wealth at will,  
Are worldly wise, your mind thus to fulfil.  But Pisias, rising up in great choler, cried out, O the will of God, what will be the end of this licentious liberty, which thus overthroweth our city? seeing how all the world is grown already to this pass, that through our unbrideled audaciousness, we do what we list, and pass for no laws? but why say I laws, for haply it is but a ridiculous thing to take indignation for the transgressing of civil law and right: for even the very law of nature is violated by the insolent rashness of women. Was there ever the like example seen in the very isle Lemnos? Let us be gone (quoth he) go we and quit from hence forth the wrestling schools, and public place of exercises, the common hall of justice, and the senate house, and commit all to women, if the city be so inervate as to put up such an indignity. So Pisias broke company and departed in these terms, and Protogenes followed after him, partly as angry as he, and in part appeasing & mitigating his mood a little. Then Anthemion: To say a truth (quoth he) this was an audacious part of hers, and savouring somewhat of the enterprise of those Lemnian wives in old time, and no marvel; for we ourselves know that the woman was exceeding amorous. Hereat Soclarus: Why think you (quoth he) that this was a ravishment indeed, and plain force, and not rather a subtle devise and stratagem, as it were of a young man himself, who hath wit at will, to colour and excuse himself, in that escaping out of the arms of his other lovers, he is fallen into the hands of a fair, young and wealthy Lady. Never say so (quoth Anthemion) nor entertain such an opinion of Bacchon: for say that he were not of a simple nature (as he is) and plain in all his dealings, yet would he never have concealed so much from me, considering that he hath made me privy to all his secrets, and knoweth full well that in these matters I was of all other most ready to second and set forward the suit of Ismenodora. But a hard matter it is to withstand not anger as Heraclitus saith, but love: for whatsoever it be that it would have, compass the same it will, though it be with the peril of life, though it cost both goods and reputation. For setting this thing aside, was there ever in all our city, a woman more wise, sober and modest than Ismenodora? when was there ever heard abroad of her, any evil report, and when went there so much as a light suspicion of any unhonest act out of that house? Certes we must think and say, that she seems to have been surprised with some divine instinct supernatural and above human reason. Then laughed Pemptides: You say even true (quoth he) there is a certain great malady of the body, which thereupon they call sacred: is there any marvel then that the greatest and most furious passion of the mind some do term sacred and divine? But it seems unto me, that it fares with you here, as I saw it did sometime with two neighbours in Egypt, who argued & debated one with another upon this point, that whereas there was presented before them in the way as they went, a serpent creeping on the ground, they were resolved both of them, that it presaged good & was a lucky sign; but either of them took & challenged it to himself: for even so when I see that some of you draw love into men's chambers, and others into women's cabinets, as a divine and singular good thing, I nothing wonder thereat, considering that this passion is grown to such power and is so highly honoured, that even those who ought to clip the wings thereof, and chase it from them of all sides, those be they that magnify and 〈◊〉 it most. And verily hitherto have I held my peace as touching this matter in question, for that I saw the debate and controversy was about a private cause rather than any public matter: but now that I see how Pisias is departed, I would gladly hear and know of you, whereat they aimed and tended, who first affirmed that Love was a God? When Pemptides had propounded this question, as my father addressed himself and began to make his answer, there came another messenger in place, whom Ismenodora had sent from the city, for to bring Anthemion with him; for that the trouble and tumult in manner of a sedition grew more and more within the town, by occasion that the two masters of the public exercises, were at some difference one with another, whiles the one was of this mind that Bacchon was to be redemanded and delivered, the other again thought that they were to deal no farther in the matter. So Anthemion arose incontinently and went his way with all speed and diligence possible: and then my father calling to Pemptides by name, and directing his speech unto him: You seem Pemptides (quoth he) in my conceit, to touch a very 〈◊〉 and nice point, or rather indeed to stir a string that would not be stirred, to wit, the opinion and 〈◊〉 that we have as touching the gods, in that you call for a reason and demonstration of them in particular. For the ancient faith and belief received from our ancients in the country where we are borne is sufficient, than which there can not be said or imagined a more evident argument: 
For never was this knowledge found,  
By wit of man or sense profound.  But this tradition being the base and foundation common to all piety and religion, if the certitude and credit thereof received from hand to hand be shaken and moved in one only point, it becometh suspected and doubtful in all the rest. You have heard no doubt how Euripides was coursed and troubled for the beginning of his Tragedy Menalippe, in this manner: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  
Jupiter whose name I know  
By hearsay only and no more.  And verily he had a great confidence in this Tragedy, being as it should seem magnificently and with exquisite elegancy penned: but for the tumultuous murmuring of the people, 〈◊〉 changed the foresaid verses, as now they stand written: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  
God Jupiter (which name in verity  
Doth sort full well to his 〈◊〉.)  And what difference is there by our words and disputation, between calling the opinion which we 〈◊〉 of Jupiter and of 〈◊〉 into question and making doubt of Cupid or Love? For it is not now of late, and never before, that this God begins to call for altars or to challenge sacrifices: neither is he a stranger come among us from some barbarous superstition, like as certain Attae and I wot not what Adonides and Adonaei, brought in by the means of some halfemen or apparel Hermaphrodites and odd women; and thus being closely crept in, hath met with certain honours and worships far unmeet for him, in such sort as he may well be accused of bastardice and under a false title to have been enroled in the catalogue of the gods: for my good friend, when you hear Empedocles saying thus, 
And equal to the rest in length and breadth, was Amity;  
But see in 〈◊〉 thou it behold, not with deceitful eye.  you must understand him, that he writeth thus of Love; for that this God is not visible, but apprehended only by opinion and belief, among other Gods which are most ancient. Now if of all them in particular, you seek for a proof and demonstration, laying your hands upon echtemple, and making a sophistical trial by every altar, you shall find nothing void and free from calumniation and envious slander: for not to go far off, mark but these verses: 
But Venus uneth can I see  
How great a goddess she should be:  
Of Cupid she the mother is,  
And she alone that Love doth give:  
Whose children we (you wot well this)  
Are all, who on the earth do live.  And verily, Empedocles called her 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, fertile or giving life: Sophocles, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, fruitful: both of them using most fit and pertinent attributes. Howbeit, this great and admirable work, to wit, Generation, is wrought principally and directly by Venus, but collaterally and as an accessary by Love: which if love be present, is pleasant & acceptable; chose, if love be away, and not assistant thereto, surely the act thereof remaineth altogether not expetible, dishonourable, without grace and unamiable. For the conjunction of man and woman without the affection of love, like as hunger and thirst which tend to nothing else but satiety and fullness, endeth in nought that is good, lovely and commendable: but the goddess Venus, putting away all loathsome satiety of pleasure, by the means of love, engendered amity and friendship, yea and temperature of two in one. And herereupon it is that Parmentdes verily affirmeth love to be the most ancient work of Venus, writing thus in his book entitled Cosmogenia, that is to say, the creation of the world. 
And at the first she framed love  
Before all other gods above.  But Hesiodus seemeth in mine opinion more physically to have made love more ancient than any other whatsoever, to the end that all the rest by it might breed and take beginning. If then we bereave this love of the due honours ordained for it, certes those which belong to Venus will not keep their place any longer. Neither can it be truly said that some men may wrong and reproach love, and forbear withal to do injury unto Venus. For even from one and the same stage we do here these imputations, first upon love: 
Love idle is itself, and in good troth  
Possesseth such like persons, given to sloth.  And then again upon Venus: 
Venus (my children) hath not this only name  
Of Venus or of Cypris: for the same  
Answer right well to many an attribute,  
And surname, which men unto her impute.  
For hellshe is: and also violence  
That never ends, but aye doth recommence  
And furious rage, young folk for to incense  Like as, of the other gods there is not one almost, that can avoid the approbrious tongue of unlettered rusticity and ignorance. For do but consider and observe god Mars, who as it were in an Caldaean and Astronomical table standeth in a place diametrally opposite unto love, 〈◊〉 I say, what great honours men have yielded unto him, and chose what reproachful terms they give him again: 
Mars is stark blind and seeth not (fair dames) but like wild boar,  
By turning all things up side down, works mischief evermore.  Homer calleth him 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, imbrued with blood and polluted with murders; likewise 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, variable and leaping from one side to another. As for Chrysippus, by ety mologizing and deriving this god's name, fasteneth upon him a criminous accusation, saying that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, for so he is named, in Greek, cometh of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say to murder and destroy: giving thereby occasion unto some, to think that the faculty and power in us, prone to war, fight, debate, quarrel, anger, and fell stomach, is called 〈◊〉, that is to say, Mars. Like as others also will say, that concupiscence in us, is termed Venus; our gift of speaking, Mercury; skill in arts and sciences, Muses; and prudence, Minerva. See you not how deep a pit and downfall of Atheism and impiety is ready to receive and swallow us up, in case we range and distribute the gods according to the passions, powers, faculties and virtues that be in us?  
I see it very well (quoth Pemptides:) but neither standeth it with piety and religion, to make gods to be passions; nor yet chose, to believe that passions be gods. How think you then (quoth my father) is Mars a god, or a passion of ours? Pemptides answered, That he thought him to be a god, ruling and ordering that part of our soul wherein is seated animosity, anger and manly courage. What Pemptides, cried out my father then, hath that turbulent, warring, overthwart and quarreling part in us, a deity to be precedent over it; and shall this that breedeth amity, society and peace, be without a divine power to govern it? Is there indeed, a martial and warlike god of arms, called thereupon Stratius and Enyalius, who hath the superintendance and presidence of mutual murders wherein men kill and bekilled, of armour, weapons, arrows, darts and other shot of assaults and scaling walls, of saccage, pillage and booties? Is there never a god, to be a witness, guide, director and coadjutour of nuptial affection and matrimonial love, which endeth in unity, concord and fellowship? There is a god of the woods and forests, named Agroteros, who doth aid, assist and encourage hunters, in chase and crying after the roebuck, the wild goat, the hare and the hart; and they who lie in secret wait for to intercept wolves and bears in pitfalles, and to catch them with snares, make their prayers to Aristaeus, 
Who first, as I have heard men say,  
Did grins and snares for wild beasts lay.  And Hercules when he bend his bow, and was ready to shoot at a bird, called upon another god: and as Aeschylus reporteth, 
Phoebus the hunter, directed byandby,  
His arrow strait, as it in air did fly.  And shall the man who 〈◊〉 after the fairest game in the world, even to catch friendship and amity, have no god nor demigod, no angel to help, to favorise, and speed his enterprise and good endeavours? For mine own part, my friend Daphnaeus, I take not man to be a more base plant or viler tree, than is the oak, the mulberry tree, or the vine which Homer honoureth with the name of Hemeris, considering that in his time and season he hath a powerful instinct to bud and put forth most pleasantly, even the beauty both of body and mind. Then (quoth Daphnaeus) who ever was there, before God, that thought or said the contrary? Who? answered my father: mary even all they verily, who being of opinion, that the careful industry of ploughing, sowing and planting, appertaineth unto the gods: 
For certain Nymphs they have height Dryads  
Whose life they say is equal with the trees.  And as Pindar us writeth, 
God Bacchus who the pure resplendent light  
Of Autumn is, and with his kind influence  
Doth nourish trees, and cause to graw upright,  
And fructify at length in affluence.  Yet for all this are not persuaded that the nouriture and growth of children, and young folk, who in their prime and flower of age, are framed and shaped to singular beauty and feature of parsonage, belongeth to any one of the gods or demi gods. Neither by their saying, any deity or divine power, hath the care & charge of man, that as he groweth he should shoot up straight, and arise directly to virtue; and that his natural indument and generous ingenuity should be perverted, daunted and quelled, either for default of a careful tutor and director, or through the lewd and corrupt behaviour of bad company about him. And verily were it not a shameful indignity and ingratitude thus to say: and in this behalf to drive God as it were from that bounty and benignity of his to mankind, which being defused spread and dispersed over all, is defectious in no part, no not in those necessary actions and occasions, where of some have their end more needful iwis many times than lovely or beautiful to see to. As for example, even our very birth at first, is nothing sightly at all nor pleasant, in regard of the blood and bitter pangs that do accompany it, yet hath the same a goddess to be the precedent & overseer thereof, to wit Lucina, called thereupon Lochia and Ilithyta. Besides, better it were for a man never to have been borne, than to become evil and nought, for want of a good governor and guardian. Moreovor the deity and divine power, leaveth not man destitute when he is sick, no nor when he is dead: but some God there is or other, that hath an office and function even then, and is powerful in those occasions: there is one, I say, that helpeth to convey the souls of such as have ended their life, from hence into another world, and to lay them in quiet repose, who for bestowing and transporting of them in that sort is called Catunastes and Psychopompos according as he saith. 
The shady night never bore  
(The harps to sound) a fine musician:  
Nor prophet secrets to declare:  
Ne yet in cures a good physician:  
But for the souls of dead, below,  
In their due place, them to bestow.  And yet in these ministries and functions many odious troubles and encumbrances there be: whereas chose there can be named no work more holy, no exercise, game of price or profession of masteries, whatsoever, whereof it beseemeth a god better, to have the dispose, presidence and oversight, than is the charge and regard, to order and rule the desires of lovers, affecting and pursuing beautiful persons in the flower and prime of their age. For herein their is nothing foul, nothing forced not by constraint: but that gentle persuasion & attractive grace, which yielding in truth a pleasant and sweet labour, leadeth all travel whatsoever unto virtue and amity; which neither without a god can attain unto the desired end which is meet and convenient, nor hath any other god, for the guide, master, and conductor, than Love which is the companion of the Muse's graces and Venus; 
For Cupid sowing secretly  
In heart of man a sweet desire,  
And heat of Love, immediately  
By kindling mild and gentle fire.  According as Menalippedes saith, tempereth the pleasantest things that be with those that are most fair and beautiful. How say you Zeuxippus, is it not so? Yes verily (quoth he) I am altogether of that mind: for to hold the contrary were very absurd. Then (quoth my father again) and were it not as monstrous, that whereas amity hath four several kinds and branches, according as the ancient Philosophers have divided it: The first in nature, then that of propinquity and local affinity, the third of society, and the last this of love, every one of the rest should have a god to be the precedent and governor thereof, to wit, surnamed either 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and this amorous amity only or love as accursed, interdicted and excommunicate, be left without a lord and ruler? considering that it requireth more care, solicitude and government than all the rest? It doth indeed (quoth Zeuxippus) and need it hath out of that which is strange but proper and familiar, of the own.  
Moreover (quoth my father) a man may here take hold by the way of Plato his opinion and doctrine to this purpose: to wit, that there is one kind of fury transmitted from the body to the soul proceeding from certain indispositions and malignant distemperatures of ill humours, or else occasioned by some hurtful wind or pernicious spirit that passeth and entereth into it, and this fury is a sharp and dangerous disease. There is another not without some divine instinct: neither is it engendered at home and within us: but a strange inspiration it is, coming from without, a very alienation of reason, sense, and understanding, the beginning and motion whereof ariseth from some better power and a certain divine puissance. And this passion in general is named Enthusiasmus, as one would say, a divine inspiration. for like as, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in Greek signifieth repletion with spirit or wind. And 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that which is full of prudence and wit: Even so saith he an agitation and shaking of the soul is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 by the participation and society of some more heavenly and divine power. Now this enthusiasm is subdivided: for one part thereof is prophetical, and can skill of foretelling natural things, when one is inspired and possessed by Apollo. A second is Bacchanal sent from Bacchus whereof Sophocles speaketh in one place thus, 
And see you dance.  
With Corybants'.  For those furies of dame 〈◊〉 the mother of the gods, as also Panic & terrors frights hold 〈◊〉 of the Bacchenall sacred ceremonies. The third proceedeth from the Muses, which meeting with a tender and delicate soul, not polluted with vice, stirreth up and raiseth a poetical spirit, and musical humour: as for that raging and martial Enthusiasm (for Arinianius it is called) that furious inspiration breathing war, is well known to every man, for to proceed from god Mars; a fury wherein there is no grace, no musical sweetness, hindering the generation and nourishment of children, and inciting people to take arms. There remaineth one alienation more of the understanding o Daphnaeus, and an exstacie or transportation of man's spirit, and the same not obscure, nor quiet and calm: concerning which I would demand of Pemptides here, 
What god is he, that shakes the spear  
In hand, which doth so fair fruit bear.  Even this ravishment of love, settled as well upon fair and goodboys, as honest and sober dames; which is the hottest and most vehement transportation of the mind: for see you not that even the very soldier and warrior himself, coming once to be surprised therewith, laid down his arms presently, and cast off his warlike fury, 
For then his servants joy did make,  
And corselet from his shoulders take.  and himself having no more mind to battle, sat still looking upon others that fought. And as for these Bacchanail motions, these wanton skippings and frisks of the Corybantes, they use to appease and stay by changing, only in dancing of the measures, the foot Trochaeus into Spondaeus; and in song, the Phrygian tune into the Dorique: semblably Pythia the priestresse of Apollo, being once come down from her three footed fabric, upon which she receiveth that incentive spirit of fury, remaineth quiet and in calm tranquillity: whereas the rage of love, after it hath once in good earnest caught a man, and set him on fire, there is no music in the world, no charm, no lenitive song, no change of place able to stay it: for amorous persons when they be present, do love, if they be absent, do long; in the day time they follow after their sweet hearts, by night they lie and watch at their doors; fasting and sober they call upon their fair paramours, full and drunken, they sing and chant of them: neither are poetical fancies and inventions, as one sometimes said for their lively and effectual expression, the dreams of persons waking; but rather this may be verified of lovers imaginations, who devise and talk with their loves absent, as if they were present, they salute, embrace, chide, and expostulate with them, as if they saw them in place: for it seemeth that our ordinary sight doth depaint other imagination with liquid and waterish colours, which quickly pass away, are gone and departed out of our minds: but the fancies and visions of Lovers being imprinted in their cogitations by fire or enambled, leave in their memory lively images surely engraved, which move, live, breath, speak, remain and continue ever after; like as Cato the Roman said, that the soul of the lover lived & dwelled in the soul of the loved: for that there is settled sure in him the visage, countenance, manners, nature, life, and actions of the person whom he loveth, by which being led and conducted, he quickly dispatcheth and cutteth off a long journey, as the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is, 〈◊〉 Poets.  Cynics are wont to say, finding a short, compendious and directway unto virtue: for he passeth speedily from love to amity and friendship, being carried on end by the favour of this God of Love, with the instinct of his affection, as it were with wind and tide, with weather and water together: in sum, I say, that this enthusiasm or ravishment of lovers is not without some divine power, and that there is no other god to guide and govern it, than he whose feast we solemnize, and unto whom we sacrifice this very day: howbeit, for that we measure the greatness of a god by puissance especially & profit, according as among all human goods, we hold royalty and virtue to be most divine, and so to call them. It is time now to consider first and foremost, whether Love be inferior to any other god in power? And verily Sophocles saith: 
Venus in power doth much avail,  
To win a prize and to prevail.  Great also is the puissance of Mars: and verily we see the power of all other gods to be after a sort divided in these matters two ways, the one is allective, and causeth us to love that which is beautiful and good, the other is adversative, and maketh us to hate that which is soul and bad, which are the first impressions, that from the beginning are engraven in our minds, according as Plato in one place speaketh of the Idea. Let us now come to the point, and consider how the very act alone of Venus may be had for a groat or some such small piece of silver, neither was there ever man known to endure any great travel, or to expose himself to any danger, for the enjoying of such a fleshly pleasure, unless he were amorous withal and love sick. And to forbear here to name such curtisanes as Phryne and Lais were, we shall find my good friend, that Gnathaenium the harlot, 
At lantern light in evening late,  
Waiting and calling for some mate.  is many time passed by and neglected: but otherwhiles again 
If once some sudden spirit move,  
The raging fit of fervent love.  it maketh a man to prize and esteem the foresaid pleasure which erewhile he reckoned nothing worth, comparable in value to all the talents as they say, of Tantalus treasure, and equal to his great signory and dominion; so enervate is the delight of Venus, and so soon bringeth it loathsome satiety, in case it be not inspired with the power of love: which we may see yet more evidently by this one argument; namely, that therebe many men who will be content to part with others in this kind of venereous pleasure, yea, and can find in their hearts to prostitute unto them not only their mistresses and concubines, but also their own espoused wives; as it is reported of that Galba or Cabbas a Roman, who, if I do not mistake, invited Maecenas upon a time unto his house, & feasted him; where perceiving how from him to his wife there passed some wanton nods and winking, which bewrayed that he had a mind and fancy to her, he gently rested his head upon a pillow or cushion, making semblance as though he would take a nap and sleep, whiles they dallied together: in the mean time when one of the servants which were without spying his time, came softly to the table for to steal away some of the wine that stood there; avaunt unhappy knave (quoth Galba) being broad awake, and open eyed, knowest thou not that I sleep only for Maecenas sake? But peradventure this was not so strange a matter, considering that the said Galba was no better than one of the buffoons or pleasants that profess to make folk merry and to laugh. I will tell you therefore another example: At Argos there were two of the principal citizens concurrents, and opposite one to the other in the government of the city, the one was named Philostratus, & the other Phaulius; now it fortuned upon a time that king Philip came to the town: and commonly thought it was, that Phaulius plotted and practised to attain unto some absolute principality and sovereignty in the city, by the means of his wife, who was a young and beautiful lady, in case he could bring her once to the king's bed, and that she might lie with him. Nicostratus smelling and perceiving as much, walked before Phaulius door and about his house for the nonce, to see what he would do: who indeed having shod his wife with a pair of high shoes, cast about her a mantle or mandilion, and withal set upon her head a chaplet or hat after the Macedonian fashion, and dressed her every way like unto one of the king's pages; sent her secretly in that habit and attire unto his lodging. Now considering there hath been in times past and is at this present such a number of amorous persons and lovers, have you ever read or known that any one of them hath been the bawd to prostitute his own love, though he might thereby have gained sovereign majesty, and obtained the divine honours of Jupiter? I verily believe no: for why? there is not a person dare quetch to contradict and oppose himself in government of State against the actions of princes and tyrants? But on the other side, corrivals they have and concurrents many in love, such as will not stick to beard them in the question of fair, young and beautiful persons, whom they affect and fancy. For it is reported that Aristogiton the Athenian, Antileon the Metapontine, and Menalippus of Agrigentum never contended nor contested with the tyrants, for all they saw them to waste and ruinate the commonweal, yea, to commit many 〈◊〉 outrages; but when they began once to solicit and tempt their paramours and loves, than they rose up as it were in the defence of their sacred temples and sanctuaries, than they stood against them even with the hazard and peril of their lives. It is said, that king Alexander wrote unto Theodorus the brother of Proteas in this wise: Convey unto me that Musical wench of thine, that sings so daintily, and receive for her ten talents, which I send by this bearer; let me have her, I say, unless thou thyself be in love with her. When Antipatrides another of his minions, came in a mask on a time to his house, accompanied with a pretty girl that played upon the psaltery, & sung passing well; Alexander taking great delight & contentment in the said damosel, demanded of Antipatrides, whether he were not himself enamoured of her. And when he answered, Yes verily, and that exceeding much. A mischief on thee (quoth he) lewd varlet as thou art, and the devil take thee: but the wench he abstained from, and would not so much as touch her. But mark moreover & beside, of what power, even in martial feats of arms, Love is: Love I say, which is not (as saith Euripides) 
Of nature slow, dull, fickle, inconstant,  
Nor in soft cheeks of maidens resiant.  For a man that is possessed secretly in his heart with Love, needeth not the assistance of Mars when he is to encounter with his enemies in the field; but having a god of his own within him, and presuming of his presence, 
Most priest he is and resolute, to pass through fire and seas;  
The blasts of most tempestuous winds, he cares not to appease.  And all for his friend's sake, and according as he commandeth him. And verily, of those children, aswell sons as daughters, of lady 〈◊〉, who in a Tragedy of Sophocles are represented to be shot with arrows, and so killed, one there was, who called for no other to help and 〈◊〉 her at the point of death, but only her paramor, in this wise: 
Oh that some god my Love would send,  
My life to save, and me defend.   
Ye all know I am sure, do ye not? how and wherefore Cleomachus the Thessalian died in combat? Not I for my part (quoth Pemptides) but gladly would I hear and learn of you. And it is a story (quoth my father) worth the hearing and the knowledge. There came to aid the Chalcidians, at what time as there was hot war in Thessaly against the Eretrians, this Cleomachus: now the Chalcidians seemed to be strong enough in their footmen, but much ado they had, and thought it was a difficult piece of service, to break the cavalry of their enemies, and to repel them. So they requested Cleomachus their ally and confederate, a brave knight, and of great courage, to give the first charge, and to enter upon the said men of arms. With that, he asked the youth whom he loved most entirely, and who was there present, whether he would behold this enterprise, and see the conflict: and when the young man answered Yea, and withal, kindly kissing and embracing him, set the helmet upon his head; Cleomachus much more hardy and fuller of spirit than before, assembled about him a troop of the most valorous hosemen of all the Thessalians, advanced forward right gallantly, and with great resolution set upon the enemies, in such sort, as at the very first encounter he broke the front, disarraied the men of arms, and in the end put them to flight. Which discomfiture, when their infantry saw, they also fled: and so the Chalcidians won the field, and archieved a noble victory. Howbeit, Cleomachus himself was there slain, and the Chalcidians show his sepulchre and monument in their Market place, upon which there standeth, even at this day, a mighty pillar erected. And whereas the Chalcidians beforetime held this paederastie or love of young boys an in famous thing, they of all other Greeks ever after affected and honoured it most. But Aristotle writeth, that Cleomachus indeed lost his life after he had vanquished the Eretrians in battle: but as for him who was thus kissed by his lover, he saith that he was of Chalcis in Thrace, sent for to aid those of Chalcis in 〈◊〉: and hereupon it cometh that the Chalcidians use to chant such a carol as this: 
Sweet boys, fair imps extract from noble race,  
Endued beside with youth and beauty's grace,  
Envy not men of arms and bold courage,  
Fruition of your prime and flowering age:  
For here aswell of Love and kind affection,  
As of prowess, we all do make profession.  The lover was named Anton, and the boy whom he loved Philistus, as Dionysius the Poet writeth in his book 
* Or entitled 〈◊〉.  of Causes.  
And in our city of Thebes, o Pemptides, did not one Ardetas give unto a youth whom he loved, a complete armour, the day that he was enroled soldier, with the inscription of Ardetas his own name? And as for Pammenes an amorous man and one well experienced in love matters, he changed and altered the ordinance in battle of our footmen heavily armed, reproving Homer as one that had no skill nor experience of love; for ranging the Achaeans by their tribes and wards, and not putting in array the lover close unto him whom he loveth: for this indeed had been the right ordinance, which Homer describeth in these words: 
The Morions set so close, and shield to shield  
So jointly touched, that one the other held.  And this is the only battalion and army invincible. For men otherwhiles in danger abandon those of their tribe, their kindred also and such as be allied unto them: yea, and believe me, they forsake their own fathers and children: but never was there enemy seen, that could pass through, and make way of evasion between the lover and his darling, considering that such, many times, show their adventurous resolution in a bravery, and how little reckoning they make of life, unto them being in no distress nor requiring so much at their hands. Thus Thero the Thessalian laying and clapping his left hand to a wall, drew forth his sword with the right, and cut off his own thumb, before one whom he loved, and challenged his corrival to do as much, if his heart would serve him. Another chanced in fight to fall grovelling upon his face, and when his enemy lifted up his sword to give him a mortal wound, he requested him to stay his hand a while until he could turn his body, that his friend, whom he loved, might not see him wounded in his back part. And therefore we may see, that not only the most martial and warlike nations are most given to Love, to wit, the Boeotians, Lacedæmonians, and Candiots, but also diverse renowned princes and captains, of old time: as namely, Meleager, Achilles, Aristomenes, Cimon, Epaminondas. And as for the last named, he had two young men whom he dearly loved, Asopicus and Zephiodorus, who also died with him in the field at Mantinaea, and was likewise interred near unto him. And when Asopicus became hereupon more terrible unto his enemies, and most resolute, Euchnanus the Amphyssian, who first made head against him, resisted his fury, and smote him, had heroic honours done unto him by the Phocaeans. To come now unto Hercules; hard it were to reckon and number his loves they were so many: But among others, men honour and worship to this day jolaus, because they take him to have been Hercules his darling, in so much as upon his tomb the manner is of lovers to take a corporal oath and assurance of reciprocal Love. Moreover it is reported of Apollo, that being skilful in Physic, he saved the life of Alcestis being desperately sick, for to gratify Admetus, who as he loved her entirely being his wife, so he was as tenderly beloved of him. For the Poets do fable, that Apollo, being enamoured, for pure Love, 
Did serve Admetus one whole year  
As one that his hired servant were.  And here it falleth out, in some sort well, that we have made mention of Alcestis: for albeit women have ordinarily much dealing with Mars, yet the ravishment and furious fits of Love driveth them otherwhiles to enterprise somewhat against their own nature, even to voluntary death: and if the 〈◊〉 fables are of any credit, and may go currant for truth, it is evident by such reports as go of 
* For Alcestis was reported to die for the love of 〈◊〉, & to save his life.  Alcestis of Protesilaus, and Eurydice the wife of Orpheus, that Pluto obeyeth no other god but only Love, nor doth what they command. And verily howsoever in regard of all other gods, as Sophocles saith, 
He cannot skill of equity, of favour and of grace.  
But only with him justice strait, and rigour taketh place.  Yet he hath good respect and reverence to lovers, and to them alone he is not implacable nor inflixible. And therefore a good thing it is, my friend, I confess, to be received into the religious confraternity of the Eleusinian mysteries: but I see that the votaries professed in Love, are in the other world in better condition accepted with Pluto: And this I say as one who neither am too forward in believing such fables of Poets, nor yet so backward as to distrust and discredit them all: for I assure you they speak well, and by a certain divine fortune and good hap they hit upon the truth, saying as they do, that 〈◊〉 but lovers return from hell unto this light again: but what way and how they wot not; as wandering indeed and missing of the right path, which plato of all men first by the means of philosophy found out and knew. And yet among the Egyptians fables, there be certain small slender and obscure shadows of the truth, dispersed here an there. Howbeit they had need of an expert and well experienced hunter, who by small tracts knoweth how to trace and find out great matters. And therefore let us pass them over.  
And now that I have discoursed of the force and puissance of Love being so great as it appeareth, I come now to examine and consider the bounty and liberality thereof to mankind, not whether it confer many benefits upon them, who are acquainted with it, and make use thereof (for notable they be and well known to all men) but whether it bringeth more and greater commodity to those that are studious of it, and be amorous? For Euripides, howsoever he were a great favourite of Love; yet so it is, that he promised and admired that in it, which of all others is least, namely when he said, 
Love teacheth Music, mark when you will  
Though one before thereof had no skill.  For he might as well have said, that it maketh a man prudent and witty, who before was dull and foolish; yea & valiant, as hath 〈◊〉 said, who before was a coward; like as they that by putting into fire burning pieces of wood, make them firm and strait, where as they were before weak and tender: Semblably, every amorous person becometh liberal and magnificent, although he had, been aforetime a pinching snudge: For this base avarice and micherie waxeth soft, and melteth by love, like as iron in the fire, in such sort, as men take more pleasure to give away and bestow upon those whom they love, than they do, to take and receive of others. For ye all know well how Anytus the son of Anthenion was enamoured upon Alcibiades, and when he had invited certain friends and guests of his unto a sumptuous and stately feast in his house, Alcibiades came thither in a mask to make pastime; and after he had taken with him one half of the silver cups that stood upon the board before them, went his ways, which when the guests took not well, but said that the youth had behaved himself vere proudly and malipertly toward him. Not so (quoth Anytus) for he hath dealt very courteously with me, in that, when he might have gone away withal, he left thus much behind for me. Zeuxippus taking joy hereat: O Hercules (quoth he) you want but a little of ridding quite out of my heart that hereditary hatred derived and received from our ancestors, which I have taken against Anytus, in the behalf of Socrates and Philosophy, in case he were so kind and courteous in his love. Be it so (quoth my father) but let us proceed: Love is of this nature, that it maketh men otherwise melancholic, austere, and hard to be pleased or conversed withal, to become more sociable, gentle and pleasant: for as ye know well enough, 
More stately is that house in sight,  
Wherein the fire burns clear and bright.  and even so, a man is more lightsome and jocund, when he is well warmed with the heat of love. But the vulgar sort of men are in this point somewhat perversely affected and beside all reason; for if they see a flashing celestial light in an house by night, they take it to be some divine apparition, and wonder thereat: but when they see a base, vile, & abject mind suddenly replenished with courage, liberty, magnificence, desire of honour, with grace, favour and liberality, they are not forced to say as Telemachus did in Homer: 
Certes some god, I know full well,  
Is now within, and here doth dwell.  And is not this also, quoth Daphnaeus, (tell me, I pray you, for the love of all the Graces) an effect of some divine cause, that a lover who regardeth not, but despiseth in a manner all other things, I say not his familiar friends only, his fellows and domestical acquaintance, but the laws also and magistrates, kings and princes; who is afraid of nothing, admireth, esteemeth and observeth nothing; and is beside so hardy, as to present himself before the flashing shot of piercing lightning, so soon as ever he espieth his fair love, 
Like to some cock of cravain 〈◊〉 let's fall,  
Or hangs the wing, and daunted is withal.  He droops I say, his courage is cooled, his heart is done, and all his animosity quailed quite. And here it were not impertinent to the purpose, to make mention of Sapph among the Muses. The Romans write in their history, that Cacus the son of Vulcan breathed and flashed flames of fire from his mouth. And in truth the words that Sapph uttereth, be mixed with fire, and by her verses testifieth the ardent and flaming heat of her heart, 
Seeking for love some cure and remedy  
By pleasant sound of Muse's melody.  as Philoxenus writeth. But Daphnaeus, unless peradventure the love of Lysandra have made you to forget your old sports and delights wherewith you were wont to pass the time away, call to mind (I beseech you) and rehearse unto us those sweet verses of fair Sapph, wherein she saith, that when her love came in her sight, she lost her voice presently, and was speechless, her body ran all over into cold sweats, she became pale and wan, she fell a trembling and quaking, her brains turned round, surprised she was with dizziness, and fell into a fainting fit of swooning. 

Thrice happy do I hold that wight,  
Who may est 'zounds enjoy thy sight,  
Of thy sweet voice to reap delight,  
And pleasant smiles:   

Which kindle in me such a fire,  
That, as I them do much admire,  
My heart they ravish, and desire  
Transport the while.   

Thy face no sooner do I see,  
But sudden silence comes on me;  
My tongue strings all dissolved be,  
And speech quite gone:   

Then, underneath my skin is spread  
A fiery flush of colour red;  
With that mine eyes be darkened,  
And sight yield none.   

Mine ears also do buzz and ring,  
And yet distinctly hear nothing;  
Cold drops of sweat run down trickling,  
Or stand as dew:   

My joints anon and sinews shake,  
My heart-root pants, my flesh doth quake;  
And paleness soon doth overtake  
My former hue.   

And thus full won I do remain,  
As flower in house that long hath lain,  
Or grass in field, which wanting rain,  
Doth quickly fade:   

Until at length in ecstasy,  
Withouten sense and breath I lie;  
As if death of me suddenly  
Surprise had made.   When Daphnaeus had recited this sonnet: Is not this (quoth my father, in the name of Jupiter I beseech you) a plain possession of the mind by some heavenly power; is not this (I say) an evident motion and a very celestial ravishment of the spirit? What furious passion was there ever so great and strong, that came upon the prophetess Pythia, when she mounted that threefooted fabric, from whence she delivered oracles? Who ever was there so far transported and carried beside himself by the pipes and flutes of fanatical persons supposed to be surprised by some divine spirit of fury, by the tabor and other strange ceremonies in the service of Cybele the mother of the gods? Many there be, that hold the same body, and look upon the same beauty; but the amorous person only is caught and ravished therewith. What should be the reason of it? Certes, there is some cause thereof? Verily, when Menander showeth it unto us, yet we learn it not, nor understand his meaning by these verses: 
There is a malady of the mind,  
That it surpriseth fatally:  
Who smitten is therewith, doth find  
Himself sore wounded inwardly.  And hereof is god Love the cause, who toucheth one, and spareth another. But that which ought indeed to have been spoken rather at the first, 
Since now it comes into my mind,  
And way out of my mouth would find.  as Aeschilus' saith, I think not good to overpass in silence, being a matter of so great importance. For of all things else (my good friend) in a manner, whereof we take knowledge, not by the ministery of the five natural senses; some there be, that came into credit (at the beginning) and authority, by fables; other, by laws; and the rest, by doctrine and discourse of reason. Now the constant beleese and full persuasion of the gods, the first masters, teachers and author's altother thereof, were Poets, Law givers, and in a third rank, Philosophers, who all with one accord jointly did set this down as a verity, that Gods there be: howbeit, they are at great discord and variance, touching the number, order, nature, essence and power of them. For those whom the Philosophers acknowledge to be gods, are not subject to diseases, nor to age, neither know they what it is to feel pain or endure travel: 
Escape they do the passage of the firth,  
Of roaring Acheron, and live in joy and mirth.  And in that regard Philosophers admit not at all the Poetical 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, contentions and reconsiliations: they will not allow 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to be gods, nor confess them to be the sons of Mars: and in many points do they differ also and dissent from law givers; as Xenophanes did, who said unto the Egyptians as touching Osiris: if you take him for a mortal man, adore him not; if you account him an immortal god, lament not for him. Again, the the Poets and law givers on the other side, deign not, nor will abide so much as to hear those Philosophers who of certain Idees, numbers, unities and spirits, make gods; neither can they possibly conceive and understand such doctrine. In sum, much variety there is & dissonance in their opinions, about this one point: but like as in old time there were three sects or factions in Athens, all adverse, opposite & malicious one unto the other, to wit, of the Paralli, the Epacrii, and Paediaei: yet notwithstanding, when they were assembled and met together in a general council, they gave all their voices and suffrages to Solon, and elected him with one common assent their peacemaker, their governor, and law giver, as one worthy, without any question or doubt at all, to have conferred upon him the principality and highest degree of virtue and honour: even so those three sects differing in opinion about the gods, and giving their voices some on this side, and others on that, and not willing to subscribe one unto another, nor easily receiving that which is otherwise delivered than by themselves, be all of one and the same mind as touching this one god Love; and him the most excellent Poets, the best Law givers, and the principal Philosophers, admit with one voice into the register and calendar of the gods, praising and extolling him highly in all their writings, and like as Alcaeus saith, That all the Mitylenaeans with one accord and general consent, chose Pittacus for their sovereign prince and tyrant; even so Hesiodus, Plato, and Solon, bring and conduct Love out of Helicon, into the Academy unto us, for our king, prince, and precedent, crowned and adorned gaily with garlands and chaplets of flowers, honoured also, and accompanied with many shackles and couples professing amity and mutual society: not such as Euripides saith: 
With fetters bound and tied was,  
far stronger than of iron and brass.   
Linking them by a cold, heavy, and massy chain of need and necessity, as a colourable vail and pretence to shame and turpitude; but such as are carried by winged chariots unto the most goodly and beautiful things in the world, whereof others have treated better and more at large. When my father had thus said: See you not (quoth Soclarus) how being fallen now again, the second time into one and the same matter, you forced yourself to turn away from it, I wot not how, avoiding to enter into this holy discourse, and (if I may be so bold to say what I think) shifting off unjustly to pay the debt, which you have promised us? for having ere while by the way, and against your will made some little mention of the Egyptians and of Plato; you passed them over then, and even so do you at this present: as for that which Plato hath written, or rather these Muses here have by him delivered, I know well you will say nothing thereof; although we should request and pray you to do it: but for that you have covertly signified thus much, that the mythology or fables of the Egyptians accord sufficiently with the doctrine of the Platonikes concerning Love: it were against all reason that you should refuse to discover, reveal, and declare it unto us: and content will we be, in case we may hear but a little of such great and important matters. Now when the rest of the company instantly entreated likewise; my father began again and said: That the Egyptians like as the Greeks, acknowledge two kinds of Love, the one vulgar, the other celestial: they believe also that there is a third beside, to wit, the sun; and Venus above all they have in great admiration; as for us we see a great affinity and resemblance between Love and the sun; for neither of them both is (as some do imagine) a material fire, but the heat of the one and the other is mild and generative; for that which proceedeth from the sun, giveth unto body's nouriture, light, and deliverance from cold winter; that which cometh from the other worketh the same effects in souls: and as the sun between two clouds, and after a foggy mist breaketh forth most ardent: even so Love after anger, fall out, and fits of jealousy; upon atonement and reconciliation made between Lovers, is more pleasant and fervent: and look what conceit some have of the sun, that it is kindled and quenched alternatively, namely, that every evening it goeth out, and every morning is lighted again: the same they have of Love, as being mortal, corruptible, and not permanent in one estate: moreover, that habit or constitution of the body which is not exercised and enured to endure both cold and heat, can not abide the sun; no more can that nature of the soul which is not well nurtured and liberally taught, be able to brook Love, without some pain and trouble; but both the one and the other is transported out of order, yea and indisposed or diseased alike, laying the weight upon the force and power of Love, and not upon their own impuissance and weakness: this only seemeth to be the difference between them; that the sun exhibiteth and showeth unto those upon the earth who have their eyesight, things beautiful and foul indifferently; whereas Love is the light that representeth fair things only, causing lovers to be lookers of such alone, and to turn toward them; but chose to make none account of all others. Furthermore, they that attribute the name of Venus to the earth, are induced thereto by no similitude nor proportion at all; for that Venus is divine and celestial, but the region wherein there is a mixture of mortal with immortal, is of itself feeble, dark, and shady, when the sun shineth not upon it; like as Venus, when love is not assistant unto it: and therefore more credible it is, that the moon should resemble Venus, and the sun Love, rather than any other god; yet are not they therefore all one, because the body is not the same that the souleis, but diverse; & like as the sun is sensible & visible; but Love spiritual and intelligible: and if this might seem a speech somewhat harsh, a man might say, that the sun doth clean contrary unto Love, for that it diverteth our understanding from the speculation of things intelligible unto the beholding of objects sensible, in abusing and deceiving it by the pleasure and brightness of the sight, persuading it to seek in it, and about it, as all other things; so truth itself, and nothing else where, being ravished with the Love thereof, 
For that we see it shine so fair  
Upon the earth, amid the air.  according as Euripides saith, and that for want of knowledge and experience of another life, or rather by reason of forgetfulness of those things which Love reduceth into our memory. For like as when we awake in some great and resplendent light, all nightly visions and apparitions vanish away and depart, which our soul saw during sleep: even so it seemeth that the sun doth astonish the remembrance of such things as here happen and chance in this life; yea, and to bewitch, charm, and enchant our understanding, by reason of pleasure and admiration, so as it forgetteth what it knew in the former life: and verily there is the true & real substance of those things; but here apparitions only, by which our soul in sleep admireth, and embraceth that which is most beautiful, divine, and wonderful: but as the Poet saith; 
About the same are vain illusions,  
Dreams manifold, and foolish visions.  And so the mind is persuaded that all things here be goodly and precious, unless haply by good adventure it meet with some divine, honest, and chaste Love for to be her Physician and saviour; which passing from the other world by things corporal, may conduct and bring it to the truth, and to the pleasant fields thereof, wherein is seated and lodged, the perfect, pure, and natural beauty, not sophisticate with any mixture of that which is counterfeit and false; where they desire to embrace one another, and to commune together as good friends, that of long time have had no interview nor intercourse, assisted always by Love, as by a Sextaine, who leadeth by the hand those that are professed in some religion, showing unto them all the holy relics and sacred ceremonies one after another. Now when they be sent hither again, the soul by itself can not come near and approach thereto, but by the organ of the body: and like as, because young children of themselves are not able to comprehend intelligible things; therefore Geometricians put into their hands visible and palpable forms, of a substance incorporal and impassable, to wit, the representations of spheres, cubes, or square bodies, as also those that be dodecaedra, that is to say, having twelve equal faces: even so the celestial Love doth present and show unto us, fair mirrors to behold therein beautiful things, howbeit mortal, thereby to admire such as be heavenly and divine; sensible objects, for to imagine thereby those that be spiritual and intelligible. These be the several favours and beauties, fair colours, pleasant shapes, proportions and features of young persons in the flower of their age; which shining and glittering as they do, gently excite and stir up our memory, which by little and little at the first is inflamed thereby: whereby it cometh to pass that some through the folly of their friends and kinsfolk, endevoring to extinguish this affection and passion of the mind, by force, and without reason, have enjoyed no benefit thereof, but either filled themselves with trouble and smoke, or else running with their heads forward, into beastly and filthy pleasures, pined away and were consumed. But such as by wise and discreet discourse of reason, accompanied with honest and shamefast modesty, have taken from Love the burning furious and fiery heat thereof, and left behind in the soul a splendeur and light, together with a moderate heat (and not a boiling agitation thereof, stirring, as one said, a slippery motion of the seed, when as the atoms of Epicurus by reason of their smoothness and tickling are driven together) which causeth a certain dilatation, wonderful degenerative, like as in a plant or tree, which putteth forth leaves, blossoms, and fruit; for that she receiveth nutriment, because the pores and passages of docility, obedience and facility, to be persuaded by entertaining gently good admonitions and remonstrances be open, such I say within a small time pierce farther, and pass beyond the bodies of those whom they Love, entering as far as into their souls, and touch their towardness, their conditions and manners, reclaiming their eyes from beholding the body, and conversing together by the communication of good discourses, behold one another by that means; provided always that they have some mark and token of true beauty imprintted within their understanding; which if they cannot find, they forsake them, and turn their Love unto others, after the manner of bees, which leave many green leaves and fair flowers, because they can gather out of them no honey; but look when they meet with any trace, any influence, or semblance of divine beauty smiling upon them, then being ravished with delight and admiration, and drawing it unto them, they take joy and contentment in that which is truly amiable, expetible, and to be embraced of all men.  
True it is that Poets seem to write the most part of that which they deliver as touching this god of Love, by way of merriment, and they sing of him as it were in a mask; and little 〈◊〉 they speak in good earnest touching the very truth, whether it be upon judgement and reason, or some divine instinct and inspiration: as for example among other things, that which they give out concerning the generation of this god, in this manner: 
Dame Iris with fair winged shoes, and golden yellow hair,  
Conceived by sir Zephyrus, the mightiest god did bear.  Unless it be so that you also are persuaded by the Grammarians, who hold that this fable was devised to express the variety and gay 〈◊〉, as it were of sundry colours represented in this passion of Love. For, what else should in respect (quoth Daphnaeus.) Listen then said my father, and I will tell you. Forced we are, by manifest evidence to believe, that when we behold the rainbow, it is nothing else but a reflection of rays and beams, which our eyes suffer, when our sight falling upon a cloud somewhat moist but even & smooth withal and of an indifferent and mean 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  thickness, meeteth with the Sunnebeameses, and by way of repercussion seeth the radiant rays thereof, and the shining light about it, and so imprinteth in our mind this opinion, that such an apparition indeed is settled upon the cloud. And even such is the sophistical device and subtle invention of that in the generous and toward minds of gentle lovers, it causeth a certain reflection of memory, from beauties appearing here, and so called, in regard of that divine, lovely indeed, blessed and admirable beauty. Howbeit the common sort, pursuing and apprehending the image only thereof, expressed in fair persons, as well boys as young damosels, as it were in mirrors, can reap no fruit more certain and assured than a little pleasure mingled with pain among; which is nothing else as it seemeth, but the error and wandering dizziness or conceit of most folk, who in clouds and shadows seek and hunt after the contentment of their lust and desire: much like unto young children who think to catch the rainbow in their hands, being drawn and alured thereto by the deceitful show presented to their eyes. Whereas the true lover indeed, who is honest and chaste, doth far otherwise: for he lifteth up his desire from thence to a divine, spiritual and intelligible beauty: and whensoever he meeteth with the beauty of a visible body, he useth it as the instrument only of his memory, he embraceth and loveth it: by conversing also with it joyfully, & with contentment, his understanding is more and more inflamed. Such amorous persons as these, whiles they haunt these bodies here, neither rest so sitting still, in a desire and admiration of this clear beauty: nor when they are come thither after their death, return they hither again as fugitives, for to hover and keep about the doors, chambers and cabinets of young married wives, which are nothing else but vain dreams and illusions appearing to sensual men and women given overmuch to voluptuous pleasures of the body, and such as untruly be called lovers. For he, who intrueth is amorous, and is thither come where true beauties are, and converseth with them, as much as it is possible and lawful for a man to do, is winged anon, mounteth up on high, he is purified and sanctified, continually abiding resident above, dancing, walking and disporting always about his god, until he come back again into the green and fair meadows of the Moon and of Venus, where, being laid a sleep, he beginneth to receive a regeneration and new nativity. But this is an higher point and deeper matter, than we have undertaken at this present to discourse upon. To return therefore unto our love, this property also it hath, like as all other gods, according to Euripides, 
To take great joy and much content,  
When men with honours him prosent.  And chose, he is no less displeased, when abuse or contempt is offered unto him. For most kind and gracious he is unto them that receive and entertain him courteously: and again as cursed and shrewd to those who show themselves stiffnecked and contumacious unto him. For neither Jupiter surnamed Hospital, is so ready to chastise and punish wrongs done unto guests and suppliants, nor Jupiter Genetal so forward to prosecute & accomplish the curses and execrations of parents, as love quickly heareth the prayers of those lovers who are unthankfully requited by their loves, being the punisher of proud, rude, and uncivil persons. For what should one speak of Euchcyntus and Leucomantis, her I mean, who even at this day is called in Cypress, Paracyptusa? And peradventure you have not heard of the punishment of Gorgo in Candia, who was served much after the manner of the said Paracyptusa, save only that she was turned into a stone, when she would needs look out at a window, and put forth her body to see the corpse of her lover interred. But of this Gorgo there was sometime one enamoured, whose name was Asander, a young gentleman, honest, and of good parentage descended, who having been before time of worshipful and wealthy estate, was decayed much and brought to poverty: howbeit his mind a bated not so withal, that he thought himself unworthy of the best fortune that might be. Whereupon he sued unto this Gorgo a kinswoman of his, by way of marriage, notwithstanding that for her goods and riches she was much sought unto & wooed by many others: and albeit he had diverse great and wealthy competitors and corrivals, yet he had wrought and gained all the guardians, tutors and nearest kinsfolk of the damosel to serve his suit. ********** Here there is a great defect and breach in the original. *********  
Moreover those things which are named to be the causes that engender Love, be not proper and peculiar to the one sex or to the other, but common to them both. For those images which from without pierce and enter into amorous persons, according to the Epicureans opinion, running to and fro, stirring and tickling the mass of the whole body, gliding and flowing into the genetal seed, by certain other dispositions of the atoms, it cannot be that they should so do from young boys, and impossible altogether from women: unless also these fair and sacred recordations we call and refer unto that divine, true and celestial beauty, according to the Platoniques, by the means of which rememorations as with wings the soul is mounted and carried up. What should hinder then, but that such recordations may pass as well from young boys as damosels or women? especially when as we see a good nature, thou'st and honest, appear jointly in the flower of favour and beauty, like as, according to Aristotle, a strait and well fashioned shoe, showeth the good form and proportion of the foot: which is as much to say, as when under beautiful faces and in neat and fair bodies, they, who are skilful in the knowledge and judgement of such things, perceive the clear and evident traces of a sincere mind not corrupt nor counterfeit. For it is no reason that a voluptuous person being demanded this question, 
For wanton Love how stands thy mind?  
To male more, or to female kind?  and answering, 
Both hands are right with me where 〈◊〉 is,  
Neither of twain to me can come a miss.  Should seem to have made fit and pertinent answer according to his own carnal concupiscence: and that an honest and generous person should not direct his affections to the beautiful and toward disposition of a youths nature, but to the natural parts that make difference of sex. Certes he that loveth horses and is skilful in good horsemanship, will love no less the generosity and swiftness of the horse Podergus, then of Aetha the mare of Agamemnon. And the huntsman, taketh not pleasure only to have good dogs and hounds of the male kind, but also keepeth the branches and bithes of Candie and Laconia. And shall he who loveth the beauty and sweet favour of mankind, not be indifferently affected both to the one sex and to the other, but make a difference as in diverse garments, between the love of men and women? And verily men say, that beauty is the flower and blossom of virtue. Now to say, that the ferminine sex doth not flower at all, nor show any appearance and token of a good and towardly disposition to virtue, were very absurd: for Aeschylus went to the purpose, when he wrote these verses: 
Adamsell young, if she have known and tasted man once carnally,  
Her eye doth it bewray anon, it sparkles fire suspiciously.  Go to then: are there evident marks & signs to be seen upon the visages of women, to testify a malapert, bold, wanton, and corrupt nature; and chose, shall there be no light shining in their faces, to give testimony of their modesty and pudicitie? Or rather, shall there be diverse demonstrative evidences in many of them, but yet such as will not stir up and provoke any person to love them? Surely it is neither so nor so; there is no truth nor probability in any of them both: but every thing is common indifferently, aswell in the one sex as the other, as we have showed. showed Here also there is another want in the original. ***********  
O Dapbnaeus, let us impugn and confute those reasons, whereupon Zeuxippus 〈◊〉 discoursed, supposing that Love is all one with concupiscence, which is disordinate, and leadeth the soul into all looseness and dissolution. And yet do I not think, that he is so persuaded indeed, and of that belief; but for that he hath heard often times odious persons, and such as have no loveliness in them, so to say: of whom, some hold under their hands, and have at command, poor silly women, whom they have gotten for some petty dowries sake, and whom together with their moneys they put to the managing of domestical affairs, and to make base, vile, and mechanical accounts, quarreling and brawling with them every day; and others again, having more mind and desire to get children, than to love espoused wives, like unto grasshoppers, which cast their seed upon squilles, sea onions, or such like herbs, having discharged their lust in all the haste upon any body that first comes in their way, and reaped the fruit only that they sought for, bid marriage farewell, and make no farther account of their wedded wives, or if they tarry and stay with them still, they regard them no more than their old shoes, making no count either to love them, or to be loved reciprocally of them. And verily, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signify, to love and to be loved again dearly, which differ but in one letter from the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to contain and hold together, seem unto me at the first sight, directly to import and show a mutual benevolence, by long time and acquaintance tempered with a kind of necessity. But look what person soever love settleth upon in marriage, so as he be inspired once therewith; at the very first, like as it is in Plato's Commonwealth, he will not have these words in his mouth, Mine and Thine: for simply all goods are not common among all friends, but those only who being 〈◊〉 apart in body, conjoin and colliquate, as it were perforce, their souls together, neither willing nor believing that they should be twain, but one: and afterwards by true pudicity and reverence one unto the other, whereof wedlock hath most need. As 〈◊〉 that which cometh from without, carrying with it more force of law, than voluntary obsequence and reciprocal duty, and that in regard of fear and shame, 
A piece of work, that needs the guide  
Of many bits and helms beside.  requireth always to have ready at hand a careful regard among those that are coupled in matrimony: whereas in true love there is so much continency, modesty, loyalty and faithfulness, that although otherwhile it touch a wanton and lascivious mind, yet it diverteth it from other lovers, and by cutting off all malapert boldness, by taking down and debasing insolent pride and untaught stubborness, it placeth in am thereof, modest bashfulness, silence and taciturnity; it adorneth it with decent gesture, and seemly countenance, making it for ever after obedient to one lover only. Ye have heard (I am sure) of that most famous and renowned courtesan Lais, who was courted and sought unto by so many lovers, and ye know well, how she inflamed and set on fire all Greece with the love and longing desire after her; or to say more truly, how two seas strave about her? how after that the love of Hippolochus the Thessalian had seized upon her, she quit and abandoned the mount Acrocorinthus, 
Seated upon the river side,  
Which with green waves by it did glide.  as one writeth of it; and flying secretly from a great army as it were of other lovers, she retired herself right decently within Megalopolis unto him; where other women upon very spite, envy and jealousy, in regard of her surpassing beauty, drew her into the temple of Venus, and stoned her to death: whereupon it came, as it should seem, that even at this day they call the said temple, The temple of Venus the murderess. We ourselves have known diverse young maidens, by condition no better than slaves, who never would yield to lie with their master; as also sundry private persons of mean degree, who refused, yea, and disdained the company of queens, when their hearts were once possessed with other love, which as a mistress had the absolute command thereof. For like as at Rome, when there was a Lord dictator once chosen, all other officers of State and magistrates vailed bonnet, were presently deposed, and laid down their ensigns of authority; even so those, over whom Love hath gotten the mastery and rule, incontinently are quit, freed and delivered from all other lords and rulers, no otherwise than such as are devoted to the service of some religious place. And in truth an honest and virtuous dame, linked once unto her lawful spouse by unfeigned love, will sooner abide to be clipped, clasped and embraced by any wolves and dragons, than the contrectation and bed fellowship of any other man whatsoever but her own husband. And albeit there be an infinite number of examples among you here, who are all of the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  same country, and professed associates in one dance with this god Love; yet it were not well done to pass over in silence the accidents which befell unto Camma the Galatian lady. This young dame being of incomparable beauty, was married unto a tetrarch or great lord of that country named Sinnatus; howbeit, one Synorix the mightiest man of all the Galatians was enamoured upon her: but seeing that he could not prevail with the woman neither by force and persuasion, so long as her husband lived, he made no more ado but murdered him. Camma then having no other refuge for her pudicity, nor comfort and easement of her heart's grief, made choice of the temple of Diana, where she became a religious votary, according to the custom of that country. And verily the most part of her time she bestowed in the worship of that goddess, and would not admit speech with any 〈◊〉, many though they were, and those great personages, who sought her marriage: but when Synorix had made means very boldly to ask her the question, and to solicit her about that point, she seemed not to reject his motion, nor to expostulate and be offended for any thing past, as if for pure love of her, and ardent affection, and upon no wicked and malicious mind unto Sinnatus, he had been induced to do that which he did: and therefore Synorix came confidently to treat with her and demand marriage of her: she also for her part came toward the man kindly, gave him her hand, and brought him to the altar of the said goddess; where after she had made an offering unto Diana, by pouring forth some little of a certain drink made of wine & honey, as it should seem, empoisoned, which she had put into a cup, she began unto Synorix, & drank up the one 〈◊〉 of it, giving the rest unto the said Galatian for to pledge her. Now when she saw that he had drunk it all off, she fetched a grievous groan, and broke forth aloud into this speech, naming withal her husband that dead was: My most loving and dear spouse (quoth she) I have lived thus long without thee in great sorrow and heaviness expecting this day; but now receive me joifully (seeing it is my good hap to be revenged for thy death upon this most wicked and ungracious wretch) as one most glad to have lived once with thee, and to die now with him. As for Synorix, he was carried away from thence in a litter, and died soon after; but Camma having survived him a day and a night, died by report most resolutely and with exceeding joy of spirit. Considering then, that there be many such like examples, aswell among us here in Greece, as the Barbarians, who is able to endure those that reproach and revile Love, as if being associate and assistant to love, she should hinder amity? whereas chose, the company of male with male, a man may rather term intemperance and disordinate lasciviousness, crying out upon it in this manner: 
Gross wantonness or filthy lust, it is  
Not Venus fair that worketh this.  And therefore such filths & baggages as take delight to suffer themselves voluntarily thus to be abused against nature, we reckon to be the worst and most flagitious persons in the world; no man reposeth in them any trust, no man doth them any jote of honour and reverence, nor vouchsafeth them worthy of the least part of friendship: but in very truth, according to Sophocles, 
Such friends as these, men are full glad and joy when they be gone:  
But whiles they have them, wish and pray, that they were rid anon.  As for those, who being by nature lewd and nought, have been circumvented in their youth, and forced to yield themselves and to abide this villainy and abuse, all their life after, abhor the sight of such wicked wantoness, and deadly hate them, who have been thus disposed to draw them to this wickedness; yea, and ready they are to be revenged, and to pay them home at one time or other, whensoever means and opportunity is offered: for upon this occasion Cratenas killed Archelaus, whom, in his flower of youth he had thus spoiled: as also Pytholaus slew Alexander the tyrant of Pherae. And Pertander the tyrant of Ambracia demanded upon a time of the boy whom he kept, whether he were not yet with child: which indignity the youth took so to the heart, that he slew him outright in the place: whereas, with women, and those especially that be espoused and wedded wives, these be the earnest penies as it were and beginnings of amity, yea, & the very obligation and society of the most sacred & holiest ceremonies. As for fleshly pleasure itself, the least thing it is of all other: but the mutual honour, grace, dilection and fidelity that springeth and ariseth from it daily, is highly to be reckoned and accounted of: and therefore neither can the Delphians be noted for folly, in that they term Venus' 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, a chariot; by reason of this yoke-fellowship: nor Homer, in calling this conjunction of man and wife, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, amity and friendship. Solon likewise is deemed by this, to have been an excellent lawgiver, and most expert in that which concerneth marriage; when he decreed expressly, that the husband should thrice in a month at the least embrace his wife and company in bed with her; not for carnal pleasures sake, (I assure you) but like as cities and states use, after a certain time between, to renew their leagues and confederacies one with another, so he would have that the alliance of marriage should eftsooones be entertained anew by such solace and delectation, after jars, which otherwhiles arise and breed by some bone cast between. Yea, but there be many enormous and furious parts, will some one say, that are played by such as are in love with women. And be there not more (I pray) by those that are enamoured upon boys? do but mark him who uttereth these passionate words: 
So often as these eyes of mine behold  
That beardless youth, that smooth and lovely boy,  
I faint and fall: then wish I him to hold  
Within mine arms, and so to die with joy:  
And that on tomb were set where I do lie,  
An Epigram, mine end to testify.  But as there is a furious passion in some men doting upon women, so there is as raging an affection in others toward boys, but neither the one nor the other is love. Well, most absurd it were to say that women are not endued with other virtues: for what need we to speak of their temperance and chastity, of their prudence, fidelity and justice: considering that even fortitude itself, constant confidence and resolution, yea and magnanimity, is in many of them very evident. Now to hold, that being by nature not indisposed unto other virtues, they are untoward for amity only and friendship, (which is an imputation laid upon them) is altogether beside all reason. For well known it is that they be loving to their children and husbands: and this their natural affection, is like unto a fertile field or battle soil, capable of amity, not unapt for persuasion, nor destitute of the Graces. And like as Poesy having sitted unto speech song, meeter and thime as pleasant spices to aromatize and season the same, by means whereof, that profitable instruction which it yieldeth, is more attractive and effectual, as also the danger therein more inevitable: Even so nature, having endued a woman with an amiable cast and aspect of the eye, with sweet speech, and a beautiful countenance; hath given unto her great means, if she be lascivious and wanton, with her pleasure to decive a man, and if she be chaste and honest, to gain the good will and favour of her husband. Plato gave counsel unto Xenocrates an excellent Philosopher, and a worthy parsonage otherwise, howbeit in his behaviour exceeding sour and austere, to sacrifice unto the Graces: and even so a man might advise a good matron, and sober dame, to offer sacrifice unto Love, for his propitious favour unto marriage, and his residence with her, and that her husband, by her kind loving demeanour unto him, may keep home, and not seek abroad to some other, and so be forced in the end to break out into such speeches as these out of the Comedy: 
Wretch that I am, and man unhappy I  
So good a wife to quit with injury.  For in wedlock, to love, is a better and greater thing by far, than to be loved; for it keepeth folk from falling into many faults & slips, or to say more truly, it averteth them from all those inconveniences which may corrupt, mar, & ruinate a marriage: as for those passionate affections, which in the beginning of matrimonial love move fits, somewhat poignant and biting, let me entreat you (good friend Zeuxippus) not to fear, for any exulceration or smart itch that they have, although to say a truth, it were no great harm if haply by some little wound, you come to be incorporate and united to an honest woman; like as trees that by incision are engrafted and grow one within another: for when all is said, is not the beginning of conception a kind of exulceration; neither can there be a mixture of two things into one, unless they mutually suffer one of the other, & be reciprocally affected. And verily, the Mathematical rudiments which children be taught, at the beginning trouble them, even as Philosophy also at the first is harsh unto young men: but like as this unpleasantness continueth not always with them, no more doth that mordacity stick still among lovers. And it seemeth that Love at the first resembleth the mixture of two liquors, which when they begin to incorporate together, boil and work one with another: for even so Love seemeth to make a certain confused tract and ebullition; but after a while that the same be once settled and thoroughly cleansed, it bringeth unto Lovers a most firm and assured habit: and there is properly that mixtion and temperature which is called universal, and through the whole: whereas the love of other friends conversing and living together, may be very well compared to the mixtion which is made by these touching and interlacing of atoms, which Epicurus speaketh of; and the same is subject to ruptures, separations, and start a sunder: neither can it possibly make that union which matrimonial love and mutual conjunction doth: for neither do there arise from any other Loves greater pleasures, nor commodities more continually one from another, ne yet is the benefit and good of any other friendship so honourable or expetible, as 
When man and wife keep house with one accord,  
And lovingly agree at bed and board.  Especially when the law warranteth it, and the bond of procreation common between them, is assistant thereto. And verily nature showeth that the gods themselves have need of such love: for thus the Poets say, that the heaven loveth the earth; and the Naturalists hold, that the 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, with the 〈◊〉. But in what sense either the one or other, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. But the place is so corrupt every way, that is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 if it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 understood at all.  Sun likewise is in love with the Moon, which every month is in conjunction with him, by whom also she conceiveth. In brief, must it not follow necessarily, that the earth, which is the mother and breeder of men, of living creatures, and all plants, shall perish and be wholly extinct: when love, which is ardent desire, and instinct inspired from god, shall abandon the matter, and the matter likewise shall cease to lust and seek after the principle and cause of her conception.  
But to the end that we may not range too far, nor use any superfluous and nugatory words, yourself do know, that these paederasties are of all other most uncertain, and such as use them are wont to scoff much thereat and say, that the amity of such boys is in manner of an egg divided three ways; and as for themselves, they resemble the wandering Nomads in Scythia, who having encamped in the spring time, and pastured where the fields be green and full of flowers, presently dislodge and depart as it were out of an enemy's country. And yet Bion the Sophister was more rough and odious in his words toward such, when he termed the first down or hairs appearing upon the face of beautiful youths Harmodii, and Aristogitones; for that by them Lovers were delivered out of the tyranny of such fair persons, when they begin once to bud and put forth. But these imputations are not justly charged upon true Lovers. As for that which Euripides said, it was pretty, and carried some elegancy with it; for as he embraced and kissed fair Agathon, even when his beard began to grow, he said: that of fair persons, the very latter season of the Autumn was lovely and beautiful: But I say more than so, namely, that the loveliness of honest women passeth not away with rivels, wrinkles, and hoary hairs, but continue always even to their sepulchre and tombs of memorial. Again, there are but a few couples in that other sex, of true Lovers; but of men and women joined in wedlock, an infinite number, who to the very last hour have kept most faithfully their loyalty and hearty love reciprocally one unto the other. But one example among many other, which befell in our days, under Vespasian the emperor, I will relate unto you. Julius, he who in Galatia was the author of a revolt, and raised a rebellion, had many other complices, (as a man may well think) of this conspiracy, and among the rest, one Sabinus a young gentleman of an high spirit, and for wealth and reputation, a principal person, and of special mark: these men having enterpised a great desseigment, failed of their purpose; and expecting no other but that they should, according to justice, suffer due punishment according to their deserts, some killed themselves, other thinking to escape by flight, were apprehended; as for Sabinus, all other good and ready means he had to save himself, and fly unto the Barbarians in a strange country: but lately he had taken to wife, a most virtuous dame, and every way right excellent, whose name in those parts was 
* Or, 〈◊〉.  Empona, as one would say in the Greek language, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, a princess or great lady; but her he could not possibly either in his love endure to forsake nor find means to take with him: whereas therefore he had at an house in the country certain secret vaults, & hidden cellars deep under the ground, where he bestowed his treasure & goods in safteie, and those known to two of his enfranchised servants, and no more; the rest of his household servitors he discharged and sent away; pretending unto them, that he was resolved to poison himself; & retaining still about him those two trusty freed men, with them he went down into those secret caves or vaults digged out of the ground; which done, he sent one of these enfranchised servants of his, whose name was 
* Or, 〈◊〉.  Martalinus unto his wife, to let her understand that he had killed himself with poison, and that the whole house together with his corpse was burnt; for his purpose was by the unfeigned sorrow and mourning of his wife, to make the rumour that ran of his death, the better to be believed; & so it fell out invery deed: for no sooner heard she this news, but with piteous cries, & doleful lamentations, she cast herself upon the ground, where she at that time was, & lay there along for three days and three nights together, without meat or drink: which when Sabinus heard, fearing lest the woman would by this means work her own death; he commanded the said Martalinus to round her secretly in the ear, that he was yet living, and lay hidden within the ground, requesting her withal, that she would continue still a while longer in this monrnefull state, bewailing her husband's death, yet so, as she might not be perceived to counterfeit; and verily this young lady in all other respects performed the tragical show of that calamity so artificially, and played her part with such dexterity, that she confirmed the opinions received and divulged of his death: but having a longing desire to see him, she went by night unto him, and came again the same, so secretly, that no creature perceived it; and thus continued she this haunt from time to time, for the space of seven months, keeping company, and lying as one would say in hell under the ground with her husband; during which time, she one day disguised Sabinus in his apparel, and what with shaving his beard, and knitting about his head a kerchief, she ordered the matter so, that he could not be known to them that met him: and upon hope of obtaining pardon, she brought him with her to Rome, with other stuff and carriages of hers: but when she could not speed, she retired again into the country, and for the most part abode and conversed with him under the ground: howbeit, otherwhiles between, she would repair to the city, and show herself unto other women her friends, and of her familiar acquaintance. But that which of all other seemeth most incredible, she handled the matter so, that it was never perceived she was with child, albeit she washed and bathed ordinarily with other dames and wives of the city; for the oil or ointment wherewith women use to anoint the hair of their head, for to make the same fair and yellow like burnishing gold, hath a certain property in it to pinguisie withal, to incarnate, and so to raise and rarefy the flesh, that it causeth it to be lax, and so to swell and puff up more plump: of this medicinable oil she made no spare, but used to rub and besmear the other parts of her body, in such sort, as that by their proportionable rising, she hid her great belly, which grew more round and full every day than other. Now when her time was come, she endured the pangs and pains of her travel in childbirth, alone by herself; being gone down to her husband like a lioness into her den, and there she suckled at her own breast secretly, if I may so say, her male whelps, for two boy twins she was delivered of; of which two sons, the one chanced to be slain in Egypt, the other, not long since, but very lately, was with us at Delphos, named after his father, Sabinus. Howbeit for all this, Vespasian caused this lady to be put to death; but for this murder of his he dearly paid, and was punished accordingly: for within a while after, his whole posterity was utterly destroyed and rooted out from the face of the earth, so as there remained not one of his race: for there was not in those days, and during his empire, a more cruel and inhuman fact committed; neither was there ever any other spectacle that both gods and angels seemed more to abhor and to turn away their eyes from beholding. And yet her grandiloquence and stout resolutions in her speech, whereby she did exasperate and provoke Vespasian most, was such, that it diminished much the pitiful ruth and compassion, that the beholders of the execution had of her: for when she was past hope of obtaining her husband's life, she would needs die in his turn, and required that exchange for him, saying withal, that it was a greater joy unto her, for to live in darkness and under the earth, than to see him emperor.  
And herewith (quoth my father) ended their discourse as touching Love, at what time as they were near unto Thespies, for than they might perceive coming toward them, faster than with a footpace, one of Pisias friends, named Diogenes; unto whom Soclarus spoke aloud, when he was yet a good way off: You bring us no news I hope Diogenes of war? Osse better than so (quoth he) being, as there is, a marriage toward; why mend you not your pace therefore, and make haste thither? for the nuptial sacrifice stayeth only for your coming: At which words (as my father said) all the rest of the company joied, and were exceeding glad, only Zeuxippus showed himself mal-content, and not well pleased; for he could not dissemble it: howbeit he was the first man that approved the act of Ismenadora, as good and lawful: and even now he willingly set a garland upon his ownehead, and put on a white wedding rob, marching before all the company through the market place, to render thanksgiving unto the god Love, for this marriage. Well done (quoth my father then) I swear by Jupiter: go we on all hands away, and let us be gone; that we may laugh and make ourselves merry with this man, and withal adore and woriship the god: for evident it is, that he taketh joy in that which hath been done, and is present with his favour and approbation to grace the wedding.    

OF THE FACE APPEARING WITHIN THE ROUNDLE OF THE MOON.  

The Summarie.  
THis dialogue is defective in the beginning thereof. In it are brought in Sylla and Pharnaces, with some others, disputing with Plutarch, as touching one point of natural Philosophy, worthy to be considered and read over and over 〈◊〉, by those that take delight in such pleasant speculations meet for good wits to be exercised in. The weight of this matter concerneth the globe of the Moon and 〈◊〉 principally this not able accident of the face which appeareth therein: by occasion whereof, diverse questions depending upon the first and principal, are discussed and resolved by our author, according as he hath comprised and understood them. But here is the mischief in this discourse, like as in many others of this second tome, that it is not only headless, but maimed also and dismembered otherwise: and yet the translator and the french especially hath with great dexterity laid the pieces together, so as the breaches can hardly be seen, unless a man look very near. Now the principal matters handled here, be these that follow. After that Plutarch had refuted three opinions concerning the face in the Moon, and brought in one Lucius, maintaining that position of the Academiques, who presuppose that the Moon is terrene and consisteth of an earthly substance, he entereth into disputation against those who attribute one centre unto the world and the earth labouring to confirm his own opinion by diverse arguments marked in their order: which he handleth with such a grace that yet a man may see withal, how natural Philosophy destitute of that light of God's word (which by Moses in the first chapter of Genesis resolveth and cleareth infinite disputations and controversies in these matters) is in a manner blind and stumbleth many times most grossly and absurdly. Moreover, according to the train of words and speeches, which commonly in such conferences follow one upon another, they treat of the centre and motion of the universal world, of the proportion thereof, and the principal parts of it of the illumination of the Moon, of reflections and mirrors, of eclipses and the shadow of the earth. Item, whether the Moon be a globe of fire, or of what else? what is her colour? from whence precedeth & how cometh this resemblance of a face which is observed in her? whether she be inhabited or no? as also of her nature and effects. Toward the end he 〈◊〉 a fable fetched from the Poets and ancient natural Philosophy, for to mollify and make more probable and credible that which had been delivered as touching those that dwell within the Moon. In sum, this treatise giveth good proof of the quick and pregnant wit of our author, who could enter into, and pierce through allthings: whereof if he have not always attained unto the exact knowledge; we should rather by all likelihood blame the iniquity of long time, which hath not permitted us to have these books entire and whole, than the insufficiency of so deep a clerk. To conclude, this aught to unite those that sound and search into the secrets of nature, to join with that which the modern Philosophers of our time are able to write slightly and at ease of such matters, what hath been delivered by the ancients, who indeed have made the coverture unto those who succeeded after them: to the end that there might be drawn out of them all, a certain firm resolution, which raiseth us up above the Moon, and all other celestial bodies, unto the only God and sole Creator of so many admirable works, thereby to acknowledge, serve and praise him according as his omnipotent greatness doth deserve.   

OF THE FACE APPEARING in the roundle of the Moon.  
WEll, thus much said Sylla, for it accorded well to my speech, and depended thereupon: but I would very willingly before all things else know, what need is there to make such a preamble for to come unto these opinions, which are so currant and rife in every man's mouth, as touching the face of the Moon. And why not (quoth I) considering the difficulty of these points which have driven us thither: for like as in long maladies, when we have tried ordinary remedies, and usual rules of diet, and found no help thereby, we give them over in the end, and betake ourselves to lustral sacrifices and expiations, to anulets or preservatives for to be hanged about our necks, and to interpretations of dreams: even so in such obscure questions, and difficult speculations, when the common and ordinary opinions, when usual and apparent reasons will not serve nor satisfy us, necessary it is to assay those which are more extravagant, and not to reject and despise the same, but to enchant or charm ourselves, as one would say, with the discourses of our ancients, and try all means for to find out the truth: for at the very first encounter you see, how absurd he is & intolerable, who saith, that the form or face appearing in the Moon, is an accident of our eyesight, that by reason of weakness giveth place to the brightness thereof, which accident we call the dazzeling of our eyes, not considering withal, that this should befall rather against the Sun, whose light is more resplendent, and beams more quick and piercing, according as Empe docles himself in one place pleasantly noteth the difference, when he saith: 
The Sun that shines so quick and bright,  
The Moon with dim and stony light.  for so he expresseth that mild, amiable, pleasant, and harmless visage of the Moon: and afterwards rendereth a reason, why those, who have obscure & feeble sights, perceive not in the Moon any different form or shape, but unto them her circle shineth plain, even, uniform and full round about; whereas they who have more quick and piercing eyes, do more exactly observe the proportion and lineaments, and discern better the impression of a face, yea, and distinguish more perfectly and evidently the several parts: for in mine opinion it would fall out clean contrary, in case the weakness of the eye being overcome, caused this apparition, that where the patient eye is more feeble, there the said appearance and imagination should be more express and evident: furthermore, the inequality therein, doth fully every way confute this reason; for this face or countenance is not to be seen in a continuate and confused shadow: But Agesianax the Poet, right elegantly depainteth in some sort the same, in these words: 
All round about environed  
With fire she is illumined:  
And in the mids there doth appear,  
Like to some boy, a visage clear:  
Whose eyes to us do seem in 〈◊〉,  
Of colour grayish more than blue:  
The brows and forehead, tender seem,  
The cheeks all reddish one would deem.  For intrueth dark and shaddowy things, compassed about with those that are shining & clear are driven downward, and the same do rise again receprocally, being by them repulsed, and in one word, are interlaced one within another, in such sort as they represent the form of a face lively and natuturally depainted: and it seemeth that there was great probability in that which Clearcus said against your Aristotle. For this Aristotle of yours, though he familiarly conversed with that ancient Aristotle, perverted and overthrew many points of the Perepateticks 〈◊〉. Then Apollonides, taking upon him to speak, demanded, what opinion this might be of Aristotle and upon what reason it was grounded. Surely (quoth I) it were more meet for any man else to be ignorant hereof, than for you, considering that it is grounded upon the very fundamental principles of Geomitry. For this man affirmeth that the thing, which we call the face in the Moon, are the images and figures of the great ocean, represented in the Moon as in a mirror: for the circomference of a round circle, being reflected back every way, is wont to deceive the sight in such things as are not directly seen. And the full Moon herself is, for evenness, smoothness and lustre, the most beautiful and purist mirror in the world. Like as therefore ye hold, that the rainbow appeareth (when our eyesight is reflected back upon the Sun) in a cloud, that hath gotten smoothness somewhat liquid, and a consistence withal; even so (quoth he) a man may see in the Moon the great ocean, without, not in the very place where it is situate: but from whence the reflection by touching the light reverberat and sent back, maketh a sight and apparition thereof. which Agestanax hath said in another place, after this manner, 
The figure of the Ocean is just resembled there  
In flaming mirror, when great waves it doth against it rear.  Apollonides then, being persuaded that it was so; a singular opinion believe me (quoth he) this was of his, and when all is said, newly and after a strange manner devised by a man, who may be thought bold and confident enough in his projects, howbeit full of wit and a great clerk withal. But how did Clearchus refute the same? First & foremost (quoth I) If the 〈◊〉 sea or ocean be all of one nature than it must needs be that the currant thereof is all one 〈◊〉 & continuate: but the appearance of those black & dim obscurities which are observed in the face of the Moon, is not even and continued, but there be certain isthmes or partitions between clear and bright, which divide and separate that which is shady and dark. Therefore seeing each part is distinct, and hath proper bounds and limits apart, the conjunctions & approchments of the clear to that which is dark, making a semblance of high and low, do express and resemble the similitude of a figure, with eyes & lips; so that of necessity we are to suppose, that there be many oceans and main seas, distinguished by the isthmes of firm lands between: which is a manifest untruth. And admit that there is but one continued sea for all, it is not credible that the image thereof should appear so dissipate and distracted by pieces: and as for this point, the surer way is, and less dangerous, to demand, than to affirm aught in your presence; namely whether, the habitible earth being equal in length and breadth, it be possible, that all the sight reflected and sent back by the Moon, should equally touch the whole ocean and all those that sail therein, and even such as seem to dwell in it, as the Britons do: seeing that yourselves have maintained that the whole earth, in proportion to the globe or sphere of the Moon, is no more than a very prick. As for this verily (quoth I) it is your part to regard and consider: and true it is that as touching the reverberation and reflection of the sight from the Moon, it belongeth neither to you nor to Hipparcus. And yet I assure you, my good friend Lamprias (quoth Apollonides) there be many naturalists, who hold it not good to affirm with Hipparcus that our sight is so driven back; but they suppose and affirm, that it is more like and probable that it hath a certain temperature and obeisant compact structure, than such beat and repercussions as Epicurus imagineth the Atoms have. Neither do I believe that Clearchus would have us to suppose, that the Moon is a massive and weighty body, but celestial and lightsome: against which you say that the refraction of our eyesight should reach: and therefore all this reflection, and reverberation falleth to the ground and comes to nothing. But if I should be urged, and entreated by him to receive and admit the same, I would ask him the question, how it comes to pass, that this image of the sea is to be seen only in the body of the Moon, and not in any of the other stars? for by all likelihood and probability, our sight should suffer the same equally in all, or just in none at all. But I pray you (quoth I, casting mine eyes upon Lucius) call to mind again that which was first delivered of our part, & by those of our side. Nay rather I am afraid (quoth Lucius) lest we may be thought to offer over much injury unto Pharnaces, if we should so pass over the Stoics opinion 〈◊〉, and without opposing any thing against it. Why then reply somewhat upon this man (quoth I) who holdeth that the Moon is a whole mixtion of the air, and of some mild fire, and then afterwards saith, that like as in a calm, there happeneth other whiles a little horror or wind, that rumbleth and bloweth upon the sea, even so the air thereby becometh black, and thereupon is made a certain resemblance and form of a visage. Courteously done of you Lucius (quoth I) thus to clad and cover with fair words and good terms so absurd and false an opinion. But so did not our friend, but spoke the plain troth, and said that the Stoics disfigured the moons face making it black and blue, and filling it with dark spots and clouds, and withal invocating her by the name of Minerva and Diana, and in the mean while making her a lump as it were of paste, consisting of dark air and a fire of charcoal, that cannot burn out, nor yield light of itself, but having a body hard to be judged and known, ever smoking and always burning like to those lightnings which by the Poets are called, sightless and smoky. But that a fire of coals, such as they would have that of the Moon to be, continueth not long, nor can so much as subsist, if it mere not with some solid matter, which may hold it in and withal feed and nourish it; I suppose that they know better, who in merriment say that Vulcan is lame and doth halt, than these Philosophers do: for that indeed fire cannot go forward without wood or fuel, no more than a lame cripple without his staff or crouches. If then the Moon be fire, how cometh it to have so much air in it? For this region aloft which moveth round, doth not consist of air, but of some other more noble substance, which is able to subtilize and set on fire every thing beside. But in case it be afterwards engendered in it, how is it that it perishith not by being changed and transmuted by the fire into a celestial substance, but maintaineth itself, and continueth together as it were, cohabiting with the fire so long, like unto a spike or nail set fast continually in the same parts, and fitted thereto? For being rare as it is, and diffused, meet it were that it should not so abide and continue, but be dissipated and resolved; and to grow compact and thick it is impossible, so long as it is mixed with fire, having no earth nor water; which are the two only elements whereby the air will gather to a consistence and thickness. Moreover, the swiftness and violence of motion, is wont to inflame the air that is within stones, yea, and in lead as cold as it is: much more then, that which is in fire, being whirled about, and turned with so great celerity and impetiositie: for in this regard they are offended with Empedocles, for that he made the Moon congealed air, in manner of hail, and included within a sphere of fire: and yet themselves say, that the Moon being a sphere or globe of fire, doth enclose and contain the air dispersed to and fro; and that the same hath neither ruptures nor concavities, ne yet any profundities, which they admit who will have the Moon to be of earth, but forsooth superficially only, and as it were settled upon the embossed and swelling back thereof: which is against all reason, if it be to endure, and cannot possibly be, in case we give credit to that which we do see in full Moons: for divided it ought not to be, and separarate apart, being black and dark, but either being hidden, to be altogether darkened, or else to be illuminate when the Moon is overspread by the Sun. For here beneath with us, the air that is in deep pits and low caves of the earth, where the Sun beams never come, remaineth dark and shady, without any light at all: but that which is spread about the earth, is clear, and of a lightsome colour; for by reason of the rarity thereof, it is very easy to be transmuted into every quality and faculty; but principally by the light, which if it never so little touch it, as they say, and lay hold of it, you shall see it incontinently changed, and light throughout. This very reason therefore seemeth greatly to help and maintain the opinion of them who drive the air into I wot not what deep valleys and pits within the Moon; as also to confute you, who mingle and compound I know not how, her sphere of fire and air; for impossible it is that there should remain any shadow or obscurity in the superficies thereof, when the Sun with his brightness doth clear and illuminate whatsoever part of the Moon we are able to discern, and cut with our eyesight. And as I spoke these words, even before I had made an end of my speech: See (quoth Pharnaces) the ordinary cast of the Academy, how it is, practised upon us, in that they busy themselves evermore, and spend time in all their discourses to speak against others, but never allow the discussing and reproving of that which they deliver themselves: but if any happen to confer and dispute with them; they must plead in their own defence always, and not be allowed to reply or come upon them with any accusations: for mine own part, you shall not draw me this day to render a reason of such matters as you charge upon the Stoics, nor to speak in their behalf, before I have called you to an account: for thus turning the world upside down, as you do. hereat Lucius laughing; And very well content am I good sir, (quoth he) so to do, provided always, that you accuse us not of impiety; like as Aristarchus thought that the Greeks ought to have called Cleanthes the Samean into question, judicially & to condemn him for his impiety and Atheism, as one that shook the very foundations of the world to overthrow all, in that the man endevoting to save and maintain those things which appear unto us above, supposed the heaven to stand still as immooveable, and that it was the earth that moved round by the oblique circle of the Zodiac, and turned about the own axle-tree. As for us, we speak of ourselves, and in our own behalf. But they, my good friend Pharnaces, who suppose that the Moon is earth, why do they turn the world upside down, more than you; who place the earth here hanging in the air, being far greater than the Moon, as the Mathematicians take their measure, in the accidents of the eclipses, and by the passages of trajections of the Moon through the shadow of the earth, collecting thereby the magnitude thereof, and what space it taketh up? for surely the shadow of the earth is less than itself, by reason that it is cast by a greater light. Now that the said shadow is straight, and pointed upward toward the end, Homer himself was not ignorant, but signified as much, when he called the night 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, for the sharpness at the point of the said shadow; and yet the Moon as it appeareth in her ecclypses, being caught and comprehended within the compass of that shadow, hath much ado to get out of it, by going forward in length, thrice as much as her own bigness comes to. Consider then, how many times greater must the earth needs be than the Moon, if it be so, that the shadow which it casteth, where it is sharpest and narrowest, is thrice as much as the Moon. But ye are afraid lest the Moon should fall, if she were avowed to the earth: (for it may be haply, that Aeschylus hath sealed you a warrant, and secured you for the earth, when he said thus of Atlas: 
He standeth like a pillar strong and sure,  
From earth to heaven above that reacheth straight:  
To bear on shoulders twain, he doth endure  
A massy burden and unwieldy weight.)  if under the Moon there run and be spread a light and thin air, not firm and sufficient for to sustain a solid mass: whereas according to Pindarus: 
To bear the earth there standmost putssant  
Columns and pillars of hard diamant.  And therefore Pharnaces for himself is out of all fear, that the earth will fall; mary he pitieth those who are directly and plumb under the course of the Moon, and namely the Aethiopians, and those of Taprobana, lest so weighty a mass should tumble down upon their heads. And yet the Moon hath one good means and help to keep her from falling, to wit, her very motion and violent revolution, like unto those bullets or stones, or whatsoever weights be put within a sling, they are sure enough from slipping or falling out, so long as they be violently swung and whirled about. For every body is carried according to the natural motion thereof, if there be no other cause to impeach or turn it aside out of course: which is the reason that the Moon moveth not, according to the motion of her poise, considering the inclination thereof downward, is stayed and hindered by the violence of a circular revolution. But peradventure more cause there were to marvel, if she should stand altogether as the earth, immovable: whereas now the Moon hath this great cause to impeach her, for not tending downward hither. As for the earth, which hath no other motion at all to hinder it; great reason there is, that according to that only weight of the own, it should move downward and there settle; for more heavy it is than the Moon, not so much in this regard, that greater it is, but more, for that the Moon by reason of heat and adustion of fire, is made the lighter. In brief, it appeareth by that which you say, if it be true that the Moon be fire, it hath need of earth, or some other martyr to rest upon and cleave 〈◊〉 for to maintain, nourish, and quicken still the power that it hath: for it cannot be conceived or imagined, how fire should be preserved without fuel, or matter combustible. And you yourselves affirm, do ye not? that the earth abideth firm and sure, without any base or piedstall to sustain and hold it up? Yes verily (quoth Pharnaces) being in the proper and natural place, which is the very mids and centre. For this is it whereto all heavy and weighty things do 〈◊〉, incline, and are carried to, from every side, and about which they cling, and be counterpeized: but the upper region throughout, if haply there be any terrestrial and heavy matter, by violence sent up thither, repelleth and casteth it down again with force incontinently, or to speak more truly, letteth it go and fall, according to the own natural inclination, which is to tend and settle downward.  
For the answer and refutation whereof, I willing to give Luctus some reasonable time to summon his wits together, and to think upon his reasons: and calling unto Theon by name, Which of the tragical Poets was it (Theon quoth I) who said that Physicians 
Bitter medicines into the body power,  
When bitter choler they mean to purge and scour?  And when he made me answer that it was Sophocles. Well (quoth I) we must permit them so to doc upon necessity: but we ought not to give ear unto Philosophers, if they would maintain strange paradoxes, by other positions as absurd, or to confute admirable opinions, devise others much more extravagant and wonderful; like as these here who broach and bring in a motion forsooth tending unto a middle, wherein, what absurdity is there not? Hold not they that the earth is as round as a ball, and yet we see how many deep profundities, haughty sublimities & manifold inequalities it hath? affirm not they that there be antipodes dwelling opposite one unto another, and those sticking as it were to the sides of the earth with their heels upward & their heads downward all arse verse, like unto these woodwormes or cats which hang by their sharp claws? Would not they have even us also that are here for to go upon the ground not plumb upright, but bending or inclining sidelong, reeling and staggering like drunken folk? Do they not tell us tales, and would make us believe, that if bars and masses of iron weighing a thousand talents a piece, were let fall down into the bottom of the earth, when they came once to the middle centre thereof, will stay and rest there, albeit nothing else came against them nor sustained them up? And if peradventure by some forcible violence they should pass beyond the said midst, they would soon rebound back thither again of their own accord? Say not they that if a man should saw off the trunks or ends of beams on either side of the earth, the same would never settle downward still throughout, but from without forth fall both into the earth, and so equally meet one another, and cling together about the hart or centre thereof. Suppose not they that if a violent stream of water should run downward still into the ground, when it met once with the very point or centre in the midst, which they hold to be incorporal, it would then gather together and turn round in manner of a whirlpool, about a pole, waving to and fro there continually like one of these pendant buckets, and, as it hangeth, wag incessantly without end? And verily some of these assertions of theirs are so absurd, that no man is able to enforce himself to imagine in his mind although falsely, that they are possible. For this indeed is to make high and low all one: this is to turn all upside down: that those things, which become as far as to the midst, shall be thought below and under: and what is under the middle shall be supposed above and aloft; in such sort, as that if a man, by the sufferance and consent of the earth, stood with his navel just against the middle and centre of it, he should by this means have his head and his heels both together standing upward: and if one should come and dig through the place beyond that part of him which was above, shall in the digging be drawn downward, and that which was beneath be cast upward both at once: and if there may be imagined another to go clean contrary unto him, their feet which were opposite one unto the other, should nevertheless be said and be indeed both together, beneath and above. Thus they both carrying upon their backs and also drawing after them, not I assure you a box or little budget, but a farthel and pack, I swear unto you, of judglers' boxes full of so many and so gross paradoxes and absurdities, wherewith they play pass and repass, yet the say for all this, that others err, who place the Moon which they hold to be earth, above, and not where the midst and centre of the world is. And yet if every ponderous body, incline to the same place and bendeth from all sides and on every part to the midst thereof, certainly the earth shall not appropriate and challenge unto itself weighty masses as parts thereof because it is the middle of the world, more than in regard it is whole and entire: and the gathering together of heavy bodies about it, shall be no sign nor argument to show that it is the middle of the world, but rather to prove and testify that these bodies which have been taken and pulled from it and return again, have a communication and conformity in nature with the earth. For like as the Sun converteth into itself the parts whereof it is composed, even so the earth receiveth and beareth a stone, as a part appertaining unto it, in such sort as in time every one of these things is concorporate and united with it. And if it chance that there be some other body which from the begginning was not allotted and laid unto the earth nor plucked from it, but had a part from it, a proper consistence and peculiar nature of the own, as they may say the Moon had, what should let, but it may abide severally by itself, compacted and bound close together in all the proper parts thereof? For hereby, is not showed demonstratively that the earth is the midst of the whole world: and the conglobation of weighty bodies here and their concretion which the earth declareth unto us the manner how it is probable that the parts the which be their gathered to the body of the Moon, may there also remain. But he who driveth all earthly and ponderous things into one place, ranging them altogether, and making them the parts of one and the same body, I marvel why he attributeth not in like manner the same force and constraint unto light substances, but suffereth so many conglobations of fire to be apart and distinct asunder, neither can I see the reason why he should not bring all the stars into one, and think that there ought to be one entire body of all those substances that fly upward and are of fiery nature. But you Mathematicians, (friend Pollonides) 〈◊〉 that the Sun is distant from the Primum Mobile, and highest scope of heaven, infinite thousands of miles: and after him, that the day star Venus and Mercury, with the other Planets, which being situate under the fixed stars, and distant one from another, by great intervals and spaces between, do make their several revolutions: mean while you do not think, that the world affordeth unto heavy and terrestrial bodies, a great and large place in it, and a distance one from another. But see what a ridiculous thing it were, to deny the Moon to be earth because it is not seated in the lowest place of the world; and withal to affirm it to be a star so far remote from the firmament and Primum Mobile, even a huge number of Stadia, as if it were plunged low into some deep gulf: for so far under other stars she is, as no man can express, and even you Mathematicians want numbers to reckon and sum the distance: and she seemeth after a sort to touch the very earth, making her revolution as she doth, so near unto the tops of high mountains, leaving behind her (as Empedocles saith) the very prints and tracts of her chariot wheels upon them: for often times she surpasseth not the shadow of the earth, which is very short, and reacheth not high, by reason of the excessive greatness of the Sun that shineth upon it: and she seemeth to walk her stations so near unto the upper face of the earth, and in a manner within the arms of it, that she obstructeth and hideth from us the light of the Sun, because she mounteth not above this shadowy, terrestrial and dark region like unto the night, which is (as one would say) the very finage and marches allotted to the earth. And therefore a man may be bold to say, that the Moon is within the limits and confines of the earth, seeing withal that darkened and shadowed it is by the high crests and tops of mountains therein. But to leave all other stars, aswell fixed as wandering, consider the demonstrations of Aristarchus in his treatise of Magnitudes and Distances, that the distance of the Sun from us is more than that of the Moon, above eighteen fold, but under twenty: and he verily who raiseth the Moon highest, saith that she is from us, six and fifty times as, far as is the centre of the earth; the distance whereof is forty thousand stadia. By their calculation who keep a mean, and according to this supputation, the Sun ought to be distant from the Moon more than four thousand and thirty stadia ten thousand times told: so far (I say) is she off from the Sun in regard of her ponderosity, and so near approacheth she unto the earth: so that if, by places, we ought to distinguish of substances, the region and portion of the earth challengeth the Moon, and in regard of her proximity and vicinage unto it, she ought by right to be reckoned and enroled among the natures, affairs, and bodies terrestrial. Neither shall we do amiss in my conceit, if having given unto these bodies (that are said to be aloft) so large a space and distance, we allow also to those beneath, such a race and spacious routne to run in, as is from the earth to the Moon: for as he is not moderate nor tolerable, who calleth the upper superficies only and cope of the heaven 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, aloft, or superior; and all the rest 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, beneath; so he who termeth the earth or rather the centre of it only, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, below or inferior, is not to be endured; considering that the huge vastity of the world may afford, even in this region beneath, such a competent space as is meet and convenient for motion. For if one would maintain, that all above the earth is immediately to be counted high and aloft; another presently will come upon him with this contradiction, and say, that he may aswell hold, that whatsoever is beneath the Primum mobile or starry firmament, aught to be called, Below. In sum, how is the earth called, The middle? and whereof is it the middle? for the universal frame of the world, called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is infinite; and this infinite which hath neither head nor foot: how can it in reason have a navel? for even that which we call the mids of any thing, is a kind of limitation; whereas infinity is a mere privation of all limits and bounds. As for him who saith, it is not in the mids of that universality, but of the world, he is a pleasant man, if he think not withal, that the world itself is subject to the same doubts and difficulties: for the said universal frame leaveth not unto the very world a middle, but is without a certain seat, without assured footing, moving in a voidness infinite, not into some one place proper unto it: and if haply it should meet with some any other cause of stay, and so abide still, the same is not according to the nature of the place. And as much may we conjecture of the Moon, that by the means of some other soul or nature, or rather of some difference, the earth 〈◊〉 firm beneeath, and the Moon moveth. Furthermore you see, how they are not ignorant of a great error and inconvenience: for if it be true, that whatsoever is without the centre of the earth, it skills not how, is to be counted Above and Aloft, then is there no part of the world to be reckoned Below or Beneath; but aswell the earth itself, as all that is upon it, shall be above & aloft: and to be short, every body near or about the centre, must go among those things that are aloft; neither must we reckon any thing to be under or beneath, but one prick or point, which hath no body: and the same forsooth must make head and stand in opposition necessarily, against all the whole nature beside of the world; in case, according to the course of nature, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, above and beneath, be opposite. And not only this absurdity will follow, but also all heavy and ponderous bodies must needs lose the cause, for which they bend and incline hither: for, body there will be none, toward which it should move: and as for this prick or centre that hath no body, there is no likelihood, neither would they themselves have it so, that it should be so puissant and forcible, as to draw to it, and retain about it, all things. And if it be found unreasonable and repugnant to the course of nature, that the world should be all above, and nothing beneath, but a term or limit, and the same without body, without space and distance; then this that we say, is yet more reasonable, namely, that the region beneath and that above, being parted distinctly one from another, have nevertheless each of them a large and spacious room to round themselves in. But suppose (if it please you) it were against nature, that terrestrial bodies should have any motion in heaven; let us consider gently and in good terms, not after a tragical manner, but mildly, This proveth not byandby, that the Moon is not earth, but rather, that earth is in some place, where naturally it should not be: for the fire of the mountain Aetna is verily under the ground, against the nature of it; howbeit, the same ceaseth not therefore to be fire. The wind contained within leather bottles, is of the own nature light and given to mount upward, but by force it cometh to be there, where naturally it ought not to be. Our very soul itself (I beseech you in the name of Jupiter) is it not against nature detained within the body; being light, in that which is heavy; being of a fiery substance in that which is cold, as ye your 〈◊〉; and being invisible, in that which is gross and palpable? do we therefore deny, that the soul is within the body, that it is a divine substance under a gross and heavy mass, that in a moment it passeth throughout heaven, earth and sea; that it pierceth and entereth within flesh, nerves and marrow; and finally, is the cause together with the humours of infinite passions? And even this Jupiter of yours, such as you imagine and depaint him to be, is he not of his own nature a mighty and perpetual fire? howbeit, now he submitteth himself and is pliable; subject he is to all forms and apt to admit diverse mutations. Take heed therefore, and be well advised (good sir) lest that in transferring and reducing every thing to their natural place, you do not so philosophize, as that you will bring in a dissolution of all the world, and set on foot again that old quarrel and contention among all things which Empedocles writeth of: or, to speak more to the purpose, beware you raise not those ancient Titans and Giants, to put on arms against nature: and so consequently endeavour to receive and see again that fabulous disorder and confusion, whereby all that is weighty, goeth one way, and whatsoever is light, another way apart, 
Where neither light some countenance of Sun, nor earth all green  
With herbs and plants, admired is, nor surging sea is seen.  according as Empedocles hath written; wherein the earth feeleth no heat, nor the water any wind; wherein there is no ponderosity above, nor lightness beneath; but the principles and elements of all things be by themselves solitary, without any mutual love or dilection between them; not admitting any society or mixture together, but avoiding and turning away one from the other, moving apart by particular motions, as being disdainful, proud, and carrying themselves in such sort, as all things do where no god is, as Plato saith, that is as those bodies are affected wherein there is no understanding nor soul, until such time as by some divine providence there come into nature a desire; and so amity, Venus and Love be there engendered, according to the sayings of Empedocles, Parmenides and Hesiodus; to the end, that changing their natural places and communicating reciprocally their gifts and faculties; some driven by necessity to move, other bound to rest; they be all forced to a better state, remitting somewhat of their 〈◊〉, and yielding one to another, they grew at length unto accord, harmony and society. For if there had not been any other part of the world against nature, but that each one had been both in place, and for quality, as it ought naturally to be, without any need of change or transposition, so that there had been nothing at the first wanting, I greatly doubt what and wherein was the work of divine providence; or whereupon it is, that Jupiter was the father, creator and maker. For in a camp or field, there would be no need of a man who is expert and skilful in ranging and ordering of battle, in case every soldier of himself knew his rank, his place, his time and opportunity, which he ought to take, keep and observe. Neither would there be any use of gardiner's, carpenters or masons, if water were of itself taught naturally to go where as it is needful, and to run and overflow a place which requireth watering; and if bricks, timber-logs and stones by their own inclinations and natural motions, were to range and couch themselves orderly in their due places. Now if this reason and argument of theirs doth directly abolish all providence; if order belong unto God, together with the distinction of all things in the world; why should any man wonder, that nature hath been so disposed and ordained by him, as that fire should be here, and the stars there? and again, that the earth should be seated here below, & the Moon placed there above, lodged in a more sure & strong prison, devised by reason, than that which was first ordained by nature? For were it so, that absolutely and of necessity, all things should follow their natural instinct, and move according to that motion which naturally is given them, neither would the Sun run his course any more circularly, nor Venus, nor any other planet whatsoever; for that such light substances, and standing much upon fire, mount directly upward. Now if it be so, that nature reciveth such an alteration and change in regard of the place, as that our fire here being moved and stirred, riseth plumb upward; but after it is gotten once up to heaven, together with the revolution thereof, turneth round: what marvel is it, if semblably, heavy and terrestrial bodies, being out of their natural places, be forced & overcome by the circumstant air, to take unto another kind of motion? For it can not be said with any reason, that heaven hath this power to take from light substances the property to mount aloft, and can not likewise have the puissance to vanquish heavy things & such as naturally move downward: but one while it maketh use of that power of her own, another while of the proper nature of things, always tending to the better. But to let pass these habitudes and opinions whereto we are servilly addicted, and to speak frankly and without fear what our mind is, I am verily persuaded, that there is no part of the universal world, that hath by itself any peculiar order, seat or motion, which a man simply may say to be natural unto it: but when each part exhibiteth and yieldeth profitably that, wherefore it is made, and whereto it is appointed, moving itself, doing or suffering, or being disposed as it is meet and expedient for it, either for safety, beauty, or puissance, then seemeth it to have place, motion and disposition, proper and convenient to the own nature. For man, who is disposed (if any thing else in the whole world) according to nature, hath in the upper parts of the body, and especially about his head, those things that be ponderous and earthly; but in the mids thereof, such as be hot and of a fiery nature; his teeth, some grow above, others beneath; and yet neither the one range of them nor the other, is against nature. Neither is that fire which shineth above in his eyes, according to nature, and that which is in the belly and heart, contrary to nature, but in each place is it properly seated and commodiously. Now if you consider the nature of shell-fish, you shall find, that (as Empedocles saith) 
The 〈◊〉, murets of the sea, and shellfish everyone,  
With massy coat; the tortoise eke, with crust as hard as stone,  
And vaulted back, which archwise he aloft doth hollow rear;  
Show all, that heavy earth they do above their bodies bear.  And yet this hard coat and heavy crust, like unto a stone, being placed over their bodies, doth not press or crush them; neither doth their natural heat, in regard of lightness, sly up and vanish away, but mingled and composed they are one with the other, according to the nature of every one. And even so it standeth to good reason, that the world, in case it be animal, hath in many places of the body thereof, earth, and in as many, fire and water, not driven thither perforce, but so placed & disposed by reason: for the eye was not by the strength of lightness forced to that part of the body wherein it is; neither was the hart depressed down by the weight that it had, into the breast; but because it was better and more expedient for the one and the other, to be seated where they are. Semblably, we ought not to think, that of the parts of the world, either the earth settled where it is, because it fell down thither by reason of ponderosity, or the Sun, in regard of lightness, was carried upward, like unto a bottle bladder full of wind, which being in the bottom of the water, presently riseth up, (as Metrodorus of Chios was persuaded) or other stars, as if they were put in a balance, inclined this way or that, as their weight more or less required, and so mounted higher or lower to those places where now they are seated: but rather by the powerful direction of reason in the first constitution of the world, some of the stars like unto bright and glittering eyes have been set fast in the firmament, as one would say aloft in the very forehead thereof: and the Sun representing the power and vigour of the heart, sendeth and distributeth in manner of blood and spirits, his heat and light throughout all. The earth and sea are to the world, proportionable to the paunch and bladder in the body of a living creature: the moon situate between the Sun and the earth, as between the heart and the belly, resembling the liver or some such soft bowel, transmitteth into the inferior parts here beneath, the heat of those superior bodies, and draweth to herself those vapours that arise from hence, and those doth she 〈◊〉 & refine by way of concoction and purification, and so send and distribute them round about her. Now whether that solid and terrestrial portion in it, hath some other property serving for a profitable use or no, it is unknowen to us; but surely it is evermore the best and surest way in all things, to go by that which is necessary: for what probability or likelihood can we draw from that which they deliver? They affirm, that of the air the most subtle and lightsome part, by reason of the rarity thereof, became heaven; but that which was thickened and closely driven together, went to the making of stars; of which the Moon being the heaviest of all the rest, was concrete and compact of the most gross and muddy matter thereof: and yet a man may perceive how she is not separate nor divided from the air, but moveth and performeth her revolution through that which is about her, even the region of the winds, and where comets or blazing stars be engendered and hold on their course. Thus these bodies have not been by their natural inclinations, according as each of them is light or heavy, placed and situate as they be, but surely by some other reason they have been so ranged and ordained.  
After these words were said, when I would have given unto Lucius his turn to speak, and to hold on this discourse, there being nothing at all behind left, but the demonstrations of this doctrine: Aristotle began to smile, I am a witness (quoth he) that you have directed all these your contradictions and refutations, against those, who hold that the Moon is itself half fire; and who affirm, that all bodies of their own accord, tend either upward or downward directly: But whether there be any one who saith, that the Stars of their own nature, have a circular motion, & that in substance they be far different from the four elements, that came not ever, so much as by chance and fortune into your remembrance: and therefore I count myself exempt from all trouble and molestation in that behalf. Why, good sir (quoth Luctus) if ye should haply suppose and set down, that the other stars, and the whole heaven beside, were of a pure and sincere nature, void of all change and mutation, in regard of passion, as also bring in a certain circle, in which they performed their motions by a perpetual revolution, you should not find any one at this time to gainsay you; notwithstanding there were in this position doubts and difficulties innumerable. But when your speech is descended so low as to touch the Moon, then can it not maintain in her that impassibility, and the celestial beauty of that body. But to leave all other inequalities and differences therein; certes, that very face which appeareth in the body of the Moon, cometh necessarily from some passion of her own substance, or else by the mixture of some other, (for that which is mingled in some sort always suffereth) because it looseth that former purity, being perforce overcast and filled with that which is worse. As for that dull and slow course of hers, that weak and feeble heat whereby, as the Poet Jon saith, 
The grapes their kind concoction lack,  
And on the vine three turn not black.  unto what shall we attribute the same, if not to her imbecility, in case an eternal and heavenly body can be subject unto any such passion? In sum, my good friend Aristotle, if the Moon be earth, surely a most fair and beautiful thing it seemeth to be, and full of great majesty: if a star, or light, or some divine and celestial body, I am afraid lest she prove deformed and foul, yea, and disgrace that beautiful name of hers, in case of all those bodies in heaven, which are in number so many, she only remaineth to have need of the light of another, 
Casting behind, her eye always,  
Upon the Sun and his bright rays.  according as Parmentdes writeth. And verily our familiar friend, having in a lecture of his, proved by demonstration this proposition of Anaxagoras; that all the light which the Moon hath, the Sun giveth unto her, was commended and well reputed for it. For mine own part, I am not minded to say what I have learned, either of you, or with you; but taking this for a thing granted and confessed, I will proceed forward to the rest behind. Probable therefore it is, that the Moon is illuminate, not in manner of a glass or crystal stone, by the bright irradiation and shining beams of the Sun striking through her; neither yet by a certain collustration and mutual conjunction of lights, as torch's which being set a burning together, do augment the light: for so it would be no less full moon in the conjunction or first quarter, than in the opposition, in case she did not contain and keep in, nor repel the rays of the sun, but suffer them to pass through her by reason of her rarity and frugositie, or if by a contempeture she shineth and kindleth as it were the light about her: for we cannot allege her oblique and bias declination, or her aversions and turnings away, before and after the conjunction or change, as when it is half Moon, tipped crescent, or in the wane; but being directly and plumb under the body that illuminateth it, as Democritus saith, it receiveth and admitteth the Sun, in such sort, as by all likelihood she should then appear, and he shine through her: But so far is she from so doing, that both herself at such a time is unseen, and many times hideth the Sun, and keepeth off his beams from us: for according to Empedocles, 
His rays aloft she turneth clean aside,  
That to the earth beneath they cannot wend:  
The earth itself she doth obscure and hide,  
So far as she in compass doth extend.  As if this light of the Sun fell upon night and darkness and not upon another star. And whereas Posadonius saith, that in regard of the thickness & depth of the moons body, the light of the Sun can not through her pierce, as far as unto us, this is manifestly convinced as untrue. For the air as infinite as it is, and deeper by many degrees than the Moon, is nevertheless illuminated and lightened all over, and thoughout by the Sun. It remaineth therefore that according to the opinion of Empedocles, the Moonlight which appeareth unto us, cometh by the reflection and repercussion of the Sunbeams. And hereupon it is, that the same is not with us hot and bright, as of necessity it would be, if it did proceed either from the inflammation or commixtion of two lights. But like as the refraction or reverberation of a voice, doth cause an echo, or resonance more obscure than is the voice itself, as it was pronounced; and as the raps, that shot, rebounding back again, doth give, are more mild and soft, 
Even so the Sun beams when they beat  
Upon the Moon in compass great.  yield a weak and feeble reflection or refluxion, as one would say of light, the force thereof being much abated & resolved by the refraction & reflection. Then Sylla: Certes, great probalitie this carrieth with it, that you have delivered: But the most forcible objection that is made against this position, how think you, is it any ways mitigated and mollified? or hath our friend here passed it over quite with silence? Whereby speak you this (quoth Lucius?) what opposition mean you? or is it the doubt or difficulty about the Moon when she appeareth the one half? Even the very same (quoth Sylla) for there is some reason, considering that all reflection is made by equal angles, that when the half Moon is in the mids of heaven, the light should not be carried from her upon the earth, but glance and fall beyond the earth: for the Sun being upon the Horizon, toucheth with his rays the Moon, and therefore being reflected and broken equally, they must light upon the opposite bound of the Horizon, and so not send the light hither; or else there shall ensue a great distortion and difference of the angle, which is impossible. Why good sir (quoth Lucius) I dare assure you, this 〈◊〉 not been overpassed, but explained already: and with that, casting his eye as he spoke, upon Menelaus the Mathematician: I am abashed (quoth he) friend Menelaus, to overthrow a Mathematical position, that is supposed and laid as a ground, and fundamental principle for oblique matters of mirrors: And yet I must (quoth he) of necessity: for that it neither appeareth in this example, nor is generally confessed as true, that all reflections tend to equal angles, for checked and confuted it is by round embowed or embossed mirrors, when as they represent images appearing at one point of the sight, greater than themselves. This also is disproved by double or twofold mirrors, for that when they be inclined and turned one unto the other, so as the angle be made within, each of the glasses or plain superficies, yield the resemblance of a double image, and so represent four in all from one face; two apparent, answerable to that without on the left side; and other twain obscure, & not so evident on the right side, all in the bottom of the mirrors, where they yield images, in appearance greater than the thing itself, at one point only of the sight. The same likewise is overthrown by those mirrors which are hollow, wherein the aspect is variable: whereof Plato rendereth a reason and efficient cause: for he saith, that a mirror rising of the one side and the other, the sight doth change the reflection, falling from the one side to the other: and therefore as the views and visions, some immediately return upon us, others gliding upon the opposite parts of the mirror, have recourse again from thence unto us, it is not possible that all reflections should be in equal angles: so that when they come to coping and close sight, they think by these oppositions to take from the fluxions of light, carried from the Moon to the earth, the equality of angles, supposing this to carry more probability with it, than the other. Howbeit, if we must needs yield thus much, and grant this unto our best beloved Geomitrian: first and foremost by all likelihood this should befall unto those mirrors that are very smooth and exquisitely polished: whereas the Moon hath many inequalities, and asperities, in such sort, as the rays coming from the vast body of the Sun, and carried to mighty altitudes, which receive one from another, and intercommunicate the lights, as they be sent to and fro, and distributed reciprocally, are refracted, broken, and interlaced all manner of ways, so as the counterlights do meet and encounter one another, as if they came from many mirrors unto us. Moreover, if we should grant and suppose these reflections of beams upon the superfices of the Moon, to be made by way of equal angles, there is no impossibility in the matter, but that the same rays being carried so great a way, should have their fractions, flexions, and delapsions; that thereby the light should be confused and shine the more.  
Some also there be who prove by lineary demonstration, that she casteth much of her light to the earth plumb down by direct line drawn under her as she doth incline: But for a man to make such a description and deliniation, reading as he doth, and discoursing in a public auditory, especially being so frequent, it was not easy, neither could it well be. In brief I marvel (quoth he) how they came thus to allege against us the half Moon, more than half tipped or crescent. For if the Sun do illuminate the mass, as a man would say, of the Moon, being of a celestial or fiery matter, surely he would not leave half the sphere or globe thereof dark always & shadowed without light, to our sense, but how little soever he touched her, turning as he doth about, reason would give and convenient it were that she should be wholly replenished and totally changed and turned, by that brightness of his, which spreadeth so quickly, and passeth through all so easily. For considering that wine touching water in one point only, or a drop of blood falling into some liquor, dieth and coloureth the same all red or purple, like unto blood: and seeing they say that the very air is altered with light, not by any 〈◊〉 or beams intermingled, but by sudden conversion and 〈◊〉, even in a point or 〈◊〉 only: how can they think that one star coming to touchanother star, and one light another should not be mingled immediately, nor make a confusion and mutation throughout, but to 〈◊〉 that only in the outward superficies which it toucheth? For that 〈◊〉 which the Sun maketh in fetching a compass and turning toward the Moon, one while 〈◊〉 upon the very line which parteth that which is visible in her 〈◊〉 the invisible, another while rising up directly, in such sort as that it both cutteth her in twain & is cut also by her 〈◊〉, according to diverse regards and habitudes of that which is light to the dark, causing those sundry 〈◊〉 in her, whereby she appeareth but half, more than half horned and 〈◊〉: this I say 〈◊〉 more than any thing else, that this illumination of the Moon, whereof we speak all this while, is not a mixture of two lights but a touching only, not a collustration or gathering 〈◊〉 of sundry lights, but an illustration thereof round about. But for as much as she is not only illuminate herself, but he also sendeth back hither unto us the image of that brightness, this 〈◊〉 us more and more in that which we say as touching her terreine substance. For never are there any reflections and reverberations upon a thing that is rare and of subtle parts; neither may a man easily so much as imagine how light from light, or one fire should result and rebound from another: but needs it must be that the subject which maketh the reverberation or reflection is firm, solid and thick, to the end there may be a blow given against it, and a rebounding also from it. To prove this, do but mark the air, which giveth passage unto the Sun for to pierce quite through it, neither admitteth it any repulse or driving back. chose we may see, that from wood, from slones, and from clothes or garments, hung forth against the same, he maketh many reflections of his light, and illuminations on every side. And even so we see, that the earth by him is illuminate; for he sendeth not his beams to the very bottom thereof as in water, nor throughout the whole as in the air: but look what circle the Sun maketh turning about the Moon, and how much he cutteth from her, such another there is that compasseth the earth: and just so much he doth illuminate always, as he leaveth without light: for that which is illumined in the one and the other, is a little more than a hemisphere. Give me leave therefore now to conclude after the manner of Geometricians by proportion. If, when three things there be, unto which the light of the Sun cometh, to wit, the Aaire, the Moon, and the earth, we see that one of them is by him illuminate, not as the air, but as the earth: we must of necessity collect that those two be of one nature, considering that of the same cause they suffer the same effects. Now when all the company highly commended Lucius for this disputation: Passing well done of you Lucius (quoth I) you have to a proper discourse annexed as pretty a comparison; for we must give you your right and not defraud you of that which is your due. With that smiled Lucius: I have yet (quoth he) a second proportion which I will add unto the other, to the end that we may prove by demonstration, that the Moon wholly resembleth the earth, not only by this that she suffereth togtheer with the earth, from the same cause, the same accidents: but also because they both do work the like effects upon the same object. For this I am sure you will yield and grant unto me, that of all those things which are observed about the Sun, none do so much resemble one another, as 
Some think he 〈◊〉 that 〈◊〉 over the face of the earth, which happened at the 〈◊〉 time that our Saviour suffered upon the cross, which continued 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉 hour of the day, 〈◊〉 to the ninth, that is to say, from noon, until three of the 〈◊〉 after noon.  his eclipse doth his setting or going down: if you will but call to mind that meeting of Sun and Moon together, which happened of late days, and beginning immediately after noonested, caused many a star from sundry parts of the sky to be seen, and wrought such a temperature or disposition in the air, as is of the twilight evening and morning. But if you will not grant me the said supposition in this, our Theon here will cite and bring, I trow, Mimnermus, Cydias, Archilochus: and besides them Stesichorus and Pindarus, lamenting that in eclipses, the world is robbed of their greatest light which they bewail as if it were interred, saying that midnight was come at noon day, and that the radiant beams of the Sun, went in the way and path of darkness: but above all he will allege Homer saying that in an eclipse, the faces and visages of men were overcast and seized upon with night and darkness: also that the Sun was quite lost and missing out of the heaven being in conjunction with the Moon. ************** And this happeneth by a natural cause, according as Homer showeth in this verse, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
* Somewhat had been said of the change of the Moon, as it should seem, for it will not stand with the 〈◊〉 eclipse, to 〈◊〉 at any other time than 〈◊〉 the change, by course of nature.   
What time as Moons their interchange begin  
As one goes out, another commethin.  As for the rest in mine advise they be as certain and do conclude as exactly as the demonstrations of the Mathematicians, to wit, that as the night is the shadow of the earth, so the eclipse of the Sun, is the shadow of the Moon, when as the sight returneth upon itself. For the Sun going down is hidden from our sight by the earth, and being eclipsed is likewise darkened by the Moon, and both the one and the otherbe offuscations of darkness; that of the Sun setting, by the earth, and the other of the Sun eclipsed by the Moon, by the reason that the shade 〈◊〉 our sight: of which premises the conclusion evidently doth follow. For if the effect be like, the efficients also be semblable; because necessary it is, that the same accidents or effects in the 〈◊〉 subject, must come from the same efficient. Now if the darkness occasioned by the eclipses be not so deep nor affect the air so forcibly as doth the night, we are not to marvel thereat: for the substance of that body which maketh the night, and of it that 〈◊〉 the eclipse, may well be the same, although the greatness be not equal. For the Egyptians: I suppose, do hold, that the Moon is in bigness the 72. part of the earth: And Anaxagoras saith it is just as big as Peloponnesus. Aristarchus writeth that the overthwart line or Diameter of the Moon in proportion to that of the earth is less than if 60. were compared with nineteen: and somewhat more than if a hundred and eight were compared with 43: and thereby the earth bereaveth us of all sight of the Sun, so great it is. For it must be a great obstacle and opposition between, which continueth the time of a night: and the Moon albeit otherwhile she hideth all the Sun, yet that eclipse neither lasteth not so long, nor is so universal: for there appeareth always about his circumference some light, which will not permit the darkness to be so black and deep, and altogether so obscure. Aristotle also, I mean the ancient Philosopher of that name, rendering a reason why there happen eclipses of the Moon oftener than of the Sun, among other causes, brings in this for one: that the Sun is eclipsed by the obstruction of the Moon, and the Moon by that of the earth, which is much greater and more spacious, and so by consequence is opposed very often. And Posidonius defined this accident thus: The eclipse of the Sun (quoth he) is the conjunction or meeting of the Sun and the Moon, the shadow whereof doth darken our eyesight: for there is no defect or eclipse of the suns light, but unto those, whose sight the shadow of the Moon hath caught, and so hindereth them from seeing the Sun. Now in confessing that the shadow of the Moon reacheth down unto us, I know not what he hath left himself for to allege. Certes, impossible it is, that a star should cast a shadow: for that which is void altogether of light, is called a shadow; and light maketh no shadow, but chose, naturally riddeth it away. But what arguments beside, were alleged to this purpose (quoth he?) The Moon (quoth I then) suffereth the same eclipse: Well done (quoth he) of you, to reduce this into my memory: But would you have me to prosecute this disputation, as if you had already granted and set down, that the Moon is subject to eclipses, when she is caught within the shadow of the earth; or that for a subject and argument of some declamation, and demonstration unto you, I first rehearse all the arguments one after another? Mary, do so I pray you (quoth Theon:) bestow your labour in such a discourse. I had need verily (quoth he) of some persuasion, having only heard say, that when these three bodies, to wit, the earth, the Sun, and the Moon, are directly in one right line, then happen eclipses; for that either the earth, taketh the Sun from the Moon, or the Moon taketh him from the earth: for the Sun is in defect or eclipse when the Moon, and the Moon likewise when the earth is in the mids of them three; whereof the one falleth out in conjunction, the other in the opposition or full Moon. Then (quoth Lucius) these be in a manner all the principal points and the very brief of those that which hath been delivered: but to begin withal, if you think so good take in hand that firm argument which is drawn from the form and figure of the shadow, which indeed is a Conus or Pyramid (resembling a sugar loaf) with the sharp end forward, namely when a great fire or great light being round, comprehendeth a mass likewise round but less: and hereupon it cometh that in eclipses of the Moon the circumscription of the black or darkness, from the clear and light, have always their sections round: for the approchments and applications of a round body, in what part soever, whether it give or receive those sections; by reason of the similitude do always keep a round form and be circular. Now to the second argument. You know well (I suppose) that the first part eclipsed or darkened in the Moon, is that which regardeth the east: and chose in the Sun, that which looketh toward the west: for the shadow of the earth goeth from east to west, but chose the Sun and Moon, from west eastward. The experience of the apparitions, giveth us the visible knowledge of these things: and many words there need not to make the demonstration hereof plain and evident to be understood: by which suppositions is confirmed the cause of the eclipse: For, in as much as the Sun is eclipsed when he is overtaken, and the Moon by meeting with that which maketh her eclipse, by all likelihood, nay rather necessarily, the one is caught behind, the other surprised before, for that the obstruction, & inumbration beginneth on that side on which that cometh first that maketh the said inumbration. Now the Moon lighteth upon the Sun from the west, as striving with him in course and hastening after him: but the shadow of the earth cometh from the east, as having a contrary motion. The third reason is taken from the time and greatness of the eclipses of the Moon. For when she is eclipsed on high and far from the earth, she continueth but a little while in defect or want of light: but when she suffereth the same default being low and near unto the earth, she is much oppressed, and slowly getteth she forth of the shade thereof: and yet when she is low she moveth most swiftly, and being aloft, as slowly. But the cause is in the difference of the shadow, which toward the bottom or base is broader as are the Cones or Pyramids, & so it groweth smaller and smaller taper-wise, until at the top it endeth in asharpe point. And hereupon it cometh that the Moon being low and so falling within the shadow is compassed with greater circles of the shadow, & so passeth through the very bottom of it, & that which is most dark: but being on high, by reason of the narrow compass of the shadow, being as it were in a small puddle of mire, she is but a little sullied or beraied therewith, & so quickly getteth forth of it. Here I pass by the accidents and effects that have their particular causes. For we daily see that the fire, out of a shady place appeareth & shineth the rather, either by reason of the thickness of the dark air, which admitteth no efluxions nor diffusions of the virtue of the fire, keeping in and containing within itself the substance thereof: or rather if this be a passion of the sense, like as hot things near unto cold are felt to be more hot, and pleasures presently upon pains found more vehement: even so things clear, appear better when they are laid near unto those that be dark, by means of different passions, which do strain the imagination: but the former conjecture seemeth to be more probable: for in the Sunshine, the whole nature of fire not only loseth his brightness, but also in giving place unto it, becometh more dull, and unwilling to burn, for that the heat of the Sun doth scatter and dissipate the force thereof. If then it were true that the Moon had in it a feeble and dim or duskish fire, as being a muddy star, as the Stoics say it is, reason it were and meet, that it should not suffer any one of those accidents (but contrary all) which now we see it to suffer, namely to be seen at that time when as it is hidden; and again to be hidden, what time as she showeth herself: that is to say, to be covered all the rest of the time, being darkened by the air environing it, and to shine out again for six months, and afterwards for five months be hidden, entering within the shadow of the earth. For of 465. revolutions of eclipsed full Moons, 404. are of six months, and the rest of five. It must needs be then, during this time, the Moon should appear shining in the shadow: but chose we see, that in the shadow eclipsed she is, and looseth her light, which she recovereth again afterwards, when she is escaped and gotten forth of the said shadow, yea, and appeareth often in the day time; so that it is rather any thing else than a fiery body, and resembling a star. Lucius had no sooner thus said, but Pharnaces & Apollonides came running both together, to set upon him, and to confute his speech: and then Pharnaces assisted by Apollonides there present: Why: this (quoth he) is that which principally proveth the Moon to be a star, and to stand much upon fire, namely, that in eclipses she is not wholly darkened, and not at all to be seen, but showeth through the shade a certain colour, resembling a coal of fire, and the same fearful to see to, which is the very natural and proper hue of her own. As for Apollonides, he made instance and opposition as touching the word shadow: for that (quoth he) Mathematicians by that term use always to call the place which is not illumined, but the heaven admitteth no shadow. Whereto I made answer, that this instance of his was alleged rather against the word contentiously, than against the thing Physically, or Mathematically; for the place which is darkened and obstructed by the opposition of the earth, if a man will not call a shadow, but a place void or deprived of light, yet be it what it will, whensoever the Moon is there, you must of necessity confess, that she becometh obscure and darkened: and in one word, I say, it is a very absurd folly to hold, that the shadow of the earth reacheth not to that place, from whence the shadow the Moon falling upon our sight here upon the earth, causeth the eclipse of the Sun. And now will I come again to you Pharnaces: For that burnt colour, like a coal in the Moon, which you say is proper unto her, agreeth very well to a body, that hath thickness and depth: neither use there to remain in bodies which be rare any mark or token of a flame, nor a coal can possibly be made of a body which is not solid & able to receive deep within it the heat of fire, and the blackness of smoke: as Homer himself showeth very well in one place, by these words: 
When flower of fire was gone and flown away  
And flame extinct the coals he did forth lay.  For the coal seemeth not properly to be fire, but a body fiery and altered by fire, remaining still in a solid mass or substance which hath taken as it were deep root: whereas flames are but the setting on fire and fluxions of some nutriment or matter which is of a rare substance, and by reason of feebleness is quickly resolved and consumed. In so much as there were not another argument so evident, to prove that the Moon is solid and terrestrial, as this, if the proper colour thereof resemble a coal of fire. But it is not so my Pharnaces: for in her eclipse she changeth diversely her colours, which Mathematicians in regard of time and place determinately distinguish in this sort. If she be eclipsed in the West, she appeareth exceeding black for three hours and an half: if in the middle of the heaven, she showeth this light radish or bay colour resembling sire: and after seven hours and an half, there ariseth a redness indeed. Finally, when this eclipse 〈◊〉 in the cast and toward the Sun rising she taketh a blue or grayish colour, which is the cause that the Poets and namely Empedocles calleth her Glaucopis. Considering then, that they see manifestly how the Moon changeth into so many colours in the shadow, they do very ill to attribute unto her this colour only of a burning or live coal: which intrueth a man may say to be less proper unto her than any other, and rather to be some little suffusion and 〈◊〉 of light appearing and shining through a shadow; and that her proper and natural colour is black and earthly. For seeing that here below whereas the lakes and rivers which receive the Sun beams, and by that means seem in their superficies to be some time reddish, and otherwhiles of a violet colour, the shaddowy places adjoining take the same colours and are illuminated, starting back by reason of reflections & diverse rebated splendures. What wonder is it, if a great river (as it were) or flux of shadow falling upon a celestial sea as a man would say of a light not firm, steady & quiet, but stirred with innumerable stars walking over it, and beside, which admitteth diverse mixtures and mutations, doth take from the Moon the impression of sundry colours, and send the same hither unto us? For it cannot be avowed that a star of fire should appear through a shadow either black, blue, or violet; but hills, plains, and seas, are seen to have many and sundry resemblances of colours by reflection of the Sun running upon them, which are the very tincttures, that a brightness, mingled with shadows and mists (as it were) with painter's drugs and colours, bringeth upon them: which tinctures Homer went about to express in some sort and to name, when one while he calleth the sea 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, of a violet colour, or deepered as wine, and otherwhile the waves purple: in one place the sea blew, green or grey, and the colour white: as for the tinctures and colours appearing upon the earth diversely, he 〈◊〉 let them pass, as I suppose, for that they be in number infinite. So, it is not like that the Moon should have but one plain and even superficies in manner of the sea, but rather resemble naturally of all things especially the earth, whereof old Socrates in Plato seemeth to fable, whether it were, that under covert words and oenigmatically he meant this here of the Moon, or spoke of some other. For it is neither incredible nor wonderful if the Moon in it having no corruption nor muddiness but the fruition of 〈◊〉 light from heaven, and being full of heat, not of furious and burning fire, but of such as is mild and harmless, hath also within her fair places and marvelous pleasant mountains also, resplendent like bright flaming fire, purple tinctures or zones, gold and silver likewise good store, not dispersed here and there in the bottom thereof, but arising up to the upper face of the said planes in great abundance, or else spread over the hills and mountains, even and smooth. Now say that the sight of all these things cometh unto us through a shadow, and that after diverse and sundry sorts, by reason of the variable and different mutation of the circumstant air, yet looseth not the Moon for all that, the venerable opinion that goeth of her and the reputation of her divinity, being esteemed among men a celestial earth, or rather a feculent and troubled fire, as the Stoics would have it, and standing much upon lees or dreggish matter. For the very fire itself hath barbarian honers done unto it among the Medes and Assyrians, who for very fear serve and adore such things as be noisome and hurtful, hallowing & consecrating the same above those things which are of themselves good and honourable. As for the name of the earth, there is not a Greek but he holdeth it right worshipful, sacred, and venerable: in so much as it is an ancient custom received throughout all Greece, to honour it as much as any other god whatsoever. And far is it from us men, to think that the Moon which we take to be a celestial earth, as a dead body without soul or spirit, and altogether void of such things, which we ought to offer as first fruits to the gods. For both by law we yield recompense and thanks giving unto it, for those good things which we have received, and by nature we adore the same, which we acknowledge to be the most excellent for virtue, and right honourable for puissance, and therefore we think it no 〈◊〉 at all, to suppose the Moon to be earth. To come now unto the face that appeareth therein: like as this earth upon which we walk, hath many sinuosities and valleys, even so as probable it is, that the said heavenly earth, lieth open with great deep caves, and wide chinks or ruptures, and those containing either water or obscure air: to the bottom thereof the light of the Sun is not able to pierce and reach, but there falleth, and sendeth to us hither a certain divided reflection. Then Apollonides: Now I beseech you good sir, even by the Moon herself, think you it is possible that there should be shadows of caves, gulfs, and chinks there, and that the same should be discovered by our sight here? or do you not make reckoning of that which may come thereof? What is that (quoth I:) Mary I will tell you, (quoth he) and albeit you are not ignorant thereof, yet may you give me the hearing. The Diameter of the Moon, according to that bigness which appeareth unto us, in the mean and ordinary distances, is twelve singers breadth long: and every one of those black and 〈◊〉 shadowy streaks therein, is more than half a finger, that is to say, above the four an twentieth part of the said Diameter. Now if we suppose the whole circumference of the Moon to be thirty thousand stadia, and according to that supposition the Diameter to be ten thousand, every one of those obscure and shadowy marks within her, will not be less than five hundredth Stadia, or thereabout. Consider then first, whether it be possible that there should be in the Moon so great profundities, and such rugged inequalities, as to make so big a shadow? and then, whether being so great, their bigness should not be descried and seen by us. Hereupon I smiling upon him: Now I assure you Apollonides (quoth I) I con you thank, you have done it very well, in devising such a proper demonstration, whereby you will prove both me and yourself also to be greater than those Giants Aloïades, I mean not at every hour of the day, but especially in the morning and evening: do you think that when the Sun maketh our shadows so long, he yieldeth unto our sense this goodly collection and augmentation, that if the thing which is shadowed be great, then that which maketh the shadow must needs be exceeding great? Neither of us twain, I wot well, hath ever been in the isle Lemnos, and yet both of us have many a time heard this vulgar jambique verse so rise in every man's mouth: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
The mountain Athos shall on either side,  
The cow that stands in Lemnos hide.  For this shadow of the bill falleth as it should seem, upon a certain brazen image of an 〈◊〉 in that Isle, reaching in lengthover sea no less than 700 stadia; not because the said mountain which maketh the shadow is of that height, but because the distances of the light causeth the shadows of bodies to be by many folds greater than the bodies are Go to then, consider that when the Moon is at the full, at what time as she rendereth unto our eye the form of a visage most expressly, by reason of the profunditic of the shadow within, then is she also farthest distant from the Sun: for the far recoiling and withdrawing backward of the light, is it that makes the shadow great, and not the bigness of those inequalities, which are upon the superficies of the Moon. Moreover you see that the excessive glittering of the Sun shining all about, will not suffer a man to see in the day time the very tops of mountains: but the deep, hollow, and shadowy parts therein, appear very far off. It carrieth therefore no absurdity at all, that a man is not able exacty to see and discern that full light and illumination of the Moon: but that the opposition of dark shadows unto clear lights, by reason of their diversity is more exquisitely seen. But this (quoth I) seemeth rather to check and confute that reflection, and reverberation which is said to rebound from the Moon, for that they who stand within the rays or beams that are returned and retorted back, have means to see not only that which is illumined, but that also which doth illuminate. For when, in the resultation of a light from the water upon some wall, the sight falleth upon the very place itself, which is thus illuminate by the reflection, the eye seeth three things, to wit, the beams or shining light driven back, the water which maketh that reflection, and the Sun itself, whose light hitting upon the superficies of the water, is reflexed and sent back. This being generally granted as a thing evidently seen, yet by way of objection, they bid those who affirm, that the earth is illuminate from the Moon by the reflection of the suns light from it, to show by night the Sun appearing in the superficies of the Moon, like as he may be seen in the day time within the water upon which she shineth, when there is the foresaid reflection of his beams: But because he cannot then be seen, they infer, that it must be by some other manner, and not by reflection, that the Moon is illuminate; and if there be no such reflection, then cannot the Moon in any wise be earth. How shall this be met withal, and what answer shall be shaped unto it (quoth Apollonides?) for the reason of reflection seemeth all one, and common as well to us as to you. True (quoth I) common it is in some sort, and in some sort not: but first mark I beseech you the comparison, how they go clean kim, kam, and against the stream, as if rivers ran up hills: for the water is here beneath upon the earth, and the Moon is above and in the heaven: in such sort as the beams reflected, make the form of their angles opposite and quite contrary one unto the other; the one carrying the head or point upward against the supersicies of the Moon, the other downward to the ground. Let them not then demand and require that a mirror should render every form or face alike, nor that in every distance there should be equal, or semblable reflection, for in so doing they would go against apparent evidence. And they who hold the Moon to be a body not smooth, even subtle as water is, but solid, massy, and terrestrial, I cannot conceive why they should look for to see the Sun in it as in a glass. For milk verily doth not yield such specularie images nor cause reflection of the sight, by reason of the inequality and rugged asperity of the parts: how is it possible then, that the Moon should send back from it the sight as mirrors do which are more polished? And even this also, if any race, blur, filth, or confused spot have caught them in the superficies, from whence the sight being reflected is wont to receive the impression of some figure, may welbe seen, but counter-light they yield none: and he who requireth, that either the Sun should appear in the Moon, or our sight be redubled against the Sun, let him require withal, that the eye be the Sun, the sight thereof the light, and man, heaven. For like it is that the reflection of the Sun beams against the Moon, for their vehement & exceeding great brightness, should with a stroke rebound upon us: but seeing our sight is weak and feeble, what marvel is it, if it neither give such a stroke as might rebound, nor maintain the continuity thereof if it leapt back again, but is broken and faileth, as not having that abundance of light, whereby it should not be disgregate and dissipated, within those unneven and unnequall asperities? For it is not possible that the reflection of our sight upon water, or other sorts of mirrors, whiles the same is yet strong, and able, as being near unto the spring from whence it cometh, should not return again upon the eye. But from the Moon, suppose there may rebound some glimmering glances, certes they be all weak and obscure, failing in the very way, by reason of so long a distance. For otherwise arched and hollow mirrors send back their reflected rays with more force, than they came, in such sort as many times they catch fire and do burn: whereas the embossed and courled mirrors made round and bearing out like a bowl, cast from them feeble and dark rays, because they beat them not back on all sides You see certainly when two rainbows appear in the heaven, by reason that one cloud doth environ and comprehend another, that the rainbow which compasseth the other without forth, yieldeth dim colours, and not sufficiently distinct & expressed, because the outward cloud being farther remote from our sight, maketh not a strong and forcible reflection. And what needs there any more to be said? considering that the very light of the Sun returned and sent back by the Moon 〈◊〉 all the heat: and of his brightness there cometh unto us with much ado but a small remnant, and a portion very little and feeble. Is it possible then that our sight running the same race there should any parcel or residue thereof reach from the Moon back again to the Sun? For mine own part, I think not. Consider also I beseech you (quoth I) even your own selves, that if our eyesight were affected and disposed alike by the water and by the Moon, it could not otherwise be but that the Moon should represent unto us the images of the earth, of trees, of plants, of men, and of stars, as well as water doth, and all other kinds of mirrors. Now if there be no such reflection of our eye sight 〈◊〉 the Moon, as to bring back unto us those images, either for the feebleness of it, or the rugged innequallity of her superficies, let us never require that it should leap back as far as to the Sun. Thus have we reported as much as our memory would carry away, whatsoever was there delivered: Now is it time to desire Sylla or rather to require & exact of him, to make his narration, for that admitted he was to here this discourse upon such a condition. And therefore if you think so good, let us give over walking, and sitting down here upon these seats, make him a sedentary audience. All the company liked well of this motion. And when we had taken our places, Theon thus began, Certes I am desirous (quoth he) and none of you all more, to hear what shall be said: But before I would be very glad to understand somewhat of those who are said to dwell in the Moon, not whether there be any persons there inhabiting, but whether it be possible that any should inhabit there. For if this cannot be, than it were mere folly and beside all reason, to say, that the Moon is earth: otherwise it would be thought to have been created in vain and to no end: as bearing no fruits, nor affording no habitation, no place for nativity; no food or nourishment for any men or women, in regard of which cause, and for which ends we 〈◊〉 hold, that this earth wherein we live, as Plato saith, was made and created, even to be our nurse and keeper, making the day and night distinct one from another. For you see and know, that of this matter, many things have been said aswell merrily and by way of laughter, as 〈◊〉 and in good earnest. For of those who inhabit the Moon, some are said to hang by the heads under it, as if they were so many 〈◊〉; others chose, who dwell upon it, are tied fast, like a sort of 〈◊〉, and turned about with such a violence, that they are in danger to be slung and shaken out. And verily she moveth not after one single motion, but three manner of ways; whereupon the Poets call her other while, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or Trivia, performing her course together, according to length, breadth, and depth in the Zodiac. Of which motions, the first is called, A direct revolution; the second, An oblique winding or wheeling in and out; and the third, the Mathematicians call (I wot not how) An inequality: and yet they see, that she hath no motion at all even and uniform, nor certain in all her monthly circuits and reversions. No marvel therefore, considering the impetuosity of these motions, if there fell a lion sometimes out of her into Peloponnesus: nay rather we are to wonder, why we see not every day a thousand sals of men & women, yea, and as many beasts shaken out from thence, and flung down headlong with their heels upward. For it were a mere mockery, to dispute and stand upon their habitation there, if they neither can breed nor abide there. For considering that the 〈◊〉 and Troglodytes, over whose heads the Sun standeth directly one moment only of the day in the time of the Solstices, and then presently retireth, hardly escape burning, by reason of the excessive siccity of the circumstant air; how possibly can the men in the Moon endure 12 Summers every year, when the Sun once a month is just in their Zenith, and settleth plumb over head, when she is at the full? As for winds, clouds, and rains, without which the plants of the earth can neither come up nor be preserved, it passeth all imagination, that there should be any there, the air is so subtle, dry and hot; especially, seeing that even here beneath, the highest mountains do admit or feel the hard and bitter Winters from year to year, but the air about them being pure and clear, and without any agitation whatsoever, by reason of the subtility and lightness, avoideth all that thickness and concretion which is among us: unless haply we will say, that like as Minerva instilled and dropped into Achilles' mouth some Nectar and Ambrosia, when he received no other food; so the Moon, who both is called and is indeed Minerva, nourisheth men there, bringeth forth daily for them Ambrosia, according as old Pherecides was wont to say, that the very gods also were said and nourished. For as touching that Indian root, which (as Megasthenes saith) certain people of India, who neither eat nor drink, nor have so much as mouths, whereupon they be called Astomis, do burn and make to smoke, with the odor and perfume whereof, they live; how can they come by any such there, considering the Moon is never watered nor refreshed with rain? When 〈◊〉, had thus said: You have (quoth I) very properly and sweetly handled this point; you have (I say) by this merry conceited jest, laid smooth and even, those bent and knit brows, the austerity (I mean) of this whole discourse; which hath given us heart and encouraged us to make answer: for that, if we fail and come short, we look not for straight examination, nor fear any sharp and grievous punishment. For to say a truth, they who take most offence at these matters, rejecting and discrediting the same, are not so great adversaries unto those who are most persuaded thereof; but such as will not after a mild and gentle sort consider that which is possible and probable. First and foremost therefore, this I say, that, suppose there were no men at all inhabiting the Moon, it doth not necessarily follow therefore, that she was made for nothing and to no purpose: for we see that even this earth here is not throughout inhabited, nor tilled in all parts: nay, there is but a little portion thereof habitable, like unto certain promontories or 〈◊〉 arising out of the deep sea, for to breed, in gender and bring forth plants & living creatures: for of the rest, some part is desert, waste and barren, by reason of excessive cold and heat; but in truth, the greatest portion lieth drowned under the great and main sea. But you (for the great love that you bear to Aristarchus, whom you admire so much, and evermore have in your hands) give no ear to Crates, notwithstanding that you read these verses in Homer: 
The ocean sea, from whence both men and gods were first 〈◊〉,  
With surging waves the greatest part of earth 〈◊〉 over spread.  And yet God forbid, that these parts should be said for to have been made for nought: for the sea doth expire and breathe forth certain mild vapours: and the most gentle and pleasant winds which arise and blow in the greatest heat of Summer, come from frozen regions and not inhabited for extreme cold, which the snow melting and thawing by little and little do send from them and scatter over all our countries. And the earth (as Plato saith) ariseth out of the sea in the mids, as a guardianess and workmistresse of night and day. What should hinder then, but that the Moon also may well be without living creatures in it, and yet give reflections unto the light diffused and spread about her; yea, and yield a receipt or receptacle of the stars rays which have their confluence, meeting and temperature in her, whereby she concocteth the evaporations ascending from the earth, and withal, 〈◊〉 the over-ardent and fiery heat of the Sun. Over & beside, attributing as we do very much to the ancient opinion & voice which we have received from our forefathers, we will be bold to say, that she hath been reputed Diana, as a virgin, barren and fruitlesso, but otherwise salutary, helpful and profitable to the world. And of all this that hath been said (my friend Theon) there is nothing that doth prove and show directly, this habitation of men in the Moon to be impossible: for her turning about being so middle, so kind and calm, polisheth the air near unto it, it distributeth and spreadeth the same all about in so good disposition, that there is none occasion given to fear, that those who live in it should fall down or slide out of her, unless she also come down withal. As for that manifold variety of her motions, it proceedeth not from any inequality, error or confusion, but the Astrologers demonstratively show thereby an order and course most admirable, contriving it so, that she should be fast within certain circles that turn and wind about other circles, some devising that she herself stirreth not, others supposing that she moveth always equally, smoothly and in conform celerity: for these are the ascensions of diverse circles, the circumvertions and turnings about, the habitudes in references one to another, yea, and respective to us, which make most elegantly those orderly elevations and depressions in altitude, which appear in her motion, yea, and her digressions in latitude, all jointly with that ordinary and direct revolution of hers in longitude. As touching that exceeding heat and continual inflammation of the Sun, you will cease (I am sure) to be afraid thereof, in case, first and foremost, you will lay to those eleven hot and aestival conjunctions as it were in exchange, as many oppositions when she is at the full; and then oppose unto those excessive and enormous extremities which hold not long, the continual change and mutation, which reduceth them into a proper and peculiar temperature, taking from them that which is excessive and overmuch in both: for it seemeth very probable, that the time between is a season resembling the Springtide. Moreover, the Sun sendeth his beams into us thorough a gross and troubled air, casting his heat nourished and fed by evaporations: whereas the air there, about the Moon, being subtle & transparent, doth disgre gate and disperse the said beams, as having no nouriture to maintain them, nor body to settle upon.  
To come now unto trees, woods and fruits; here indeed with us, they be the rains that nourish them: but in other high countries with you, namely, about 
* In 〈◊〉.  Thebes and Siene, it is not the water from heaven, but out of the earth, that feedeth them: for the earth being soaked therewith, and beside refreshed with cool winds and comfortable dews, would be loath to compare infertilitie with the best watered ground in the world, such is the goodness, virtue and temperature of the soil. And verily the trees of the same kind with us, if they have been well Wintered, that is to say, if they have endured a sharp and long Winter, bring forth plenty of good fruit; but in Libya and with you in Egypt, they are soon hurt and offended with cold, and it they sear exceedingly. And whereas the provinces of Gedrosia and Trogloditis, lying hard upon the ocean sea, be very barren by reason of their drought, and are altogether without trees: yet within the sea adjoining thereto, and which beateth upon the continent, there grow trees of a wonderful bigness, yea & there be that put forth fresh and green at the very bottom of the sea: whereof some they call Olive trees, others, Laurels, and some again Isis' hairs. As for those plants which be called Anacampserotes, after they be plucked forth of the ground where they grow, and so hanged up, they do not only live as long as a man would have them, but (that which more is) bud and put forth green leaves. Moreover, of those plants which are set or sown, some, as namely, Centauri, if they be planted or sowed in a rich or sat soil, and the same well drenched and watered, do degenerate and grow out of their natural quality, yea, and lose all their virtue, for that they love to grow dry, and in their proper nature and soil agreeable thereto, they thrive passing well. Others cannot so much as away with any dews, as the most part of the Arabian plants; for wet them once, they mislike, fade and die. What marvel then if there grow within the Moon, roots, seeds, plants, and trees, that have no need either of showers, or of winter wind and weather, but are appropriate naturally to a subtle and dry air, such as the summer season doth afford? And why may it not stand with good reason, that the Moon herself sends certain warm winds, and that by her shaking and agitation, as she still moveth, there should breathe forth a sweet and comfortable air, fine dews, and gentle moistures, spread and dispersed all about, sufficient to maintain the plants fresh and green: considering withal, that she of her own temperature is not ardent, nor exceeding dry, but rather soft and moist, and engendering all humidity? For there cometh not from her unto us, any one effect or accident of siccity, but of moisture and of a seminine & soft constitution, many; to wit, the growing and thriving of plants, the putrefaction of flesh killed, the turning of wines to be sour, flat, and dead, the srumnesse and tenderness of wood, and the easy deliverance of women in childbirth. But I fear me, that I should move and provoke Pharnaces again, who all this while sitteth still and saith nought, if I allege the ebbing and flowing, or the inundations of the great Ocean, as they themselves say, the firthes, straits, and arms of the sea, which swell and rise by the Moon, naturally given to increase moisture and breed humours: and therefore I will direct my words toward you rather, friend Theon, for you say unto us, in expounding these verses of the Poet Aleman, 
What things on earth the 〈◊〉, as nurse doth feed:  
Which Jupiter and Moon betwixt them breed.  that in this place he calleth the air Jupiter, and saith, that being moistened by the Moon, he is converted into dew: for the Moon my good friend, seemeth in nature to be quite contrary unto the sun, not only in this, that whatsoever he doth thicken, dry, and harden, she is wont to resolve, moisten, and mollify, but that which more is, to humect and refrigerate the heat that cometh from him, when the same lighteth upon her, or is mingled with her. Therefore as well they who suppose the Moon to be a fiery and ardent body, do err, as those who would have the creatures there inhabiting, to have all things necessary for their generation, food and maintenance, like unto them that live here; never considering the great difference and inequality which is in nature, wherein there be found greater and more varieties and diversities of living creatures, one with another, than with other things: neither would there be men in the world without mouths, and whose lips are grown up together, and who were nourished also with smells only, in case men could not live without solid and substantial food. But that power of Nature which Ammonius himself hath showed us, and which Hesiodus under covert words hath given us to understand by these verses, 
In Mallows and in Asphodels, which grow on every ground,  
What use and profit manifold, for man there may be found.  Epimenides hath made plain and evident indeed and effect, teaching us that nature sustaineth and preserveth a living creature with very small food and maintenance: for so it may have but as much as an oilive, it needs no more nourishment, but may live therewith, and do full well. Now it is very like & probable, that those who dwell within the Moon, if any else, be light, active and nimble of body, and easy to be nourished with any thing whatsoever: also that the Moon (as well as the Sun, who is a living creature, standing much upon fire, and by many degrees greater than the earth) is nourished and maintained as they say, by the humours which are upon the earth, like as all other stars, which are in number infinite. So light and slender they imagine those living creatures to be that are above, and so soon contented and satisfied with small necessaries. But we neither see this, nor yet consider that a diverse region, nature and temperature is meet and agreeable unto them: much like, as if when we could not ourselves come near unto the sea, nor touch and taste it, but have seen it only a far off, & heard that the water in it is bitter, brackish, salt, and not potable, one should come and tell us, that it nourisheth a mighty number of great creatures, of all sorts & forms, living in the bottom thereof, and that it is full of huge and monstrous beasts, which make use of the water, as we do of air; he would be thought to tell us tales and monstrous fables: even so it seemeth that we stand affected and disposed in these matters of the Moon, not believing that there be any men inhabiting within it. But I am verily persuaded, that they may much more marvel, seeing the earth here a far off, as the dregs, sediment, and grounds as it were of the whole world, appearing unto them through moist clouds, and foggy mists, a small thing God wot, and the same without light, base, abject, and unmooveable: how the same should breed, nourish, maintain, and keep living creatures which have motion, breathing, and vital heat: and in case they had ever heard these verses out of Homer, as touching certain habitations, 
Ugly and foul, most hideous to be seen:  
Whereof the gods themselves right fearful been.  Also: 
Under the earth beneath, and hell unseen,  
As far as heavens from earth removed been.  they would think verily and say, that they had been spoken of this earth here: and that dark hell and Tartarus were here situate, and far remote: as also that the Moon only was the earth, as being equally distant from heaven above and hell beneath. Now before I had well made an end of my speech, Sylla taking the words out of my mouth: Stay a while (quoth he) o Lamprias, your speech; and hold off with your boat, as they say, for fear you run an end with your tale upon the ground ere you be aware, and mar all the play, which for this present hath another scene and disposition; and I myself am the actor: but before I proceed farther, I will bring forth mine author unto you, if there be nothing to impeach me; who beginneth in this manner with a verse of Homer: 
far from the main, within the Ocean sea,  
There lies an Island height Ogygiae,  distant from great Britain or England Westward, five days sailing: And other three isles there be, of like distance one from the another, and from the said island, bearing northwest, whereas the sun setteth in Summer: in one of which the barbarous people of the country do fable and feign that Saturn was detained and kept prisoner by jupiter. Now for the keeping as well of it, as of those other isles, and the whole sea adjacent, which was called Satur's sea, the giant Ogygius, or Briareus was placed: as also that the main and firm land, wherewith the great sea is bordered round about, is removed from the others isles not so far, but from Ogygia five hundred stadia or there about: unto which men use to row in galleys, for that sea is very ebb and low, hardly to be passed by great vessels, by reason of the huge quantity of mud brought thither by a number of rivers, which running out of the main continent, discharge themselves into it, raising mighty shelves and bars, whereby the sea is choked up as it were with earth, and hardly navigable: which gave occasion of that old opinion which went thereof, that it should be frozen and stand all over with an ice. Well, the coasts along the firm land, which lie upon this sea, are inhabited by Greeks, all about a mighty bay or gulf thereof, no less spacious than the huge lake Maeotis, the mouth or entrance whereof lieth directly opposite unto that of the Caspian sea: These people are reputed and named to be the inhabitants of the continent or firm land, accounting and calling all us Islanders, as dwelling in a land environed round about, and washed with the sea. They suppose also, that they in old time who accompanied Hercules, and being left by him, abode there, and intermingled afterwards with the people and nations of Saturn, caused to revive again the Greek nation there, well near extinguished, which being subdued and brought under the language, laws, manners, and fashions of the Barbarians, flourished again by these means, was well peopled, and recovered their ancient puissance and greatness. And hereupon it is, that the chief and principal honour, they do unto Hercules, but in a second place, to Saturn. Now when the star of Saturn, which we call Phaenon, & there by his saying, Nycturus is entered into the sign Taurus, (& that it doth once in the space of 30. years) they having long before prepared all necessaries for a solemn sacrifice, & a long voyage or navigation, send forth those upon whom the lot falleth, to row in that huge sea, and to live a long time in a strange country. Now when they be embarked & entered once in to the wide and open sea, they take their adventure and fortune, as it falleth out. Such as have passed the dangers of the sea & arrived in safety, land first in those islands lying opposite against them, being inhabited by Greek nations, where they see the Sun to be hidden from them not one full hour in thirty days (and that is all their night) whereof the darkness is but small, as having a twilight in the west where the Sun went down, much like the dawning of the day. Having here made their abode for ninety days, during which space they were highly honoured and found great entertainment, as being reputed holy men and so termed, conducted they are with the minds and transported over into the Island of Saturn: which is inhabited by no others but themselves and such as had been sent thither before time in this manner. For albeit lawful it is for them, after they have done service unto Saturn the time of thirty years, to 〈◊〉 home again into their own country; yet for the most part they choose to remain there still in peace and rest, than to return soon, for that they be already enured and accustomed to the place: others because without any labour and trouble of theirs, they have plenty of all things, as well for their sacrifices, as for the ordinary maintenance of such, as continually are given to their books and to the study of Philosophy. For surely by their 〈◊〉, the nature of the Island and the mildness of the air is wonderful. And whereas some of them were willing to depart from thence, they have been stayed and impeached by a divine power; which hath appeared unto them as unto their friends and familiars, not 〈◊〉 in dreams and by way of outward signs, but visibly also unto many of them, by the means of familiar spirits and angels, devising and talking with them. For they say that Saturn himself is personally there, within the deep cave of a great hollow rock shining and 〈◊〉 like pure gold, where he lieth asleep, for that Jupiter had devised for him sleep, in stead of other chains and bonds, to keep him fast for stirring. But there be certain birds haunting the top of the said rock, which fly down from thence and carry unto him the divine food Ambrosia. As for the whole Island, it is by report replenished with a most fragrant and odoriferous perfume, which out of that cave, as from a lively fountain doth breath forth continually. And the said demons or angels do attend and wait upon Saturn, such I mean as were his courtiors and minions, at what time as he 〈◊〉 as sovereign over gods and men; who having the skill of prophecy and divination, do of themselves foretell many future things: howbeit of the greatest matters and of most importance, they make report and relation after they have been down below with Saturn, as his dreams revealed unto them. For whatsoever Jupiter thinketh and deviseth of before, Saturn dreameth: As for his sudden wakenings they be Titanicall passions and 〈◊〉 of the spirit in him. But his sleep is mild and sweet, wherein he showeth his divine and royal nature of itself pure and 〈◊〉. And thither (quoth he) this stranger and friend of mine being brought, where he served god Saturn at his case & repose, attained unto the skill of Astrology, so far forth as it is possible for one that had the exact knowledge of Geometry. And among other parts of Philosophy he gave himself unto that which is called natural. But having a longing desire to 〈◊〉 and see the great Island (for so they call the firm land wherein we are) after the thirty years were passed, and his successors thither arrived, taking his leave of his kinsfolk and friends whom he bade 〈◊〉, he took sea in other respects lightly and nimbly appointed, but good store he carried with him of voyage provision within pots and cups of gold. But to recount unto you in particular what adventures to him befell, how many nations he visited, through what countries he traveled, how he searched into holy writings, and was professed in all religious orders and holy confraternities, one whole day would not be sufficient (I say) to rehearse, as he himself delivered the same unto us, particularising very well of every thing: but as much as concerneth this present discourse, listen and I will relate unto you. For he continued a long time at Carthage, where he was greatly honoured and respected, as also among us, for that he found sacred skins of parchment, which at the overthrow and saccage of the former city called Great Carthage had been secretly conveyed thither and lain hidden a long time under the ground. So he said that of those gods which appear unto us in heaven, we ought (and so he advised me also) to adore and worship especially the Moon, as the principal guide and mistress of our life. Whereat when I mervelled and besought him to expound and declare the same more plainly: The Greeks (quoth he) o Sylla, talk very much of the gods; but in all things they say not well. As for example, first and foremost, in naming Ceres and Proserpina they do well and right: but to put them both together, and to think that they are both in one and the same place, they do amiss: For the one, to wit, Ceres, is upon the earth, the very dame and mistress of all those things that be above the ground; but the other is in the Moon, and called she is by them that inhabit the moon, Core and Perserphonie that is to say, 〈◊〉. Persephonie as one would say 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, for that she bringeth light and brightness: but Core, because the sight or apple of the eye, in which is seen the image of him who looketh into it, like as the brightness of the Sun appeareth in the Moon, we call Core. Now whereas it is said that they go up and down wandering and seeking one the other, the same carrieth some 〈◊〉 with it: for they desire and long after one another when they be parted and asunder, and they embrace one the other in the dark many times. Moreover, that this Core or Proserpina is one while above in heaven and in the light, another while in darkness and the night, is not untrue; only there is some error in reckoning and numbering the time. For we see her not six months, but every sixth month, or from six months to six months, under the earth, as under her mother, caught with the shadow: and seldom is it found that this should happen within five months: for that it is impossible that she should abandon and leave Pluto, being his wife: according as Homer, hath signified although under dark and covert words, not untruly, saying, 
But to the farthest borders of the earth and utmost end,  
Even to the fair Elysian fields the gods than shall thee send.  For look where the shadow endeth and goeth no farther, that is called the limit and end of the earth: and thither no wicked and impure person shall ever be able to come. But good folk after their death in the world being thither carried, lead there another easy life in peace and repose; howbeit, not altogether a blessed, happy and divine life, until they die a second death: but what death this is, ask me not, my Sylla, for I purpose of myself to declare & show it unto you hereafter. The vulgar sort be of opinion that man is a subject compounded: and good reason they have so to think: but in believing that he consisteth of two parts only, they are deceived: for they imagine that the understanding is in some sort a part of the soul: but the understanding is better than the soul, by how much the soul is better and more divine than the body. Now the conjunction or composition of the soul with understanding, maketh reason: but with the body, passion: whereof this is the beginning and principle of pleasure and pain, the other of virtue and vice. Of these three conjoined and compact in one, the earth yieldeth for her part the body; the Moon, the soul; and the Sun, understanding to the generation or creation of man; and understanding giveth reason unto the soul; **** even as the Sun light and brightness to the Moon. As touching the deaths which we die, the one maketh man of 3. two, and the other of 2. one. And the former verily is in the region and jurisdiction of Ceres, which is the cause that we sacrifice unto her. Thus it cometh to pass that the Athenians called in old time those that were departed, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Cereales. As for the other death it is in the Moon or region of Proserpina. And as with the one terrestrial Mercury, so with the other, celestial Mercury doth inhabit. And verily Ceres dissolveth and separateth the soul from the body suddenly and forcibly with violence: but Proserpina parteth the understanding from the soul, gently, and in long time. And hereupon it is, that the is called, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as one would say, begetting one: for that the better part in a man becometh one and alone, when by her it is separated: and both the one and the other happeneth according to nature. Every soul without understanding, as also endued with understanding, when it is departed out of the body, is ordained by fatal destiny to wander for a time, but not both alike, in a middle region between the earth and the Moon. For such souls as have been unjust, wicked, and dissolute, suffer due punishment and pains for their sinful deserts: whereas the good and honest, until such time as they have purified, and by expiration purged forth of them, all those infections which might be contracted by the contagion of the body, as the cause of all evil, must remain for a certain set time, in the mildest region of the air, which they call the meadows of Pluto. Afterwards, as if they were returned from some long pilgrimage or wandering exile into their own country, they have a taste of joy, such as they fecie especially, who are professed in holy mysteries, mixed with trouble and admiration, and each one with their proper and peculiar hope: for it driveth and chaseth forth many souls, which longed already after the Moon. Some take pleasure to be still beneath, and even yet look downward, as it were to the bottom: but such as be mounted aloft, and are there most surely bestowed, first as victorious, stand round about adorned with garlands, and those made of the wings of Eustathia, that is to say, Constancy: because in their life time here upon earth, they had bridled and restrained the unreasonable and passable part of the soul, and made it subject and obedient to the bridle of reason. Secondly, they resemble in sight, the rays of the Sun. Thirdly, the soul thus ascended on high, is there confirmed and fortified by the pure air about the Moon, where it doth gather strength and solidity, like as iron and steel by their tincture become hard. For that which hitherto was loose, rare and spongeous, groweth close, compact and firm, yea, and becometh shining and transparent, in such sort, as nourished it is with the least exhalation in the world. This is that Heracletus meant, when he said, that the souls in Pluto's region have a quick sent or smelling. And first they behold there the greatness of the Moon, her beauty and nature, which is not simple nor void of mixture, but as it were a composition of a star and of earth. And as earth mingled with a spiritual air and moisture, becometh soft, and the blood tempered with flesh, giveth it sense; even so, say they, the Moon mingled with a celestial quintessence even to the very bottom of it, is made animate, fruitful, and generative, and withal, equally counterpeised, with ponderosity and lightness. For the whole world itself, being thus composed of things which naturally move downward and upward, is altogether void of motion local, from place to place; which it seemth that Xenocrates himself by a divine discourse of reason understood, taking the first light thereof from Plato. For Plato was he who first affirmed, that every star was compounded of fire and earth, by the means of middle natures given in certain proportion; in as much as there is nothing object to the sense of man, which hath not in some proportion a mixture of earth and light. And Xenocrates said, that the Sun is compounded of fire and the first or primitive solid: the Moon of a second solid, and her proper air: in sum, throughout, neither solid alone by itself, nor the rare apart, is capable and susceptible of a soul. Thus much as touching the substance of the Moon. As for the grandence & bigness thereof, it is not such as the Geometricians set down, but far greater by many degrees. And seldom doth it measure the shadow of the earth by her greatness; not for that the same is small, but for that it bringeth a most servant and swift motion, to the end, that quickly and with speed she might pass the dark place, and bring away with her the souls of the blessed which make haste and cry: because all the while they are within the shade, they can not hear any more the 〈◊〉 of celestial bodies: and withal, underneath, the souls of the damned which are punished, lamenting, wailing, and howling in this shadow, are presented unto them. And this is the reason, that in the eclipses of the Moon, many were wont to ring basons and 〈◊〉 of brass, and to make a great noise and clattering about these souls. And affrighted they are to behold that which they call the face of the Moon, when they approach near unto it, seeming to be a terrible and fearful sight, whereas it is no such matter. But like as the earth with us hath many deep and wide gulfs, as namely, one here, to wit, the Mediterranean sea, lying between Hercules pillars, and so running into the land hither to us: and another without, that is to say, the Caspian sea, and that also of the red sea. So there be these deep concavities and valleys of the Moon, and those in number three; whereof the greatest they call The hole or gulf of 〈◊〉, wherein the souls do punish and are punished, according as they either did or suffered hurt whiles they were here: the other two 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, long.  be small, to wit, the very passages whereby the souls must go, one while to the tract of the Moon lying toward heaven, and another while to that which 〈◊〉 the earth. And verily, that which looketh to heaven, they call the Elysian field, whereas the other earth-ward to us, the field of Proserpina, not her, I mean, who is under the ground just against us. Howbeit, the Daemons do not converse always in the Moon, but descend otherwhiles hither below, for the charge and superintendance of oracles: there be assistant likewise to the highest mysteries and ceremonies, and those they do celebrate, having an observant eye to wicked deeds which they punish; and withal, ready they are to preserve the good in perils 〈◊〉 of war as the sea. In which charge and function, if they themselves commit any fault, and here upon earth do aught either by injust favour or envy, they feel the smart thereof according to their merits: for thrust down they are again to the earth, and sent with a witness into men's bodies. But of the number of the better sort, are they who served and accompanied Saturn, as they themselves report; such as in times passed also were the Idaei Dactyli in Crete, the Corybants in Phrygia, & those of 〈◊〉 in the city of Lebadia, named Trophoniades beside, an infinite number of others in sundry parts of the earth habitable; whose names, temples and honours remain & continue unto this day, but the powers & puissances of some do fail and are quite gone, as being translated into another place, & making a most happy change: which translation some obtain sooner, other later, after that the understanding is separate from the soul: and separated it is by the love and desire to enjoy the image of the Sun, by which that divine, blessed and desirable beauty which every nature after diverse sorts seeketh after, shineth. For even the very Moon turneth about continually for the love of the Sun, as longing to company and converse with him, as the very fountain of all fertility. Thus the nature of the soul is spent in the Moon, retaining only certain prints, marks and dreams, as it were, of her life: and hereof, think it was well and truly said, 
The soul made haste, as one would say,  
Like to a dream, and flew away.  which it doth not immediately upon her separation from the body, but afterwards, when she is alone by herself and severed from the understanding. And in truth, of all that ever Homer wrote, most divinely he seemeth to have written of those who are departed this life, & be among the spirits beneath, these verses: 
Next him, I knew of Hercules the strength and image plain,  
Or semblance: for himself with gods immortal did remain.  For like as every one of us is not ireand courage, nor fear nor yet lust, no more than flesh or humours, but that indeed whereby we discourse and understand; even so, the soul itself being cast into a form by the understanding, and giving a form unto the body, and embracing it on every side, expresseth and receiveth a certain impression and figure, so as albeit she is distinctly separate both from understanding and also from the body, she retaineth still the form and semblance a long time, insomuch as well she may be called an image. And of these souls, as I have already said, the Moon is the element, because souls do resolve into her, like as the bodies of the dead into the earth. As for such as have been virtuous and honest, and which loved a studious and quiet life, employed in philosophy, without meddling in troublesome affairs, soon are resolved, for that being left and rid of understanding, and using no more corporal passions, they vanish away incontinently; but the souls of ambitious persons, and such as are busied in negotiations, of amorous folk also given to the love of beautiful bodies, and likewise of wrathful people, calling still to remembrance those things which they did in their life, even as dreams in their sleep, walk wandering to and fro, like to that ghost of Endymion: for considering their inconstancy and aptness to be over subject unto passions, the same transporteth and plucketh them from the Moon unto another generation, not suffering them quietly there to pass and vanish away, but still allureth and calleth them away: for now is there nothing small, stayed, quiet, constant and accordant, after that being once abandoned of the understanding, they come to be seized with the passions of the body: so that of such souls void of reason, came and were bred afterwards the Tityi and Typhons, and namely, that Typhon who in times passed by force and violence seized the city Delphos, and overturned upsidedowne the sanctuary of the oracle there; most ungracious imps destitute of all reason and understanding, and abandoned to all passions upon a proud spirit and violence, wherewith they were pusfed up. Howbeit, at length, after long time, the Moon receiveth the souls, and composeth them: the Sun also inspiring into them again, and sowing in their vital faculty, understanding, maketh them new souls: yea, and the earth in the third place, giveth them a new body: for, nothing doth she give after death, of all that which she taketh to generation. And the sun receiveth nothing of others, but taketh again that understanding which he gave. But the Moon giveth and receiveth, joineth and disjoineth, uniteth and separateth, according to her diverse faculties and powers: of which, the one is named Ilithyia, to wit, that which joineth: another, Artonius or Diana, which parteth and divideth. Of the three fatal sisters or destinies, she whom they name Atropos, is placed within the Sun, and giveth the beginning of generation. Clotho being lodged in the Moon, is she that joineth, mingleth and uniteth. The third and last, called Lachesis, is in the earth, who also dareth her helping hand, and doth participate much with Fortune. For, that which is without soul, is weak in itself, and naturally exposed to all injuries and to suffer hurt: but the understanding is sovereign over all the rest, and nothing is able to do it injury. Now the soul is of a middle nature and mixed of them both, like as the Moon was made and created by God, as a composition and mixture of things above and things beneath; keeping the same proportion to the Sun, as the earth doth to her. And thus you have heard (quoth Sylla) what I learned of this stranger or traveller; which (as he said himself) he understood by those Daemons, who were chamberlains and sevitours to Saturn. As for you, o Lamprias, and the rest, you may take my relation in good or ill part, as you please.    

WHY THE PROPHETESS PYTHIA GIVETH NO ANSWERS NOW FROM THE ORACLE, IN VERSE OR METRE.  

The Summarie.  
THey who have so highly chanted the excellency of man, extolling the vigour of 〈◊〉 wit and understanding; whatsoever they do allege to that purpose, have 〈◊〉 forgot the principal, which is to show that all the sufficiency of his intelligence is a furious guide; his will, a bottomless gulf and pit of confusion; the light of his reason, a deep dark night; his lusts and desires, so many enraged beasts to rent and tear him in pieces, if God by some especial and singular grace, do not illumine, regenerate and conduct him. Among a million of 〈◊〉 for the proof and confirmation hereof, that which 〈◊〉 itself unto us in this dialogue is most sufficient: for is not this wonderful, and a certain sign of a marvelous blindness of man's wisdom, to see those, who all their life time do nothing else but seek after the sovereign good, maintain virtue, detest vices, condemn Athists, Epicureans, and Libertines, yet to dread, fear, yea and adore the sworn enemy of their salvation and true life, to wit, satan the devil? Yes verily, and that which now we read, agreeable to certain discourses hereafter following, and namely, wherein a disputation is held, wherefore the oracles now doecease? as also what this word EI. signifieth, showeth not only the opinion of Plutarch and some other Philosophers as touching these matters: but also the miserable state of all those who are abandoned to their own sense, and void of the knowledge of the true God. And this aught to be remembered a second time, for fear lest in reading these discourses so eloquently penned, we be turned out of the right way: but rather chose that we may perceive so much the better how vain and detestable all the habit of man is, if it have for the ground and foundation, nothing but the conceits of his corrupt spirit. So then in this dialogue, we may behold the wisdom of the Greeks, running after Satan: and taking great pains for to 〈◊〉 and set on foot one matter, which we ought to 〈◊〉 and bury in perpetual oblivion: or to touch withal their might and main beside, that which the wisdom of the flesh cannot compass. There be 〈◊〉 diverse personages who revive and set a work the oracles of that priestresse or prophetess at Delphos, where was the 〈◊〉 temple of Apollo, the very cave and den of Satan, and wherein he exercised his trade and skill, with impostures and illusions incredible, during the space of many years. But to make this disposition of more force and validity, Plutarch after his accustomed fashion of broaching and introducing his own opinion by a third, following the style and manner of the Academics writing, bringeth to Delphos a stranger, who being together with Basilocles, Philinus, & other amused and occupied in beholding the statues which were there in great number, there began a discourse by way of disputation touching brass and the property thereof. Which when it was well discussed and debated, Diogenianus demanded, why the ancient oracles were 〈◊〉 in homely verse & those in evil fashion? whereto there were made diverse answers tending to this point, to make us believe, that wheresoever the words be most rusty, and worst couched, there we are to observe so much the more the 〈◊〉 of the author. And this confirmeth fully, that which we have already spoken as touching the illusions of the devil, who is not content thus to abuse and deceive his slaves, but in this place hath to deal with a ridiculous & most apparent audaciousness, if the eyes of those whom he thus abuseth, had never so little 〈◊〉 to see the thousand part of his deceitful guiles, as gross and thick as mountains-Continuing this discourse, they bandle afterwards the presages of these statues, and of others reared in diverse places for the better authorising of the oracles; which when Boethus the Epicurean 〈◊〉, Plutarch replieth and reentreth into a common place, concerning the gravity of these rude and ill fashioned oracles, conferring them with those of Sibylla, and maintaining the authority of them with his companions, through all the reasons they could devise. These be in sum, the contents of this Dialogue, which comprehendeth diverse matters dependent thereof, and those noted in their order: the conclusion whereof is this, That as reprovable they be, who tax the simplicity and rudeness of such oracles, as those, who otherwise control them for their ambiguity, obliquity and obscurity.   

WHY THE PROPHETESS Pythia giveth no answers now from the Oracle in verse or meeter.  BASILOCLES. 
YOu have led this stranger, Philinus, such a walk in showing him the statues and public works, that you have made it very late in the evening, and I myself am weary in staying for you, and expecting when you will make an end.  PHILINUS. 
No marvel, we go so softly, and keep so slow a pace, o Basilocles, sowing and mowing (as they say) presently with all our speeches after fight and combat, which sprout forth and yield unto us by the way as we go, enemies lying as it were in ambush, much like unto those men which in old time came up of teeth sown by Cadmus.  BASILOCLES. 
How then? shall we send for and entreat some one of those who were present there, or will you yourself gratify us so much, as to take the pains for to deliver unto us, what speeches those were, and who were the speakers?  PHILINUS. 
I must be the man, I perceive Basilocles, to do this for your sake; for hardly shall you meet with any other else throughout the whole city: for I saw the most part of them going up again together, with that stranger to Corycium and Lycuria.  BASILOCLES. 
What? is this stranger so curious and desirous to see things, and is he withal friendly and wonderful sociable?  PHILINUS. 
Yes that he is: but more studious is he, and desirous to learn: neither is this most worthy of admiration in him; for he hath a kind of mildness, accompanied with a singular good grace: his pregnant wit and quick conceit ministereth unto him matter to contradict, and to propose doubts: howbeit the same is not bitter and odious in his propositions, nor leavened with any overthwart frowardness and perverse stubborness in his answers; in such sort as a man having been but a little acquainted with him, would soon say of him: 
Certes a lewd man and a bad,  
He never for his father had.   
For you know well I suppose Diogenianus, the best man one of them in the world?  BASILOCLES. 
I know him not myself, Philinus: howbeit, many there be who report as much of this young man. But upon what occasion or cause began your discourse and disputation?  PHILINUS. 
Those who were our guides, conversant and exercised in the reading of histories, rehearsed and read from one end to the other, all those compositions which they had written, without any regard of that which we requested them, namely, to epitomize and abridge those narrations, and most part of the Epigrams. As for the stranger, he took much pleasure to see and view those fair statues, so many in number, and so artificially wrought: But he admired most of all, the fresh brightness of the brass, being such as showed no filth nor rust that it had gathered, but carried the gloss and resplendent hue of azure: so as he seemed to be ravished and astonished when he beheld the statues of the amirals and captains at sea (for at them he began) as representing naturally in their tincture and colour as they stood, sea men and sailors in the very main & deep sea. Whereupon: Had the ancient workmen (quoth he) a certain mixture by themselves, and a temper of their brass, that might give such a tincture to their works? for as touching the Corinthian brass, which is so much renowned, it is thought generally, and so given out, that it was by mere adventure and chance, that it took this goodly colour, and not by any art: by occasion that the fire caught an house, wherein there was laid up some little gold and silver, but a great quantity of brass, which metals being melted together & so confused one with another, the whole mass thereof was still called brass because there was more thereof in it, than of the other metals. Then Theon: We have heard (quoth he) another reason, more subtle than this, namely, that when a certain brass founder or coppersmith in Corinth, had met with a casket or coffer, wherein was good store of gold, fearing lest he should be discovered, and this treasure found in his hands, he clipped it by little and little, melted and mixed it gently with his brass, which took thereupon such an excellent and wonderful temperature, that he sold the pieces of work, thereof made, passing dear, in regard of their dainty colour, and lovely beauty, which every man set much by, and esteemed. But both this and the other is but a lying tale: for by all likelihood this Corinthian brass was a certain mixture and temperature of metals, so prepared by art; like as at this day, artisans by tempering gold and silver together, make thereof a certain singular and exquisite pale yellow by itself, howbeit, in mine eye, the same is but a wan and sickly colour, and a corrupt hue, without any beauty in the world. What other cause then might there be (quoth Diogenianus) as you think, that this brass here hath such a tincture? To whom Theon made this answer: Considering (quoth he) that of these primitive elements and most natural bodies that are, and ever shall be, to wit, fire, air, water and earth, there is not one which approacheth or toucheth these brass works, but air only, it must of necessity be, that it is the air which doth the deed, and by reason of this air lying always close upon them, and never parting therefrom, cometh this difference that they have from all others. Or rather this is a thing notoriously known of old, even before Theognis was borne, as said the comical Poet.  
But would you know by what special property and virtue the air should by touching, set such a colour upon brass? Yes, very feign answered Diogenianus. Certes, so would I to, my son (quoth Theon) let us therefore search into the thing both together in common: and first of all, if you please, what is the cause that oil filleth it full of rust, more than all other liquor whatsoever? for surely it cannot be truly said, that oil of itself setteth the said rust upon it, considering it is pure and neat, not polluted with any filth when it cometh to it. No verily (quoth the young man) and there seemeth to be some other cause else, beside the oil; for the rust meeting with oil, which is subtle, pure, and transparent, appeareth most evidently; whereas in all other liquors, it maketh no show, nor is seen at all. Well said my son (quoth Theon) and like a Philosopher: but consider, if you think so good, of that reason which Aristotle allegeth. Mary that I will (quoth he again.) Why then I will tell it you (quoth Theon:) Aristotle saith, that the rust of brass lighting upon other liquors, pierceth insensibly, and is dispersed through them, being of a rare substance, and unequal parts, not abiding close together; but by reason of the compact and fast solidity of oil, the said rust is kept in, and abideth thrust and united together. Now then, if we also of ourselves were able to presuppose such a thing, we should not altogether want some means to charm as it were and allay somewhat this doubt of ours. And when we had allowed very well of his speech, and requested him to say on and prosecute the same: he said; That the air in the city of Delphos was thick, fast, strong and vehement withal, by reason of the reflection and repercussion of the mountains round about it, and beside, mordicative, as witnesseth the speedy concoction of meat that it causeth. Now this air by reason of the subtlety and incisive quality thereof, piercing into the brass, and cutting it, forceth out of it a deal of rust, and skaleth as it were much terrestrial substance from it: the which it restraineth afterwards and keepeth in, for that the density and thickness of the air giveth it no issue: thus this rust being stayed & remaining still, gathering also a substance by occasion of the quantity thereof, putteth forth this flower as it were of colour, and there within the superficies contracteth a resplendent and shining hue. This reason of his, we approved very well; but the stranger said, that one of those suppositions alone was sufficient to make good the reason: For that subtlety (quoth he) seemeth to be somewhat contrary unto the spissitude and thickness, supposed in the air: and therefore it is not necessary to make any supposal thereof; for brass of itself as it waxeth old, in tract of time exhaleth and putteth forth this rust, which the thickness of the air coming upon, keepeth in and doth so incrassate, as that through the quantity thereof, it maketh it evident and apparent. Against which objection and reply of his, Theon inferred thus again: And what should hinder (quoth he) that one and the same thing might not be firm or subtle, and withal thick, both at once: like as his clothes of silk, and linen, of which Homer writeth thus: 
And from satle-web of linen, ran away,  
The 〈◊〉 as moist as'tis and would not stay.  Whereby he giveth us to understand, the fine spinning, and close weaving thereof, which would not suffer the oil to rest upon it, and soak through, but to glide off and drop down, so necre were the threads, otherwise small, driven together, and so thick, that it would not let any liquor to pass through. And thus a man may allege the subtility of the air, not only for to fetch out the rust, but also to bring it to a more pleasant and greenish colour, by mixing splendeur and light together with the said deep azure. Hereupon ensued a pause and silence for a pretty while; and then the discoursers and historians abovesaid, alleged again the words of a certain oracle in verse (which was delivered, if I be not deceived) as touching the royalty and reign of Aegon, an Argive king: Whereat 〈◊〉 said, that it had been many times in his head to marvel, at the base, rude, and homely composition of those verses, which do contain oracles: notwithstanding that the god Apollo is reputed the precedent of the Muses & eloquence; unto whom no less appertained the beauty & elegancy of style & composition, than goodness of voice in song & melody, as who surpassed for sweet versifying Hesiodus & Homer, both very far: and yet for all that, we see many of his oracles, rude, base, & faulty, aswell for the meeter & measure, as the bare words. Then Serapion the Poet, who being come from Athens, was there present: Why (quoth he) believe you that those verses were of god Apollo's making? shall we suffer you to say as you do, that they come a great way short of the goodness of those verses which Homer & Hesiodus composed? and shall we not use them as passing well and excellently made, correcting our own judgement as forestalled and possessed aforehand with an ill custom? Then 〈◊〉 the Geometrician (for you wot well that the man hath ranged himself already to the sect of Epicurus:) Herd you never (quoth he) the tale of Pauson the painter: Not I verily, quoth Serapion. And yet worth it is the 〈◊〉, saith Boethus. He having bargained & undertaken to paint an horse wallowing & tumbling on his back, drew him running on foot with all four: whereat when the party was angry and offended, who set him a work, Pauson laughed at him, and made no more ado, but turned the ends of the painted table; thus when the upper end was shifted downward, the horse seemed not to run, but to tumble with his heels aloft. Semblably it falleth out (quoth Boethus) in certain speeches, when they are inverted and uttered the contrary way: and therefore soon you shall have who will say, that the oracles are not elegant, because they be of god Apollo's inditing: but chose, that they be none of his, because they are but rudely made and unsavery: and as for that it is doubtful and uncerteine: but this is evident and plain, that the verses of oracles be not exquisitely couched, and laboriously indited, whereof I crave no better judge then yourself Serapion: for you are wont to compose and write Poems, which as touching the argument and subject matter be austere and philosophical: but for their wit, grace and elegant composition otherwise, resemble rather the verses of Homer and Hesiodus, than those of the oracles pronounced by Pythia the Priestres of Apollo. With that Serapion: We are diseased all of us (o Boethus) in our eyes and ears to, being wont (such is our niceness and delicacy) to esteem and term such things simply better, which are more pleasant: and peradventure ere it be long, we will find fault with Pythia, for that she doth not chant and sing more sweetly than Glauce the professed minstrel and singing wench; and because she is not besmeared with odoriferous oils, nor richly arrayed in purple robes: yea, and some haply will take exception at her, for not burning Cinnamon, Laudanum or Frankincense, for perfume: but only Laurel and barley meal. And see you not saith one, how great a grace the Sapphik verses carry with them, and how they tickle the ears, and joy the hearts of the hears? whereas Sibylla out of her furious and enraged mouth, as Heraclitus saith, uttering forth and resounding words without mirth, and provoking no laughter, not gloriously painted and set out, nor pleasantly perfumed and bespiced, hath continued with her voice a thousand years, by the means of Apollo, speaking by her. And Pindarus saith, that Cadmus heard from Apollo, not lofty and high music, not sweet, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, nor broken and full of variety: for an impassable and holy nature, admitteth not any pleasure: but here together with the base music, the most part of the delight also is cast down, and as it should seem, hath run into men's ears and 〈◊〉 them. When Serapion had thus said: Theon smiling: Serapion, I see well (quoth he) hath done according to his old wont, and followed his own disposition and manners in this behalf: for 〈◊〉 being 〈◊〉 some occasion to speak of pleasure, he hath quickly caught at it. But yet for all that, let us 〈◊〉, howsoever the verses of oracles be worse than those of Homer, not think that it is Apollo who made them; but when he hath given only the beginning of motion, than each prophetesle is moved according as she is disposed to receive his inspiration. And verily if oracles were to be penned down and written, and not to be barely pronounced, I do not suppose that we would reprove or blame them (taking them to be the handwriting of the god) because they are not so curiously indited as ordinarily the letters of kings and princes are. For surely, that voice is not the gods, nor the sound, nor the phrase, ne yet the meeter and verse, but a woman's they be all. As for him, he representeth unto her, fancies only and imaginations, kindling a light in the soul to declare things to come: and such an illumination as this, is that which they call Enthusiasmos. But to speak in a word to you that are the priests and prophets of Epicurus (For I see well that you are now become one of that sect) there is no means to 〈◊〉 your hands, considering that ye impute unto the ancient prophetesses, that they made bad and faulty verses, yea and reprove those modern priestresses of these days, who pronounce in 〈◊〉 and in vulgar 〈◊〉 the oracles, for fear they should be articled against by you, in case they delivered their verses headless, without loins and curtailed. Then (quoth 〈◊〉) jest not with us I pray you in the name of God, but rather assoil us this common doubt, and rid us of this 〈◊〉; for there is no man, but desireth to know the reason and cause, why this oracle hath given over to make answer in verses and other speeches as it hath done? Whereto Theon spoke thus: But now my son, we may seem to do wrong and shameful injury unto our discoursers and directors here, these Historians, in taking from them that which is their office: and therefore let that be done first which belongeth to them; and afterwards you may inquire and dispute at leisure of that which you desire. Now by this time were we gone 〈◊〉 as far as to the statue of king Hiero: and the stranger albeit he knew well all the rest, yet so courteous he was and of so good a nature, that he gave ear withal patience to that which was related unto him: but having heard that there stood sometime a certain column of the said Hiero all of brass, which fell down of itself the very day whereon Hiero died at Saracose in Sicily, he wondered thereat: and I thereupon recounted unto him other like examples; as namely, of Hiero the Spartan, how the day before that he lost his life in the battellat Leuctres, the eyes of his statue fell out of the head: also that the two stars which Lysander had dedicated after the naval battle at the river called Aigos-potamos, were missing and not to be seen: and his very statue of stone put forth of a sodden so much wild weeds and green grass in so great quantity that it covered and hid the face thereof. Moreover during the time of those woeful calamities which the Athenians sustained in 〈◊〉, not only the golden dates of a palm tree sell down, but also the ravens came and pecked with their bills all about the scutcheon or shield of the image of Pallas. The Cuidians coronet likewise which Philomelus the tyrant of the 〈◊〉 had given unto Pharsalia the fine dancing wench, was the cause of her death: for when she had passed out of Greece into Italy, one day as she played and danced about the church of Apollo in Metapontine, having the said coronet upon her head, the young men of the city came upon her for to have away the gold of that coronet: and striving about her one with another who should have it, tore the poor woman in pieces among them. Aristotle was wont to say that Homer was the only Poet who made and devised words that had motion, so emphatical they were & lively expressed: but I for my part would say that the offerings dedicated in the city, to neat statues, jewels, & other ornaments moved together with the divine providence, do foresignify future things: neither are the same in any part vain and void of sense; but all replenished with a divine power. Then Boethus: I would not else (quoth he:) for it is not sufficient belike, to enclose God once in a month within a mortal body, unless we thrust him also into every stone and piece of brass? as if fortune and chance were not sufficient of themselves to work such feats and accidents. What (quoth I) think you then that these things every one have any affinity with fortune and chance? and is it probable that your Atoms do glide, divide, and decline, neither before nor after, but just at the very time as each one of them who made these offerings, should far better or worse? And Epicurus belike, as far as I see serveth your turn now and is profitable unto you in those things which he hath said or written three hundred years past: but this god Apollo, unless he imprison and immure himself (as it were) and be mixed within every thing is not able in your opinion, to give unto any thing in the world the beginning of motion, nor the cause of any passion or accident whatsoever. And this was the answer which I made unto Boethus for that point: and in like manner spoke I as touching the verses of Sibylla. For when we were come as far as to the rock which joineth to the senate house of the city, and there rested ourselves, upon which rock by report the first Sibylla sat, being new come out of Helicon, where she had been fostered by the Muses, although others there be that say she arrived at Maleon, and was the daughter of Lamia, who had Neptune for her father, Serapion made mention of certain verses of hers wherein she praised herself saying, that she should never cease to prophesy and foretell future things, no not after her death; for that she herself should then go about in the Moon, and be that which is called the face therein appearing: also that her breath and spirit mingled with the air should pass to and fro continually in prophetical words and voices of oracles prognosticating: and that of her body transmuted and converted into earth, there should grow herbs, shrubs and plants, for the food and pasturage of sacred beasts appointed for sacrifices: whereby they have all sorts of forms and qualities in their bowels and inwards: and by the means whereof men may foreknow and foretell of future events. Hereat Boethus made semblance to laugh more than before. And when Zous alleged, that howsoever these seemed to be fabulous matters and mere fables, yet so it was that many subversions & transmigrations of Greek cities, many expeditions also and voyages made against them of barbarous armies, as also the overthrows & destructions of sundry kingdoms and dominious, give testimony in the behalf of ancient prophecies and predictions. And as for these late and modern accidents (quoth he) which happened at Cumes and Dicaearchia, long before chanted and foretold by way of priophesie out of Sibyls books; did not the time ensuing as a debt accomplish and pay? the break forth and eruptions of fire out of a mountain, the strange ebullitions of the sea, the casting up aloft into the air of stones & cinders by subterranean winds under the earth, the ruin and devastiation of so many and those so great cities at one time, and that so suddenly, as they who came but the next morrow thither, could not see where they stood or were built, the place was so confused. These strange events (I say) and occurrents, as they be hardly believed to have happened without the finger of God, so much less credible it is, that foreseen and foretold they might be, without some heavenly power and divinity. Then Boethus: And what accident (good sir, quoth he) can there be imagined, that Time oweth not unto Nature; and what is there so strange, prodigious and unexpected, aswell in the sea as upon the land, either concerning whole cities or particular persons; but if a man foretold of them, in process and tract of time the same may fall out accordingly? And yet, to speak properly, this is not soretelling, but simply telling, or rather to cast forth and scatter at random in that infinity of the air, words having no original nor foundation, which wandering in this wise, Fortune otherwhiles encountereth and concurreth with them at a very venture. For there is a great difference, in my judgement, between saying thus, that a thing is happened which hath been spoken; and a thing is spoken that shall happen: for that speech which uttereth things that are not extant, containing in itself the fault and error, attendeth not by any right, the credit and approbation thereof, by the accidental event; neither useth it any true and undoubted token of prediction, with a certain foreknowledge, that happen it will when it hath been once foretold, considering that infinity is apt to produce all things; but he who guesseth well, whom the common proverb pronounceth to be the best divinor, 
For whose conjecture misseth least,  
Him I account the wizard best.  resembleth him, who traceth out and followeth by probabilities as it were by tracts and footings, that which is to come. But these prophetical Sibyls and furious Bacchides, have cast at all aventure as it were, into a vast ocean, without either judgement or conjecture, the time; yea, and have scattered at random the nouns and verbs, the words and speeches of passions and accidents of all sorts. And albeit some of them fortune so to happen, yet is this or that false alike at the present time when it is uttered, although haply the same may chance afterwards to fall out truly. When Boethus had thus discoursed, Serapion replied upon him in this wise: Boethus (quoth he) giveth a good verdict and just sentence of those propositions which are indefinitely and without a certain subject matter in this manner pronounced. If victory be foretold unto a General, he hath vanquished: if the destruction of a city, it is overthrown: but whereas there is expressed not only the thing that shall happen, but also the circumstances, how, when, after what sort, and wherewith, then is not this a bare guess and conjecture of that which peradventure will be; but a praesignification and denouncing peremptorily of such things as without fail shall be: as for example, that prophesy which concerned the lameness of Agesilaus, in these words: 
Though proud and haughty (Sparta) now, and sound of foot thou be,  
Take heed by halting regiment, there come no harm to thee:  
For then shall unexpected plagues thy state long time assail,  
The deadly waves of fearful wars against thee shall prevail.  Semblably, that oracle as touching the Isle which the sea made and discovered about Thera and Therasia, as also the prophesy of the war between king Philip and the Romans, which ran in these words: 
But when the race of Trojan blood, Phoenicians shall defeat  
In bloody fight, look then to see strange sights and wonders great.  
The sea shall from amid the waves yield fiery tempests strong,  
And flashes thick of lightning bright, with stony storms among.  
With that an Island shall appear, that never man yet knew:  
And weaker men in battle set, the mightier shall subdue.  For whereas the Romans in a small time conquered the Carthaginians, after they had vanquished Aniball in the field, and Philip king of the Macedonians gave battle unto the Aetolians and Romans, wherein he had the overthrow; also, that in the end there arose an Island out of the deep sea, with huge leams of fire and hideous ghusts: a man can not say, that all these things happened and concurred together by fortune and mere chance: but the very train and orderly proceeding thereof, doth show a certain prescience and foreknowledge. Also, whereas the Romans were foretold the time five hundred years before, wherein they should have war with all nations at once, the same was fulfilled when they warred against the slaves and fugitives who revolted and rebelled. For in all these, there is nothing conjectural and uncerteine, nothing blind and doubtful, that we need infinitely to seek after fortune therefore: whereas many pledges there be of experience, giving us assurance of that which is finite and determinate, showing the very waqy, whereby fatal destiny doth proceed. Neither do I think any an will say, that these things being foretold with so many circumstances, jumped altogether by fortune. For what else should hinder, but that a man may aswell say (o Boethus) that Epicurus wrote not his books of principal opinions and doctrines so much approved of you, but that all the letters thereof were jumbled and huddled together by mere chance and fortune, that went to the composing and finishing of that volume. Thus discoursing in this manner, we went forward still. And when in the Corinthian chapel we beheld the date tree of brass, the only monument there remaining of all the oblations there offered, Diogenianus wondered to see the forgges and water-snakes which were wrought artificially by turners hand about the but and root thereof; and so did we likewise: because neither the Palm tree is moorie plant and loving the waters, like as many other trees are: neither do the frogs any way pertain to the Coringthians, as a mark or ensign given in the arms of their city: like as the Selinuntians by report, offered sometimes in this temple, the herb Smalach or Parsley, called Solinum, all of gold: and the Tenedians, an hatcher, taken from the Crabfish bred in their Island, near unto the Promontory called Asterion: for those Crabs only (as it is thought) have the figure of an hatchet imprinted upon their shell. And verily, for Apollo himself, we suppose that ravens, swans, wolves, hawks, or any other beasts, be more acceptable than these. Now when Serapion alleged, that the workman hereby meant and covertly signified the nouriture and rising of the Sun out of humours and waters, which by exhalation he converteth into such creatures, whether it were that he had heard this verse out of Homer, 
Then out of sea arose the Sun,  
And left that goodly lake anon.  Or seem the Egyptians to represent the East or Sunrising by the picture of a child sitting upon the plant Lotos. Thereat I laughed heartily. What mean you thus (good sir, quoth I) to thrust hither the sect of the Stoics: came you indeed to foist slily among our speeches and discourses, your exhalations and kindle of the stars, not bringing down hither the Sun and the Moon, as the Thessalian women do by their enchantments; but making them to spring and arise as from their first original out of the earth and the waters? For Plato verily, called mana celestial plant, as rising directly from his root, above which is his head. But you in the mean time mock and deride Empedocles, for saying that the Sun occasioned by the reflection of the heavenly light about the earth, 
His rays with fearless visage sends again  
Up to the heavens and there doth brightly shine.  while yourselves make the Sun terrestrial, or a fennish plant, ranging him among the waters and the native place of frogs. But let us betake all these matters to the tragical and strange monstruosities of the Stoics: mean while treat we cursarily and by the way of these accessary and by-works of mechanical artisans and handicrafts men: for surely in many things they be very engenious and witty: mary in every plot they cannot avoid the note of bald devices & affected curiosity in their inventions. Like as therefore he that painted Apollo with a rock upon his head, signified thereby the day-break, & the time a little before sun rising: even so a man may say that these frogs do symbolise and betoken the season of the Spring, at what time as the Sun begins to rule over the air and to discuss the winter: at least ways if we must according to your opinion, understand the Sun and Apollo to be both, one god, and not twain. Why? (quoth Serapion) are you of another mind? and do you think the Sun to be one, & Apollo another? Yes mary do I (quoth he) as well, as that the Sun and Moon do differ. Yea and more than so: for the Moon doth not often, nor from all the world hide the Sun: whereas the Sun hath made all men together, for to be ignorant of Apollo: diverting the mind and cogitation by the means of the sense, and turning it from that which is unto that which appeareth only. Then Seripion demanded of those Historians our guides and conductors, what was the reason that the foresaid cell or chapel, was not entitled by the name of Cypselus who dedicated it, but called the Corinthians chapel. And when they held their peace, because as I take it, they knew not the cause; I began to laugh thereat; And why should we think (quoth I) that these men knew or remembered any thing more, being astonished and amazed as they were to hear you fable and talk of the meteors or impressions in the air? For even themselves we heard before relating, that after the tyranny of Cypselus was put down and overthrown, the Corinthians were desirous to have the inscirption as well of the golden statue at Pisa, as of this cell or treasure house, for to run in the name of their whole city. And verily the Delphians gave and granted them so much according to their due desert. But for that the Elians envied them that privilege, therefore the Corinthians passed a public decree, by virtue whereof they excluded them from the solemnity of the Isthmian games: And hereof it came, that never after that, any champion out of the territory of Elis, was known to show himself to do his devoir at those Isthmicke games. And the massacre of the Molionides which Hercules committed about the city of Cleonae, was not the cause as some do think, why the Elians were debarred from thence: for chose it had belonged to them for to exclude and put by others; if for this they had incurred the displeasure of the Corinthians. And thus much said I for my part. Now when we were come as far as to the hall of the Acanthians and of Brasidas, our discoursing Historians and expositors showed us the place, where sometimes stood the obelisks of iron, which Rhodopis the famous courtesan had dedicated. Whereat Diogenianus was in a great chafe, and broke out into these words: Now surely (quoth he) the same city (to their shame be it spoken) hath allowed unto a common strumpet a place whether to bring and where to bestow the tenth part of that salary which she got by the use of her body, and unjustly put to death Aesop her fellow servant. True (quoth Serapion:) but are you so much offended hereat? cast up your eye and look aloft: behold among the statues of brave captains and glorious kings, the image of Mnesarete all of beaten gold, which Crates saith was dedicated and set up for a Trophae of the Greeks lasciviousness. The young gentleman, seeing it: Yea, but it was of Phryne that Crates spoke so. You say true (quoth Serapion:) for her proper name indeed was Mnesarete: but surnamed she was Phryne in merriment because she looked pale or yellow like unto a kind of frog named in Greek Phryne. And thus many times surnames do drown and suppress other names. For thus the mother of king Alexander the great, who had for her name at first, Pollyxene, came afterwards to be as they say, surnamed Myrtale, Olympias and Stratonice. And the Corinthian lady Eumetis, men call unto this day, after her father's name, Cleobuline; and Herophile, of the city Erythre, she who had the gift of divination and could skill of prophesy; was afterwards in process of time surnamed Sibylla. And you have heard Grammarians say, that even Leda herself, was named Mnesinoe, and Orestes Achaeus. But how think you (quoth he) casting his eye upon Theon, to answer this accusation as touching Phryne? Then he smiling again: In such sort (quoth he) as I will charge and accuse you, for busying yourself in blaming thus the light faults of the Greeks. For like as Socrates' reproved this in Calltas, that gave defiance only to sweet perfumes or precious odours; for he liked well enough to see the dances and gesiculations of young boys, and could abide the sight of kissing, of pleasants, buffoons and jesters to make folk laugh: so me thinks that you would chase and exclude out of the temple, one poor silly woman who used the beauty of her own body, haply not so honestly as she might: and in the mean time you can abide to see god Apollo environed round about with the first fruits, with the tenth and other oblations arising from murders, wars, and pillage, and all his temple throughout hanged with the spoils and booties gotten from the Greeks: yea, and are neither angry nor take pity when you read, over such goodly oblations, and ornaments, these most shameful inscriptions and titles: Brasidas and the Acanthians, of the Athenian spoils: the Athenians of the Corinthians: the Phocaeans of the Thesalians: the Oraneates of the Sicyonians: and the Amphyctions of the Phocaeans.  
But peradventure it was Praxiteles alone who was offensive unto Crates, for that he had set up a monument there, of his own sweet heart, which he had made for the love of her; whereas Crates chose should have commended him, in that among these golden images of kings and princes, he had placed a courtesan in gold, reproaching thereby and condemning riches, as having in it nothing to be admired, and nothing venerable: for it well beseemeth kings and great rulers, to present Apollo and the gods with such ornaments and oblations as might testify their own justice, their temperance and magnanimity; and not make show of their golden store and abundance of superfluous delicates, whereof they have their part commonly who have lived most shamefully. But you allege not this example of Croesus (quoth another of our historians & directors) who caused a statue in gold to be made & set up here, of his woman-baker; which he did not for any proud and insolent ostentation of his riches in this temple, but upon an honest & just occasion: for the report goeth, that Alyattes the father of this Croesus, espoused a second wife, by whom he had other children, whom hereared and brought up. This lady then purposing secretly to take away the life of Croesus, gave unto the baker aforesaid, poison, willing her, when she had tempered it with dough, and wrought it into bread, to serve the same up unto Croesus. But the woman gave secret intelligence hereof unto Croesus, and withal, bestowed the poisoned bread among the children of this step dame. In regard of which demerit, Croesus when he came to the crown, would acknowledge and require the good service which this woman had done, with the testimony, as it were, of this god himself; wherein he did well and virtuously. And therefore (quoth he) meet it is and seemly, to praise and honour highly such oblations, if any have been presented and dedicated by cities upon semblable occasions, like as the Opunitians did. For when the tyrants of the Phocaeans had broken and melted many sacred oblations both of gold and silver, and thereof coined money, which they sent and dispersed among the cities; the Opuntians gathered as much silver as they could, wherewith they filled a great pot, sent in hither, and made thereof an offering to Apollo. And I verily, for my part, do greatly commend those of Smyrna and Apollonia for sending hither certain corne-eares of gold, in token of harvest: and more than that, the Eretrians and Magnesians, for presenting this god with the first fruits of their men & women, recognising thereby, him to be the giver, not only of the fruits which the earth yieldeth, but also of children, as being the author of generation and the lover of mankind. But I blame the Megarians as much, for that they only in manner of all the Greeks, caused to be erected here, the image of this our god, with a lance in his hand, after the battle with the Athenians, who upon the defeature of the Persians, held their city in possession, and were by them vanquished in fight, and dizseized thereof again. And yet true it is, that these men afterward offered unto Apollo a golden plectre wherewith to play upon his Cittern or Viol, having heard (as it should seem) the Poet Scythinus, speaking of the said instrument: 
Which Don Apollo, fair and lovely son  
Of Jupiter, doth tune in skilful wise,  
As who is wont of all things wrought and done,  
All ends with their beginnings to comprise:  
And in his hand the plectre bright as gold,  
Even glittering rays of shining Sun doth hold.  Now when Serapion would have said somewhat else of these matters: A pleasure it were (quoth the stranger) to hear you devise and discourse of such like things, but I must needs demand the first promise made unto me, as touching the cause why the Prophetess Pythia hath given over to make answer any longer by oracle, in verse and metre: and therefore, if it so please you, let us surcease visiting the rest of these oblations and ornaments, and rather sit we down in this place, for to hear what can be said of this matter, being the principal point and main reason which impeacheth the credit of this oracle; for that of necessity one of these two things must needs be: either that the Prophetess Pythia approacheth not near enough to the very place where the divine power is, or else that the air which was wont to breath and inspire this instinct, is utterly quenched, and the puissance quite gone and vanished away. When we had fetched therefore a circuit about, we sat us down upon the tablements on the South side of the temple, near unto the chapel of Tellus, that is to say, the Earth, where we beheld the waters of the fountain Castilius, and the temple of the Muses, with admiration, in such sort as Boethus incontinently said, that the very place itself made much for the question and doubt moved by the stranger: For in old time (quoth he) there was a temple of the Muses even there, from whence the river springs; insomuch as they used this water for the solemn libations at sacrifices, according as Simonides writeth in this wise: 
Where water pure is kept in basons fair  
Beneath, of Muses with their yellow hair.  And in another place, the same Simonides with a little more curiosity of words, calling upon Cleio the Muse, saith, she is the holy keeper. 
The sacred ewres, who doth superintend  
Whereby from lovely fountain do deseend  
Those waters pure, which all the world admires,  
And thereof for to have a taste desires:  
As rising from those caves prophetical,  
That yield sweet odours most mirificall.  And therefore Eudoxus was much overseen to believe those who gave out, that this was called the water of Styx. But in truth, they placed the Muses as assistants to divination, and the warders thereof, near unto that riveret and the temple of Tellus aforesaid, whereunto appertained the oracle: whereby answers were rendered in verse and song. And some there be who say, that this heroic verse was first heard here: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  That is to say, 
You pretty Bees and birds that sing:  
Bring hither both your wax and wing.  at what time as the oracle being forsaken and destitute of the god Apollo, lost all the dignity and majesty that it had. Then Serapion: These things indeed (quoth he) o Boethus, are more meet and convenient for the Muses. For we ought not to fight against God, nor together with prophesy and divination take away both providence and divinity; but to seek rather for the solution of those reasons which seem to be contrary thereto, and in no wise to abandon and cast off that faith and religious belief, which hath in our country, time out of mind, passed from father to son. You say very well and truly (quoth I) good Serapion, for we despair not of Philosophy, as if it were quite overthrown and utterly gone, because Philosophers beforetime, pronounced their sentences, and published their doctrines in verse: as for example, Orpheus, Hesiodus, Parmenides, Xenophanes, Empedocles, Thales, and afterwards ceased and gave over to versify, all but yourself, for you have into Philosophy reduced Poetry again, to set up aloud and lofty note, for to incite and stir up young men. Neither is Astrology of less credit and estimation, because Aristarchus, Timochares, Aristyllus, and Hipparchus, have written in prose: whereas Eudoxus, Hesiodus, and Thales, wrote before them in verse of that argument; at leastwise, if it be true that Thales was the author of that Astrology which is ascribed unto him. And Pindarus himself confesseth, that he doubted greatly of that manner of melody, which was neglected in his days, wondering why it was so despised. For I assure you it is no absurd thing, nor impertinent, to search the causes of such mutations: But to abolish all arts and faculties, if haply somewhat be changed or altered in them, I hold neither just, nor reasonable. Then came in Theon also with his vie, adding moreover & saying, that it could not be denied, but that in truth herein there have been great changes & mutations: how beit, no less true it is, that even in this very place there have been many oracles & answers delivered in prose, & those concerning affairs, not of least consequence, but of great importance. For as Thucyaides reporteth in his history, when the Lacedæmonians demanded of the oracle, what issue there would be of the war which they waged against the Athenians? this answer was made: That they should obtain the victory, and hold still the upper hand: also that he would aid and succour them, both requested, and unrequested: and that unless they recalled home Pausanias, he would gather together *** of silver. Semblably, when the Athenians consulted with the oracle about their success in that war which they enterpised for the conquest of Sicily; this answer they received: That they should bring out of the city Erythrae, the priestresse of Minerva: now the name of the said woman was Hesychia, that it to say, repose, or quietness. Moreover, at what time as Dinomenes the Sicilian, would needs know of the oracle, what should become of his sons? this answer was returned: That they should all three be tyrants, and great potentates: whereat when Dinomenes replied again: Yea mary, my good lord Apollo, but peradventure they may rue that another day. Apollo answered: True indeed, & thus much moreover I prophesy unto thee, for to be their destiny. And how this was fulfilled you all know: for Gelon during his reign, had the dropsy: Hiero was diseased with the stone, all the time of his tyranny: and Thrasibulus being overtoiled with wars and civil seditions, in short time was disthroned & driven out of his dominions. Moreover, Procles the tyrant of Epidaurus, among many others, whom he had cruelly and unjustly put to death, murdered Timarchus, who stead from Athens unto him, with a great quantity of money, after he had received him into his protection, and showed him many courtesies and kindnesses at his first arrival: him (I say) he slew, and afterwards cast into the sea his corpse, which he had put into a chest: and howsoever other knew not of this murder, yet Cleander of Aegina, was privy thereto, and the minister to execute the same. After this, in process of time, when he was fallen into troubles, and that his state began to be disquieted, he sent his brother Cleotinus hither to the oracle, to inquire secretly whether he were best to fly and retire himself out of the way. Apollo made this answer: That he granted Procles flight and retreat thither, where as he commanded his host of Aegina to bestow a chest, or else where the stags cast their heads. The tyrant understanding that Apollo willed him either to throw himself into the sea and there be drowned, or else to be interred in the ground, because stags are wont to bury and hide their horns within the earth, when they be fallen, made no haste, but delayed the time: but after a while, when troubles grew more and more upon him, and all things went backward with him, every day worse than other, at length he fled: But the friends of Timarchus having overtaken him, slew him likewise, and flung his body into the sea. Furthermore (which is the greatest matter of all) those Rhetrae, by virtue whereof, Lycurgus ordained the government of the Lacedæmonians commonwealth, were delivered unto him in prose. What should I speak of Alyrius, Herodotus, Philochor us, and Ister, who of all others traveled most in gathering of oracles together, which were given in verse, and yet have penned many of them without verse. And Theopompus, who studied, no man so much, to clear the history as touching oracles; sharply reproveth those, who think that Pythia the propheresse in those days, gave no answers nor prophecies in metre: which challenge of his when he minded to prove and make good, he could allege but very few examples; for that all the rest in manner were even then pronounced in prose, like as at this day, some there be run that in verse and meeter. By which allegations of his, he made one above the rest notoriously divulged, which is this. There is within the province of Phocis, a certain temple of Hercules, surnamed Myhogyne, as one would say, hating women: and by the ancient custom and law of that country, the priest thereof for the time being, must not in the whole year company with a woman: by occasion whereof, they choose old men to this priesthood: howsoever not long since, a certain young man, who was otherwise of no ill behaviour, but somewhat ambitious, and desirous of honour, and who beside loved a young wench, attained to this prelacy or sacerdotal dignity: at the first he birdled his affection, and forbore the said damosel: howbeit, one time above the rest, when he was laid upon his bed, after he had drunk well, and been a dancing, the wench came to visit him; and to be short, he dealt carnally with her; whereupon being much troubled in mind, and in fearful perplexity, he fled unto the oracle, and inquired of Apollo as concerning the sin which he had committed, whether he might not be assoiled for it by prayers or expiatory satisfaction? and this answer he received: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  

* This is the devils divinity.  All things necessary, God permitteth.   
But if a man haply should grant that no answer in these days is delivered by oracle, but in verse; yet would he be more in doubt of ancient oracles, which sometime in metre and otherwhiles in prose gave answers. But neither the one nor the other (my son) is strange and without reason, if so be you conceive aright and carry a pure and religious opinion of god Apollo, and do not think that he himself it was who in old time composed the verses and at this day this day prompeth unto Pythia the prophecies, as if he speak through masks and visours. But this point is of such moment; that it requireth a longer discourse and farther inquiry into it: mary for this present it may suffice for our learning, that we call to remembrance and put you in mind briefly, how the body useth many organs or instruments; that the soul emploieth the body and the parts thereof; and that the soul is the organ or instrument of God. Now the perfection of any organ or instrument, is principally to limitate and resemble that which useth it, as much as in the power thereof: and to exhibit the work and effect of the intention in itself, and to show the same not such as it is in the workman, pure, sincere, without passion, without error and faultless, but mixed and exposed to faults: for of itself obscure it is and altogether unknowen unto us; but it appeareth another, and by another, and is replenished with the nature of that other. And here I pass over to speak of wax, gold, silver, brass, and all other sorts of matter and substance, which may be cast and brought into the form of a mould. For every of these verily receiveth one form of a similitude imprinted therein, but to this resemblance or representation, one adjoineth this difference, and another that, of itself; as easily is to be seen, by the infinite diversities of forms in images, as also by the appearance of one and the same visage in diverse and sundry mirours, flat, hollow, kerbed, or embowed, round outwardly, which represent an infinite variety. But there is neither mirror that showeth and expresseth the face better, nor instrument of nature more supple, obsequent and pliable, that is the Moon: howbeit receiving form the Sun a light and fiery illumination, she sendeth not the same back unto us, but mingled with somewhat of her own: whereby it changeth the colour, and hath a power or faculty far different, for no heat at all there is in it: and as for the light so weak and feeble it is that it faileth before it cometh unto us. And this I suppose to be the meaning of Heraclitus, when he saith, that the lord, unot whom belongeth the oracle at Delphos, doth neither speak, nor conceal, but signify only and give sign. Add now to this which is so well said and conceived, and make this application: that the god who is here, useth Pythia the prophetess, for sight and hearing, like as the Sun useth the Moon. He showeth future things by a mortal body, and a soul which cannot rest and lie still, as being not able to show herself immooveable and quiet to him who stirreth and moveth her, but is troubled still more and more by the motions, agitations, and passions, of her own, and which are in herself: for like as the turnings of bodies, which together with a circular motion, fall downward, are not firm and strong, but turning as they do round by force, and tending downward by nature, there is made of them both, a certain turbulent and irregular circumgiration: Even so the ravishment of the spirit, called Enthusiasmus is a mixture of two motions, when the mind is moved in the one by inspiration, and in the other naturally. For considering that of bodies which have no soul, and of themselves continue always in one estate quiet, a man cannot make use not move them perforce, otherwise than the quality of their nature will bear, nor move a cylindre like a bal, or in manner of a square cube, nor a lute or harp, according as he doth a pipe, no more than a trumpet after the order of a cithern or stringed instrument: ne yet any thing else otherwise than either by art or nature each of them is sit to be used. How is it possible then to handle and manage that which is animate, which moveth of itself, is endued with will and inclination, capable also of reason; but according to the precedent habitude, puissance and nature? As for example, to move one musically, who is altogether ignorant and an enemy of music; or grammatically, him who skilleth not of grammar, and knoweth not a letter of the book; or eloquently and thetorically, one who hath neither skill nor practise at all in orations. Certes I cannot see or say how? And herein Homer also beareth witness with me, who albeit he supposeth thus much, that nothing (to speak of) in the whole world, is performed and effected by any cause, unless God be at one end thereof: yet will not he make God to use all persons indifferently in every thing, but each one according to the sufficiency that he hath by art or nature. To prove this, see you not (quoth he) my friend Diogenianus, that when Minerva would persuade the Achaeans to any thing she calleth for Ulysses? when she is minded to trouble and mar the treaty of peace, she seeketh out Pandarus? when she is disposed to discomfit and put to flight the Trojans, she addresseth herself and goeth to Diomedes? for of these three, the last was a valiant man of person, and a brave warrior; the second a good archer, but yet a foolish and brainsick man; the first right eloquent and wise withal: for Homer was not of the same mind with Pandarus, if so be it were Pandarus who made this verse, 
If God so will, in sea thou mayst well sail  
Upon an hurdle or a wicker frail.  But well he knew, that powers and natures be destined to diverse effects, according as each one hath different motions, notwithstanding that which moveth them all, be but one. Like as therefore that faculty which moveth a living creature naturally going on foot, can not make it to fly; nor him who stutteth and stammereth, to speak readily; ne yet him to cry big and aloud, who hath a small and slender voice: which was the reason (as I take it) that when Battus was come to 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 with a small character, that is to say, to his full strength.  Rome, they sent him into Africa, there to plant a colony, and people a city; for howsoever he had a stutting and stammering tongue, and was otherwise of a small voice, yet a princely mind he carried, a politic head he had of his own, and was a man of wisdom & government: even so impossible it is, that Pythia should have the knowledge to speak here elegantly & learnedly: for notwithstanding that she were well borne and legitimate as any other, & had lived honestly and discreetly, yet being brought up in the house of poor husbandmen, she descendeth into the place of the oracle, bringing with her no art learned in school, nor any experience whatsoever. But as Xenophon thinketh, that a young bride when she is brought to her husband's house, aught to be such an one as hath not seen much, and heard as little; semblably, Pythia being ignorant and unexpert in manner of all things, and a very virgin indeed as touching her mind and soul, cometh to converse with Apollo. And we verily are of opinion, that God for to signify future things, useth Herons, Wrens, Ravens, Crows, and other birds, speaking after their manner: neither will we have soothsayers, and prophets, being as they are, the messengers and heralds of God, to expound and declare their predictions in plain and intelligible words: but we would that the voice and dialect of the prophetess Pythia, resembling the speech of a Chorus in a tragedy from a scaffold, should pronounce her answers not in simple, plain, and trivial terms, without any grace to set them out, but with Poetical magnificence of high and stately verses, disguised as it were with metaphors and figurative phrases, yea, and that which more is, with found of flute and hautboys: what answer make you then, as touching the old oracles? Surely, not one alone, but many. First, the ancient Pythiae as hath been said already, uttered and pronounced most of them in prose: secondly, that time afforded those complexions and temperatures of body, which had a propense and forward inclination to Poesy; whereto there were joined incontinently, the alacrity, desires, affections, and dispositions of the soul, in such sort, a they were ever priest and ready, neither wanted they ought but some little beginning from without, to set them on work, and to stir the imagination and conception; whereby there might directly be drawn unto that which was meet and proper for them, not only Astrologers and Philosophers as Philinus saith; but also such as were well soaked with wine, and shaken with some passion, who either upon pity surprising them, or joy presented unto them, might immediately slide as it were, and fall into a melodious and singing voice; insomuch as their feasts were full of verses, and love songs, yea and their books and compositions, amatorious, and savouring of the like. And when Euripides said: 
Love makes men Poets, market it when you will,  
Although before in verse they had no skill.  He meaneth not that love putteth Poetry or Music into a man in whom there was none before, but wakeneth, stirreth and enchafeth that which before was drowsy, idle, and cold. Or else my good friend, let us say, that now a days there is not an amorous person, and one that skilleth of love, but all love is extinct and perished, because there is no man, as Pindarus saith, 
Who now in pleasant vain Poetical  
His songs and ditties doth address,  
Which just in rhyme and meeter fall,  
To praise his fair and sweet mistress,  But this is untrue and absurd: for many loves there be that stir and move a man, though they meet not with such minds as naturally are disposed and forward to Music or Poetry: and well may these loves be without pipes, without haps, viols, lutes, and stringed instruments: and yet no less talkative nor ardent, than those in old time. Again, it were a shame and without all conscience to say, that the Academy with all the choir and company of Socrates and Plato, were void of amorous affection (whose amatorious discourses are at this day extant, & to be read) although they left no Poems behind them. And is it not all one to say, that there was never any woman but Sapph in love, nor had the gift of prophesy, save only Sibylla, and Aristonice, or such as published their vaticinations and prophecies in verse? For virtue as Chaeremon was wont to say, is mingled and tempered with the manners of those that drink it: And this Enthusiasm or spirit of prophesy, like unto the ravishment of love, maketh use of that sufficiency and faculty, which it findeth ready in the subject, and moveth each one of them that are inspired therewith, according to the measure of their natural disposition: and yet as we consider God and his providence, we shall see that the change is ever to the better. For the use of speech, resembleth properly the permutation and worth of money; which is good and allowable, so long as it is used and known, being currant, more or less, and valued diversely, as the times require. Now the time was, when the very mark and stamp (as it were) of our speech was currant and approved, in meeter, verses, songs and sonnets: Forasmuch as then, all history, all doctrine of Philosophy, all affection; and to be brief, all matter that required a more grave and stately voice, they brought to Poetry and Music. For now, only few men, hardly, and with much a do; give ear and understand: but then, all indifferently heard, yet, and take great pleasure to hear those that sung, 
The rural ploughman with his hine,  
The fowler with his nets and line.  as Pindarus saith: but also most men for the great aptitude they had unto Poetry, when they would admonish and make remonstrances, did it, by the means of harp, lute, and song withal: if they meant to rebuke, chastise, exhort, and incite, they performed it by tales, fables, and proverbes. Moreover their hymns to the honour and praise of the gods, their prayers and vows, their ballads for joy of victory, they made in meeter and musical rhyme: some upon a dexterity of wit, others by use and practise. And therefore neither did Apollo envy this ornament and pleasant grace unto the skill of divination, neither banished he from this threefooted table of the oracle the Muse so highly honoured, but rather brought it in, and stirred it up as affecting and loving Poetical wits: yea, and himself ministered and infused certain imaginations, helping to put forward the lofty and learned kind of language, as being much prized and esteemed. But afterwards, as the life of men, together with their fortunes and natures came to be changed; thirst and utility (which removeth all superfluity) took away the golden lusts, and foretops of perukes, the spangled coifs, cawls, and attires, it cast off the fine and dainty robes called Xystides; it clipped and cut away the bush of hair growing too long; it unbuckled and unlaced, the trim buskins, acquainting men with good reason, to glory in thriftiness and frugality, against superfluous and sumptuous delicacies, yea, and to honour simplicity and modesty, rather than vain pomp and affected curiosity: And even so, the manner of men's speech, changing also and laying aside all glorious show, the order of writing an history therewithal, presently came down as one would say from the stately chariot of versification, to prose, and went a foot; and by the means especially of this fashion of writing and speaking at liberty, and not being tied to measures, true stories, come to be distinguished from lying fables: and Philosophy embracing perspicuity of style, which was apt to teach and instruct, rather than that which by tropes and figures amused and amazed men's brains. And then Apollo repressed Pythia, that she should not any more call her fellow citizens, Pyricaos, that is to say, burning fires; nor the Spartans, Ophioboros, that is to say, devourers of serpents; nor men Oreanas; nor river, Orempotas: and so by cutting off from her, prophecies, verses, and strange terms, circumlocutions and obscurity, he taught and enured her to speak unto those who resorted to the oracles, as laws do talk with cities, as kings devise and commune with their people and subjects, and as scholars give ear unto their schoolmasters, framing and applying his manner of speech and language so, as it might be full of sense and persuasive grace: for this lesson we ought to learn and know that, as Sophocles saith: 
God to the wise in heavenly things, is ay a light some guide,  
But fools so briefly he doth teach, that they go always wide.  And together with plainness, and diluciditie, belief was so turned and altered, changing together with other things, that beforetime, whatsoever was not ordinary nor common, but extravagant, or obscurely and covertly spoken, the vulgar sort drawing it into an opinion of some holiness hidden underneath, was astonished thereat and held it venerable: but afterwards, desirous to learn and understand things clearly and easily, and not with masks of disguised words, they began to find fault with Poesy, wherein oracles were clad; not only for that it was contrary and repugnant to the easy intelligence of the truth, as mingling the darkness and shadow of obscurity with the sentence, but also for that they had prophecies already in suspicion; saying, that metaphors enigmatical, and covert words, yea and the ambiguitles which Poetry useth, were but shifts, retracts, and evasions to hide and cover all, whensoever the events fell not out accordingly. And many you may hear to report, that there be certain Poetical persons, practised in versifying, sit yet about the oracle, for to receive and catch some words there delivered; which presently and extempore, they reduce and contrive into verse, meeter, and rhyme, as if they were panniers to bestow all the answers in. And here I forbear to speak what occasion of blame, and matter of calumniation in these oracles, these Onomacritoi, Prodotae and Cinesones have ministered, by adding unto them a tragical pomp, and swelling inflation of words, when as neither they had need thereof, nor yet received any variety and alteration thereby. Moreover, certain it is, that these jugglers and vagrant circumforanean landleapers, these practisers of legier de main, these players at pass and repass, with all the pack of those vagabonds, ribauds, and jesters who haunt the feasts of Cybele and Serapis, have greatly discredited and brought into obloquy the profession of Poetry: some by their extemporal faculty and telling fortunes, others by way of lottery forsooth, and by certain letters and writings, forging oracles which they would give to poor varlets and silly women, who were soon abused thereby, especially when they saw the same reduced into verse, and so were carried away with Poetical terms. And from hence it is now come to pass, that Poesy, for that she hath suffered herself thus to be profaned and made common, by such cousiners, jugglers, deceivers, enchanters, and false prophets, is fallen from the truth, and rejected from Apollo's threefooted table.  
And therefore I nothing wonder if otherwhiles in old time, there was some need of this double meaning, circumlocution, and obscurity: for I assure you, there was not wont to come hither one for to inquire and be resolved about the buying of a slave in open market: nor another to know what profit he should have by his traffic or husbandry: but hither came or sent great and puissant cities, kings, princes, and tyrants, who had no mean matters in their heads, to consult with Apollo as concerning their important affairs; whom to provoke, displease, and offend, by causing them to hear many things contrary to their will and mind, was nothing good and expedient for those who had the charge of the oracle: for this god obeyeth not Euripides when he setteth down a law as it were for him, saying thus: 
Phoebus himself, and none but he,  
Ought unto men the prophet to be.  for he useth mortal men to be his ministers and underprophets: of whom he is to have a special care for to preserve them, that in doing him service, they be not spoiled and slain by wicked persons: in which regard he is not willing to conceal the truth; but turning aside the naked declaration thereof, which in poetry receiveth many reflections, and is divided into many parcels, he thereby did away the the rigour and odious austerity therein contained. And it skilled much, that neither tyrants should know it, not enemies be advertised and have intelligence thereof. For their sakes therefore, he enfolded in all his answers, doubts, suspicions and ambiguities, which from others did hide the true meaning of that which was answered. But such as came themselves to the oracle, and gave close and heedful ear, as whom it concerned particularly, those he deceived not, neither failed they of the right understanding thereof. And therefore a very foolish man is he, and of no judgement, who doth take occasion of slander and calumniation, if the world and estate of men's affairs being changed, this God thinketh that he is not to aid and help men any more after his accustomed manner, but by some other. Furthermore, by the means of poetry and versification, there is not in a sentence, any greater commodity than this, that being couched and comprised in a certain number of words and syllables measuted, a man may retain and remember the same better. And necessary it was for those in old time, to carry away in memory many things, because there were delivered many signs and marks of places, many times and opportunities of affairs, many temples of strange gods beyond sea, many secret monuments, and repositories of demigods hard to be found of those who sailed far from Greece. For in the voyages of Chios and Candie, *** enterprised by Onesichus and Palanthus, beside many other captains and admiral's, how many signs and conjectures went they by, and were to observe, for to find the resting seat, and place of abode, which was ordained to every one of them? and some of them quite miss thereof: as for example, Battus: for his prophesy ran thus, That unless he arrived to the right place, he should be banished. Failing therefore of the country whereto he was sent, he returned again to the oracle in humble manner, craving his favour. And then Apollo answered him in this wise: 
Thou knowest thyself, aswell as I can tell,  
That uneth yet in Africa thou hast been;  
(For thither sent I thee to build and dwell)  
Nor Meliboea, that place so fertile, seen:  
If thither now accordingly thou wend,  
Thy wisdom then greatly will I commend.  And so he sent him away the second time. Likewise Lysander being altogether ignorant of the little hill Archeledes, of the place called Alopecon, as also of the river Oplites. 
And of the dragon, son of earth by kind  
Full craftily assailing men behind.  all which he should have avoided, was vanquished in battle, and slain about those very places, and that by one Inachion and Aliartian, who had for his device or arms in the target that he bore, a dragon purtraid. But I think it needless to recite many other ancient oracles of this kind, which are not easily to be related, and as hardly remembered, especially among you who know them well enough. But now thanks be to God, the state of our affairs and of the world, in regard whereof men were wont to seek unto the oracle is 〈◊〉: for which I rejoice and congratulate with you. For great peace there is and repose in all parts; wars be stayed, and there is no more need of running and wandering to and fro, from one country to another: civil dissensions and seditions be appeased: there are no tyrannies now exercised: neither do there reign other maladies and miseries of Greece, as in times past, which had need of sovereign medicines, exquisite drogues and powerful confections, to remedy and redress the same. Whereas therefore there is no variable diversity, no matter of secrecy, no dangerous affairs, but all demands be of petty & vulgar matters, much like to these school questions: Whether a man should marry or no? Whether a man may undertake a voyage by sea or no? or Whether he is to take up or put forth money for interest? where, I say, the greatest points, about which cities seek unto Apollo, are about the fertility of their ground, plenty of corn and other fruits of the earth, the breed and multiplying of their cattle, and the health of their bodies: to go about for to comprise the same in verse, to devise and forge long circuits of words, to use strange and obscure terms, to such interrogatories as require a short simple and plain answer, were the part of an ambitious and vainglorious Sophister, who took a pride in the elegant composing of oracles. Over and beside, Pythia of herself is of a gentle and generous nature: and when she descendeth thither and converseth with the god, she hath more regard of truth than of glory, neither paseth she whether men praise or dispraise her. And better iwis it were for us, if we also were likewise affected. But we now in a great agony (as it were) & fearful perplexity lest the place should lose the reputation which it hath had for the space of three thousand years, and doubting that some would abandon it and cease to frequent it, as if it were the school of a Sophister, who feared to lose his credit, and to be despised, devise apologies in defence thereof, feigning causes and reasons of things which we neither know, nor is beseeming us for to learn, and all to appease and persuade him, who complaineth and seemeth to find fault, whereas we should rather shake him off and let him go. 
For with him first,  
It will be worst,  who hath such an opinion of this our God, as that he approved and esteemed these ancient sentences of the Sages written at the entrance of the temple, Know thyself; Too much of nothing; principally for their brevity, as containing under few words a pithy sentence well and closely couched, and (as a man would say) beaten sound togehter with the hammer: but reproved and blamed modern oracles for delivering most part of their answers, briefly, succinctly, simply, and directly. And verily such notable Apothegms and sayings of the ancient Sages, resemble rivers that run through a narrow straight, where the water is penned and kept in so close, that a man cannot see through it, and even so unneath or hardly may the bottom of their sense be sounded. But if you consider what is written or said by them, who endeavour to search unto the very bottom, what every one of these sentences doth comprehend, you shall find that hardly a man shall meet with orations longer than they. Now the dialect or speech of Pythia is such, as the Mathematicians define a strait and direct line, namely, the shortest that may be between two points: and even so it bendeth not, it crookeneth not, it maketh no circle, it carrieth no double sense and ambiguity, but goeth strait to the truth; and say it be subject to censure and examination, and dangerous to be misconstured and believed amiss: yet to this day it hath never given advantage whereby it might be convinced of untruth: but in the mean time, it hath furnished all this temple full of rich gifts, presents and oblations, not only of Greek nations, but also of barbarous people, as also adorned it with the beautiful buildings and magnificent fabrics of the amphictyons. For you see in some sort, many buildings adjoined which were not before, and as many repaired and restored to their ancient perfection, which were either fallen to decay and ruined by continuance of time, or else lay confusedly out of order. And like as we see, that near unto great trees that spread much and prosper well, other smaller plants and shrubs grow and thrive: even so together with the city of Delphos, Pylaea flourisheth, as being fed and maintained by the abundance and affluenee, which ariseth from hence, in such sort as it beginneth to have the form and show of solemn sacrifices of stately meetings and sacred waters, such as in a thousand years before it could never get the like. As for those that inhabited about Galaxion in Boeotia, they found and felt the gracious presence and favour of our God by the great plenty and store of milk, For, 
From all their ewes thick milk did spin,  
As water fresh from lively spring:  
Their tubs and tons with milk therein  
Brim full they all, home fast did bring:  
No barrels, bottles, pails of wood,  
But full of milk in houses stood.  But to us he giveth better marks, and more evident tokens and apparent signs of his presence and favour, than these be; having brought our country (as it were) from dryness and penury, from desert & waste wilderness, wherein it was before, to be now rich and plentiful, frequented and peopled, yea and to be in that honour and reputation, wherein we see it at this day to flourish. Certes, I love myself much better, for that I was so well affected, as to put to my helping hand in this business, together with Polycrates and Petraeus: Yea and him also I love in my heart, who was the first author unto us of this government and policy, and who took the pains and endeavoured to set on foot and establish most part of these things. But impossible it was, that in so small a time there should be seen so great and so evident a mutation by any industry of man whatsoever, if God himself had not been assistant to sanctify and honour this oracle. But like as in those times past, some men there were who found fault with the ambiguity, obliquity and obscurity of oracles; so there be in these days, others, who like sycophants cavil at the overmuch simplicity of them; whose humorous passion is injurious and exceeding foolish. For even as little children take more joy and pleasure to see rainbows, haloes or garlands about the Sun, Moon, etc. yea, and comets or blazing stars, than they do to behold the Sun himself or the Moon; so these persons desire to have enigmatical and dark speeches, obscure allegories, and wrested metaphors, which are all reflections of divination upon the fancy and apprehension of our mortal conceit. And if they understand not sufficiently, the cause of this change and alteration, they go their ways, and are ready to condemn the God, and not either us or themselves, who are not able by discourse of reason to reach unto the counsel and intention of the said gods.    

OF THE DAEMON OR FAMILIAR SPIRIT OF SOCRATES.  

* Some add unto this title, [The delivery of the city Thebes] and in truth, that narration taketh up a good part of this dialogue.  A Treatise in manner of a Dialogue.  

The Summarie.  
THe The bans having lost their freedom and liberty by the violent proceedings of Archias, Leontidas and other tyrants, who banished a great number of good citizens and men of worth, in which roll and catalogue Pelopidas was one (as appeareth in the story of his life, wherein Plutarch writeth of all this matter at large) it fell out at last, that the exiled persons took heart, drew to an head, and wrought so, as they re-entered the city of Thebes, slew the tyrants, and displaced the garrison of the Spartans'. Which done, they dispatched their ambassages to other States and Common wealths of Greece, for to justify this their action; and namely, among the rest, they sent Caphisias to Athens: who being there, at the request of Archidamus a parsonage of great authority, related and reported the return of the banished men, the surprising of the tyrants, and the restoring of the city to their ancient franchises; and that with discourses wonderful pathetical, and such as show the singular providence of God in the preservation of States, and confusion of such wicked members as disturb the public peace. But in this recital, there is inserted, and that with good grace, a digression as touching the familiar spirit of Socrates, by occasion of a Pythagorean Philosopher newly come out of Italy to Thebes, for to take up the bones of Lysis: for by occasion that Galaxidorus the Epicurean derided the superstition of this stranger, praising withal, the wisdom and learning of Socrates, who had cleared and delivered Philosophy from all fantastical illusions of spirits and ghosts, Theocritus bringeth in an example of a certain prediction of this familiar spirit. But withal, when the other had demanded the question, whether the same were an human and natural thing or no, the disputation began to kindle and wax hot; until such time as Epaminondas and this stranger named Theanor came in place: and then they fell into 〈◊〉 of poverty and riches, by occasion that Theanor offered silver unto the The bans, in recompense of their kindness and good entertainment showed unto Lysis. And as they would have proceeded forward in this argument, there came one who ministered occasion for to return unto the former narration as touching the enterprise and exploit of the said exiled persons: in which there is intermingled again a treatise concerning the familiar of Socrates, with a large recital of the fable of Timarchus. After which, Caphisias rehearseth the issue of the tragedy of the tyrants, showing throughout, notable discourses of the divine wisdom, and joining therewith a consideration of Socrates his wisdom, guiding and directing to a particular plot for the good of all Greece. But in this place the reader must remember and call to mind who this Socrates was; to wit, a man destitute of the true knowledge of God, and therefore he is to hold for suspected and nought this familiar spirit of his, if a man would receive and admit the opinion of some interlocutors, who suppose it was a Daemon or spirit from without; to the end that we should not rest upon revelation, inspirations and guidances of angels, unless it be of such, the testimonies whereof are grounded upon the holy scripture; but fly from the profane curiosity of certain fantcsticall heads, who by their books published abroad in print, have dared to revive and raise up again this false opinion (which some in this age of ours have) of samiliar spirits, by whom they are for sooth as well advised and as surely taught and instructed as by the very spirit of God, speaking unto us by his written word.   

OF THE DAEMON OR familiar spirit of Socrates.  ARCHIDAMUS. 
I Have heard (as I remember) o Caphisias, a pretty speech of a certain painter making a comparison of those who came to see the pictures and tables which he had painted: for he was wont to say, that the ignorant beholders and such as had no skill at all in the art of painting, resembled them who saluted a whole multitude of people all at once; but the better sort and such as were skilful, were like unto those who used to salve every one whom they met, severally by name: for that the former had no exquisite insight into the works, but a superficial and general knowledge only; whereas the other chose, judging every piece and part thereof, will not miss one jote, but peruse, consider and censure that which is well done or otherwise. Semblably it falleth out in my judgement, as touching trueactions indeed, which are not painted. The conceit and understanding of the more idle and careless persons resteth in this bare knowledge, in case they conceive only the summary and issue of a thing; but that, of studious and diligent persons, and lovers of fair and goodly things, like unto a judicious and excellent spectator of virtue, as of some great and singular art, taketh more pleasure to hear the particularities in special: for that the end of matters, ordinarily, hath many things common with fortune; but the good wit is better seen in causes, & in the virtue of particular occurrences & affairs which are presented; as when valour showeth itself not astonished, but considerate and well advised in the greatest perils; where the discourse of reason is mingled with passion, which the sudden occasion of danger presented doth bring. Supposing then, that we also are of this kind of spectators, declare you to us now in order from the beginning, how this matter did pass and proceed in the execution thereof, as also what talk and discourse was held there; for that by all likelihood you were present: and for mine own part, so desirous I am to hear, that I would not fail to go as far as to Thebes for the knowledge thereof, were it not, that I am thought already of the Athenians, to favorise the Boeotians more than I should.  CAPHISIAS. 
Certes, Archidamus, since you are so earnest and forward to learn how these affairs were managed, I ought in regard of the good will which you bear unto us, before any business whatsoever (as Pindarus saith) to have come hither, expressly for to relate the same unto you: but since we are hither come in embassage already, and at good leisure, whiles we attend what answer and dispatch the people of Athens will give us, in making it strange and goodly, and refusing to satisfy so civil a request of a parsonage so kind and well affectionate to his friends, were as much as to revive the old reproach imputed upon the Boeotians, to wit, that they hate good letters and learned discourses; which reproach began to wear away with your Socrates, and in so doing, it seemeth that we treat of affairs with two priests: and therefore see, whether the Signors here present be disposed to hear the report of so many speeches and actions; for the narration will not be short, considering that you will me to adjoin thereto the words that passed also.  ARCHIDAMUS. 
You know not the men, o Caphisias, and yet well worthy they are to be known; for noble persons they had to their fathers, and those who had been well affected to our country. As for him (pointing to Lysithides) he is (quoth he) the nephew of Thrasibulus; but he here, is Timotheus the son of Conon: those there, be the children of Archinus; and the other, our familiar friends. So that you shall be sure to have a well willing auditory, and such as will take pleasure to hear this narration.  CAPHISIAS. 
You say well. But where were I best to begin my speech, in regard of those matters that ye have already heard and known, which I would not willingly repeat?  ARCHIDAMUS. 
We know reasonably well, in what state the city of Thebes stood, before the return of the banished persons; and namely, how Archias and Leontidas had secred intelligence, and complotted with Phoebidas the Lacedaemonian captain, whom they persuaded, during the time of truce, to surprise the castle of Cadmus; and how having executed this design, they drove some citizens out of the city, and put others in prison, or held the men in awe, whiles themselves ruled tyrannically and with violence. Whereof I had intelligence, because I was (as you wot well) host unto Melon and Pelopidas, with whom (so long as they were in exile) I was inwardly acquainted and conversed familiarly. Moreover, we have heard already, how the Lacedæmonians condemned Phaebidas to pay a great sine, for that he had seized the fort Cadmia, and how they put him by, and kept him from the journey and expedition of Olynthus, and sent thither in stead of him, Lysanoridas with two other captains, and planted a stronger garrison within the castle. Furthermore, we know very well, that Ismenias died not the fairest kind of death, presently upon I wot not what process framed, and an action commenced against him, for that Gorgidas advertised the banished who were here, by letters, from time to time, of all matters that passed; in such sort, as there remaineth for you to relate, nothing else, but the return of the said banished men, and the surprising or apprehension of the tyrants.  CAPHISIAS. 
About that time (Archidamus) all we that were of the confederacy and complotted together, used ordinarily to meet in the house of Simmias, by occasion that he was retired and in cure of a wound which he had received in his leg, where we conferred secretly of our affairs as need required; but in show and openly, discoursed of matters of learning and Philosophy, drawing unto us often times into our companic, Archias and Leontidas, men who misliked not such conferences and communications, because we would remove all suspicion of such conventicles. For Simmias having abode long time in foreign parts among the Barbarians, being returned to Thebes but a little while before, was full of all manet of news and strange reports as touching those barbarous nations; insomuch, as Archias when he was at leisure, willingly gave ear to his discourses and narrations, sitting in the company of us young gentlemen, as being well pleased that we should give our minds to the study of good letters and learning, rather than busy our heads about those matters which they went about and practised in the mean while. And the very day on which late in the evening, and toward dark night following, the exiled persons abovesaid were come closely under the wall, there arrived from thenee unto us a messenger, whom Pherenicus sent, one who was unknowen to us all, unless it were to Charon, who brought us word, that to the number of twelve young gentlemen, and those the bravest gallants of all the banished conspirators, were already with their hounds hunting in the forest Cithaeron, intending to be here in the evening; and that therefore they had sent before and dispatched a vauntcourrier of purpose, aswell to advertise us thereof, as to be certified themselves who it was that should make his house ready for them to lie secret and hidden therein when they were once come; to the end that upon this forcknowledge they might set forward and go directly thither. Now as we studied and took some deliberation about this point, Charon of himself offered his house: whereupon, when the messenger intended to return immediately & with great speed to the exiles, Theocritus the soothsayer gripping me fast by the hand, & casting his eye upon Charon that went before: This man (quoth he) o Caphisias, is no Philosopher nor deep scholar, neither is he come to any excellent or exquisite knowledge above others, as his brother Epaminondaes', and yet you see how being naturally inclined, and directed withal by the laws, unto honour and virtue, he exposeth himself willingly unto danger of death, for the delivery and setting free of his country; whiles Epaminondas, who hath had better means of instruction and education to the attaining of virtue, than any other Boeotian whatsoever, is restive, dull, and backward, when the question is of executing any great enterprise for the deliverance of his native country. And to what occasion of service shall he ever be so well disposed, prepared and employed, than this? Unto whom I made answer in this wife: We for our parts, most kind and gently Theoritus, do that which hath been thought good, resolved and concluded upon among ourselves, but Epaminondas having not yet persuaded us, according as he thinketh it better himself, not to put these our designments in execution, hath good reason to go against that wherewith his nature repugneth, and so he approveth not the designment whereunto he is moved and invited. For it were unreasonable to force & compel a physician, who promiseth & undertaketh to cure a disease, without lancet & fire, for to proceed to incision, cutting & cauterizing. Why (quoth Theocritus) doth not he approve of the conspiracy? No (quoth I) neither alloweth he that any citizens should be put to death, unless they were condemned first judicially by order of law: mary, he saith, that if without massacre and effusion of citizen's blood they would enterprise the deliverance of the city, he would assist and aid them right willingly. Seeing then that he was not able to induce us for to believe his reasons, but that we followed still our own course, he requireth us to let him alone pure, innocent, and impolluted with the blood of his citizens, and to suffer him for to espy and attend some better occasions and opportunities, by means whereof with justice he might procure the good of the weal public. For murder (quoth he) will not contain itself within limits as it ought: but Pherenicus haply and Pelopedas, may bend their force principally upon the authors and heads of the tyranny, and wicked persons: but you shall have some such as Eumolpidas and Samiadas hot stomached men, set on fire with choler and desire of revenge, who taking liberty by the vantage of the night, will not lay down their arms, nor put up their swords, until they have filled the whole city with bloodsned, and murdered many of the best and principal citizens.  
As I thus devised and communed with Theocritus, Anaxidorus ovethearing some of our words (for near he was unto us:) Stay (quoth he) and hold your peace, for I see Archiaes' & Lysanoridas the Spartan captain coming from the castle Cadmia, and it seemeth that they make haste directly toward us. Hereupon we paused and were still: with that Archias calling unto Theocritus, and bringing him apart by himself unto Lysanoridas, talked with him a long while, drawing him aside a little out of the way, under the temple of Amphton; in such sort, as we were in an extreme agony & perplexity, for fear lest they had an inkling or suspicion of our enterprise, or that something were discovered: & thereupon they examined Theocritus. As these matters thus passed, Phyllidas (whom you Archidamus know) who was then the principal secretary or scribe under Archias, at that time captain general of the army, being desirous of the approach of the conspirators, & withal both privy and party with us in the complot, came in place and took me (as his manner was) by the hand, beginning with open mouth to mock our exercises of the body and our wrestling: but afterward, drawing me aside, a good way from the others, asked me whether the banished persons would keep that appointed day or no? I made him answer, Yea. Then have I (quoth he) to very good purpose prepared a feast this day for to entertain Archias in my house, and so to deliver him with ease into their hands, when he shall have eaten freely, and drunk wine merrily. Passing well done (quoth I) o Phyllidas: but I beseech you withal, for to bring together all our enemies, or as many as you can. That is no easy matter (quoth he) to compass, but rather altogether impossible. For Archias hoping that some great lady of honour and estate will come thither unto him, in no wise can abide that Leontidas should be there, so that of necessity we must divide them into sundry houses. Now if Archias and Leontidas both, be once apprehended, I suppose that the rest will soon fly, or else remain quite, and be very highly contented if any man will grant them safety and security of their lives. Well (quoth I) we will so do: but I pray you, what business have they with Thcocritus, that they are so long in talk with him? I know not for a truth (quoth Phyllidas) but I have heard that there be certain prodigious signs of unlucky and unfortunate presage unto the city of Sparta.  
When Theocritus was returned unto us again, Phidolaus the Haliertian coming toward us: Simmias (quoth he) requesteth you to stay here a while for his sake: for he is an intercessor in the behalf of Amphiteus by the means of Leontidas, that his life may be pardoned, and that instead of death, the man might be banished, This is fallen out (quoth Theocritus) in very good time and fitly to the purpose as a man would have it: for I was minded to inquire of you what things were found within the tomb of Alcmene, and what show it carried when it was opened among you: and also whether you were present when Agesilaus sent of purpose for to translate and carry the relics unto Sparta. Present I was not myself Phidolaus in person: and I was very much angry and offended with my fellow citizens, in that I was so discarded and left out. Howbeit found there was with the bones and other relics of the corpse, a certain carcanet of brass, and that of no great bigness, and two earthen pots, containing amphors a piece full of earth which in continuance of time was grown hard and converted into stone.  
Over the sepulchre there was a table of brass likewise, wherein were written many letters, and those of a strange and wonderful form, as being of right great antiquity: for nothing could we pick out of them, notwithstanding the letters appeared very well, after that the brass was fair washed and scoured clean, the characters were of such a making by themselves, after a barbarous fashion, and resembling nearest those of the Egyptians. Whereupon Agesilaus also, as men say, sent a copy of them unto the king of Egypt, praying him to show the same unto their priests, to see whether they understood them or no? But peradventure of these matters Simmias also is able to tell us some news, because about that time he conversed much with the said priests in points of Philosophy. And those of the city Aliartos are of opinion, that their great sterility, and scarcity, as also the swelling and inundation of the lake happened not by chance, but was the vengeance divine upon those who suffered the monument of this sepulchre to be digged up and opened. Then Theocritus after he had paused a little: The Lacedæmonians likewise (quoth he) seem to have been threatened by the ire of the gods, as the prodigious signs and tokens presage no less, whereof Lysanoridas ere while talked with me: who even now is gone into the city Aliartos, to cause the said monument to be filled up again, and there to offer certain funeral effusions and libaments, to the ghost of Alcmene and Aleus, according to a certain oracle; but who this Aleus should be, he knoweth not: and so soon as he is from thence returned, he must search also the sepulchre of Dirce, which none of the Thebans do know, unlssse they be those who have been captains of the horsemen. For look who goeth out of this office, taketh with him his successor that entereth into place, by night, and when they two be alone together, he showeth it unto him, and there they perform certain religious ceremonies without fire, the tokens and marks whereof, they shuffle together, and confound so, as they be not seen; which done, they depart in the dark, and go diverswaies, one from the other. But for mine own part, o Phidolaus, I believe verily he will never find it out, for the most of those who have been lawfully called to the captainship of the cavalry, or to say more truly, even all of them are in exile, except Gorgidas and Plato, whom they will never ask the question, because they are afraid of them. And as for those who are now in place, well may they take the lance and the signet within the castle of Cadmus; for otherwise they neither know nor can show aught. As Theocritus spoke these words, Leonttdas went forth with his friends; and we entering in, saluted Simmias, being set upon his bed, but I suppose he had not obtained his request, for very pensive and heavy he was; and looking wistly in the face upon us all, he broke out into thses words: O Hercules, what a world is this, to see the barbarous us and savage manners of men? And was not this then a very good answer made by old Thales. who being returned home, after a long voyage, from out of a foreign country, and demanded what was the strangest news that he could make relation of? answered: That he had seen a tyrant live to be an old man. For thus you see, that himself who in his own particular, had never received wrong by a tyrant, yet in regard of the odious trouble, in conversing and having to do with them, is offended and become an enemy to all sovereign and absolute governments, which are not subject to render an account unto the laws. But haply God will see to these matters, and provide in time convenient. But know you (Caphisias) who this stranger may be, that is come unto you? I wot not (quoth he) whom you mean. Why (quoth he) again, Leontidas came and told us of a man, who was seen by night to arise from about the tomb of Lysis, accompanied in stately wise, with a great train of men, in good order; and well appointed, who lodged there and lay upon pallets: for that there were to be seen in the morning little beds hard by the ground, made of chaste tree and of heath or ling. There remained also the tokens of fire, and of the libaments and oblations of milk. Moreover betimes in the morning he damanded of all passengers whom he met, where he should find the children of Polymnis dwelling in that country? And what stranger might this be (quoth I:) for by your report he should be some great parsonage, and not a private man and of mean degree. Not so (quoth Phidolaus) but when he comes welcome he shall be, and we will receive him courteously, But for this present, if peradventure (Simmias) you know any thing more than we, concerning those letters whereof we were of late in doubt, declare it unto us: for it is said that the priests of Egypt understood by conference together the letters of a certain table of brass, which Agesilaus not long since had from us, at what time as he caused the tomb of Alcmene to be opened. I have not (quoth Simmtas, calling another matter presently to mind) seen this said table, o Phidolaus: but Agetoridas the Spartan carrying with him many letters from Agestlaus came to thy city Memphis and went unto the prophet Chonuphis, with whom we conferred as touching Philosophy, and abode together a certain time, myself I mean, and Plato, with Ellopion the Peparethian. Thither I say arrived he as sent from king Agesilaus, who requested Chonuphis, that if he understood any thing of those letters which were written in the said brass, he would interpret the same, and send it back unto him incontinently. So this prophet was musing and studying three days together by himself, perusing and turning all sorts of figures and characters of ancient letters: and in the end wrote back his answer unto king Agesilaus, and by word of mouth told us, that the said writing gave direction and commandment unto the Greeks, to celebrate the feast, and solemnize the plays and games in the honour of the Mufes: also that the form of those characters, were the very same which had been used at the time when Proteus reigned in Egypt, which Hercules the son of Amphitryo learned: and that God by those letters advised and admonished the Greeks to live in peace and repose, instituting certain games unto the Muses, for the study of Philosophy and good literature, and disputing one against another continually, with reasons and arguments as touching justice, laying arms clean aside. As for us, we thought verily even then at the very first, that Chonuphts said well and truly; but much rather, when in our return out of Egypt, as we passed along Caria, certain persons of the lsle Delos, met us upon the way, who requested Plato (as he was a man well seen and exercised in Geometry) to explain the meaning unto them of a certain strange oracle, & hard to be understood; which god Apollo had given them: the tenor whereof was this: That the Delians and all other Greek nations, should have a cessation & end of all their present troubles and calamities, when they had once doubled the altar which stood in the temple at Delo: for they being not able to guess nor imagine what the substance and meaning should be, of this answer delivered by the oracle; and beside, making themselves ridiculous, when they thought to double the fabric and building of the altar (for when they had doubled each side of the four, they were not ware how by augmentation they made a solid body, eight times as big as it was before, and that by ignorance of the proportion, which in length yieldeth the duple) they had recourse unto Plato, for to be resolved of this difficulty. Then he calling to mind the foresaid Egyptian priest, said unto them: that the god played with the Greeks, for despising good sciences; reproaching them for their ignorance, and commanding them in good earnest to study Geometry, and not cursarily after a superficial manner; for that it was a matter and work, not of a depravate conceit, nor of a troubled and dim understanding, but sufficiently exercised, and perfectly seen in the sciences of Lines; to find of two lines one middle proportioned, which is the only means to double the figure of a cubic body, being augmented equally in all dimensions: And as for these (quoth he) Eudoxus the Cnidian, or Helicon the Cyzicenian, hath performed sufficiently unto you: howbeit, we are not to think that the god hath need of any such duplication, neither was it, that which he meant, but he commanded the Greeks to give over arms for to converse with the Muses; in dulcing their passions by the study of good literature, and the sciences, and so to couple and carry themselves, as that they might prosit, and not hurt one another. But whiles Simmias thus spoke, my father Polymnis entered the place, and sat him down close unto Simmias, beginning thus to speak; Epaminondas (quoth he) requesteth both you, and all the rest that be here, unless your business otherwise be the greater, not to fail, but here to stay; as being desirous to make you acquainted with this stranger, who is of himself a gentle person, and withal, is hither come with a generous and honest intention (being one of the Pythagorean Philosophers) from out of Italy, and his arrival into these parts, as by occasion of certain visions and dreams as he saith, yea and evident apparitions admonishing him to power and offer unto the good signior Lysis, upon his tomb, those libaments which are due unto men departed: and having brought with him a good quantity of gold, he supposeth that he is bound to make recompense unto Epaminondas, for the charges which which he was at in keeping & maintaining good Lysis in his old age, and most ready he is, without our request, and against our will, to succour our need and poverty Simmias taking great pleasure to hear this: You tell us (quoth he) of a wonderful man indeed, and such an one as is worthy of Philosophy: but what is the reason that he came not directly unto us? Because (quoth he) he took up lodging last night about the sepulchre of Lysis, and as I take it, Epaminondas hath led him to the river Ismenus, for to wash; but from thence they will come both together unto us: but before that he spoke with us, he lodged upon the tomb of Lysis, with a purpose as I think, to take up the bones and relics of his body, for to carry with him back into Italy, unless there were some spirit or daemon impeached him in the night: When my father had thus much said, he held his tongue: and then Galaxidorus: O Hercules (quoth he) how hard a matter is it to find a man who is altogether free from vanity, and in whom there is no spice of superstition? For some there be, who even against their wills are otherwhiles surprised with these passions, by reason either of ignorance or infirmity: others again, to the end they might be thought more religious, more devout, and better beloved of the gods, upon a singularity, refer all their actions to the gods, as the authors thereof, preferring before all the inventions that came into their mind, dreams and fantastical apparitions, and all such foolish toys and vanties; which peradventure is not unbeseeming nor unprofitable for politicians and statists, who are forced to frame themselves to a stubborn & disordinate multitude, for to reclaim and to pull back the common & vulgar sort by superstition, as it were by the bit of a bridle, unto that which is expedient for them. But this mask seemeth not only undecent and unseemly for Philosophy, but also contrary to the profession thereof, which promiseth to teach us all that which is good and profitable with reason, and afterwards referreth the beginning of our actions unto the gods, as if it contemned reason and disgraced the proof of demonstration, wherein it seemeth to be most excellent turning aside to I wot not what oracles and visions in dreams, wherein oftentimes the wickedest man in the word, findeth as much as the very best. And therefore in mine opinion our Socrates, o Simmias, used that manner of teaching which is most worthy and befitting a Philosopher, to wit, simple, plain, without all fiction, choosing it as most free and friendly unto the truth, rejecting and turning upon the Sophisters, all such vanity, as the very fume and smoke of Philosophy. Then Theocritus taking his turn to speak: How now (quoth he) Galaxidorus, hath Melitus persuaded you, as well as he made the judges believe, that Socrates despised the gods and all divine powers? For this is that which he chargeth him with before the Athenians. In no wise (quoth he) as touching those heavenly powers: but having received from the hands of Pythagoras and Empedocles, Philosophy full of ridiculus fables, fantastical illusions, and vain superstition, he acquainted us, playing thus the fool in good earnest, and being drunk with fury, to take up betimes and wisely to cleacve unto things of substance, yea and to acknowledge, that in sober reason consisteth the truth. Be it so (quoth Theocritus,) but as touching the familiar spirit of Socrates, what shall we think or say of it? was it a cogging lie and mere fable, or what should we call it? For in mine own conceit, like as Homer feigneth that Minerva was evermore assistant in all the travels and perils of Ulysses, even so from the very first beginning, this divine spirit allotted unto Socrates a certain vision, which guided him in all the actions of his life, this only went and walked before him: it was a light unto him in all those affairs wherein nothing could be seen, and which possibly might not be gathered, nor comprehended by reason and wisdom of man, insomuch, as many times this spirit spoke with him, inspiring, directing, and governing, after a heavenly manner, his intentions. Now he that would know a greater number of proofs, and those more wonderful, let them hear Simmias speak, & others, who lived familiarly with him: as for myself, I will relate one example, which I saw with mine own eyes, and where I was in person present: One day when I went to consult with the divinor or soothsayer Euthyphron, Socrates went up (as you may remember well, o Simmias, for present you were there also, toward a place called Symbolon, and the house of Andocides, ask all the way as we went, & troubling Euthyphron with many questions, merrily and by way of sport; but all on a sudden he stayed and rested, very studious and musing with himself a good while: then he turned back and went along the street where joiners dwelled, that made coffers and chests, and called not those of his familiar friends who were gone before, the other way, for to have them return: for why, his familiar spirit forbade him to go forward as he began: thus the greater part of them, retired and went with him, & among them, I myself was one, following evermore Euthyphron hard at heels; but some other of the younger sort, would needs go straight on still, of a very deliberate purpose to cross and convince the familiar spirit of Socrates, and drew along with them Charillus the player upon the slut, who was then come with me to Athens, for to visit Cebes. Now when they went by the shops of the imagers, near the common halls and courts of justice, they might see before them a mighty heard of hogs, as thick as one might stand by another, full of dirt and mire, and bearing down all before them, by reason of their great number; and for that there was no means to turn aside from them, they overthrew some of the young men abovesaid, and laid them along, on the ground, yea and all to be rayed the rest of their fellows. Thus returned Charillus home to his lodging, with his legs, his thighs, and all his clothes, foully bedaubed with filthy dirt; in such sort, as he maketh us remember many times, and that with good laughing, the familiar of Socrates, and causeth us to marvel how that divine power never forsook this man, but had evermore a care and charge of him in all places and occasions whatsoever. Then (quoth Galaxidorus:) Think you that this familiar spirit of Socrates was some proper and peculiar power, and not a parcel of that universal and common necessity, which confirmed this man by long experience, to give the counterpoise and over-weight for to make him incline to or fro, in things obscure and hard to be conjectured and guessed at, by discourse of reason? For like as one pound weight by itself alone draweth not the balance, but when as the poise hangeth equally, if a man put it then either to the one side or the other, it draweth the whole, and maketh all to incline that way: even so a voice or some small and light sign, is not sufficient to stir a grave cogitation to proceed unto the execution of a thing, but being put into one of the two contrary discourses, it solveth all the doubt and difficulty, taking away the inequal in such sort, as than it maketh a motion and inclination. Then my father taking his course to speak: But I have heard (quoth he) o Galaxidorus, a certain Megarian say, who likewise heard as much of Terpsion, that this spirit was nothing else but the sneezing either of himself, or of others about him; for if any one of his company sneezed on his right hand, whether he were before or behind, it mattered not, than he inclined to do that which he intended, and was presented into his mind; but if it were on the left hand, he gave over; and if it were himself that sneezed, when he was in doubt or suspense to do, or not to do a thing, he then was confirmed, and resolved to do it; but if he happened then to sneeses, when a thing was already begun, it stayed him, and checked his inclination and purpose, to effect and finish the same. But this is very strange, if it be true that he used this observation of sneezing, how he could say, unto his friends, that it was his familiar spirit, which either moved him forward to do a thing or drew him back from it: for this my good friend can not choose but proceed from a foolish vanity, and presumptuous ostentation, and not of truth and frank simplicity, for which we esteem this parsonage, to be very great and excellent above others, in case for some voice coming without forth, or by reason of sneezing, he should be troubled and impeached in the continuance of an action which he had commenced already, and so relinquish his design and deliberation: whereas it seemeth clean contrary, that the motions and inclinations of Socrates carried with them a firmitude and durable vehemence in whatsoever he went about and undertook, as proceeding from a direct and powerful judgement, and from a strong motive that set him on work. For he continued voluntarily all his life time in poverty, whereas he might have had wealth enough, if he would have received at his friends hands sufficient, who were very willing, yea, and took joy to bestow their goods upon him: also he would never leave the study and profession of Philosophy, for all the great hindrances and empeachments that he met withal: and finally, when he might easily have escaped and saved himself, by the means that his friends had prepared and for him, he would never be removed, nor yield unto their prayers, nor desist from his manner of merry and jesting speeches, though death were presented unto him, but held his reason firm and unremovable in the greatest peril that was. These were not the parts of a man, who suffered himself to be transported or carried away with vain voices, or sneezings, from any resolution which he had taken: but of him who was guided and conducted by a greater command, and more puissant power, unto his duty. I hear also, that he foretold some of his friends, the defeature and overthrow of the Athenians army in Sicilse. And before these things, Pyrilampes the son of Antephon, being taken by us, in the chase and execution of victory about Delion, and wounded with a javelin, when he heard by those who were sent from Athens unto us for to treat of peace, that Socrates together with Alcibiades and Laches, being gone down by the way of Rhetiste, were returned in safety, made report unto us, that Socrates had many times called him back, & other of his friends, and of his band, who flying with him for company, along the mountain Parnes, were overtaken and killed by our horsemen, for that they had taken another way of flight from the battle, and not it, that he directed him unto by his angel or familiar spirit. And thus much I suppose that Simmias himself hath heard as well as I. True (quoth Simmias) I have heard it oftentimes, and of many persons, for upon this example and such like, the familiar spirit of Socrates was not a little spoken of in Athens. Why suffer we then, o Simmias (quoth Phidolaus) this Galaxidorus here, by way of jest and merriment, to debase so much, this so great a work of divination, as to pass it away in I wot not what voices and sneezings: Which signs the vulgar sort of ignorant persons made use of by jest and mockery, in small matters, and of no consequence: for when the question is of more grievous dangers, and affairs of greater importance; the saying is verified of Euripides: 
Noman will play the fool, nor such vain words  
Cast out, so near the edge and dint of swords.  And Galaxidorus: If Simmias (quoth he) o Phidolaus, hath hard Socrates himself say aught of these matters, I am willing to give ear and to pardon him with you: but for any thing that you (o Polymnis) have said, an easy matter it is to confute the same: for like as in Physic, the beating of the pulse is no great matter in itself, nor a pimple or whelke: but signs they be both of no small things unto the Physician: and unto the pilot and master of a ship, the noise of the sea, the sight or voice of some bird, or a thin cloud running through the air, signifieth some great wind or violent tempest in the sea: even so unto a prophetical and divining mind, a sneezing or a voice spoken, in itself considered, is no such great matter, but signs these may be of most important accidents. For in no art nor science whatsoever, men do despise the collection or judgement of many things by a few, nor of great matters by small: but like as if an ignorant person, who knoweth not the power of letters, seeing them few in number, and in form vile and contemptible, could not believe that a learned man was able to read and relate out of them long wars in times past, the foundations of cities, the acts of mighty kings, and their variable fortunes; and should say that there were something underneath, which told and declared unto the said Historian, every one of those matters in order; he might give good occasion of laughter & pleasantly to deride his ignorance unto as many as hard him speak so: even so take heed and beware, lest we (for that we know not the virtue and efficacy of every sign and foretoken, in as much as they presage future things) be not foolishly angered, if some prudent and wise man by the same signs foretell somewhat as touching things unknowen, and namely, if he say that it is not a voice nor a sneezing, but a familiar spirit, which hath declared the same unto him. For now come I to you Polymnis, who esteem and admire Socrates as a parsonage, who by his plain simplicity, without any counterfeit vanity whatsoever, hath humanized as I may so say, Philosophy, and attributed it to humane reason, if he called not his sign that he went by, a voice or sneezing, but after a tragical manner should name it a spirit familiar. For chose, I would marvel rather that a man so well spoken as Socrates was, so eloquent, and who had all words so ready at command, should say that it was a voice or a sneezing, and not a divine spirit that taught him: as if one should say that himself was wounded by an arrow, and not with an arrow by him who shot it, or that a poise was weighed by the balance, and not with a balance, by him that held or managed the balance in his hand: for the work dependeth not upon the instrument, but upon him who hath the instrument, and useth it for to do the work: and even so the instrument is a kind of sign used by that, which doth signify and prognosticate thereby. But as I have said already, we must listen what Simmias will say, as the man who knoweth this matter more exactly than others do. You say true indeed (quoth Theocritus) but let us see first, who they be that enter here in place: and the rather because Epaminondas is one, who seemeth to bring with him hither unto us the stranger above said. And when we looked all toward the gates, we might perceive Epaminondas indeed going before and leading the way, accompanied with Ismenodorus, Bacchilidas and Melissus, the player upon the flute. The stranger followed after, a man of a good and ingenious countenance to see to, and who carried in his visage great mildness and humanity, & beside went in his apparel very gravely and decently. Now when he had taken his place and was set down close unto Simmias, and my brother next unto me, and all the rest as every one thought good: after silence made, Simmias addressing his speech unto my brother: Go to now Epaminondas, (quoth he) what stranger is this, from whence cometh he, and what may be his name? for this is the ordinary beginning and usual entrance to farther knowledge and acquaintance. His name (quoth my brother) is Theanor o Simmias: a man borne in the city Croton, one of them who in those parts profess Philosophy, and 〈◊〉 not the glory of great Pythagoras: but is come hither from out of Italy, a long journey, to confirm by good works, his good doctrine and profession. But you Epaminondas yourself (quoth the stranger then) hinder me from doing, of all good deeds, the best. For if it be an honest thing for a man to do good unto his friends, dishonest it cannot be to receive good at their hands: for in thanks there is as much need of a receiver as of a giver, being a thing composed of them both, and tending to a virtuous work: and he that receiveth not a good turn, as a tennis ball fairly sent unto him, disgraceth it much, suffering it to fall short and light upon the ground. For what mark is there that a man shooteth at which he is so glad to hit and so sorry to miss, as this, that one worthy of a benefit & good turn, he either hath it accordingly, or faileth thereof unworthily? And yet in this comparison, he that there, in shooting at the mark which standeth still, and misseth it, is in fault; but here, he who refuseth and flieth from it, is he that doth wrong and injury unto the grace of a benefit, which by his refusal, it cannot attain to that which it tendeth unto. As for the causes of this my voyage hither, I have already showed unto you; and desirous I am to rehearse them again unto these gentlemen here present, that they may be judges in my behalf against you. When the colleges and societies of the Pythagorean Philosophers, planted in every city of our country, were expelled by the strong hand of the seditious faction of the Cyclonians, when those who kept still together were assembled and held a counsel in the city of Metapontine, the seditious set the house on fire on every side, where they were met: and burned them altogether except Philolaus and Lysis, who being yet young, active and able of body, put the fire by and escaped through it. And Phylolaus being retired into the country of the Laconians, saved himself among his friends, who began already to rally themselves and grow to an head, yea, and to have the upper hand of the said Cyclonians. As for Lysis, long it was ere any man knew what was become of him, until such time as Gorgias the Leontine being sailed back again out of Greece into Sicily, brought certain news unto Arcesus, that he had spoken with Lysis, and that he made his abode in the city of Thehes. Whereupon Arcesus minded incontinently to embark and take the sea; so desirous he was to see the man: but finding himself for feebleness and age together, very unable to persorme such a voyage, he took order expressly upon his death bed with his friends to bring him over alive if it were possible into Italy, or at leastwise, if haply he were dead before, to convey his bones and relics over. But the wars, seditions, troubles and tyrannies that came between and were in the way, expeached those friends, that they could not (during his life) accomplish this charge that he had laid upon them: but after that, the spirit or ghost of Lysis now departed, appearing visibly unto us, gave intelligence of his death, and when report was made unto us, by them who knew the certain truth, how liberally he was entertained and kept with you, o Polymnis, and namely, in a poor house, where he was held and reputed as one of the children, and in his old age richly maintained, and so died in blessed estate, I being a young man, was sent alone from many others of the ancient sort, who have store of money, and be willing to bestow the same upon you who want it, in recompense of that great favour and gracious friendship of yours extended to him. As for Lysis, worshipfully he was interred by you, and bestowed in an honourable sepulchre, but yet more honourable for him will be that courtesy, which by way of recompense is given to his friend, by other friends of his and kinsfolk.  
Whiles the stranger spoke thus, the tears trickled down my father's cheeks, and he wept a good while for the remembrance of Lysis. But my brother smiling upon me, as his manner was: How shall we do now Caphisias, quoth he; shall we cast off and abandon our poverty for money, and so say no more, but keep silence? In no wise (quoth I) let us not quit and forsake our old friend, and so good a fostress of young folk: but defend you it, for your turn it is now to speak. And yet I (quoth he) my father, fear not that our house is pregnable for money, unless it be in regard only of Caphisias, who may seem to have some need of a fair rob, to show himself brave and gallant unto those that make love unto him, who are in number so many, as also of plenty of viands and food, to the end that he may endure the toil and travel of bodily exercises and combats which he must abide in the wrestling schools. But seeing this other here, of whom I had more distrust, doth not abandon poverty, nor reseth out the hereditary indigence of his father house, as a tincture and unseemly slain; but although he be yet a young man, reputeth himself gaily set out and adorned with srugality, taking a pride therein, and resting contented with his present fortunes: Wherein should we any more employ out gold and silver, if we had it, and what use are we to make of it? What, would you have us to gild our armour, and cover our shields as Nicias the Athenian did, with purple and gold intermingled therewith? And shall we buy for you, father, a fair mantle of the fine rich cloth of Miletus, and for my mother, a trim coat of scarlet coloured with purple/ For surely we will never abuse this present, in pampering our belly, feasting ourselves, and making more sumptuous cheer than ordinary, by receiving riches into our house as a costly and chargeable guest? Fie upon that, my son (quoth my father) God forbid I should ever see such a change in mine house. Why (quoth he again) we will not sit still in the house, keeping riches with watch and ward idle: for so the benefit were not beneficial, but without all grace, and the possession thereof dishonourable. To what end then shall we receive it, quoth my father. It seemed of late (quoth Epaminondas) unto Jason a captain of the Thessalians, that I made him an uncivil and rustical answer, when he sent hither a great mass of gold, and requested me to take it as a gift: for I chatged him plainly, that he did me great wrong, and began to pick a quarrel with me, in that he affecting and aspiring to a monarchy, came with money to tempt & solicit me a plain citizen, of a free city, and living under the laws. But as for you sir, who are come unto us as a stranger, I approve your good will, for it is honest, virtuous and beseeming a Philosopher, yea, and I love and embrace it singularly well: but this I must needs say unto you, that you bring medicines and physic drogues to men that are not sick and ail nothing. Like as therefore, if you hearing that our enemies warred upon us, were come to bring us harness, arms and weapons as well defensive as offensive for our succour; and being arrived and landed in these parts, should find all quiet, and that we lived in peace and amity with our neighbours, you would not think that ye ought to give or leave the said arms among them that had no need nor desire thereof: even so, come you are to aid us against poverty, as if we were afflicted and distressed thereby: but it is clean contrary, for we can bear it with ease, and well content we are to have it dwell with us still in the house: and therefore we feel no want either of money or munition, against her that doth us no displeasure. But this message you shall carry back unto your fellows and brethren in the same profession beyond sea, that as they use their goods and riches most honestly and in the best manner, so they have friends here also, that can make use of their poverty as well. Now for the keeping, funerals & sepulture of Lysis, he hath himself sufficiently paid us therefore and discharged all, in that among many other good instructions, he taught us, not to be afraid of poverty, nor to take it in ill part. To this, Theanor replied in this manner: Doth it (I pray you) bewray a base mind and want of courage, to fear poverty? and is it not as absurd and as great a default in judgement, to dread and eschew riches? in case (I say) a man, not upon any sound reason, but for outward disguised show, and in a foolish humour of vanity, refuse and reject it. And what reason is there, to dissuade and debar the getting and possession of goods, by all just and honest means, as Epaminondas useth? But rather, forasmuch as you are ready enough in your answers, as appeareth by that which you made as touching this point, unto Jason the Thessalian, I demand of you first, Epaminondas, whether you think any kind of giving money to be just and lawful; but no manner of taking? or that simply, both givers and takers do offend and sin? Not so, quoth Epaminondas: but of this opinion I am, that as of other things, so of riches likewise, there is one giving and possessing, that is civil and honest; and another, dishonest and shameful. Well then, quoth Theanor, what say you of him who giveth willingly and with a good heart, that which he ought: doth he not give it well? The other granted and confessed it. Go to then, quoth Theanor, he who receiveth that which is given well and honestly, doth he not take it honestly also? or can there be a more just and lawful taking or money, than that which is received of him who giveth righteously? I suppose (quoth Epaminondas) there can not be. Between two friends therefore (quoth he) o Epaminondas, if the one may give, the other likewise may justly take: for in battles I confess, a man ought to turn away and decline from that enemy of whom he hath received some pleasure; but in the case of benefits and good turns, it is neither seemly nor honest, either to avoid or to reject that friend that giveth well and honestly. No in truth, quoth Epaminondas; but you are to consider with us, thus much, That there being in us many lusts and desires, and those of sundry things; some are natural and (as they say) inbred, budding and breeding in our flesh and about our bodies, for the entertainment of those pleasures which be necessary; others be strangers, proceeding from vain opinions, which gathering strength and force by tract of time and long custom in bad nouriture, grow to such an head, that many times they pluck down and hold our souls in subjection more forcibly and with greater violence, than do those natural before said. Now reason, by good use and virtuous exercise, ministereth means, that a man may draw away and spend many of those very passions which are inbred within us; but he had need to employ all the power and strength of custom and exercise against those other concupiscences which be foreigners and come from without forth, for to consume, cut off and chastise them, by all means of repressions and retentions that be reasonable. For if the resistance which reason maketh against the appetite of eating and drinking, forceth many times and conquereth both hunger and thirst; far more easy is it, to cut off avarice and ambition, by forbearing and abstaining those things which the same do covet, so fairy forth, as in the end they will be discomfited and subdued. How say you, think you not that it is so? The stranger confessed no less. See you not then, quoth he again, that there is a difference between an exercise, and the work unto which the exercise is addressed? And like as of the art which teacheth how to exercise the body, a man may say, that the work is the emulation, strife and contention to win the prize of the crown against the concurrent or adversary; but the exercise thereof, is the preparation that the champion makes, for to have his body apt, nimble and active thereto by continual trials of masteries: even so you will grant, that a difference there is between virtue and the exercise of virtue. The stranger said yea unto it. Then tell me first and foremost, quoth he, To abstain from vile, filthy and unlawful lusts, what think you, is it an exercise unto continency, or rather the very work itself, and proof of continency? The very work and proof, I take it to be, quoth he again: and the exercise and accustomance to sobriety, temperance and continency, is not that which you all practice, when after you have traveled your bodies, and like brute beasts provoked your appetites, you sit down to meat, and there continue a long time, having your tables before you furnished with exquisite viands of all sorts, but touch not one dish, leaving them afterwards for your servants to engorge themselves therewith and make merry; when you the while present some little thing, and that plain and simple, unto your appetites, which are already dulled and quenched: for the abstinence from pleasures and delights permitted, is it not an exercise against such as are forbidden? Yes verily, quoth the stranger. There is then (quoth he) my friend, a certain exercise of justice against avarice and covetousness of money; and that is not, to forbear in night season to rob and spoil our neighbour's houses, or to strip passengers out of their clothes: no, nor if a man do not betray his country or friends for a piece of money, is he truly said to enure and exercise himself against avarice: for haply the law and fear doth bridle and restrain his covetous desire from doing wrong or hurt to another: but he, who many times abstaineth from taking just gains, and such as are granted and permitted him by the laws, he willingly exerciseth and woonteth himself to keep far from any unjust and unlawful taking of money. For neither is it possible, that in great pleasures, and those wicked and pernicious, the soul should contain herself from the appetite thereof, if many times before, being in full liberty to enjoy them, she did not despise the same: not easy for a man to pass over & contemn wicked take & great gains presented, who long before hath not chastised and tamed his covetous desire to have and gain, which by other habitudes enough is nourished & bred up impudently & without all shame to lurce: for it swelleth again, & is puffed up with injustice, so as hardly & with much ado it can abstain 〈◊〉 doing outrage to any one, for to win private profit thereby: but never will it assault a parsonage who hath not abandoned & given himself over to receive gifts & largesses of his friends, or to take presents & rewards of kings, but hath renonuced the very benefits allotted unto him by fortune: who also hath retired & removed himself far from avarice, and a leaping desire after a treasure discovered and seen: It will never (I say) tempt him to commit any injustice, nor trouble his thoughts & cogitations: but such an one, will quietly and peaceably frame himself to do that which is honest, as having his heart more haughty, than to stoop to law, and being privy to himself of all good things settled in his soul. Lo, what men they be, upon whom Caphisias and myself be enamoured: and this is the reason friend Simmias, why we request this honest gentleman here, the stranger, to suffer us to be sufficiently exercised in poverty, that we may attain unto such virtue. After that my brother had finished this speech, Simmias having twice of thrice nodded with his head: A great man no doubt (quoth he) is this Epaminondas, and a very great man indeed: and well may he thank his good father here Polymnis for all; who from the first beginning, hath given his children the best education and bringing up in Philosophy: but as touching these matters, agree and accord with them, good stranger and friend. As for you Lysias, let me demand of you (if we may be so bold, as to hear and know of you) whether you purpose to remove him out of his sepulchre, and so transport him over into Italy? or rather to leave him behind you, to tarry among his friends and well-willers, who no doubt will be glad of us to lodge with him, when we shall be there. Theanor smiling upon him: It seemeth Simmias (quoth he) that Lysis liketh well of the place where he is, and is not willing to remove, for that he had no want of any good things here, by the means of Epaminondis: for there be certain particular sacred ceremonies, which we observe in the sepulture of our fellow professors in this confraternity of the Pythagoreans, which if they have not when they be dead, me think they have not attained to that happy end which we desire. When as therefore we knew by dreams, that Lysis was departed this life (for we have an infallible sign, appearing unto us in our sleep, whereby we can discern whether it be the ghost and image of one alive or dead) many had this conceit, that being departed in a foreign and far country, he had been otherwise interred than he ought, and therefore we were to translate him from thence where he was, to the end, that being transported, he might have the due service, and accustomed obsequies belonging to our society. Being therefore come with this mind and cogitation into these parts, and incontinently conducted by those of this country to his sepulchre; about the evening I powered out the libaments for mortuaries, for to call forth his spirit, that it might come and instruct me how I might proceed in this action: and this last night passed, I saw nothing; but me thought I heard a voice saying unto me: That I should not remove that which ought not to be stirred; because the corpse of Lysis had been by his friends in holy manner interred, and his soul having her doom already, had her congee and passport to go unto another generation and nativity, accompanied and coupled with another daemon. And verily this morning when I had confers with Epaminondas, and heard the manner how he had verily this morning when I had confers with Epaminondas, and heard the manner how he had buried Lysis, I understood that he himself had been instructed by him, in the most secret points of our religion, and how he used the same spirit or daemon for the guidance of his life, unless I be so unexpert, that I cannot conjecture what the pilot by his manner of navigation: for broad be the ways of this life, but few they are, which these angels do direct and lead men in. When Theanor had thus said, he cast his eye upon Epaminondas, as if once again he would behold his nature and manners, by the inspiration of his countenance and visage. And hereupon came in the Physician, and loosed the band wherewith Simmias his wound was bound up, as purposing to dress him. Then Phyllidas who came in afterwards with Hipposthenidas, willing me and Charon, and Theocritus to arise, drew us apart into a certain corner or angle of the porch, wonderfully troubled as it might seem by his countenance. With that, I spoke unto him and said: What news Phyllidas? No news Caphisias (quoth he to me) for I foresaw myself, and foretold you as much, namely, the slackness and cowardice of Hipposthenidas, requesting you not to communicate unto him your enterprise, nor admit him into your company. Now whiles we were much amazed and astonished at these words: Say not so good Phyllidas (quoth he) for god's sake; neither be you a cause both of our undoing and of the ruin of this city, by thinking rashness to be hardiness: but have patience, and suffer these men to return in safety, in case it be so by fatal destiny appointed. Phyllidas being chafed herewith, and set in a choler: Tell me (quoth he) Hipposthenidas, how many think you be privy to our secrets in this designment? I know myself (quoth he) to the number of thirty at the least. If there be so many (quoth he) how cometh it to pass, that you only cross and gainsay, yea, and hinder that which hath been concluded and agreed upon by us all? and to this purpose have dispatched a light-horseman, to ride in post unto the banished persons, (who had put themselves in their journey hitherward) charging them to return back, and that in no wise they should go forward this day? considering that the most part of those things which went to this journey, fortuneit self had procured & prepared fit for their hands? upon these words of Phyllidas, we were all much troubled and perplexed: but Charon above the rest, fastening his eye upon Hipposthenidas, and that with a sour and stern countenance: Most wicked wretch that thou art, quoth he, what hast thou done unto us? No harm, said Hipposthenidas, in case, leaving this cursed & angry voice of yours, you can be content and have patience, to hear and understand the reasons of a man as aged as yourself, and having as many grey hairs as you have: for if this be the point, to show unto our fellow citizens how hardy and courageous we are, that we make no reckoning of our lives, and care not for any peril of death, seeing we have day enough Phyllidas, let us never stay for the dark evening, but presently, and immediately from this place run upon the tyrants with our swords drawn, let us kill and slay, let us die upon them, and make no spare of ourselves: for it is no hard matter to do and suffer all this: mary to deliver the city of Thebes out of the hands of so many armed men as hold it, to disseise and expel the garrison of the Spartans, with the murder of two or three men, is not so easy a thing, (for Phyllidas hath not provided so much wine for his feast and banquet, as will be sufficient to make fifteen hundred soldiers of Archius guard drunken: and say we had killed him, yet Crippidas and Arcesus, are ready at night, both of them sober enough to keep the corpse du guard) why make we such haste then, to draw our friends into an evident and certain danger of present death, especially, seeing withal, that our enemies be in some sort advertised of their coming and approach; for if it were not so, why was there commandment given by them to those of Thespiae, for to be in their arms upon the third day, which is this, and ready to go with the Lacedaemonian captains, whensoever they gave commandment? And as for Amphitheus, this very day as I understand after their judicial proceeding against him, they minded to put to death, upon the coming of Archias. And are not these pregnant presumptions, that the plot and enterprise is to them discovered? Were it not better then to defer the execution of our designments a while longer, until such time as the gods be reconciled and appeased? for our divinors and wizards having sacrificed a bees unto Ceres, pronounce that the fire of the sacrifice denounceth some great sedition and danger to the common weal: and that which you Charon particularly ought to take good heed of is this: Yesterday, and no longer since, Hippathodorus the son of Erianthes, a man otherwise of good sort, and one who knoweth nothing at all of our enterprise, had this speech with me: Charon is your familiar friend, Hippathodorus but with me not greatly acquainted; advertise him therefore, if you think so good, that he beware and look to himself, in regard of some great danger & strange accident that is toward him: for the last night, as I dreamt, me thought I saw that his house was in travel as it were of child; that he and his friends being themselves in distress, prayed unto the gods for her delivery, standing round about her during her labour and painful travel; but she seemed to loow and roar, yea, and to cast out certain inarticulate voices, until at the last there issued out of it a mighty fire, wherewith a great part of the city was immediately burnt, and the castle Cadmea covered all over with smoke only, but no part of the sire ascended thereto. Lo, what the vision was, which this honest man related unto me, Charon: which I assure you, for the present, set me in a great quaking and trembling; but much more when I once heard say, that this day the exiled persons were to return and be lodged here within an house of the city. In great anguish therefore I am, and in a wonderful agony, for fear lest we engage ourselves within a world of calamities and miseries, without being able to execute any exploit of importance upon our enemies, unless it be to make a garboil, and set all on a light fire: for I suppose that the city when all is done, will be ours, but Cadmea the castle as it is already, will be for them. Then Theocritus taking upon him to speak, and staying Charon who was about to reply somewhat against this Hipposthenidas: I interpret all this (quoth he) clean contrary: for there is not a sign that confirmeth me mor ein following of this enterprise (although I have had always good presages in't eh behalf of the banished, in all the sacrifices that I have offered) than this vision which you have rehearsed: if it be so as you say, that a great and light fire shone over all the city, and the same arising out of a friends house, and that the habitation of our enemeiss, and the place of their retreat was darkened and made black again with the smoke, which never brings with it any thing better than tears and troublesome confusion: and whereas from amogn us there arose in articulate vocies, (in case a man should construe it in evil part, and take exception thereat, in regard of the voice) the same will be when our enterprise, which now is enfolded in obscure, doubtful, and uncerteine suspicion, shall at once both appear, and also prevail: as for the ill signs of the sacrifices, they touch not the public estate, but those who now are most powerful and in greatest authority. As Theocritus thus was speaking yet still, I said unto Hipposthenidas: And whom I pray you have you sent unto the men? for if he be not too far onward on his way, we will send after to overtake him. I am not able to say of a truth Caphisias, whether it be possible to reach him, (quoth Hipposthenidas) for he hath one of the best horses in all Thebes under him; and a man he is, whom ye all know very well, for he is the master of Melons chariots, and his chariot men, one unto whom Melon himself from the very first discovered this plot, and made privy unto it. With that, I considering and thinking with myself what man he should speak of: It is not Chlidon (quoth I) o Hipposthenidas, he who no longer since than the last year, wan the prize in the horse running, at the solemn feast of Juno? The same is the man quoth he. Who then is he whom I have seen this long while standing at the hall door and looking full upon us? It is Chlidon himself I assure you quoth he. Now by Hercules I swear, could any thing have happened worse? And with that, the man perceiving how we looked upon him, approached fair and softly from the door unto us. Then Hipposthenidas beckoned unto him, and nodded with his head, as willing him to speak unto us all, for that there was no danger because they were all honest men, and of our side. I know them all well enough quoth he, (Hipposthenidas) and not finding you at home nor in the market place, I guessed by and by that you were gone toward them, and therefore I made as great haste as I could hither, to the end that you might not be ignorant of all things how they go: For so soon as you commanded me in all speed to meet with our banished citizens in the forest, I went presently to my house for to take horse, & called unto my wife for my bridle, but she could not give it me; and to mend the matter, stayed a great while in the chamber or storehouse where such things use to be: now after she had made a seeking & puddering in every corner within the room, & could not find it, at length when she had played long enough with me, & made a fool of me, she confessed & told me plainly, that she had lent it forth to one of our neighbours, whose wife the evening before came to borrow it of her: whereupon I was in a great chafe, and gave her some cursed words; but she like a shrew, paid me with as good as I lent her, and made no more ado, but cursed me in abominable terms, wishing my forth going might be unhappy, and my home coming worse: which execrations I pray god may all light upon her own head. To be short, she provoked me so far, that in my choler I dealt her some blows for her shrewd tongue: with that comes out a number of the neighbours and women especially, where after I had given and taken one for. another with shame enough, at last with much ado I got away from them and came hither to pray you for to send some other messenger to the parties you wot of: for I assure you at this present I am so much out of temper that I am not mine own man, but in manner beside myself. This wrought in us all a mervellous alteration of our wills and affections: For whereas a little before we were offended that our designments were crossed, and their coming impeached, now again upon this sudden occurrence & the shortness of time, which allowed us no leisure to put of, & to procrastinate the matter, we were driven into an agony and fearful perplexity. Howbeit setting a good countenance upon the matter, speaking also cheerfully unto Hipposthenidas, and taking him friendly by the hand, I encouraged him, and gave him to understand, that the very gods themselves seconded our intentions and invited us to the execution of the enterprise. This done, Phyllidas went home to his house for to give order about his feast, and withal to draw on Archias to drink wine liberally and to make merry: Cannon departed also to make ready his house for the entertainment of the banished men, against their return. Mean while Theocritus and I went again to Simmias: to the end that finding some good occasion and opportunity for the purpose, we might talk with Epaminondas again, who was well entered already into a pretty question, which Galaxidorus and Phidolaus a little before had begun, demanding of what substance, nature and puissance was the familiar spirit of Socrates, so much spoken of? Now what Simmias had alleged against Galaxidorus upon this point, we heard not: mary thus much he said, that when he demanded upon a time of Socrates himself concerning the said matter, he never could get of him any answer, & therefore he never after would ask him the question, but he said, that oftentimes he had been present when Socrates gave out that he reputed those men for vain persons, who said they had seen with their eye any divine power, and so communed therewith: but chose that he could hold better with those, who said they took knowledge of such a thing by hearing a voice, speaking unto one that gave attentive care thereto, or earnestly enquied thereof: whereupon he set our heads on work when we were aprat by ourselves, and made us to guess and conjecture, that this daemon of Socrates, was no vision, but a sense of some voice, and an intelligence of words, which came unto him, by an extraordinary manner. Like as in our dreams, it is not a voice indeed that men hear lying fast asleep, but the opinion of some words that they think they hear pronounced: but this intelligence of dreams cometh in truth, to men asleep, by reason of the repose and tranquillity of the body: whereas they that be awake cannot hear, but very hardly, these diving advertisements, being troubled and disquieted with tumultuous passions, and the distraction of their affairs, by occasion whereof they cannot wholly yield their mind and thought to hear the revelations that the gods deliver unto them. Now Socrates having a pure and clear understanding not tossed and turmoiled with any passions nor mingled with the body, unless it were very little, for things necessary and no more, was easy to be touched, and so subtle that soon it might be altered with whatsoever was objected and presented to it: now that which met with it, we may conjecture that it was not simply a voice or sound, but a very articulate speech of his daemon, which without any audible voice touched the intellectual part of his soul, together with the thing that it declared and revealed unto him. For the voice resembleth a blow or stroke given unto the soul, which by the ears is constrained to receive speech, when we speak one unto another: but the intelligence or understanding of a divine and better nature, leadeth and conducteth a generous mind by a thing that causeth it to understand without need of any other stroke: and the same mind or soul obeyeth and yieldeth thereto accordingly, as it either slaketh loose or stretcheth hard the instincts and inclinations, not violently by resistance which the passions make, but supple and pliable, as slack and gentle rains. And hereof we shall not need to make any wonder, considering that we see how little helms turn about and wind the greatest hulks and caraques that be: and again the wheels that potters use, being never so little touched with the hand, turn very easily: for although they be instruments without life, yet being as they are counterpeised and framed even on every side, by reason of their polished smoothness, they are apt to stir and yield unto the moving cause with the least moment that is. Now the soul of man being bend and stretched out stiff with innumerable inclinations as it were with so many cords, hath more agility than all the engines or instruments in the world, if a man hath the skill to manage and handle it with reason, after it hath taken once a little motion, that it may bend to that which conceived it: for the beginnings of instincts and passions, tend all to this intelligent and conceiving part, which being stirred and shaken, it draweth, pulleth, stretcheth and haileth the whole man: Wherein we are given to understand, what force and power hath the thing that is entered into the conceit and intelligence of the mind. For bones are senseless, the sinews and flesh full of humours, and the whole mass of all these parts together, heavy and ponderous, lying still without some motions: but so soon as the soul putteth somewhat into the understanding, and that the same moveth the inclinations thereto, it starteth up and riseth all at once, and being stretched in all parts, runneth a main, as if it had wings into action. And so the manner of this moving, direction, and promptitude, is not hard, and much less, impossible to comprehend: whereby the soul, hath no sooner understood any object, but it draweth presently with it, by instincts and inclinations, the whole mass of the body. For like as reason conceived and comprised without any voice, moveth the understanding: even so in mine opinion, it is not such an hard matter, but that a more divine intelligence and a soul more excellent, should draw another inferior to it, touching it from without, like as one speech or reason may touch another, and as light, the reflection of light: For we in truth, make our conceptions and cogitations known one to another, as if we touched them in the dark, by means of voice: but the intelligences of Daemons having their light, do shine unto those who are capable thereof, standing in need neither of nouns nor verbs which men use in speaking one to the other, by which marks they see the images and resemblances of the conceptions and thoughts of the mind: but the very intelligences & cogitations indeed they know not, unless they be such as have a singluar and divine light, as we have already said: and yet that which is performed by the ministry of the voice, doth in some sort help and satisfy those who otherwise are incredulous. For the air being form and stamped as it were by the impression of articulate sounds, and become throughout, all speech and voice, carrieth conception and intelligence into the mind of the hearer: and therefore according to this similitude and reason, what marvel is it if that also heater: and therefore according to this similitude and reason, what marvel is ti if that also which is conceived by these superior natures altereth the air, and if the air being by reason of that quality which it hath, apt to receive impressions, signifieth unto excellent men and such as have a rar and divine nature, the speech of him who hath conceived aught in is mind? For like as the strokes that light upon targuits or shields of brass, be heard a far off, when they proceed from the bottom in the mids within, by reason of the resonance and rebound: whereas the blows that fall upon other shields are drowned and dispersed, so as they be not heard at all: even so the words or speeches of Daemous and spirits, although they be carried and fly to the ears of all indifferently, yet they resound to those only, who are of a settled and stayed nature, and whose souls are at quiet, such as we call divine and celestial men. Now the vulgar sort have an opinion, that some Daemon doth communicate a kind of divinity unto men in their sleeps: but they think it strange and a miracle incredible, if a man should say unto them, that the gods do move and affect them semblably when the be awake, and have the full use of reason: As if a man should think that a musician may play well upon his harp or lute, when all the strings be slacked and let down: but when the said instruments be set in tune, and have their strings set up, he cannot make any sound, nor play well thereupon. For they consider not the cause which is within them, to wit, their discord, trouble and confusion, whereof our familiar friend Socrates was exempt, according as the oracle prophesied of him before, which during his infancy was given unto his father: for by it, commanded he was, to let him do all that came into his mind, and in no wise either to force or divert him, but to suffer the instinct and nature of the child to have the reins at large, by praying only unto Jupiter Agoraeus that is to say eloquent, and to the Muses for him: and farther than so, not to busy himself nor to take care for Socrates, as if he had within him a guide and conductor of his life better than ten thousand masters and paedagogues. Thus you see, Philolaus, what our opinion and judgement is as touching the Daemon or familiar spirit of Socrates both living and dead, as who reject these voices, sneezings and all such fooleries. But what we have hard Timarchus of Chaeronea to discourse of this point, I wot not well whether I were best to utter and relate the same, for fear some would think, that I loved to tell vain tales. Not so quoth Theocritus, but I pray you be so good as to rehearse the same unto us: For albeit fables do not very well express the truth, yet in some sort they reach the same unto us: For albeit fables do not very well express the truth, yet in some sort they reach thereto. But first tell us, who this Timarchus was? For I never knew the man. And that may well be o Simmias (quoth Theocritus) for he died when he was very young, and requested earnestly of Socrates to be buried, near unto Lamprocles Socrates his son who departed this life but few days before, being a dear friend of his, and of the same age. Now this young gentleman, being very desirous (as he was of a generous disposition, and had newly tasted the sweetness of Philosophy) to know what was the nature and power of Socrates' familiar spirit, when he had imparted his mind and purpose unto me only and Cebes, went down into the cave or vault of Trophonius, after the usual sacrifices and accustomed compliments due to that oracle performed: where having remained two nights and one day, insomuch as many men were out of all hope that ever he would come forth again, yea and his kinsfolk and friends bewails the loss of him, one morning betimes he issued forth very glad and jocand: And after he had given thanks unto the god and adored him, so soon as he was gotten through the press of the multitude, who expected his return, he recounted unto us, many wonders strange to be heard and seen: for he said, that being descended into the place of the oracle, he first met with much darkness, & afterwards when he had made his prayers, he lay a long time upon the ground, neither knew he for certain whether he was awake, or dreamt all the while? Howbeit, he thought that he heard a noise which light upon his head, and smote it, whereby the sutures of seanes thereof were disjoined and opened, by which he yielded forth his soul; which being thus separat, was very joious, seeing itself mingled with a transparent & pure air. And this was the first time that it seemed to breath at liberty, as if long time before until then, it had been drawn in and penned, for than it became greater and larger than ever before, in manner of a sail spread and displayed to the full. Then he supposed that he heard (though not clearly and perfectly) as it were a noise or sound turning round about his head, and the same yielding a sweet and pleasant voice. And as he then looked behind him he could see the earth no more, but the Isles all bright and illuminate with a mild and delicate fire, and those exchanged their places one with another, and withal, received sundry colours, as it were diverse tinctures, according as in that variety of change the light did alter: and they all seemed unto him in number infinite, and in quantity excessive: and albeit they were not of equal pourprise and extent, yet round they were all alike: also, to his thinking, by their motion which was circular, the sky resounded, because unto the uniform equality of their moving, the pleasant sweetness of the voice and harmony composed and resulting of them all, was correspondent and conformable. Amid these Islands there seemed a sea or great lake diffused and spread, shining with diverse mixed colours, upon a ground of grey or light blue. Moreover, of these Isles some few sailed as one would say, and were carried a direct course down the water beyond the current; but others, and those in number many, went aside out of the channel, and were with such a violence drawn back, that they seemed to be swallowed under the waves. Now this sea or lake, was (as he thought) very deep toward the South; but on the North side full of shelves and shallow flats; in many places it swelled and overflowed the land; in others it retired and gathered in, as much for it again, and arose not to any high tides: as for the colour, in some place it was simple and sealike; in another, not pure, but troubled and confused with mud, like unto a mere or lake. As concerning the force of the waves about these Isles which are carried together, the same bringeth them back a little, but never conjoineth the end to the beginning: so as they make at no time a circle entire and perfect, but gently divert the application and meeting of their ends, so as in their revolution they wind in and out, and make one crooked obliquity. To the mids of these, and toward the greatest part of the ambient air, is inclined the sea, somewhat less than eight parts of the universal all continent, as he thought. And the same sea hath two mouths or entrances, whereby it receiveth two rivers of fire breaking into it, opposite one to the other, in such sort, as the blueness thereof became whitish, by reason that the greatest part was repelled and driven back. And these things he said, that he beheld with much delight. But when he came to look downward, he perceived a mighty huge hole or gulse all round, in manner of an hollow globe cut thorough the mids, exceeding deep and horrible to see to, full of much darkness, and the same not quiet and still, but turbulent and often times boiling and walming upward, out of which there might be heard innumerable roar and groanings of beasts, cries and wrawling of an infinite number of children, with sundry plaints and lamentations of men and women together, besides many noises, tumults, clamours and outcries of all sorts, and those not clear, but dull and dead, as being sent up from a great depth underneath, wherewith he was not a little terrified, until such time as after a good while, there was one whom he saw not, who said thus unto him, O Timarchus, What is your desire to know? Who made answer: Even all, for what is there here, not admirable? True, quoth he; but as for us, little have we to do, & a small portion in those superior regions, because they appertain to other gods: but the division of Proserpina being one of the four, and which we dispose and govern, you may see if you will, how it is bounded with Styx. And when he demanded again of him, what Styx was: It is (quoth he) the way which leadeth unto hell and the kingdom of Pluto, dividing two contrary natures of light and darkness with the head and top thereof; for as you see, it beginneth from the bottom of hell beneath, which it toucheth with the one extremity, and reacheth with the other to the light all about, and so limieth the utmost part of the whole world, divided into four regiments. The first, is that of life; the second, of moving; the third, of generation; and the fourth, of corruption. The first, is coupled to the second, by unity, in that which is not visible; the second, to the third, by the mind or intelligence, in the Sun; the third, to the fourth, by nature, in the Moon. And of every one of these copulations, there is a friend, or Destiny the daughter of Necessity, that keepeth the key. Of the first, she that is named Airopos, as one would say, Inflexible; of the second, Clotho, that is to say, the Spinster; of the third in the Moon, Lachesis, that is to say, Lot, about which is the bending of geniture or nativity. As for all the other Isles, they have gods within them; but the Moon appertaining to the terrestrial Daemons, avoideth the confines of Styx, as being somewhat higher exalted, approaching once only in an hundred seventy seven second measures: and upon the approach of this precinct of Styx, the souls cry out for fear. And why? hell catcheth and swalloweth many of them, as they glide and slip about it: and others, the Moon receiveth and taketh up, swimming from beneath unto her; such I mean, as upon whom the end of generation fell in good and opportune time, all save those which are impure and polluted: for them, with her fearful flashing and hideous roaring, she suffereth not to come near unto her; who seeing that they have miss of their intent, bewail their woeful state, and be carried down again as you see, to another generation and nativity. Why, quoth Timarchus, I see nothing but a number of stars leaping up and down about this huge and deep gulf, some drowned and swallowed up in it, others appearing again from below. These be (quoth he) the daemons, that you see, though you know them not. And mark withal, how this comes about. Every soul is endued with a portion of mind or understanding; and of man, there is not one void of reason: but look how much thereof is mingled with flesh and with passions, being altered with pleasures and dolours, it becometh unreasonable. But every soul is not mixed after one sort, one as much as another; for some are wholly plunged within the body, and being troubled and disquieted with passions, run up and down all their life time: others partly are mingled with the flesh, and in part leave out that which is most pure, and not drawn downward to the contagion of that gross part, but remaineth swimming and floating as it were aloft, touching the top or crown only of man's head: (whereas the rest is depressed downward to the bottom, and drowned there) and is in manner of a cord hanging up aloft just over the soul which is directly and plumb under, to uphold and raise it up, so far forth as it is obeisant thereto, and not overruled and swayed with passions and perturbations: for that which is plunged down within the body, is called the soul; but that which is entire and uncorrupt, the vulgar sort calleth the understanding, supposing it to be within them as in mirrors that which appeareth by way of reflection: but those that judge aright and according to the truth, name it Daemon, as being clean without them.  
These stars then which you see as if they were extinct and put out, imagine and take them to be the souls which are totally drowned within bodies: and such as seem to shine out again, and to return lightsome from beneath, casting and shaking from them a certain dark & foggy mist, as if it were some filth and ordure, esteem the same to be such souls, as after death are retired and escaped out of the bodies: but those which are mounted on high and move to and fro in one uniform course throughout, are the Daemons or spirits of men, who are said to have intelligence and understanding. Endeavour now therefore and strain yourself to see the connexion of each one, whereby it is linked and united to the soul. When I heard this, I began to take more heed, and might see stars leaping and floating upon the water, some more, some less, like as we observe pieces of cork, showing in the sea where fisher's nets have been cast: and some of them turned in manner of spindle's or bobins, as folk spin or twist therewith, yet drawing a troubled and unequal course and not able to direct and compose the motion strait. And the voice said that those which held on a right course and order by motion, were they whose souls were obeisant to the rains of reason, by the means of good nurture and civil education, and such as showed not upon the earth their beastly, gross and savage brutishness: but they that eftsoons rise and fall up and down unequally and disorderly, as struggling to break out of their bounds, are those which strive against the yoke, with their disobedient and rebellious manners, occasioned by want of good bringing up, one while getting the mastery and bringing them about to the right hand, another while kerbed by passions and drawn away by vices, which notwithstanding they resist another time again, and with great force strive to withstand. For that bond which in manner of a bridle-bit is put into the mouth as it were of the brutish and unreasonable part of the soul, when it pulleth the same back, bringeth that which they call repentance of sins, & the shame after unlawful and prohibited pleasures, which is a grief and remorse of the soul restrained and bridled by that which governeth and commandeth it, until such time as being thus rebuked and chastised, it become obedient and tractable like unto a beast made tame without beating or tormenting, as quickly and readily conceiving the signs and marks which the Daemon showeth. These therefore, at the last (long and late though it be) are ranged to the rule of reason. But of such as are obedient at the first, and presently from their very nativity hearken unto their proper Daemon, are all the kind of prophets and divinors, who have the gift to foretell things to come, likewise holy and devout men: Of which number you have hard how the soul of Hermodorus the Clazomenian, was wont to abandon his body quite, and both by day and night to wander into many places: and afterwards to return into it again, having been present the while to hear and see many things done and said a far off: which it used so long, until his enemies by the treachery of his wife, surprised his body one time when the soul was gone out of it, and burned it in his house. Howbeit, this was not true: for his soul never departed out of his body: but the same being always obedient unto his Daemon, and slacking the bond unto it, gave it means and liberty to run up and down, and to walk to and fro in many places, in such sort, as having seen and hard many things abroad, it would come and report the same unto him: But those that consumed his body as he lay asleep, are tormented in Tartarus even at this day for it: which you shall know yourself, good young man, more certainly within these three months (quoth that voice) and for this time see you depart. When this voice had made an end of speaking, Timarchus, as he told the tale himself, turned about to see who it was that spoke; but feeling a great pain again in his head, as if it had been violently pressed and crushed, he was deprived of all sense and understanding, and neither knew himself nor any thing about him: But within a while after when he was come unto himself, he might see how he lay along at the entry of the foresaid cave of Trophonius, like as he had himself at the beginning. And thus much concerning the fable of Timarchus: who being returned to Athens, in the third month after, just as the voice foretold him, departed this life. And then we wondered hereat, and made report thereof back to Socrates; who rebuked and chid us, for saying nothing to him of it, whiles Timarchus was alive; for that he would willingly himself have heard him more particularly, and examined every point at the full. Thus you have heard, Theocritus, a mingled tale and history together of Timarchus: But see whether we shall not be feign to call for this stranger's help, to the decision of this question: for very proper and meet it is for to be discussed by such devout and religious men. And why (quoth Theanor) doth not Epamtnondas deliver his opinion thereof, being a man trained up, and instituted in the same discipline and school with us. Then my father smiling at the matter: This is his nature (quoth he) my good friend, he loveth to be silent, and wary he is what he speaketh, but wonderful desirous to learn, and insatiable of hearing others. And hereupon Spintharus the Tarentine, who conversed familiarly with him here a long time, was wont to give out this speech of him; That he had never talked with a man, who knew more, and spoke less than he. But tell us now what you think yourself, of that which hath been said. For mine own part (quoth he) I say, that this discourse and report of Timarchus, as sacred and inviolable, aught to be consecrated unto God: and marvel I would, if any should discredit and hardly believe that which Simmias himself hath delivered of him; and when they name swans, dragons, dogs, and horses, sacred, believe not that therebe men celestial and beloved of the gods, considering they hold and say, that God is never 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a lover of birds, but 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a lover of mankind. Like as therefore a man who is said to be Philippos, that is to say, a lover of horses, taketh not a fancy, nor regardeth alike all horses, comprised under the whole kind, but choosing always some one more excellent than the rest, rideth, cherisheth, and maketh much of him especially: even so, those divine spirits which surmount our nature, make choice and take as it were out of the whole flock the best of us, upon whom they set their brand or mark, and them they think worthy of a more singular and exquisite education, and those they order and direct not with reins and bridles, but with reason and learning, and that by signs, whereof the common and rascal sort have no knowledge nor experience. For neither do ordinary hounds understand the signs that huntsmen use, nor every horse, the siflling and chirting of the escuirry, but such only as have been taught and brought up to it; for they with the least whistling and houping that is, know presently what they are commanded to do, and quickly be ordered as they ought. And verily, Homer seemeth not to be ignorant of this difference, whereof we speak: for of divinors and soothsayers, some he calleth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, authors, or observers of birds; others, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, bowel-priers, that spy into the inwards of sacrifices; and some again there be, who hearing and knowing what the gods themselves do speak, are able to declare secretly and foretell things to come; as may appear by these verses: 
King Priam's dear son Helenus, their mind soon under stood,  
And what this god and goddess both in counsel deemed good.  And a little after: 
For thus I heard the gods to say,  
Who as immortal live for ay.  For like as they who are without, and not of the domestical and near acquaintance of kings, princes and general captains, do know and understand their wills & minds by the means of certain firelights, sound of trumpets and proclamations; but to their faithful, trusty and familiar friends they speak by word of mouth: even so, God communeth and talketh with few, and that very seldom; but unto the common sort he giveth signs, and of these consisteth the art of divination: for the gods receive very few men in recommendation for to adorn their lives, but those only whom they are disposed to make exceeding happy and divine indeed: and those souls which be delivered from farther generation, and are for ever after at liberty and dismissed free from the body, become afterwards Daemons, and take the charge and care of men, according as Hesiodus saith. For like as champions, who otherwise heretofore have made profession of wrestling and other exercises of the body, after they have given over the practice thereof, by reason of their old age, leave not altogether the desire of glory by that means, nor cast off the affection in cherishing the body, but take pleasure still to see other young men to exercise their bodies, exhorting and encouraging them thereto, yea, and enforcing themselves to run in the race with them: even so, they that are past the combats & travels of this life, and throigh the virtue of their souls come to be Daemons, despise not utterly the affairs, the speeches and studies of those that be here, but being favourable unto them who in their good endeavours aspire to the same end that they have attained to, yea, and after a sort, banding and siding with them, do incite and exhort them to virtue, especially when they see them near unto the ends of their hopes, and ready in manner to touch the same. For this divine power of Daemons, will not sort and be acquainted with every man indifferently, but like as they who stand upon the shore, can do no other good unto them who swim far within the sea, and a great way from the land, but look upon them and say nothing; but to such as are near to the sea side, they run, and for their sakes, wading a little into the sea, help both with hand and voice, and so save them from drowning: even so (Simmias) dealeth the Daemon with us; for so long as we are plunged and drowned within mundane affairs, and change many bodies, as it were so many wagons and chariots, passing out of one into another, it suffereth us to strive and labour of ourselves, yea, and by our own patience and long sufferance to save ourselves, and gain the haven: but when there is a soul, which hath already by innumerable generations supported and endured long travels, and having in manner performed her course and revolution, straineth all her might and main, with much sweat to get forth and ascend up: to it God envieth not her own proper Daemon and familiar spirit to be assistant, yea, and giveth leave to any other whatsoever, that is willing thereto. Now one is desirous and ready always to help and second another, yea, and forward to promote the safctie thereof: the soul also for her part, giveth good ear, because she is so near, and in the end is saved; but she that obeyeth not nor hearkeneth to her own familiar & proper daemon as forsaken of it, speedeth not well in the end. This said, Epaminondas looking toward me: It is high time, Caphisias, for you (quoth he) to go into the wrestling school and place of exercise, to the end that you disappoint not your companions: mean while, we (when it shall be thought good to dissolve and dismiss this meeting) will take the charge of Theanor. Then said I, Be it so: but I suppose, that Theocritus, together with Galaxidorus & myself, is willing to commune and reason with you a little. In good time (quoth he) let them speak their mind and what they will. With that, he rose up and took us apart into a winding and turning corner of the gallery, where we came about him, and began to persuade and deal with him for to take part with us in the enterprise. He made us answer, That he knew well enough the day when the banished persons were to return; and had taken order with his friends to be ready against the time with Gorgidas, and to embrace the opportunity thereof: howbeit, they were not determined to take away the life of any one citizen, not condemned by order of law, unless some urgent necessity enforced them thereto. And otherwise, it were very meet and expedient for the commonalty of Thebes, that there should be some not culpable of this massacre, but innocent and clear of all that then shall be committed; for so these men will be less suspected of the people, and be thought to counsel and exhort them for the best. We thought very well of this advice of his, and so he repaired again to Simmias; and we went down to the place of public exercises, where we met with our friends; and there we dealt one with another apart, as we wrestled together, questioning about one thing or another, and telling this or that, every one preparing himself to the execution of the design: and there we might see Archias and Philippus all anointed and oiled going toward the feast. For Phyllidas fearing that they would make haste and put Amphitheus to death, so soon as ever he had accompanied Lysanoridas and sent him away, took Archias with him, feeding him with hope to enjoy the lady whom he desired, and promising that she should be at the feast: whereby he persuaded him to mind no other thing, but to solace himself and make merry with those who were wont to roist and riot with him. By this time it drew toward night, the weather grew to be cold, and the wind rose high, which caused every man with more speed to retire and take house. I for my part, meeting with Damoclidas, Pelopidas and Theopompus, entertained them; and others did the like to the rest. For after that these banished persons were passed over the mountain Cythaera, they parted themselves; and the coldness of the weather gave them good occasion (without all suspicion) to cover their faces, and so to pass along the city undiscovered. And some of them there were, who as they entered the gates of the city, perceived it to lighten on their right hand without thunder, which they took for a good presage of safety and glory in their proceedings, as if this sign betokened, that the execution of their designment should be lightsome and honourable, but without any danger at all. Now when we were all entered in, and safe within house, to the number of eight and forty, as Theocritus was sacrificing apart in a little oratory or chapel by himself, he heard a great rapping and bouncing at the door: and anon there was one came and brought him word, that two halberds of Archias guard knocked at the outward gate, as being sent in great haste to Charon, commanding to open them the door, as greatly offended that they had stayed so long. Whereat Charon being troubled in mind, commanded that they should be let in presently: who meeting them within the court with a coronet upon his head, as having newly sacrificed unto the gods, and made good cheer, demanded of these halberds, what they would. Archias and Philippus (say they) have sent us, willing and charging you with all speed to repair unto them. Why, what is the matter (quoth Charon) that they should send for me in such haste at this time of the night, and what great news is there? We know not, said these sergeants; but what word would you have us to carry back unto them? Mary, tell them (quoth he) that I will cast off my chaplet, and put on another rob, and presently follow after: for if I should go with you, it might be an occasion of trouble, and move some to suspect that you lead me away to prison. You say well, answered the officers again, do even so; for we must goeanother way to those soldiers that watch and ward without the city, and deliver unto them a commandment from the head magistrates and rulers. Thus departed they. With that, Charon returned to us, and made relation of these news; which struck us into our dumps, and put us in a great affright, supposing for certain, that we were betrayed, and our plot detected: most of the company suspected Hipposthenidas, for that he went about to impeach the return of the exiled persons, by the means of Chlidon, whom he meant to send unto them: who seeing that he miss of his purpose, by all likelihood, upon a fearful and timorous heart, might reveal our conspiracy, now when it was come to the very point of execution: for come he was not with others into the house where we were all assembled: and to be short, there was not one of us all, that judged better of him than of a wicked and treacherous traitor: howbeit, we agreed all in this, that Charon should go thither as he was commanded, and in any wise obey the magistrates who had sent for him.  
Then he commanding (o Archidamus) his own son to be present, a stripling about fifteen years of age, and the fairest youth in all the city of Thebes, very laborious and affectionate to bodily exercises; and for stature and strength, surpassing all his fellows and companions of that age; made this speech unto us: My masters and friends, this is my son and only child, whom I love entirely, as you may well think; him I deliver into your hands, beseeching you in the name of the gods and all saints in heaven, that if you find any perfidious treachery by me against you, to do him to death and not spare him. And now I humbly pray you, most valiant and hardy knights, prepare yourselves resolutely against the last feast that ever these tyrants shall make: abandon not, for want of courage, your bodies to be villainously outraged and spoiled by these most lewd and wicked persons, but be revenged of them, and now show your invincible hearts, in the behalf of your country. When Charon had delivered these words, there was not one of us all but highly commended his magnanimity and loyalty; but we were angry with him, in that he doubted of us that we had him in suspicion and distrust; and therefore willed him to have away his son with him. And more than that, me thinks (quoth Pelopidas) you have not done well and wisely for us, in that you sent him not before to some other house: for what reason or necessity is there, that he should either perish or come into peril, being found with us? and yet it is time enough to convey him away, that in case it fall out with us otherwise than well, he may grow up after his kind, for to be revenged of these tyrants another day. It shall not be so, quoth Charon; he shall even stay here, and take such part of fortune as we shall do: and beside, it were no part of honesty or honour, to leave him in danger of our enemies: And therefore, my good son (quoth he) take a good heart and a resolute, even above these years of thine, enter in God's name into these hazards and trials that be thus necessary, together with many valiant and hardy citizens, for the maintenance of liberty and virtue. And even yet, great hope we have, that good success will follow, and that some blessed angel will regard and take in protection those who adventure thus for righteousness and justice sake. Many of us there were (Archidamus) whose tears trickled down their cheeks, to hear Charon deliver these words; but himself being inflexible and not relenting one jote, with an undaunted heart, a settled countenance, and eyes still dry, put his son into Pelopidas hands, embraced every one of us, shook us by the hands, and so encouraging us to proceed, went forth of the doors. wonderful was this; but much more you would have wondered, to have seen the alacrity, cheerful and constant resolution of his son, as if he had been another Neoptolemus, who never looked pale, nor changed colour for the matter, notwithstanding so great danger presented; neither was he one jote aston'd: but chose, drew forth Pelopidas sword out of his scabbard, to see and try whether it was keen enough.  
Whiles these matters thus passed, there comes towards us Diotonus, one of Cephisodorus friends, with a sword by his side, and a good cuirason of steel under his rob, who having heard that Charon was sent for to come to Archias, blamed much our long delay, & whetned us on to go forthwith to the tyrant's houses: For in so doing (quoth he) we shall prevent them, by coming suddenly upon them: if not, yet better were it for us, to set upon them without doors, separate one from another, and not all in one plump, than to stay for them, enclosed all within one parlour, and be there taken by our enemies, like a swarm of bees, and have all our throats cut. In like manner Theocritus the divinor, urged us to make haste, saying, that all the signs of sacrifices were good, and presaged happy success with all security. Whereupon we began on all hands to take arms, and to prepare ourselves: by which time, Charon was returned to us, with a merry and cheerful countenance: who smiling and looking upon us: Be of good cheer (quoth he) my masters and friends, all is well: there is no danger, and our affair proceedeth well: for Archias and Philippus, so soon as they heard that I was come, upon their sending for me, being already well cupshotten, and half drunk with wine, so as both their minds and bodies were very far out of tune; with much ado they rose from the board, and came forth to the door unto me: Now Charon, quoth Archias, we hear that our banished men lie lurking here within the city, being secretly and by stealth entered into it. Whereat I seeming to be much amazed: Where (quoth I) are they said to be, and who? That we know not (quoth Archtas, and that is the cause why we sent for you, to come before us, if haply you have heard any thing of it more certainly. Hereupon I remaining for a while as one somewhat astonished and pensive, coming again to myself, began thus to think, that this must needs be some headless rumour, and arising from no good ground, nor certain author; neither was it like to be any one of them that were privy to the complot who had discovered it, because they would not then have been ignorant of the house where they were assembled, and therefore it could not choose but be some blind brute blown abroad through the city, and come to their ears. So I said unto him, that during the life of Androclides, we had heard many such flying tales, and vain false rumours that ran about the city and troubled us. But now (quoth he) o Archtas, I have heard no such thing: howbeit, if it please you to command me, I will inquire and hearken farther into the thing, and if I find any matter of importance, I will come and inform you of it. It is well said of you (quoth Phyllidas: and it were very good Charon, that in these cases you be very inquisitive, and leave nothing unsearched: for why should we be careless and negligent in any thing, but rather it behoveth us to be circumspect, and to look about us on every side: providence in these cases is very requisite, and good it is to make all sure: and when he had so said, he took Archias and had him into the parlour, where they be now drinking hard: and therefore my good friends, let us stay no longer; but after we have made our prayers unto the gods, for our good speed, go about our business. Charon had no sooner said this, but we prayed unto the gods for their assistance, and encouraged one another to the enterprise. It was the very just time, when all men use to be at supper: and the whistling wind arising still more & more, had brought some snow or sleet, mingled with a drizzling rain, so as there was not one person to be seen in the streets as we passed along. Those therefore who were appointed to assail Leontidas and Hippates, who dwelled near together, went out in their cloaks, having no other arms or weapons, but each of them their swords, and those were Pelopidas, Democlidas, and Cephisodorus: But Charon, Melon, and others, ordained to set upon Archis, had their breastplates or demy-cuiraces before them, and upon their heads thick chaplets, some of fir, others of the pine or pitch tree branches: and part of them were clad in women's apparel, counterfeiting drunken persons, as if they were come in a mask and mummery with their women. And that which more is, o Archidamus, fortune also making the beastly cowardice and sottish ignorance of our enemies equal to our hardiness, and resolute preparations, and having diversified and distinguished even from the beginning our enterprise, like a play or interlude, with many dangerous intercurrents, was assistant & ran with us, at the very point and upshot of the execution thereof, presenting unto us, even then a doubtful & dangerous occurrent, of a most sudden & unexpected accident: for when Charen after he had talked with Archias & Philippus, was returned to the house, and had disposed us in order, for to go in hand with the execution of our dessignment; there was brought from hence a letter written by Archias the high priest here among you, unto that Archias his old host and friend, which declared unto him (as it should seem) by all likelihood, the return of the banished, and the surprise which they were about, the house also wherein they were assembled, and all the complices who were of the conspiracy. Archias being by this time drenched and drowned in wine, and besides that, transported and passed himself, with the expectation of the women, whose coming he attended, albeit the messenger that brought the letter, said it contained serious affairs, of great consequence, yet he only received it, and made no other answer but this: What tellest thou me of serious affairs; we shall think of them to morrow; and with that, put the letters under the pillow, whereon he leaned, calling for the pot again, and commanding that it should be filled; sending Phyllidas ever and anon to the door, to see if the women were yet coming. Thus whiles this hope entertained and held the feast, we came upon them, and passed along through the servitors unto to the very hall or parlour, where they were at supper, and there we stayed a while at the door, eyeing and viewing every one of them as they sat about the table. Now the sight of those chaplets and garlands which we ware upon our heads, and of the women's apparel, which some of us were dressed in, deceived them a little upon our first coming, in such sort, as for a while there ensued silence, until such time as Melon first laying hand upon his sword hilt, rushed into the mids of the place: with that, Cabirichus Cyamistos who was Archon for the time, took him by the arm as he passed by, and held him back, crying out withal: Phyllidas, Is not this Melon? but Melon shaking him off so, as he left his hold, drew forth his sword withal, and ran upon Archias, who being hardly able to rise, he gave not over until he had killed outright in the place. Charon then set upon Philippus, whom he wounded in the neck, and notwithstanding that he descended himself with the pots that stood about him upon the table, yet Lysitheus mounting upon the board, laid him along on the floor, and there underfoot dispatched him. As for Cabirichus we spoke him fair, and entreated him not to take part with the tyrants, but to join with us, in delivering our native country from tyranny, as he was a sacrosaint magistrate, and consecrated unto the gods for the good and safety of the commonwealth. But being not easily induced to hearken unto reason, and that which was most expedient for him, because he was little better than half drunk; he hanging still in doubtful suspense and perplexity, arose up on his feet, and presented unto us his javelin, with the head forward, which by the custom of the place, the Provosts with us, ever go withal: whereupon I caught hold of the javelin in the mids, and held it over my head, crying unto him, to let it go, and save himself; or else he should die for it. In this mean while, Theopompus standing on his right side, ran him through with his sword, saying withal: There lie thou also together with them whom thou hast flattered and soothed up: for it were not beseeming thee to wear a coronet and garland when Thebes is set free, nor to offer any more sacrifice to the gods, before whom thou hast cursed thy country, by making prayers so often for the prosperity of her enemies. When Cabirichus was fallen down dead, Theocritus who stood by, caught up the sacred javelin, and drew it out of the blood that there was shed. This massacre being done, some few of the servants, who durst interpose themselves, and come between for the defence of those usurpers, we slew; but as many as were quiet, and stirred not, we shut up within a chamber, where men are wont to keep; being not willing that they should get forth, and go to publish throughout the city what was done, before we knew how the world went with others.  
Thus you hear how this chare was done. As for Peloptdas and his train, they came to the utmost gate of Leontidas, where they knocked as softly, as they thither came gently and with silence, and to one of the servants who heard them knock, & demanded who was there, they answered, That they were come from Athens, and brought letters unto Leontidas from Calistratus. The servitor went and told his master so much, who being commanded to set open the gate, unbarred and unbolted it; the gate no sooner yielded from them a little, but they rushed in all at once with violence, bore down the man and laid him along, ran a pace through the court and hall and so directly passed to the bed chamber of Leontidas: who presently suspecting what the matter was, drew his dagger, & put himself forward to make resistance & to stand upon his defence. Unjust he was no doubt & tyrannical, howbeit otherwise a tall man of his hands, and of a touragious stomach: yet forgot he to overthrow the lamp, & put out the light, and in the dark to intermingle himself with those who came to assault him, and so haply to get a way from them; but being espied by them, so soon as ever the door was open, he stabbed Cephisodorus in the very flank under the short ribs: and then encountering with Pelopidas who would have entered second into the chamber, he cried out aloud and called to his servants for help: but Samidas with others about him kept them back, and otherwise of themselves they durst not meddle nor hazard their lives to deal with the noblest persons of the city, and those who for strength and valour were known to surpass the rest. So there was a scuffling and stife combat between Pelopidas and Leontidas, in the very portal of the chamber door, which was but narrow, where Cephisodorus fell down in the midst between them ready to die, so that others could not come in to succour Pelopidas: At the last when our friend Pelopidas had received a little wound in his head, but given Leontidas many a one, he overthrew him and slew him upon the body of Cephisodorus, who being yet warm and not fully dead, saw his enemy fall, and therewith putting forth his right hand to Pelopidas, and bidding all the rest adieu, he joifully yielded up his breath. When they had dispatched this business, they turned immediately from thence to Hypates house, and when the door was likewise set open for them, the killed him also, as he thought to escape, and fled by the roof of the house unto his neighbours. Which done, they returned with speed directly unto us, whom they found abroad at a gallery called Polystylon. After we had saluted and embraced one another & talked a little all together, we went strait to the common goal; where Phyllidas having called forth the gaoler: Archias (quoth he) and Philippus command you with all speed to bring your prisoner Amphitheus unto them. The gaoler considering that it was an unreasonable hour, and withal perceiving that Phyllidas in his speeches was not very well stayed, but that he was yet chafed and panted still unquietly upon the fresh fray that he had been at, doubting and suspecting a skirmish: When was it ever seen (quoth he) o Phyllidas, that the Polemarchy or chief captains sent for a prisoner at this time of the night? when by you? and what token or watchword bring you from them? As the gaoler reasoned thus, Phyllidas made no more ado, but with an horseman's staff or lance that he had in his hand, ran him through the sides, and laid him dead on the ground, wicked wretch that he was, whom the next morrow, many a woman trampled under their feet, and spit in his face as he lay. Then broke we the prison door open, and first called by name unto Amphitheus, and afterwards to others, according as each of them was of our acquaintance and familiarity; who hearing and knowing our voices leapt out of their pallets upon their feet, and willingly drew their chains and irons after them: but such as had their feet fast in the stocks, stretched forth their hands and cried unto us, beseeching they might not be left behind: and whiles we were busy in setting them loose, many of the neighbours by this time who dwelled near and perceived what was done, were run forth already into the streets with glad and joifuil hearts. The very women also, as any of them heard aught of their acquaintance, without regard of observing the custom and manner of the Boeotians, ran out of doors one unto another, and demanded of every one whom they met in the street, what news? And as many of them as light either upon their fathers or husbands, followed them as they went, and no man impeached them in so doing: for the pitiful commiseration, the tears, prayers, and supplications, especially of honest and chaste wives, were in this case very effectual, and moved men to regard them. When things were brought to this pass, so soon as we heard, that Epamtnondas and Gorgidas with other friends, were now assembled within the temple of Minerva, we went directly unto them, and thither repaired also many honest citizens and men of quality, flocking still more and more in great frequency. Now after relation was made unto them how all things sped, & that they were requested to assist us in the performance and execution of that which was behind, and for that purpose to meet all together in the common market place, incontinently they set up a shout, and cried unto the citizens, Liberty, liberty, distributing arms and weapons among as many as came to join with them: which they took forth of the temples and halls, being full of the spoils of all sorts, won from enemies in times past, as also out of the armourers, furbushers, and cutlers shops there adjoining. Thither came Hipposthenidas likewise with a troop of friends and servants, bringing those trumpeters with him, who were by chance come to the city against the feast of Hercules: and immediately some sounded the al'arm in the market place, and others in all parts of the city beside, and all to astonish and affright those of the adverse part, as if the whole city were revolted, and had risen against them: who making a great smoke, for the nonce in the streets, because they would not be descried, put themselves within the castle Cadmea, drawing with them those choice soldiers called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the better, who were wont usually to ward all night and keep a standing corpse de guard about the said castle. Now those who were above in the said fort, seeing their own captain to run so disorderly and in great affright, and to make haste to get in, perceiving also from above, how we were gathered together about the market place in arms; and no part of the city quiet, but full of tumult, uproars and garboils, whereof the noise ascended up unto them, durst not adventure to come down, though they were to the number of five thousand, as fearing the present danger: but pretended for their excuse the absence of Lysanoridas their captain, who was ever wont to remain with them, but only that day, which was the cause that afterwards as we have heard, the Lacedæmonians making means by a piece of money, to apprehend him in Corinth, whether he was retired, and immediately put him to death: but upon composition and safe conduct, they delivered up the castle into our hands, and departed with all the soldiers in it.    

OF THE MALICE OF HERODOTUS.  

The Summarie.  
PLutarch considering in what credit and reguest Herodotus the Historiographer was, who in many places of his books, which are at this day extant in our bands, defameth diverse states and hcnorable persons of Greece, is minded here in this treatise to arm as it were and prepare the readers against all such false suggestions and imputations: and in the very entry of his discourse, accuseth Herodotus of malice and leasing. For proof of this challenge he setteth down certain marks, whereby a man may discern a slanderous writer, from a sage and discrect Historiographer. Which done, he applieth the said marks unto Herodotus, showing by a number of examples drawn out of his stories and narrations that often times he useth odious words, when as others more mild and gentle were as ready for him to use: that he describeth an evil matter, when as there was no need to make mention thereof: that he taket hpleasure to speak ill & to rail: that among praises, he inserteth the bitter blames of one and the same parsonage: and in recounting one thing two manner of ways and more, he resteth always in the worse, and imputeth worthy deeds and brave exploits unto disordinate andirregular passions, and so after an oblique manner doth the persons injury. So that this treatise teacheth as well the writers of histories, to look well about themselves. and stand upon their guard, lest they be esteemed, slanderous, foolish and impudent: as also the readers to carry with them a pure and sincere judgement for to make their profit by those books, which they take in hand to read.   

OF THE MALICE of Herodotus  
MAny men there be, o Alexander, whom the style & phrase of Herodotus the Historiographer (because it seemeth unto them plain, simple, natural, and running smoothly upon the matters which he delivereth) hath much deceived: but more there are, who have been caught and brought into the same error, by his manners and behaviour. For it is not only extreme injustice, as Plato said, to seem just and righteous, when a man is nothing less, but also an act of malice in the highest degree, to counterfeit mildness and simplicity, and under that pretence and colour, to be covertly most bitter and malicious. Now for that he showeth this spite of his against the Boeotians and Corinthians especially, although he spareth not any others whatsoever, I thought it my part and duty do defend herein the honour of our ancestors in the behalf of truth, against this only part of his writings, and no more. For to pursue and go thorough all other lies and forged tales of his, dispersed in that history, would require many great volumes. But as Sophocles said: 
Of eloquence the flattering face,  
Prevaileth much and winneth grace,  especially when it meeteth with a tongue which is pleasant, and carrieth such a force, asto cover among other vices, the malicious nature of an Historiographer. Philip king of Macedon was wont to say unto those Greeks who revolted from his alliance, and sided with Titus Quintius, that they had changed their former chains, and given them for others, that were indeed more polished; howbeit longer a fair deal. Even so a man may say, that the malignity of Herodotus is smother and more delicate than that of Theopompus, but it toucheth nearer to the quick, and stingeth more; like as the winds are more sharp and piercing, which blow through a narrow straight or close glade, than such as are spread more at large. I think therefore that I shall do very well, first to describe generally, and as it were in gross, the tracts and marks as it were of a narration which is not pure, sincere, and friendly, but spiteful and malicious, for to apply the same afterwards to each point that we shall examine, and see whether they do agree fitly thereto.  
First and foremost therefore, he that useth the most odious nouns and verbs, when there be others at hand more mild and gentle, for to express things done: as for example; whereas he might say, that Nicias was very ceremonious, and somewhat superstitiously given; reporteth that he was fanatical; and chooseth rather to challenge Cleon for rash audacity, and furious madness, than for light and vain speech: surely he carrieth not a good and gentle mind, but taketh pleasure to make a narration in the worst manner.  
Secondly, when there is some vice otherwise in a man, which appertaineth not unto the history, and yet the writer catcheth hold thereof, and will needs thrust it into the narration of those affairs which require it not, drawing his history from the matter, fetching a compass about, after an extravagant manner, and all to bring in either the infortunity or unhappy accident, or else some absurd and shameful act of a man: it is very evident that such an one delighteth in reproachful and evil language. And therefore chose, Thucydides, howsoever Cleon committed an infinite number of gross and foul faults, yet he never traduced him openly for them in his writings. And as touching the busy orator Hyperbolus, he glanced at him only by the way, terming him a naughty man, and so let him go. Philistus likewise passed over all the outrages and wrongs (many though they were) of Dionysius the tyrant, which he offered unto the barbarous nations, so long as they were not interlaced among the affairs of the Greeks. For the digressions & excursions of an history, are allowed, principally for some fables or antiquities. Moreover, he who among the praises of some great personages, thrusteth in some matter tending to reproach & blame, seemeth to incur the malediction of the tragical Poet, 
Cursed be thou, that lov'st a roll to have,  
Of men's mishaps, who now lie dead in grave.  Furthermore, that which is equipollent and reciprocal thereto, every man knoweth, that the leaving out and passing over quite of some good quality, or laudable fact, seemeth not to be a thing reprehensible and subject to account, though done it were maliciously, and the same were left out in some such place as pertained well to the train of the history: for to commend a man coldly and after an unwilling manner, savoreth no more of civility, than to blame him affectionately; and besides that, it is nothing more civil, it smelleth haply more of malice, and of the twain is worse.  
The fourth sign of a malicious nature in an historian, in my account is this: when one and the same thing is interpreted or reported two ways, or more, to incline unto the harder construction. For permitted it is unto Sophisters and Rhetoricians, either for to gain their see, or to win the name and reputation of eloquence, otherwhiles to take in hand for to defend and adorn the worse cause; because they imprint not deeply any credit or belief of that which they deliver: and they themselves do not deny, that they undertake to prove things incredible, even against the common opinion of men. But he that composeth an history, doth his part and devoir, if he writeth that which he knoweth to be true: but of matters doubtful, obscure, and uncerteine, those which are better seem to be reported more truly always, than the worse. And many there be, who omit quite and overpass the worse: as for example; Ephorus having said as touching Themistocles, that he was privy to the treason that Pausamas plotted and practised, and what he treated with the lieutenants of the king of Persia: Howbeit, he consented not (quoth he) nor never could be induced to take part with him of those hopes, whereto he did solicit him. And Thucydides left this matter wholly out of his story, as not acknowledging it to be true. Again, in matters confessed to have been done, but yet not known, for what cause, and upon what intention; he that guesseth and casteth his conjecture in the worse part, is nought and maliciously minded: and thus did the comical Poets, who gave out, that Pericles kindled the Peloponnesian war, for the love the of courtesan Aspasia, or else for Phidias sake, and not rather upon an high mind and contention to take down the pride of the Peloponnesians, & in no wise to give place unto the Lacedæmonians. For of arts approved and laudable affairs, he that supposeth and setteth down a lewd and naughty cause, and by calumniations draweth men into extravagant suspicions, of the hidden and secret intention of him who performed the act, which he is not able to reprove or blame openly: as they who report of Alexander the tyrant's death, which dame Thebes his wife contrived, that it was not a deed of magnanimity, nor upon the hatred of wickedness and vice, but proceeding from the passionate jealousy of a woman: as also those who say; that Cato Uttcensis killed himself, fearing lest Caesar would execute him shamefully: these (I say) are envious and spiteful in the highest degree. Semblably, an historical narration smelleth of malice, according as the manner of a work or act done is related: as if it be put down in writing, that it was by the means rather of money and corruption, than of virtue & valour, that some great exploit was performed, (as some there were who did not stick to say as much of Philip:) or else, that it was executed without any travel and danger, as others gave out of Alexander the Great: also not by forecast and wisdom, but by the favour of fortune; like as the enviour and ill willer of Timotheus, who in painted tables represented the portraiture of diverse cities and towns, that of themselves fell within the compass of his net and toil, when he lay fast asleep: evident it is, that it is that it tendeth to the impairing of the glory, beauty, and greatness of those acts, when they take from them the magnanimity, virtue, and diligence of the authors, and give out they were not done and executed by themselves. Over and beside, those who professedly and directly speak evil of one, incur the imputation of quarrelers, rash-headed and furious persons, in case they keep not within a mean: but such as do it after an oblique manner, as if they discharged bullets, or shot arrows at one side from some blind corner, charging surmises and suspicions; and then to turn behind and shift off all, by saying, they do not believe any such thing, which they desire most of all to be believed, howsoever they disclaim all malice and evil will: over and beside their cankered nature, they are stained with the note of notorious impudency. Next neighbours unto these, are they, who among imputations and blames, adjoin certain praises: as in the time of Socrates, one Aristoxenus having given him the terms of ignorant, untaught, dissolute; came in with this afterwards: but true it is that he doth no man wrong, and is worst to himself: for like as they, who will cunningly and artificially flatter otherwhiles, among many and unmeasurable praises, mingle some light reprehensions, joining with their sweet flatteries, (as it were some tart sauce to season them) certain words frankly and freely spoken: even so the malicious person, because he would have that believed which he blameth, putteth thereto some little sprinkling of a few praises. There may be exemplified and numbered many other signs and marks of malice: but these may suffice to give us to understand the nature and intention of this author whom now we have in hand.  
First and foremost therefore to begin at heavenly wights, and as they say at Vesta, Io the daughter of Inachus, whom all the Greeks think to have been deified and honoured with divine honours by the barbarous nations, in such sort as that she hath left her name to many seas, and noble ports, in regard of her great glory and renown; and opened the source (as it were) and original beginning of many right noble, most famous and royal families; this our gentle Historiographer saith, that she yielded herself unto certain merchants of Phoenicia, to be carried away, for that she having been deflowered not against her will, by a master of a ship, feared lest she should be spied great with child; and withal belieth the Phoenicians themselves, as if they gave out as much of her. He reports himself also to the testimony of the sages and wise men of Persia, that the Phoenicians ravished and carried her away with other women: showing withal directly his opinion a little after, that the most noble and bravest exploit that ever the Greeks achieved, to wit, the war of Troy, was an enterprise begun in folly, for a lewd and naughty woman: for it is very apparent quoth he, that these women if they had not been willing themselves, they had never been so ravished, and had away as they were. And therefore we may as well say that the gods did foolishly to show themselves angry and offended, with the Lacedæmonians for the abusing of the daughters of Scedasus the Leuctrian; as also to punish Ajax, for that he forced lady Cassandra: for certain it is according to Herodotus, that if they had not been willing, they had never been deflowered: and yet himself saith that Aristomenes was taken alive, and carried away by the Lacedæmonians, and afterwards Philopoemen captain general of the Achaeans tasted the same fortune, and Atilius Regulus the consul of the Romans, fell likewise into the hands of his enemies: all of them such personages as hardly may be found more valiant and hardy warriors in the world. But what marvel is this, considering that men do take leopards, and tigers alive? Now Herodotus blameth the poor women, who were by force abused, and defendeth those wicked men who offered them that abuse. Besides, so much affected he is in love unto the Barbarous nations, that he will acquit & clear Busirides of that ill name which went of him, for slaying of his guests & sacrificing men, and attributing unto all the Egyptians by all his testimonies, much godliness, religion and justice, returneth upon the Greeks this inhuman and abominable cruelty. For in his second book he writeth that Menelaus having received Helena at the hands of king Proteus his wife, and been by him honoured with great and rich presents, showed himself again a most unjust and wicked man. For when the wind and weather served him not for to embark and sail away, he wrought by his report, a most cursed and detestable fact, in taking two of the inhabitants male children of that country, and cut them in pieces for sacrifice: by occasion whereof being hated of the Egyptians, and pursued, he fled directly with his fleet, and departed into Libya. For mine own part, I wot not what Egyptian hath given out this report of Menelaus: but chose I know full well, that in Egypt they retain still to this day many honours in the memorial, both of him and also of his wife Helena. Moreover this writer holding on still his course, reporteth that the Persians learned of the Greeks, to abuse boys carnally and contrary to kind. And yet how is it possible that the Persians should learn this villainy and filthiness of the Greeks, considering that the Persians manner all do confess, that the children were there gelded, before they had ever seen the Greeks sea. Also he writeth, that the Greeks were taught by the Egyptians, their solemn pomps, festival processions, and public assemblies: likewise to adore the twelve gods: yea & that Melampus had learned of the same Egyptians the very name of Dionysus, that is to say, Bacchus, who taught it the other Greeks. As touching the sacred mysteries, and secret ceremonies of Ceres, that they were brought out of Egypt by the daughters of Danaus: as also that the Egyptians beat themselves and are in great sorrow, yet will themselves name nothing why they so do, but remain close and keep silence in the religious service of the gods. As touching Hercules and Bacchus whom the Egyptians esteem as gods, and the Greeks very aged men, he maketh mention in no place of this precise observation and distinction: howsoever he faith that this Egyptian Hercules, was reckoned and ranged in the second order of the gods, and Bacchus in the third, as those who had a beginning of their essence, and were not eternal: and yet he pronounceth those other to be gods, but unto these, he judgeth that we ought to perform anniversary funerals, as having been sometime mortal, and now canonised demigods, but in no wise to sacrifice unto them as gods. After the same manner spoke he of Pan, overthrowing the most holy and venerable sacrifices of the Greeks by the vanities and fables which the Egyptians devised. Yet is not this the worst, nor so intolerable; for deriving the pedigree of Hercules from the race of Perseus, he holdeth, that Perseus was an Assyrian, according to that which the Persians say: But the captains and leaders of the Dorians (saith he) seem to be descended in right line from the Egyptians, and fetch their genealogy and ancestors from before Danae and Acrisius: for as concerning Epaphus, Io, jasus and Argus, he hath wholly passed over and rejected, striving to make, not only the other two Herculees Egyptians and Phoenicians, but also this whom himself nameth to be the third, a mere stranger from Greece, and to enrol him among Barbarians, notwithstanding that of all the ancient learned men, neither Homer, nor Hesiodus, ne yet Archilochus, Pisander, Stesichorus, Alcman, nor Pindarus, do make mention of any Hercules an Egyptian or Phoenician, but acknowledge one alone, to wit, our Boeotian and Argien. And that which more is, among the seven sages, whom he termeth by the name of Sophisters, he will needs bear us down, that Thales was a Phoenician borne, extracted from the ancient stock of the Barbarians. And in one place, reproaching in some sort the gods, under the vizard and person of Solon, he hath these words: O Croesus, thou demandest of me as touching human things, who know full well, that the deity is envious and full of inconstant incertitude: where attributing unto Solon, that opinion which himself had of the gods, he joineth malice unto impiety and blasphemy. And as for Pittachus, using him but in light matters, and such as are of no consequence, he passeth over in the mean while, the most worthy and excellent deed that ever the man did: for when the Athenians and Mitylenians were at war about the port Sigaeum, Phrynon the captain of the Athenians having given defiance, and challenged to combat hand to hand, the hardiest warrior of all the Mitylenians, Pittachus advanced forward and presented himself to his face for to perform his devoir, where he bore himself with such dexterity, that he caught this captain, as mighty a man as he was and tall of stature, and so entangled him, that he slew him outright. And when the Mitylenians, for this prowess of his, offered unto him goodly rich presents, he lanced his javelin out of his hand as far as ever he could, and demanded so much ground only as he reached with that shot. And thereupon, that field, even at this day, is called Pittacium. But what writeth Herodotus, when he comes to this place? In am of reciting this valiant act of Pittachus, he recounteth the flight of Alcaeus the Poet, who flung from him his armour and weapons, and so ran away out of the battle: whereby it appeareth, that in avoiding to write of virtuous and valiant acts, but in not concealing vicious and foul facts, he testifieth on their side who say, that envy, to wit, a grief for the good of another, and joy in other men's harms, proceed both from one root of malice.  
After all this, the Alcmaeonidae who showed themselves brave men and generous; and namely, by delivering their country from tyranny, are by him challenged for treason: for he saith, That they received Pisistratus upon his banishment, and wrought means for his return again, upon condition, that he should espouse and marry the daughter of Megacles: and when the maiden said thus unto her mother, See my good mother, Pisistratus doth not company kindly with me, as he should, and according to the law of nature and marriage; hereupon the said Alcmaeonidae took such indignation against the tyrant for his perverse dealing, that they chased him into exile. Now, that the Lacedæmonians should taste aswell of his malice as the Athenians had done before them, see how he defaceth and traduceth Othryadas, a man esteemed and admired among them above all others, for his valiance: He only (saith he) remaining alive of those three hundred, ashamed to return to Sparta, when all the rest of that company and consort of his were slain and left dead in the field, presently overwhelmed himself in the place under an heap of his enemy's shields reared for a Trophae, and so died: for a little before, he said, that the victory between both sides rested doubtful in even balance; and now he witnesseth, that through the shame and bashfulness of Othryadas, the Lacedæmonians lost the day: for as it is a shame to live being vanquished, so it is as great an honour to survive upon a victory. I forbear now to note and observe, how in describing Croesus every where for a foolish, vainglorious and ridiculous person in all respects, yet nevertheless he saith, that being prisoner he taught and instructed Cyrus, a prince who in prudence, virtue and magnanimity surpassed all the kings that ever were. And having by the testimony of his own history, attributed no goodness unto Croesus, but this only, that he honoured the gods with great offerings, oblations and ornaments, that he presented unto them; which very same (as himself declareth) was the most wicked and profanest act in the world: for whereas his brother Pantaleon and he were at great variance and debate, about succession in the kingdom during the life of their father; after that he came once to the crown, he caught one of the nobles, a great friend and companion of his brother Pantaleon, who had beforetime been his adversary, and within a fullers mill all to beclawed and mangled him with tuckers cards and burling combs, so as he died therewith; and of his money which he did confiscate and seize upon, he caused those oblations and jewels to be made which he sent as a present to the gods. Concerning Deioces the Median, who by his virtue and justice attained to the kingdom, hesaith, that he was not such an one indeed, but an hypocrite, and by semblance of justice was advanced to that regal dignity. But what should I stand upon the examples of Barbarous nations; for he hath ministered matter enough in writing only of the Greeks. He saith, that the Athenians and many other jonians, being ashamed of that as name were not only unwilling, but also denied utterly to be called jonians: also, as many of them as were of the noblest blood, and descended from the very Senate and Prytaneum of the Athenians, begat children of Barbarous women, after they had killed their fathers and former children: by occasion whereof those women made an ordinance among themselves, which they bound with an oath, and ministered the same unto their daughters, never to eat nor drink with their husbands, nor to call them by their names: and that the Milesians at this day be descended from the said women. And having cleanly delivered thus much under hand, that those only who celebrated the feast named Apalutia, were indeed true Jonians: And all (quoth he) do keep and observe that solemnity, save only the Ephesians and Colophonians. By this sly device he doth in effect deprive these states, of the noble antiquity of their nation. He writeth likewise, that the Cumaeans and Mitylenaeans, were compacted and agreed withal, for a piece of money, to deliver into the hands of Cyrus, Pactyas, one of his captains, who had revolted from him: But I cannot say (quoth he) certainly, for how much, because the just sum is not exactly known. But he ought not by his leave to have charged upon any city of Greece such a note of infamy, without he had been better assured thereof. And afterwards he saith, that the inhabitants of Chios pulled him, being brought unto them out of the temple of Minerva Poliuchos that is to say, Tutelar and protectress of the city, for to deliver him unto the Persians; which the Chians did after they had received for their hire, a piece of land called Atarnes. Howbeit, Charon, the Lampsacinian, a more ancient writer, when he handleth the story of Pactyas, taxeth neither the Mitylenaeans, nor the Chians, for any such sacrilege: but writeth of this matter, thus word for word: Pactyas (quoth he) being advertised that the Persian army approached, fled first to Mitylenae, and afterwards to Chios: and there he fell into the hands of Cyrus. Moreover this our author in his third book, describing the expedition or journey of the Lacedæmonians against Polycrates the tyrant, saith that the Samians, both are of opinion and also report, that it was by way of recompense and requital, because they had sent them aid in their war against Messene, that the Lacedæmonians entered into arms and warred upon the tyrant, for to reduce the exiled persons home again, and restore them to their livings and goods: but he saith, that the Lacedæmonians deny flatly this to have been the cause: saying it was neither to set the Isle Samos at liberty, nor to succour the Samians, that they enterprised this war: but rather to chastise the Samians, for that they had intercepted and taken away a fair standing cup of gold, sent by them as a present unto king Croesus: and besides a goodly cuirace or breastplate, sent unto them from king Amasis. And yet we know for certain, that in all those days, there was not a city in Greece so desirous of honour, nor so infested and deadly bend against tytants, as Lacedaemon was: for what other cup of gold, or cuirace was there, for which they chased out of Corinth and Ambracia the usurping race of the Cypselidae; banished out of Noxos, the tyrant Lygdamis; expelled out of Athens, the children of Pisistratus; drove out of Sicyone, Aeschines; exiled from Theses, Symmachus; delivered the Phocaeans from Aulis; and turned Aristogenes out of Miletus: as for the lordly deminions over Thessaly, they utterly ruinated and rooted out, which Aristomedes and Angelus usurped, whom they suppressed and defaited by the means of Leotychidas their king? But of these things I have written else where more exactly and at large, Now if Herodotus saith true, what wanted they of extreme folly and wickedness in the highest degree, indisavowing and denying a most just and honourable occasion of this war, to confess that they made an invasion upon a poorer and miserable nation oppressed and afflicted under a tyrant, and all in remembrance of a former grudge, to be revenged for a small wrong upon a base mind and mechanical avarice. Now haply he had a fling at the Lacedæmonians and gave them a blur with his pen, because in the train and consequence of the story, they came so just under it; but the city of the Corinthians, which was clean out of his way, he hath notwithstanding taken it with him and bespurted and dashed as he passed by, with a most grievous slander and heavy imputation. The Corinthians also (quoth he) did favour and second with great affection this voyage of the Lacedæmonians, for to requite an heinous outrage and injury, which they had received before time at the Samians hands: And that was this? Periander the tyrant of Corinth, sent three hundred young boys, that were the sons of the most noble persons in all Corfu, to king Aliattes for to be gelded. These youths arrived in the Isle Samos, whom being landed the Samians taught how to sit as humble suppliants within the temple and sanctuary of Diana, & set before them for their nourishment certain cakes made of Sesam seed & honey. And this forsooth was it that our trim historiographer calleth so great an outrage & abuse offered by the Samians unto the Corinthians; for which he saith, the Lacedæmonians also were stirred up and provoked against them, because they had saved the children of Greeks from eviration. But surely he that fasteneth this reproach upon the Corinthians, showeth that the city was more wicked than the tyrant himself. As for him, his desire was to be revenged of the inhabitants of Corfu, who had killed his son among them: but the Corinthians, what wrong received they of the Samians, for which they should in hostile manner set upon them, who opposed themselves and impeached so inhuman and barbarous cruelty to be committed? and namely, that they should revive and raise up again an old cankered grudge and quarrels, that had lain dead and buried the space of three generations; and all in favour and maintenance of tyranny, which had lain very grievous and unsupportable upon them, and whereof, being overthrown and ruined as it is, they cease not still to abolish and do out the remembrance for ever. Lo, what outrage it was, that the Samians committed upon the Corinthians; but what was the revenge and punishment that the Corinthians devised against the Samians? For if in good earnest they took indignation and were offended with the Samians, it had been meet, not to have incited the Lacedæmonians, but to have diverted them rather, from levying war upon Polycrates, to the end that the tyrant not being defaited and put down, they might not have been freed nor delivered from tyrannical servitude. But that which more is, what occasion had the Corinthians to be angry with the Samians, who though they desired, yet could not save the Corcyreans children, considering they took no displeasure against the Cnidians, who not only preserved, but also restored them to their parents? And verily the Corcyreans, make no great regard, nor speak aught, of the Samians in this behalf: mary the Cnidians, they remembered in the best manner; for the Cnidians they ordained honours, privileges, and immunities, and enacted public decrees to ratify and confirm the same. For these Cnidians sailing to the Isle of Samos, arrived there, drove out of the foresaid temple the guard of Pertander, took the children forth, and brought them safe to Corfu, according as Antenor the Candiot, and Dionysius the Chalcidian in the book of Foundations have left in writing. Now that the Lacedæmonians undertook this expedition, not for to be quit with the Samians, and to punish them, but to deliver them rather from the tyrant, and for to save them; I will believe no other testimony but the Samians themselves. For they affirm, that there is among them now standing, a tomb or monument by them erected at the public charges of the city, for the corpse of Archias a citizen of Sparta, whose memorial they do honour, for that in the said service he fought valiantly, and lost his life: for which cause the posterity descended from that man, do yet unto this day, bear singular affection, and do all the pleasures they can unto the Samians, as Herodotus himself beareth witness. Furthermore, in his fifth book he writeth, that Clisthenes, one of the most noble and principal personages of all Athens, persuaded the priestresse Pythia, to be a false prophetess, in moving the Lacedæmonians always by her answers that she gave out, for to deliver the city of Athens from the thirty tyrants: and thus unto a most glorious piece of work and right just, he adjoineth the imputation of so great an impiety, and a damnable device of falsehood; and withal, bereaveth god Apollo of that prophesy which is so good and honest, yea and beseeming Themis, who also as they say assisteth him in the oracle. He saith also, that Isagoras yielded his wife unto Cleomenes, for to use her at his pleasure, whensoever he came unto her: and then, as his ordinary manner is, intermingling some praises among blames, because he would be the better believed: This Isagoras (quoth he) the son of Tisander, was of a noble house; but I am not able to say of what antiquity beforetime his pedigree was; but only that his knisfolke and those of his blood, do sacrifice unto Jupiter, surnamed Carius. Now I assure you, this our Historian is a proper and pleasant conceited fellow, to send away Isagoras thus to the Carians, as it were to ravens, in a mischief. And as for Aristogiton, he packeth him away not by a back door or postern, but directly by the broad & open gate, as far as unto Phoenicia; saying, that his first original came long since from the Gephyrians: but what Gephyrians trow ye: not those in Euboea, or in Eretria, as some do think: but he saith plainly they be Phoenicians, and that he is so persuaded of them by hearsay. And not being able to deprive the Lacedæmonians of their glory, for delivering the city of Athens from the servitude of the thirty tyrants, he goeth about to obliterate quite, or at leastwise in some sort to disgrace and dishonour that most noble act, with as foul a passion, and as villainous a vice: for he saith, that they repented incontinently, as if they had not well done, by the induction of false and supposed oracles, thus to have chased out of their country the tyrants their friends, guests, and allies, who promised to deliver Athens into their hands, and to have yielded the city unto an unthankful people; and that anon they sent for Hipptas, as far as to Sigaeum, for to reduce him to Athens: but the Corinthians opposed themselves, and diverted them, whiles Sosicles discoursed and showed how many miseries and calamities the city of Corinth had endured whiles Periander & Cypselus held them under their tyrannical rule: and yet of all those enormous outrages which Periander committed, they could not name any one more wicked and cruel, than that of the three hundred children which he sent away for to be gelded: Howbeit, this man dareth to say, that the Corinthians were moved and provoked against the Samians, who had saved the said youths, and kept them from suffering such an indignity, and carried the remembrance thereof for revenge, as if they had done them some exceeding great injury: so full is his malice and gall of inconstancy, of repugnance and contradiction in all his speeches, which ever and anon is ready to offer itself in all his narrations. After all this, coming to describe the taking of the city Sardis, he diminished, deformeth, and discrediteth the exploit all that ever he can, being so armed with shameless audacity, that he termeth those ships which the Athenians set out, and sent to succour the king, and to plague the jonians, who rebelled against him, the original causes of all mischief, for that they assayed to set at liberty and deliver out of servitude, so many goodly and fair cities of the Greeks, held forcibly under the violent dominion of the barbarous nations. As touching the Eretrians, he maketh mention of them only by the way, & passeth in silence a most worthy and glorious piece of service, which they performed at that time: for when all jonia was now already in an uproar & hurly burly, and the king's armada near at hand, they put out their navy, and in the main sea of Pamphylia, defeated in a naval battle the Cyprians: then returning back, and leaving their navy in the road before Ephesus, they went by land to lay siege unto the capital city of Sardis, where they beleaguered Artaphernes within a castle, into which he was fled, intending thereby to raise the siege before the city Miletus: which service they put in execution and performed; causing their enemies to remove their camp, and dislodge from thence, in a wonderful great fear and affright: but seeing a greater number of enemies to press hard upon them, they returned. Many Chroniclers report the history in this manner; and among the rest Lysanias Mallotes, in his chronicle of the Eretrians. And verily it would have beseemed well, if for no other reason, yet after the taking and destruction of their city, to have added this their act of valour and prowess. Howbeit, this good writer, chose saith, that being vanquished in the field, the Barbarians followed in chase, and pursued them as far as to their ships: and yet Charon the Lampsacenian, maketh no mention thereof, but writeth thus, word for word: The AThenians (quoth he) put to sea with a fleet of twenty galleys, for to aid the jonians, and made a voyage as far as to Sardeis, where they were masters of all, except the king's fortress or wall; which done, they returned to Miletus. In the sixth book, our Herodotus, after he had related thus much of the Plataeans, that they had yielded and committed themselves to the protection of the Lacedæmonians, who made remonstrance unto them, that they should do far better to range and side with the Athenians their neighbours, and able to defend them: he addeth moreover and saith afterwards, not by way of opinion and suspicion, but as one who knew it was so indeed, that the Lacedæmonians thus advised and counseled them at that time, not for any good will and loving affection that they bore unto them, but because they were all very well appaied to see the Athenians to have their hands full, and to be matched with the Baeotians. If then Herodotus be not malicious, it cannot choose, but that the Lacedæmonians were very cautelous, fraudulent, and spiteful; and the Athenians as blocking and senseless, not to see how they were thus deluded and circumvented. The Plataeans likewise were thus posted from them, not for any love or honour intended unto them, but because they might be the occasion of war. Furthermore, he is convinced to have falsely devised, and colourably pretended the excuse of the full moon against the Lacedæmonians, which whiles they attended and stayed for, he saith, they failed and went not in that journey of Marathon, to aid the Athenians: for not only they began a thousand voyages, and fought as many battles in the beginning of the month and new of the moon, but also at this very battle of Marathon, which was fought the sixth day of the month Boedromion, that is to say, November, they miss very little, but they had arrived in due time: for they came soon enough to find the dead bodies of those that were slain in the field, and lying still in the place: and yet thus hath he written of the full moon. It was impossible for them to do this out of hand, being as they were, not willing to break the law; for that as yet it was but the ninth day of the month: and they made answer, that they might not set forth, unless the moon were at the full. And thus these men waited for the full moon. But you good sir transfer the full moon into the beginning of the half moon or second quarter, confounding the course of heaven, and the order of days, yea, and shuffling every thing together. Over and beside, promising in the forefront and inscription of your history, to write the deeds and affairs of the greeks, you employ all your eloquence to magnify and amplify the acts of the Barbarians; and making semblance to be affectionate to the Athenians, yet for all that, you make no mention at all of that solemn pomp and procession of theirs at Agrae, which they hold even at this day, in the honour of Hecate, or Proserpina, by way of thanks giving for the victory, the feast whereof they do celebrate. But this helpeth Herodotus very much to meet with that improperation and slander that went of him, namely, that he flattered the Athenians in his story, for that he had received a great sum of money of them for that purpose: for if he had read this unto the Athenians, they would never have neglected nor let pass that wicked Philippides, who went to move and solicit the Lacedæmonians to be at that battle, from which himself came, and he especially, who as he saith himself, within two days was in Sparta, after he had been at Athens, if the Athenians after the winning of the field did not send for the aid of their confederates and allies. But Diyllus an Athenian, none of the meanest Chroniclers, writeth, that he received of the Athenians, the sum of ten talents of silver, by virtue of an an act that Anytus propounded.  
Moreover, many are of opinion, that Herodotus in his narration of the battle of Marathon, himself marred the whole grace and honour of the exploit, by the number that he putteth down of them who there were slain: for he saith, that the Athenians made a vow to sacrifice unto Proserpina or Diana surnamed Agrotera, as many yeere-old goats as they slew of the Barbarians: but when after the discomfiture and overthrow, they saw that the number of the dead bodies was infinite, they made supplication to the goddess for to be dispensed for their vow and promise, and to acquit them for five hundred every year to be killed in sacrifice for her. But to pass over this, let us see what followed after the battle. The Barbarians (quoth he) with the rest of their ships drawing back and retiring into the open sea, and having taken a ship board those slaves of Eretria, out of the Isle where they had left them, doubled the point of Sunium, with a full purpose to prevent the Athenians before they could recover the city. And the Athenians were of opinion, that they were advised thus to do by a secret complot between them and the Alcmaeonidae who had apponted and agreed with the Persians to give them a signal so soon as they were all embarked, by holding up aloft and showing them a shield afar off. And so they fetched a compass about the cape of Sunium. And here I am content that he should go clear away with this, that he called those prisoners of Eretria by the name of slaves, who showed as much courage and valour in this war, yea, and as great a desire to win honour, as any Greeks whatsoever, although their virtue sped but ill, and was unworthily afflicted. And less account I make also of this, that he defameth the Alcmaeonidae, of whom were the greatest families and noblest persons of all the city. But the worst of all is this, that the honour of this brave victory is quite overthrown, and the issue or end of so worthy and renowned a piece of service is come just to nothing in a manner, neither seemeth it to have been any such battle or so great an exploit, but only a short scuffling or light skirmish with the Barbarians when they were landed, as evil willers, carpers and envious persons give out to deprave the service, if it be so, that after the battle, they fled not when they had cut the cables of their ships, permitting themselves to the wind, for to carry them as far as possibly might be from Attica, but that there was a shield or target lifted up aloft in the air as a signal unto them of treason, and that of purpose they made sail toward the city of Athens, in hope to surprise it; and having without any noise in great silence doubled the foresaid point of Sunium, and were discovered a float, hover about the port Phalerae, insomuch as the principal and most honourable personages of the Athenians, being out of all hope to save the city, betrayed it into their hands: for afterwards he dischargeth and cleareth the Alcmaeonidae, and attributeth this treason unto others: And certain it is (quoth he) that such a target or shield was showed. And this he saith so confidently, as if himself had seen the thing. But impossible it is that it should be so, in case the Athenians won the victory clear: and say it had so been, the Barbarians never could have perceived it, flying so as they did in great affright and danger, wounded also as they were, and chased both with sword and shot into their ships, who left the field every man, and fled from the land as fast as ever he could. But afterwards again, when he maketh semblance to answer in the behalf of the Alcmaeonidae, and to refute those crimes which himself broached, and charged upon them: I wonder (quoth he) and I can not believe the rumour of this imputation, that ever the Alcmaeonidae, by any compact with the Barbarians, showed them the signal of a shield, as willing that the Athenians should be in subjection to the Barbarians under Hippias. In thus doing, he putteth me in mind and remembrance of a certain clause running in this manner: Take him you will; and having taken him, let him go you will. Semblably, first you accuse, and anon you defend: write you do and frame accusatory imputations against honourable persons, which afterwards you seem to cancile, discrediting herein (no doubt) and distrusting yourself: for you have heard your own self to say, that the Alcmaeonidae set up a target for a signal to the Barbarians vanquished and flying away; but in relieving them again and answering in their defence, you show yourself to be a slanderous sycophant: for if that be true which you write in this place, that the Alcmaeonidae were worse, or at leastwise, as badly affected to tyrants, as Callias the son of Phenippus and father of Hipponicus, where will you bestow and place that conspiracy of theirs against the common wealth, which you have written in your former books? saying, that they contracted alliance and affinity in marriage with Pisistratus; by means whereof, they wrought his return from exile to exercise tyranny: neither would they ever have banished him again, had it not been that their daughter had complained and accused him, that he used her not according to law of marriage & of nature. Thus you see what confused variations, contradictions and repugnances there be in that imputation and suspicion of the Alcmaeonidae: but in sounding out the praises of Callias the son of Phenippus, with whom he joineth his son Hipponicus, who by the report of Herodotus himself, was in his time the richest man in all Athens, he confesseth plainly, that for to insinuate himself into the favour of Hipponicus, and to flatter him, without any reason or cause in the world arising out of the matter of the story, he brought Callias. All the world knows, that the Argives refused not to enter into that general confederacy and association of the Greeks, requiring only, that they might not be ever at the Lacedæmonians command, nor forced to follow them, who were the greatest enemies, & those who of all men living hated them most: when it would not otherwise be, he rendereth a most malicious and spiteful cause and reason thereof, writing thus: When they saw (quoth he) that the Greeks would needs comprise them in that league, knowing full well, that the Lacedæmonians would not impart unto them any prerogative to command, they seemed to demand the communion thereof, to the end that they might have some colourable occasion and excuse to remain quiet and fit still: which he saith, that Artaxerxes long after, remembered unto the ambassadors of the Argives, who came unto him at Susa, and gave this testimony unto them, That he thought there was not a city in all Greece friended him more than Argos. But soon after, as his accustomed manner is, seeming to retract all, and cleanly to cover the matter, he comes in with these words: Howbeit, as touching this point, I know nothing of certainty; but this I wot well, all men have their faults; and I do not believe, that the Argives have carried themselves worst of all others: but howsoever (quoth he) I am bound to say that which is commonly received, yet I believe not all: and let this stand throughout the whole course of mine history. For this also is given out abroad, That they were the Argives who solicited and sent for the king of Persia to levy war upon all Greece; because they were not able in arms to make head against the Lacedæmonians, and cared not what became of them, to avoid the present discontentment and grief wherein they were. And may not a man very well return that upon himself, which he reporteth to be spoken by an Aethiopian, as touching the sweet odours and rich purple of the Persians? 
* Graecen melius, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Deceitful are the Persian ointments, deceitful are their habiliments. For even so a man may very well say of him: Deceitful are the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  phrases, deceitful are the figures of Herodotus his speeches; 
So intricate and tortuous, so winding quite throughhout,  
As nothing sound is therein found, but all turn's round about.  And like as painters make their light colours more apparent and eminent, by the shadows that they put about them; even so Herodotus by seeming to deny that which he affirmeth, doth enforce and amplify his calumniations so much the more; and by ambiguities and doubtful speeches, maketh suspicions the deeper. But if the Argives would not enter into the common league with all other Greeks, but held off and stood out upon a jealousy of sovereign command or emulation of virtue and valour against the Lacedæmonians; no man will say the contrary, but that they greatly dishonoured the memory of their progenitor Hercules, and disgraced the nobility of their race. For better it had been, and more beseeming, for the Siphnians and Cithnians, the inhabitants of two little Isles, to have defended the liberty of Greece, than by striving thus with the Spartans', and contesting about the prerogative of command, to shift off and avoid so many combats and so honourable pieces of service. And if they were the Argives, who called the king of Persia into Greece, because their sword was not so sharp as the Lacedæmonians was, and for that they could not make their part good with them; what is the reason, that when the said king was arrived in Greece, they showed not themselves openly to band with the Medes and Persians? And if they were unwilling to be seen in the field and camp with the Barbarian king; why did they not, when they stayed behind at home, invade the territory of the Laconians? why entered they not again upon the Thurians country, or by some other means prevented & impeached the Lacedæmonians? for in so doing, they had been able greatly to have endamaged the Greeks, namely, by hindering them from coming into the field at Plateae with so puissant a power of armed footmen. But the Athenians verily in this service, he highly extolleth and setteth out with glorious titles, naming them, The saviours of Greece; which had been well done of him and justly, if he had not intermingled with these praises, many blames and reproachful terms. Howbeit now, when he saith, that the Lacedæmonians were abandoned of the other Greeks, and nevertheless, thus forsaken and left alone, having undertaken many worthy exploits, died honourably in the field, foreseeing that the greeks favouring the Medes, complotted and combined with king Xerxes; is it not evident hereby, that he gave not out those goodly words directly to praise the Athenians, but rather, that he commended them, to the end that he would condemn and defame all other Greeks? For who can now be angry and offended with him, for reviling and reproaching in such vile and bitter terms the Thebans and Phoceans continually as he doth, considering that he condemneth of treason (which never was, but as he guesseth himself might have so fallen out) even those who were exposed to all perils of death for the liberties of Greece? And as for the Lacedæmonians themselves, he putteth a doubt into our heads, Whether they died manfully in fight, or rather yielded? making slight arguments, God wot, and frivolous conjectures, to impair their honour, in comparison of others that fought at Thermopylae.  
Moreover, in relating the overthrow and shipwreck which happened to the king of Persias fleet, wherein a mighty and infinite mass of money and money worth was cast away: Aminocles a Magnesian citizen (quoth he) and son of Cretines', was mightily enriched; for he met with infinite treasure aswell in coin as in plate both of silver and gold. But he could not pass over so much as this, and let it go, without some biting nip savouring of malice: For this man (quoth he) who otherwise beforetime was but poor and needy, by these windfalles and unexpected cheats became very wealthy: but there befell unto him also an unhappy accident, which troubled him and disgraced his other good fortune, for that he killed his own son. For who seeth not, that he inserteth in his history these golden words of wrecks, and of great treasure found floating or cast upon the sands by the tides of the sea, of very purpose, to make a fit room and a convenient place, wherein he might bestow the murder committed by Aminocles upon the person of his own son. And whereas Aristophanes the Boeotian wrote, that having demanded money of the Thebans, he could receive none of them; and that when he went about to reason and dispute scholastically with the youth of the city in points of learning, the magistrates (such was their rusticity and hatred of good letters) would not suffer him: other proof and argument thereof he putteth down none: but Herodotus gave testimony with Aristophanes, whiles those imputations wherewith he chargeth the Thebans, he putteth down some falsely, others ignorantly, and some again upon hatred, as one that had a quarrel against them: for he affirmeth, that the Thessalians combined and sided with the Medians at the first upon mere necessity, wherein he saith true. And prophesying as it were of other Greeks, as if they minded to betray and forsake the Lacedæmonians, he cometh in afterwards with this shift, that this was not voluntarily and with their good liking, but upon constraint and necessity, because they were surprised city by city, one after another. But yet he alloweth not unto the Thebans the excuse of the same compulsion, albeit they had sent a band of five hundred men under the conduct of captain Mnamias, for to keep the straits of Tempe, and likewise unto the pass of Thermopylae, as many as king Leonidas demanded, who only together with the Thespians stuck to him and remained with him, when he was forsaken of all other, after they saw how he was environed round about on every side. But after that the Barbarous king, having gotten all the Avennes, was entered upon their confines, and Demaratus the Spartan, being in right of mutual hospitality friendly affected to Apaginus a chief unholder and principal pillar of the oligarchy, or faction of some few, usurping principality, wrought so, as that he brought him first acquainted and afterwards into familiar friendship with the Barbarian king, whiles all other Greeks were embarked and at sea, and none seen upon the land to encounter the enemies. By this means, at the last driven they were to accept conditions of peace, and to grow into a composition with the Barbarians, finding themselves brought to so heard terms of necessity: for neither had they sea at hand, nor a navy at command as the Athenians, neither dwelled they far off from the heart of Greece in a most remote angle thereof, as did the Lacedæmonians, but were not above one days journey and an half from the Medians royal camp, and had already encountered in the straight passages with the king's power, assisted only with the Spartans' and Thespians, where they had the worse and were defaited. And yet this our historiographer is so just and equal, that he saith, The Lacedæmonians seeing themselves forsaken and abandoned of all their allies, were feign to give ear unto any composition whatsoever, & to accept at aventure what was offered: and so being not able to abolish nor utterly blot out so brave and so glorious an act, nor to deny, but that it was achieved; he goeth about to discredit and deface it with this vile imputation and suspicion, writing thus: The allies then and the confederates being sent back, returned into their countries and obeyed the commandment of Leonidas: only the Thespians and Thebans remained still with the Lacedæmonians: and as for the Thebans, it was full against their wills, for that Leonidas kept them as hostages; but the Thespians were willing thereto, for they said, they would never forsake Leonidas nor his company. showeth he not apapparently herein, that he carrieth a spiteful and malicious mind particularly against the Thebans, whereby not only he slandereth the city falsely and unjustly, but also careth not so much, as to make the imputation seem probable, no nor to conceal at leastwise unto few men, that he might not be espied to have been privy unto himself of contradictions: for having written a little before, that Leonidas seeing his confederates and allies out of heart and altogether discouraged to hazard the fortune of the field, commanded them to depart: a little after, clean contrary he saith, that he kept the Thebans perforce with him and against their wills, whom by all likelihood he should have driven from him, if they had been willing to stay, in case that he had them in jealousy and suspicion, that they took part with the Medians: for seeing he would not have those about him who were cowardly affected, what boot was it to keep among his soldiers men suspected? For being as he was, a king of the Spartans', and captain general of all the Greeks, he had not been in his right wits nor sound in judgement, if he would have stayed with him in hostage four hundred men well armed, when his own company were but three hundred in all, especially at such a time when as he saw himself hardly bestead and beset with enemies, who pressed upon him at once, both before and behind. For how soever before time he had led them about with him as hostages, probable it was that in such an extremity they would either have had no regard of Leonidas and so departed from him, or else that Leonidas might have feared to be environed by them rather than by the Barbarians. Over and beside, had not king Leonidas been ridiculous and worthy to be laughed at, to bid other Greeks to depart, as if by tarrying they should soon after lose their lives: and to forbied the Thebans, to the end that he might keep them for the behalf of other greeks, he I say who was resolved anon to died in the field; for if he led the men about with him in truth as hostages, or no better than slaves, he never should have kept them still with those who were at the point to perish and be slain, but rather delivered them unto other Greeks who went from him. Now whereas there remaineth one cause yet, that a man may allege, why he retained them still with him, for that peradventure they should all die with him, this good writer hath overthrown that also, in that he wrieth thus of the honourable mind & magnanimity of Leonidas, word for word in this wise: Leonidas (quoth he) casting and considering all these matters in his mind, & desiring that this glory might redound unto the Spartans' alone, sent away his friendly allies every one into their own countries, therefore rather than because they were of different minds & opinions: for exceeding folly it had been of his part, to keep his enemies for to be partakers of that glory, from which he repelled his friends. It appeareth then by the effects, that Leonidas disinherited not the Thebans, nor though amiss of them, but reputed them for his good and loyal friends: For he marched with his army into the city of Thebes, and at his request obtained that which to no other was ever granted, namely to be lodged all night and sleep within the temple of Hercules, and the next morning related unto the Thebans, the vision which appeared unto him: For he saw as he thought, all the greatest and most principal cities of Greece in a sea, troubled and disquieted with rough winds and violent tempests, wherein they floated and were tossed to and fro. But the city of Thebes surpassed all the rest, for mounted it was on high up to heaven, & afterwards suddenly the sight thereof was lost, that it would no more be seen. And verily these things as a type resembled that which long time after befell unto that city. But Herodotus in writing of this conflict, burieth in silence the bravest act of Leonidas himself, saying thus much barely: They all lost their lives in the straits, about the top of a certain hill. But it was far otherwise. For when they were advertised in the night that the enemies had invested them round about, they arose and marched directy to their very camp, yea and advanced so far forth as they came within a little of the kings royal pavilion, with a full resolution there to kill him, and to leave their lives all about him. And verily down they went withal before them, killing, slaying and putting to flight, as many as they met, even as far as to his tent. But when they could not meet with Xerxes, seeking as they did for him in so vast and spacious a camp, as they wandered up and down searching for him with much ado, at the last hewed in pieces they were by the Barbarians, who on ever side in great number came about them. And albeit we will write in the life of Leonidas, many other noble acts and worthy sayings of his, which Herodotus hath not once touched, yet it shall not be amiss to quote here also by the way, some of them. Before that he and his noble troop departed out of Sparta in this journey, there were exhibited solemn funeral games for his and their sakes, which their fathers and mothers stood to behold: & Leonidas himself, when one said unto him, That he led forth very few with him to fight a battle: Yea but they are many enough (quoth he) to die there. His wife asked him when he took his leave ofher, what he had else to say? No more (quoth he) turning unto her but this, that thou marry again with some good man, and bear him good children. When he was within the vale or pass of Thermopylae, and there environed, two there were in his company of his own race and family, whom he desired to save: So he gave unto one of them all letter to carry whether he directed it, because he would send him away: but the party would not take it at his hands, saying in great cholarand indignation, I am come hither to fight like a warrior, and not to convey letters as a carrier. The other he commanded for to go with credence, and a message from him unto the magistrates of Sparta: but he made answer not by word of mouth, but by his deed: for he took up his shield in hand and went directly to his place, where he was appointed to fight. Would not any man have blamed another for leaving out these things? But this writer having taken the pains to collect and put in writing the basin and close stool of Amasis, and how he broke wind over it; the coming in of certain asses which a these did drive; the congiary or giving of certain bottles of wine, and many other matters of such good stuff; can never be thought, to have omitted through negligence, nor by oversight and forgetfulness, so many worthy exploits, and notable sayings: but even of peevishness, malice and injustice, to some. And thus he saith, that the Thebans at first being with the Greeks, fought indeed, but it was by compulsion, because they were held there by force. For it should seem forsooth, that not only Xerxes, but Leonidas also, had about him a company that followed the camp with whips, to scourge those I trow, who lagged behind, and these good fellows held the Thebans to it, and made them to fight against their wills: And thus he saith that they fought perforce, who might have fled and gone their ways: and that willingly they took part with the Medes, whereas there was not one came in to succour them. And a little after, he writeth, that when others made haste to gain the hill, the Thebans being disbanded and divied asunder, both stretched forth their hands unto the Barbarians, and as they approached near unto them, said that which was most true, namely, that they were Medians in heart, and so in token of homage and fealty, gave unto the king water and earth: that being kept by force they were compelled to come into this pass of Thermopylae, and could do withal, that their king was wounded, but were altogether innocent thereof: By which allegations they went clear away with their matter: For they had the Thessalians witnesses of these their words and reasons. Lo how this apology and justificarion of theirs, had audience among those barbarous outcries of so many thousand men, in those confused shouts and dissonant noises, where there was nothing but running and flying away of one side, chase and pursuit of another: See how the witnesses were deposed, heard and examined. The Thessalians also amid the throng and rout of those that were knocked down and killed, and over those heaps of bodies which were trodden under foot (for all was done in a very gullet and narrow passage) pleaded no doubt very formally for the Thebans: for that a little before they having conquered by force of arms all Greece, chased them as far as to the city Thespiae, after they had vanquished them in battle, and slain their leader and captain Lattamias. For thus much passed even at that very time between the Thebans and the Thessalians: whereas otherwise there was not so much as civil love and humanity, that appeared by mutual offices from one to the other. Besides, how is it possible that the Thebans were saved, by the testimony of the Thessalians? For the Barbarous Medes, as himself saith, partly killed outright such as came into their hands: and in part whiles their breath was yet in their bodies, by the commandment of Xerxes, set upon them a number of the king's marks, beginning first at the captain himself Leontiades. And yet neither was Leontiades the general of the Thebans at Thermopylae, but Anaxander as Aristophanes writeth out of the Annals, and records in the arches of Thebes, as touching their sovereign magistrates: and so Nicander likewise the Colophonian hath put down in his chronicle: neither was there ever any man before Herodotus who knew that Xerxes marked & branded in that manner any Theban: for this had been an excellent plea in their defence against the foresaid calumniation, and a very good means for this city to vaunt and boast of such marks given them, as if king Xerxes meant to punish and plague as his greatest and most mortal enemies, Leonidas and Leontiades. For he caused the one to be scourged, and his body to be hanged up when he was dead; and the other to be pricked whiles he was alive. And this our Historiographer hath used this cruelty which they showed unto Leonidas dead, for a manifest proof that the Barbarous king hated Leonidas in his life time above all men in the world. And in avouching that the Thebans who sided with the Medes at Thermopylae were thus branded & marked as slaves, and afterwards, being thus marked, fought eagerly in the behalf of the same Barbarians before Plateae, me thinks he may well say as Hippoclides the feat moriske dancers, unto whom, when at a feast he bestirred his legs, and hopped artificially about the tables, one said unto him, Thou dancest truly. Hippoclides answered again, Hippoclides careth not greatly for the truth. In his eighth book he writeth that the Greeks being affrighted like cowards, entered into a resolution for to fly from Artemisium into Greece: and that when those of Euboea besought them to tarry still a while, until such time as they might take order how to bestow their wives, children and family, they were nothing moved at their prayers, nor gave any ear unto them, until such time as Themistocles took a piece of money of them, and parted the same between Eurybiades and Adimantus the praetor or captain of the Corinthians. And then they stayed longer, and fought a naval battle with the Barbarians. And verily Pindarus the Poet, albeit he was not of any confederate city, but of that which was suspected and accused to hold of the Medians side, yet when he had occasion to make mention of the battle at Artemisium, broke forth into this exclamation: 
This is the place where Athens youth; sometime as writers say,  
Did with their bood, of liberty the glorious groundwork lay.  But Herodotus chose, by whom some give out that Greece hath been graced and adorned, writeth that the said victory was an act of corruption, bribery and mere theft, and that the Greeks fought against their wills, as being bought and sold by their captains, who took money therefore. Neither is here an end of his malice. For all men in manner do acknowledge and confess, that the Greeks having gotten the upper hand in sea fight upon this coast, yet abandoned the cape Artemisium, and yielded it to the Barbarians, upon the news that they heard of the overthrow received at Thermopylae. For it had been no boot nor to any purpose, for to have sitten still there, and kept the sea for the behoof of Greece, considering that now the war was hard at their doors within those straits, and Xerxes, master of all the Avenies. But Herodotus feigneth, that the Greeks, before they were advertised of Leontidas death, held a counsel and were in deliberation to fly: For these be his words: Being in great distress (quoth he) and the Athenians especially, who had many of their ships, even the one half of their fleet shrewdly bruised and shaken, they were in consultation to take their flight into Greece. But let us permit him thus to name or to reproach rather this retreat of theirs before the battle: but he termed it before, a flight: and now at this present he calleth it a flight: and hereafter he will give it the name of flight, so bitterly is he bend to use this vile word, flight. But (quoth he) there came to the Barbarians presently after this, in a bark or light pinnace a man of Estiaea, who advertised them, how the Greeks had quit the cape Artemisium and were fled: which because they could not believe, they kept the messenger in ward and safe custody, and thereupon put forth certain swift foists in espial to discover the truth. What say you Herodotus? What is it you write? That they fled as vanquished, whom their very enemies themselves after the battle could not believe that they fled, as supposing them to have had the better hand a great deal? And deserveth this man to have credit given him, when he writeth of one particular person, or of one city apart by itself, who in one bare word, spoileth all Greece of the victory? He overthroweth and demolisheth the very Trophaee and monument, that all Greece erected. He abolisheth those titles and inscriptions, which they set up in the honour of Diana, on the East side of Artimisium, calling all this but pride and vainglory. And as for the Epigram, it ran to this effect. 
From Asia land, all sorts of nations stout  
When Athens youth, sometime in naval fight  
Had vanquished, and all these coasts about  
Dispersed their fleet; and therewith put to flight  
And stain the haste of Medes: Lo here in sight  
What monuments to thee with due respect,  
Diana virgin pure, they did erect.  He described not the order of the battles, and how the Greeks were ranged, neither hath he showed what place every city of theirs held, during this terrible fight at sea: but in that retreat of their fleet, which he termeth a flight, he saith, that the Corinthians sailed foremost, and the Athenians hindmost: he should not then have thus trodden under foot, and insulted too much over those Greeks, who took part with the Medes: he (I say) who by others is thought to be a Thurian borne, and reckoneth himself in the number of the Halicarnasseans, and they verily being descended from the Dorians, come with their wives and children to make war against the Greeks. But this man is so far off from naming and alleging before the straits and necessities whereto those states were driven, who sided with the Medians, that he reporteth thus much of the Medians, how notwithstanding the Phocaeans were their captiall enemies, yet they sent unto them aforehand, that they would spare their country, without doing any harm or damage unto it, if they might receive from them as a reward, fifite talents of silver. And this wrote he as touching the Phocaeans in these very terms: The Phocaeans (quoth he) were the only men who in these quarters sided not with the Medians, for no other cause as I find upon mature consideration, but in regard of the hatred which they bore against the Thessalians: for if the Thessalians had been affected to the Greeks, I suppose the Phocaeans would have turned to the Medes. And yet a little after, himself will say, that thirteen cities of the Phocaeans were set on fire, and burnt to ashes by the Barbarian king, their country laid waste, the temple within the city Abes consumed with fire, their men and women both put to the sword, as many as could not gain the top of the mount Parnassus: Nevertheless he rangeth them in the number of those that most affectionately took part with the Barbarians, who indeed, chose rather to endure all extremities and miseries that war may bring, than to abandon the defence and maintenance of the honour of Greece. And being not able to reprove the men for any deeds committed, he busied his brains to devise false imputations, forging and framing with his pen diverse surmises and suspicions against them, not willing that their intentions should be judged by their acts, if they had not been of the same mind and affection with the Thessalians, as if they would have renounced the treason, because their country was already seized by others. If then, a man, who would go about to excuse the Thessalians for siding with the Medes, should say, that they were not willing thereto, but for the hearted which they bore unto the Phocaeans, seeing them adhere and allied to the Greeks, therefore they took the contrary side, and clavae to the Medes, even against their will and judgement: might not he seem to be an egregious flatterer, who thus in favour of others, searching honest pretences to colour and cover foul facts, perverteth the truth? Yes verily, as I think. How them can it otherwise be, but that he shall be taken for a plain sycophant, who saith; that the Phocaeans followed not the better for virtue, but because they knew the Thessalians were of a contrary mind and judgement? For he doth not turn and father this slander and calumniation upon others, as his manner is else where to do, saying, that he heard say, etc. but he affirmeth, that in conferring all things together, himself found no other occasion thereof. He ought then to have alleged withal, his presumptions and proofs; whereby he was persuaded, that they who perform all actions semblable to the best, are yet in will and intention all one with the worst. For the occasion which he allegeth, to wit, enmity, is frivolous, and to be laughed at, because neither the enmity that was between those of Aegina and the Athenians; nor that which the Chalcidians bore against the Eretrians; nor the Corinthians against the Megarians; was a bar to impeach them for joining together in the league of Greece, for the defence of common liberty: like as on the contrary side, the Macedonians most bitter and mortal enemies unto the Thessalians, and those who plagued them most, diverted them not from the confederacy and alliance with the Barbarians. For the public peril, covered and hid their private quarrels: insomuch as abandoning and banishing their passions, they gave their consent, either to honesty for virtue, or to profit for necessity. And yet beside this necessity, wherewith they found themselves overtaken, yea, and forced to submit themselves to the Medes, they returned again to the Greeks side: and hereof Leocrates the Spartan, giveth direct testimony in their behalf. Yea and Herodotus himself being forced and compelled thereto, confesseth in the description of the affairs that passed at Plateae, that the Phocians sided with the Greeks. And no marvel is it, if he be so rough and violent with such as have been infortunate; when as, even those who were present in the action, and hazarded their whole estate for the good of the commonwealth, he transposeth into the rank of enemies and traitors. For the men of Naxos sent three galleys or ships of war to aid the Barbarians in their service: but one of the captains of those vessels named Democritus, persuaded his other two fellows, to turn, and range rather on the Greeks side. See how he can not for his life, praise, but he must withal dispraise: but look when some particular person is commended, he must needs by and by condemn a whole city and nation: Witness hereof, among ancient writers, Hellanicus, and of our modern authors, Ephorus: for the one saith, that the Naxians came to succour the greeks with six galleys, 〈◊〉 the other saith with five: yea and Herodotus himself is convinced to have feigned and falsified this: For the particular chroniclers of the Naxians write, that before time they had repulsed Megabetes the lieutenant of the kings, who with two hundred sail arrived at their Isle, & there rid at anchor: afterwards drove away Datis another general of his, who as he passed by, burned their cities. And if it be so as Herodotus saith elsewhere, that they themselves destroyed their city, by setting it on fire, but the people saved themselves, by flying into the mountains, had they good cause to send aid unto those, who were the cause of the ruin and destruction of their own country, and not to join with them who fought for the common liberty? But that it was not so much to praise Democritus, as to blame the Naxians, that he devised this lie, he showeth evidently by this, that he concealeth and omitteth to speak of the valiant feats of arms, which at that time captain Democritus exploited, according as Simonides showed by this Epigram. 
Democritus in third place gave the charge with all his might,  
What time as Greeks near Salamis, with Medes at sea did fight,  
Five ships of enemies he took: a sixth there chanced to be,  
One of the Greeks in Barbarous hands, and that recovered he.  But why should any man be angry with him about the Naxians? For if their be any Antipodes, as some say there are, who dwell in the other Hemisphere and go opposite unto us, I suppose that they also have heard of Themistocles, and the counsel that he gave unto the Greeks for to fight a naval battle before Salamis, who afterwards caused a temple to be built in the Isle of Melite, unto Diana the wise counsellor, after that the Barbarous king was discomfited. Now this kind and gentle chronicler of ours, refusing as much as lieth in him to avow this exploit, and to transfer the glory thereof unto another, writeth expressly thus. When things stood upon these terms, as Themistocles went a board into his own galley, there was a citizen of Athens named Mnesiphelus, who demanded of him what they had resolved upon in their council? And when he heard that concluded it was to retire with their fleet unto Isthmus or the straits, there to fight a battle at sea even before Peloponnesus: I say unto you (quoth he) again that if they remove the navy from Salamis, you shall never fight more upon the sea for any country of your own: for every man will presently return home to his own city. And therefore if there be any device and means in the world, go your ways and indevor to break this resolution, and if it be possible deal so with Eurybiades, that he may change his mind and tarry here still: And a little after, when he had said that this advice pleased Themistocles wondrous much, & that without making any answer at all he went directly to Eurybiades, he writeth again in these very terms: And sitting near unto him, he relateth what counsel he had heard Mnesiphilus to give, taking it upon himself, and addeth more things beside. Thus see you not how in some sort he brings Themistocles unto an ill name and opinion of lewdness, in that he attributeth unto himself a counsel which was none of his own, but the invension of Mnesiphilus? And afterwards deriding still the Greeks more and more, he saith that Themistocles was no such wise man, as to see what was good and expedient, but failed in his foresight, notwithstanding that for his prudence and cunning he carried the surname of Ulysses. Mary, lady Artemisia borne in the same city that Herodotus was, without the prompting or teaching of any person, but even of her own head, foretold Xerxes that the Greeks could not hold out long, nor make head against him, but would disband and disperse themselves, & every one fly home unto his own city: Neither it is like (quoth she) if you march with your army by land unto Peloponnesus, that they will be quiet and sit still, and take no care to fight at sea for the Athenians: Whereas, Sir, if you make haste to give them a naval battle, I fear me greatly that if your armada receive any foil or damage, it will greatly prejudice your land forces. But here Herodotus wanted nothing but his prophetical verses, to make Artemisia another Sibylla, prophesying of things to come so exactly. Well in regard of this advertisement Xerxes gave her commission to carry his children with her to the city of Ephesw: for he had fogotten belike, to bring any women with him from his toiall city of Susa, in case his children needed a convoy of women to conduct them. But I make no account of such lies as these which he hath devised against us: yet let us only examine a little what slanders he hath raised upon others. He saith that the Athenians give out, how Adimantus the captain of the Corinthians, when the enemies were at the point of giving the charge, and joining battle, in great fear and astonishment fled, not by shoving the ship backward at the poop by little and little after a soft manner of retreat, nor yet making way of evasion and escape closely and with silence through his enemies; but hoising up and spreading full sail, and turning the proes and beak heads about of all his vessels at once. And then there was a fregat or swift pinnace sent out after him, which overtook him about the coasts of Salamis, out of which one cried out unto him: What Adimantus, do you fly indeed, and have you abandoned and betrayed the Greeks? And yet they have the better hand, according as they made their prayers unto the gods for to vanquish their enemies. Now this fregat, we must think verily came down from heaven: for what need had he to use any such tragic engine, or fabric to work such feats, who every where else surpasseth all the Poets tragical in the world, forlying and vanity. Well Adimantus believing the said voice, was reclaimed and returned again to the armada, when all was done, and the business dispatched by others to his hands. Thus goes the bruit and speech among the Athenians. But the Corinthians confess not so much, saying that they themselves were the foremost who in the vaward gave the first onset and charged the enemies in this battle at sea: and on their side bear witness all the other Greeks. And thus dealeth this man in many other places: He soweth slanders here and there upon one or other, to the end that he may not miss but light upon some, fall it out as it will, who may appear most wicked. Like as in this place he speedeth very well in his purpose. For if his slander and accusation be believed, the Corinthians shall sustain infamy: if discredited, the Athenians shall bear the dishonour: or if the Athenians have not lied upon the Corinthians, yet himself hath spared neither of them, but told a lie of them both. For proof hereof, Thucydides who bringeth in an ambassador of Athens, to contest against a Corinthian at Lacedaemon, and speak bravely of their own worthy exploits against the Medes, and namely, of the naval battle of Salamis, chargeth upon the Corinthians no matter of treason nor cowardice in abandoning their colours: for there is no likelihood, that the Athenians would have reproached the city of Corinth in such terms, considering that they saw it engraven in the third place after the Lacedæmonians, and those inscriptions of spoils which won from the Barbarians, were consecrated to the gods. And at Salamis, they permitted them to inter and bury their dead near to the city side, as who were brave warriors, and had borne themselves most valiantly in that service, with an inscription in Elegick verses to this effect: 
Once (passenger) we dwelled in Corinth town,  
Well watered with sea on either side:  
And now our bones thou Isle of renown,  
Height Salamis, within dry mould doth hide:  
Phoenician ships we sunk, that here did ride:  
The Medes so stout we slew and Persians brave,  
That sacred Greece from bondage we might save.  But their Cenotaph or imaginary tomb which was erected in Isthmus, carrieth this Epitaph: 
Lo here we lie, who with our lives set free  
All Greece, near brought to shameful slavery.  Likewise over the offerings which Diodorus one of the captains of the Corinthian galleys, caused to be set up in the temple of Latona, there was this superscription: 
From cruel Medes, these arms which hang in sight,  
The mariners of Theodorus won:  
And as memorial of their naval fight,  
To dame Latona offered them anon.  Adimantus himself, whom Herodotus evermore doth revile and reproach, saying, That he alone of all the captains, went away with a full purpose to fly from Artemisium, and would not stay until the conflict; see what honour he had: 
Friend passenger, here lies sir Adimant  
Entombed, by whose prowess valiant,  
All Greece is crowned with freedom at this day,  
Which else had been to thraldom brought for ay.  For neither is it like that such honour should have been done unto him after his death, if he had been a coward and a traitor; neither would he ever have dared to name one of his daughters Nausinice, that is to say, Victory in battle at sea; another, Acrothinion, which is as much, as the First fruits of spoils won from enemies; and a third, Alexibia, that is to say, Aid against force: also to give unto his son the name of Aristeus, which signifieth a brave warrior: if he had not won some glory and reputation by worthy feats of arms. Moreover, it is not credible, I will not say, that Herodotus, but the meanest and most obscure Carian that is, was ignorant of that glorious and memorable prayer which in those days the Corinthian dames alone of all other Grecian wives made, That it might please the goddess Venus to inspire their husbands with the love and desire to give battle unto the Barbarians. For this was a thing commonly known and divulged abroad, insomuch as Simonides made an Epigram engraven over those their images of brass, which are set up in the temple of Venus, which by report was founded in times passed by Medea, as some say, to this end, that she herself might cease to love her husband; but as others, that Jason her husband might give over the love of one Thetis. And the said Epigram goeth in this manner: 
These ladies here, whose statues stand in place,  
Did whilom prayers to goddess Venus make,  
In Greeks behalf; that it might please her grace  
Them to incite, the wars to undertake.  
Dame Venus then, for those good women's sake  
To Median archers exposed not as a pray  
The Greeks, nor would their Citadel betray.  Such matters as these, he should have written and made mention of, rather than inserted into his history, how Aminocles killed his own son. Over and beside, after he had satisfied himself to the full with most impudentimputations which he charged upon Themistocles, accusing him, that he ceased not secretly to rob and spoil the Isles, without the knowledge of the other captains joined in commission with him; in the end, taketh from the Athenians the crown of principal valiance, and setteth it upon the head of the Aeginets, writing thus: The Greeks having sent the first fruits of their spoils and pillage unto the temple at Delphos, demanded of Apollo in general, whether he had sufficient, and stood content with that portion of the booty: unto whom he answered, that of all other Greeks, he had received enough, & wherewith he was well pleased: but of the Aeginets not so; at whose hands he required the chief prize and honour of prowess, which they won at the battle of Salamis. Thus you see he fathereth not upon the Scythians, the Persians or Egyptians his lying tale, which he coggeth and deviseth, as Aesop doth upon crows, ravens and apes; but he useth the very person of god Apollo Pythius, for to disappoint and deprive the Athenians of the first place in honour, at the battle of Salamis; as also The mistocles of the second, which was adjudged unto him at Isthmus or the straits of Peloponnesus; for that each captain there, attributed the highest degree of prowess to himself, and the next unto him: and thus the judgement hereof growing to no end and conclusion, by reason of the ambition of the said captains, he saith, All the Greeks weighed anchor and departed, as not being willing to confer upon Themistocles the sovereign honour of the victory. And in his ninth and last book, having nothing left to wreak his teen upon, and to discharge his malicious and spiteful stomach, but only the Lacedæmonians, and that excellent piece of service which they performed against the Barbarians before the city of Plateae, he writeth, That the Lacedæmonians, who aforetime feared greatly, that the Athenians being solicited and persuaded by Mardonius, would forsake all other Greeks: now that the straits of Isthmus were mured up & their country safe enough, they took no further care of others, but left them at six and seven, feasting & making holiday at home, deluding the ambassadors of the Athenians, and holding them off with delays, and not giving them their dispatch. And how is it then, that there went to Plateae a thousand and five Spartans', having every one of them seven Ilotes about him, for the guard of his person? How is it (I say) that they taking upon them the adventure of so great a peril, vanquished and discomfited so many thousands of Barbarians? But harken what a probable cause he allegeth: There was (quoth he) by chance, a man at Sparta, named Chileus, who came from Tegaea thither, and sojourned there, for that among the Ephori he had some friends, as between whom and him there was mutual hospitality: He it was who persuaded them to bring their forces into the field, showing unto them that the bulwark and wall for the defence of Peloponnesus would serve in small stead or none, if the Athenians joined once with Mardonius; and this was it that drew Pausantas forth with his power to Plateae: so that if some particular business haply had kept Chileus at home still in Tegea, Greece had never gotten the victory. Again, not knowing another time what to do with the Athenians: one while he extolleth their city on high, and another while he debaseth it as low, tossing it to and fro, saying, that being in question about the second place of honour with the Tegeats, they made mention of the Heraclidae, alleging their valiant acts, which before time they had achieve aganinst the Amazons: the sepultures also of the Peloponnesians, who died under the very walls of the castle Cadmea; and finally that they went down to Marathon vaunting gloriously in words, and taking great joy that they had the conduct of the left wing or point of the battle. Also a little after, he putteth down, that Pausanias & the Spartans' willingly yielded the superiority of command to them, and desired them to take the charge of the right wing themselves, to the end they might confront the Persians, and give them the left; as if they had excused themselves by their disuse, in that they were wont to encounter with the Barbarians. And verily, albeit this is a mere mockery, to say, that they were unwilling to deal with those enemies, who were not accustomed to fight with them: yet he saith moreover, that all the other Greeks, when their captains led them into another place for to encamp in, so soon as ever their standards marched & advanced forward: The horsemen (quoth he) in general fled, and would willingly have put themselves within the city Plateae, but they fled indeed as far as to the temple of Juno. Wherein he accuseth all the Greeks together of disobedience, cowardice, and treason. Finally, he writeth that there were none but the Lacedæmonians and the Tegeates who charged the Barbarians; nor any besides the Athenians, who fought with the Thebans; depriving all other cities equally of their part in the glory of that so noble an exploit: for that there was not one of them who laid hand to work, but sitting all still, or leaning upon their weapons hard by, abandoning and betraying in the mean time, without doing aught, those who fought for their safety, until that the Phliasians, and the Megarians, though long it were first, hearing that Pausanias had the upper hand, ran in with more haste than good speed, and falling upon the cavalry of the Thebans, where they were presently defaited and slain, without any great ado: But the Corinthians (quoth he) were not at this fray, but after the victory, keeping above on the high ground among the mountains, by that means met not with the Thebans horsemen. For the cavalry of the Thebans, seeing the Barbarians to fly all in a rout, put themselves forth before them, to make them way, and by this means very affectionately assisted them in their flight, and all in recompense and by way of thanksgiving, forsooth, (for so you must take it) for those marks which were given them in their faces, within the straight of Thermopilae. But in what rank and place of this battle the Corinthians were ranged, and how they did their devoir, and quit themselves against the Barbarians before Plateae, you may know by that which Simonides writeth of them in these verses: 
Amid the host arraunged stood, and in the battle main,  
Those who inhabit Ephyra, watered with many a vain  
Of lively springs: Men who in feats, of martial arms excel:  
And joinct with them, they that inold sir Glaucus' city dwell,  
Fair Corinth height: and these their deeds of prowess to express,  
A stately gift of precious gold, did afterwards address,  
And consecrate to gods above in heavens: and by the same  
Much amplified their own renown, and their forcfathers' fame.  For this wrote he of them, not by way of a scholastical exercise, as if he taught a school in Corinth: nor as one who of purpose made a song or ballad in praise of the city, but as a chronicler penning the history of these affairs in elegiac verses to that effect. But this writer here of ours, preventeth the conviction of a loud lie, lest he might be taken therewith, by those that should demand of him in this manner: How cometh it then to pass that there be so many sepulchers, tombs, graves, and monuments of the dead, upon which the Plateans even to this day do solemnly celebrate the anniversary effusions, to the ghosts and souls of those that are departed, in the presence of other Greeks assistant with them? And verily in mine opinion he seemeth yet more shamefully to charge theseinations with the crime of treason, in these words following: And these sepultures or places of burial which are seen about Plateae, those I mean which their posterity and successors, being ashamed of this foul fault, that their progenitors were not at this battle, or came too late, cast up, and raised on high, every man for his part in general, for the posterity sake. As for Herodotus he is the only man of all others who hath heard of this absence from the battle, which is reputed treason: But Pausanias, Aristides, the Lacedæmonians and the Athenians, never knew of those Greeks who made default, and would not be at this dangerous conflict: And yet the Athenians neither impeached the Aeginetes though they were their adversaries, that they were not comprised within the inscription, nor yet charged and convinced the Corinthians for flying from the battle at Salamis, considering that Greece beareth witness against them. And verily as Herodotus himself doth testify, ten years after this war of the Medes, Cleadas a citizen of Plateae, to gratify and pleasure the Aeginetes as a friend, raised a great mount bearing their name, as if they had been interred therein. What ailed then the Lacedæmonians and Athenians, or what moved them, being so jealous one of another about this glory as they were, that they had like to have gone together by the ears presently upon the exploit performed, for erecting of a Tropaee or monument of victory, not to deprive them of the price of honour, who upon cowardly fear were either away or else fled from the service, but to suffer their names to be written upon the Tropaees, Colopes and giantlike statues erected in memorial of them, allowing them their part in the spoils and pillage, yea and in the end causing this Epigram or superscription to be engraven upon a public altar? 
The Greeks in sign of noble victory,  
Which they sometimes wan of the Persians host,  
And to retain the thankful memory  
That they them drove away from Grecian coast,  
(So resolute they were or else all had been lost)  
This common alter built to Jupiter  
Surnamed hereupon Deliverer.  How now Herodotus, was it Cleades, or some other I pray you, who in flattery of the Greeks, made this Epigram or Inscription? What need had they then to take such pains & trouble themselves in digging the ground in vain, & by casting up of earth raise such mounts & monuments for the age to come, when as they might see their glory consecrated and immortalised in these most conspicuous and famous memorial, dedicated to the honour of the gods? And verily Pausanias, when as he intended, as men say to usurp tyrannical government, in a certain oblation which he offered in the temple of Apollo at Delphos, set this inscription; 
Pausanias the captain general  
Of all the Greeks: when he had conquered  
The Medes in fight, for a memorial  
This monument to Phoebus offered.  And albeit in some sort he communicated the glory of this execution with the Greeks, whose sovereign captain he termed himself, yet the Greeks being not able to endure it, but utterly misliking him therefore, the Lacedæmonians above the rest sent their ambassadors unto Delphos, and caused the said Epigram to be cut out with a chizzell, and in am thereof, the names of the cities, as good reason was, to be engraven: And yet what likelihood is there, that either the Greeks should take offence and discontentment for being left out in this inscription, in case they were culpable, and privy to themselves, that they were not with others at the battle? or the Lacedæmonians when they razed out and defaced the name of their general and chief commander, cause to be written and engraved their names, who had forsaken and left them in the midst of danger? For this were a manifest indignity, and most absurd, if when Socharus Dipnistus, and all those that performed the best service in that journey, never grieved nor complained that the Cythnians and Melians had their names recorded in those Tropaees, Herodotus in attributing the honour of this battle unto three cities only, should dash all others out, and not suffer their names to stand upon any Tropaees or consecrated places: For whereas there were four battles given then unto the Barbarians, he saith, that the Greeks fled from the cape Artemisium: And at the pass or straits of Thermopylae, whiles their king and sovereign captain exposed himself to the hazard of his life, they kept themselves close at home and sat still, taking no thought for the matter, but solemnised their Olympic games and Carnian feats.  
Moreover when he cometh to describe the battle at Salamis, he speaketh so much of Artemisia, that he spendeth not so many words again, in all the narraton of that naval battle, and the issue thereof. Finally as touching the journey of Plateae, he saith that all other Greeks, sitting idly at their ease, knew nothing of the field fought, before all was done, according as Pigres Artimisias being pleasantly disposed to jest, writeth merrily in verse, that there was a battle between frogs and mice, wherein they were agreed to keep silence, & make no noise all the whiles they fought; to the end that no others might take any knowledge thereof: also that the Lacedæmonians were no better warriors nor more valiant than the Barbarians: but their hap was to defait and vanquish them, because they were naked men and disarmed: For Xerxes himself being present in person, if they had not been followed with whips & scourged forward, had never been able to have made them fight with the Greeks; mary in this journey of Plateae, having changed their hearts and courages (for needs it must be so) they were nothing inferior in boldness of heart, strength of body, and resolution to the Greeks; but it was the apparel, which wanting arms upon it, hurt them so much & marred all, for being themselves lightly appointed and in manner naked, they had to deal with the Lacedæmonians that were heavily armed at all pieces. What honour then or great matter of glory could redound unto the Greeks out of these four battles, in case it be so that the Lacedæmonians encountered naked and unarmed men? And for the other Greeks although they were in those parts present, yet if they knew not of the combat, until the service was done to their hands: and if the tombs honoured yearly by the several cities belonging to them, be empty, and mockeries only of monuments and sepulchers; and if the trevets and altars erected before the gods, be full of false titles and inscriptions; and Herodotus only knew the truth; and all men in the world beside, who have heard of the Greeks, and were quite deceived by the honourable name and opinion that went of them for their singular prowess and admirable virtue; what is their then to be thought or said of Herodotus? Surely that he is an excellent writer, and depainteth things to the life: he is a fine man; he hath an eloquent tongue: his discourses are full of grace, they are pleasant, beautiful, and artificial: and as it was said of a Poet or Musician in telling his tale; how ever he hath pronounced his narration and history not with knowledge and learning, yet surely he hath done it elegantly, smoothly, and with an audible and clear voice. And these I wis be the things that move delight and do affect all that read him. But like as among roses we must beware of the venomous flies Cantharideses: even so we ought to take heed of detractions and backebiting of his base penning likewise of things deserving great praise, which insinuate themselves and creep under his smooth style, polished phrase and figurative speeches: to the end, that ere we be aware we entertain not, nor foster in our heads, false conceits and absurd opinions of the bravest men and noblest cities of Greece.    

OF MUSIC. A Dialogue.  
The persons therein discoursing: ONESICRATES, SOTERICHUS, LYSIAS.  
This treatise, little or nothing at all concerneth the Music of many voices according and interlaced together, which is in use and request at this day; but rather appertaineth to the ancient fashion, which consisteth in the accord and consonance of song with the sense and measure of the letter, as also with the good grace of gesture: and by the style and manner of writing, it seemeth not to be of Plutarch's doing.  
THe wife of that good man Photion, was wont to say, that the jewels and ornaments wherein she joined, were those stratagems and worthy feats of arms which her husband Photion had achieved: but I for my part may well and truly avouch, that the ornaments not only of myself in particular, but also of all my friends and kinsfolk in general, is the diligence of my schoolmaster and his affection in teaching me good literature. For this we know full well, that the noblest exploits and bravest pieces of service performed by great generals and captains in the field, can do no more but only save from present peril or imminent danger, some small army, or some one city, or haply at the most, one entire nation and country; but are not able to make either their soldiers, or citizens, or their countrymen, better in any respect: whereas on the other side, good erudition and learning, being the very substance indeed of felicity, and the efficient cause of prudence and wisdom, is found to be good and profitable not only to one family, city and nation, but generally to all mankind. By how much therefore the profit and commodity ensuing upon knowledge and good letters is greater than that which proceedeth from all stratagems or martial feats; by so much is the remembrance and relation thereof more worthy and commendable. Now it fortuned not long since, that our gentle friend Onesicrates invited unto a feast in his house, the second day of the saturnal solemnities, certain persons very expert and skilful in Music, and among the rest, Soterichus of Alexandria, and Lysias, one of those who received a pension from him: and after the ordinary ceremonies and compliments of such feasts were performed, he began to make a speech unto his company after this manner: My good friends (quoth he) I suppose, that it would not beseem a feast or banquet, to search at this time what is the efficient cause of man's voice; for, a question it is, that would require better leisure and more sobriety: but for as much as the best Grammarians define voice, to be the beating or percussion of the air, perceptible unto the sense of hearing, and because that yesterday we inquired and disputed as touching Grammar, and found it to be an art making profession and very meet, to frame and shape voices according to lines and letters, yea, and to lay them up in writing, as in the treasury and storehouse of memory; let us now see what is the second science next to it, that is meet and agreeable to the voice: and this I take to be Music. For a devout and religious thing it is, yea, and a principal duty belonging unto men, for to sing the praises of the gods, who have bestowed upon them alone this gift of a distinct and articulate voice: which Homer also by his testimony hath declared in these verses: 
Then all day long the Grecian youth in songs melodious  
Besought god Phoebus of his grace, to be propitious:  
Phoebus I say, who from afar doth shoot his arrows nigh,  
They chant and praise; who takes great joy, to hear such harmony.  Go to therefore my masters, you that are professed Musicians, relate unto this good company here that are your friends, who was the first inventor of Music; what it is that time hath added unto it afterwards; who they were that became famous by the exercise and profession of this science; as also, to how many things and to what, is the said study and practrise profitable. Thus much as touching that which Onesicrates our master moved and propounded; whereupon Lysias inferred again, and said: You demand a question, good Onesicrates, which hath already been handled and discussed: for the most part of the Platonique Philosophers, and the best sort of the Peripatetics have employed themselves in the writing of the ancient Music, and of the corruption that in time crept into it. The best Grammarians also and most cunning Musicians, have taken great pains and traveled much in this argument; and yet there is no small discord and jar among them, as harmonical otherwise as they be about these points. Heraclides in his breviary, wherein he hath collected together all the excellent professors of Music, writeth that Amphion devised first the manner of singing to the Lute or Cithern, as also the Citharaedian poesy; for being the son of Antiope and Jupiter, his father taught him that skill. And this may be proved true, by an old evidence or record enroled, and diligently kept in the city Sicyone, where in he nameth certain Priestresses in Argos, as also Poets and Musicians. In the same age, he saith, there lived Linus also of Euboea, who composed certain lamentable and doleful ditties; Anthes likewise of Anthedon in Boeotia, who made hymns; and Picrius borne in Pieria, who wrote poëmes upon the Muses: he maketh mention beside of Philammon a Delphian, who reduced into songs and canticles the nativity of Latona, Diana and Apollo; and he it was who instituted first the quires and dances about the temple of Apollo in Delphos. And as for Thamyris a Thracian borne, he reporteth, that of all men living in those days, he had the sweetest breast, and sung most melodiously, insomuch as if we may believe Poets, he challenged the Muses, & contended with them in singing. It is written moreover, that this Thamyris compiled in verse the war of the Titans against the Gods; as also, that Demodocus of Corcyra was an ancient Musician, who indited a poem of the destruction of Troy, and the marriage between Venus and Vulcan: Semblably, that Phemius of Ithaca wrote in verse of the return of those Greeks from Troy, who came home again with Agamemnon. Furthermore, it is said, that the style of those poems abovesaid, was not loose and in prose, without metrical numbers, but like unto that of Stesichorus and other old Poets and songmakers, who first made naked ditties in verse, and afterwards arrayed them with Musical tunes and notes: for the same author reporteth, that Terpander a maker of songs with notes and measures to be sung unto the Lute or Cithern, according to each law and rule of the said measures, adorned both his own verses and those of Homer also, with harmonical tunes, and sung them accordingly at the solemn games, wherein Musicians sing one against the other for the prize: he affirmeth likewise, that the same Terpander was the first who imposed names and terms to those tunes which are to be sung to the foresaid stringed instruments: and in imitation of Terpander, Clonas first composed songs and set tunes to the fluit and other wind instruments, as also the Prosodies and sonnets sung at the entry of sacrifices, and that he was a Poet who made Elegiac and Hexameter verses; also, that Polymnestus the Colophonian, who came after him, used likewise the same poems. Now the metrical laws and songs in measures, called in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which these Poets and Musicians used to the pipe, were termed (good One sicrates) in this sort, namely, Apothetoes, Elegi, Comarchios, Schoenton, Cepion, Dios and Trimeles: but in process of time, were devised others beside, called Polymnastia. As for the Musical laws or tunes to be sung unto the stringed instrument, they were invented long time before those other belonging to pipes, by Terpande; for he beforetime named those of the stringed instruments, Boeotius, Aeolius, Trochaeus, Oxies, Caepion, Terpandrios and Tetraoedios. Furthermore, the said Terpander made certain prooemes or voluntary songs to the Lute, in verse. Now, that the songs or ditties to be sung unto stringed instruments, were composed in old time of Hexamiter verses, Timotheus giveth us to understand; for mingling the first metrical rules in his verses, he sung the Dithyrambic dirty, to the end, that he might not seem immediately at the first, to break the laws of the ancient Music. This Terpander seemeth to have been excellent in the art of playing upon the Lute and singing to it; for we find upon record in ancient tables written, that four times together, one after another, he carried the prize away at the Pythian games: and no doubt, of great antiquity he was. Certes, Glaucus the Italian writer, will have him to be more ancient than Archilochus; for so he writeth in a certain treatise as touching the old Poets and Musicians, saying, that he followed in the second place after those who instituted first songs unto the slut and other pipes. And Alexander in his breviary of the Poets and Musicians of Phrygia, recordeth Olympus to be the first man who brought into Greece the feat and skill of striking the strings of instruments, and beside, those that are called Idaei Dactyli. But Hyagnis was the first by his saying, who played upon pipes: after him, his son Marsyas, and then Olympus: also, that Terpander imitated Homer in verses, and Orpheus in song: as for Orpheus, it should seem, that he imitated none, considering that before him there was not one, but those Poets who made ditties and songs to pipes, wherewith the works of Orpheus have no resemblance at all. Touching this Clonas a composer of songs and tunes for the pipe, who lived somewhat after the time of Terpander, he was a Tegeaean borne, as the Arcadians say, or rather as the Boeotians give out, a Theban. After Terpander and Clonas, Archilochus is ranged in a third place, howsoever other Chroniclers write, that Ardalus the Troezenian ordained the Music of pipes before Clonas, as also, that there was one Polymnestus a Poet the son of Meles a Colophonian, who made those tunes and songs which carry the name of Polymnestos and Polymneste. True it is, that those who compiled the tables and records of Musicians, make mention that Clonas devised these two songs or tunes named Apothetoes and Schoemos. And as for the above named Polymnestus, Pindarus and Alcman both songmakers, made mention of him; and they report beside, that old Philammon of Delphos composed some of those songs and tunes to the Lute and Harp, which be attributed unto Terpander. In sum, the song and music to the Lute and Harp, devised by Terpander, continued very plain and simple, unto the days of Phrynis: for in old time, it was not lawful to sing voluntary, as now they do at their pleasure, to stringed instruments; nor to transfer either harmonies or musical numbers and measures: for according to every song and tune, they kept a proper and peculiar tension or stretching of the strings; which is the reason that they be called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as one would say, Laws, because it was not lawful to transgress in any of these songs or tunes, that several kind of tension & stretching the strings, which was usual and ordinary. For after that they had performed those songs which appertain to the pacifying of God's wrath, they leapt immediately to the Poetry of Homer and of others, at their pleasure, which may evidently appear, by the prooemes and voluntary tunes of Terpander. And verily, about this time, according as Caepion the scholar of Terpander reporteth, was first form that manner of Lute or Cithern which was called Asias, for that the Lesbian Minstrels and Musicians, who bordered hard upon Asia, used such a form: and it is said, that Periclitus was the last player upon such an instrument, who won the prize at the Carnian games at Lacedaemon, of all those who were Lesbians borne: after whose death ever after, there failed in Lesbos, that continual succession of such Musicians. But some there be, who are greatly deceived, to think that Hipponax was of the same time with Terpander: and it seemeth that even Pertclitus was more ancient than Hipponax.  
Having thus declared the old metrical songs and tunes jointly together, of Musicians to stringed instruments and pipes, let us turn now to such as properly concern those that pertain to players upon pipes alone: for it is said, that the abovenamed Olympus being a player of the flute and other pipes, and came out of Phrygia, set a song to his instrument in the honour and praise of Apollo, and the same was called Polycephalus: and by report, this Olympus descended lineally from that first Olympus the scholar of Marsyas, who composed ditties, and set tunes for the worship of the gods: for this Olympus being the darling of Marsyas, and singularly loved of him, learned likewise of him to play upon the flute and other pipes, and by that means brought into Greece those harmonical tunes and songs, which at this day the Greeks use at the solemn feasts of the gods. Others are of opinion, that the foresaid song or tune Polycephalus, is to be ascribed unto Crates ascholar of Olympus: but Pratinas writeth, that this song came from another Olympus of later time; and as for that other kind of song or tune named Harmation, the first Olympus, disciple to Marsyas, by report, composed it. And some there be who hold, that Marsyas was named Masses: others say no, and that he was called Marsyas only, being the son of Hyagnis, who first devised the art of playing upon the flute. And that this Olympus was the author of the music or tune, named Harmatias, appeareth by the table or register of the ancient Poets, collected by Glaucus: and by the same, a man may also learn, that Stesichorus borne in Himera, proposed to himself for to imitate, neither Terpander, nor Antilochus, ne yet Thaletoes, but Olympus; using altogether the law of Music Harmatias, and that form of measure which is according to Dactylus: and that, some say, ariseth from the loud music called Orthios, but others hold, that it was an invention of the Mysians, for that there were certain ancient pipers of the Mysians. Moreover, there is another antic song or tune, called Cradias', according to which (as Hipponax saith) Mimnermus played: for at the beginning, the minstrels and players of pipes, sung certain Elegies, reduced into measures and metrical laws, which appeareth by the tables and registers, that testify what Musicians they were, that contended at the games of prize, in the festival Panathenacke solemnities. Moreover, there was one Sacadas of Argos, a Poet that made songs and elegies or ditties, reduced into measures, for to be sung: and reckoned he is among the better sort of Poets, and as it appeareth upon record in those registers, he wan the best game three times at the Pythian solemnities. And Pindarus himself maketh mention of him. And whereas there be three kinds of tunes and measures in Music, according to Polymnestus and Sacadas, to wit, the Prygian, Dorian, and the Lydian, they say, that in every one of them Sacadas made a certain flexion or tune, called Strophe, and taught the Chorus to sing the first according to the Dorian tune; the second after the Phrygian measures; and the third, to the Lydian music: and that this manner of song was thereupon called Trimeres, by reason of the three changes or parts: Howbeit, in the tables and registers of the ancient Poets, which are to be seen at Sioyone; it is observed and noted, that it was Clonas who devised this melody or music Trimeres. Now the first manner of music, ordained and instituted in the city of Sparta, by Terpander, was in such sort. The second was appointed as it is most generally received, by Thaletas the Gortynian, by Xenodamus the Cytherian, Xenocritus the Locrian, Polymnestus the Colophonian, and Sacadas the Argive; as the principal authors and directors: for as these were they who instituted first at Lacedaemon the naked dances called Gymnopedia, so in Areadia they ordained those that were termed Apodixes; and in Argos the Endymaties. As for Thaletas, Xenodamus, and Xenocritus, they were the Poets that composed the songs of victory, named Paeanes: Polymnestus, of the Orthian canticles; and Sacadas of the elegies. Others say, that Xenodamus was the Poet who invented the songs entitled Hyporchemata, at the sound whereof, folk danced at the feasts of the gods: but he devised not the Paeanes aforesaid, as Pratinas did. And even at this day, there is a sonnet extant of this very same Xenodamus, which is evidently an Hyporchema; and this kind of poesy Pindarus useth. Now that there is a difference between a Paean and an Hyperchema, the works of Pindarus sufficiently do show, for he hath written as well the one as the other. Polymnestus also made songs and ditties to the flute: and in Orthian canticles, used measures and melody, according as our harmonical Musicians give it out: As for us, we know not the truth, because our ancients have left nothing in writing thereof. There is some doubt also, whether Thaletas of Candie were a Poet that made Paeans: For Glaucus in saying, that he was after Archilochus, writeth indeed, that he imitated his songs; but he extended them farther, and made them longer, inserting the measures Maron and Creticus into his melody, which Archilochus never used, nor Orpheus, nor yet Terpander: for it is said, that Thaletas learned this from Olympus his playing and piping, and was reputed a good Poet. As touching Xenocritus of Locres in Italy, it is not yet resolved and for certain known, that he was a maker of Paeanes. Certes, it is confidently said, that he took for the subject matter and argument of his Poesy heroic deeds, insomuch as some term his arguments Dithyrambes. Glaucus assureth us, that Thaletas was more ancient than Xenocritus. And Olympus as Aristocritus writeth, is reputed by Musicians to have been the inventor of the Music called Euharmonian: for before his time, all Music was either Diatonique, or Chromatique: and it is conjectured to have been invented in this manner: For Olympus practising the Diatonique Music, and extending his song otherwhiles as far as to the note Parhypate Diatonique, sometimes from Paramesa, and sometime from Mese, and surpassing Lichenos Diatonique, observed the sweetness and beauty of such an affection, and the composition arising of that proportion, and allowing it to be good, inserted it in the Dorian Music: for he touched nothing of that which properly pertaineth to the Diatonique or Chromatique kind, neither meddled he with that which concerned harmony. And these were the beginnings of the euharmonique Music: For first of them they put a Spondaeus, wherein no division showeth that which is proper, unless a man having an eye unto a vehement Spondiasme, will conjecture and say the same to be a kind of Diatonos. But manifest it is, that he will put a falsity and discord, who thus setteth it down: A falsity (I say) in that it is by one Diesus less than the tone or note that is next unto the prime, and a discord or dissonance: for that if a man do set in the power of a Toniaeum, that which is proper unto a vehement Spondiasme, it will fall out that he shall place jointly together, two Diatoniques, the one simple, and the other compound, for this euharmonique reenforced, and coming thick upon the Mese, which now adays is so much used, seemeth not to be devised by the Poet. Thus may a man soon perceive, if he observe and mark one very well, who playeth upon a pipe after the old manner: For by his good will, the Hemitone in the Mese, will be incompounded. Thus you see what were the first rudiments and beginnings of Euharmoniques: But afterwards the demi-tone, was divided and distracted as well in Lydian as in Phrygian Music: and it seemeth that Olympus hath amplified and augmented Music, because he brought in that which never yet was found, and whereof his predecessors all were ignorant; so that he may very well be thought the Greekish and elegant Musician. Semblably we are to speak of the numbers and measures in Music called Rhythmi: for devised there were and found out to the rest, certain kinds and special sorts of Rhythmi, as also there were those who ordained and instituted such measures and numbers. For the former innovation of Terpander, brought one very good form into Music: Polymnestus after that of Terpander another: which he used, and yet he adhered also to that good form and figure before. Semblably did Thaletas and Sacadas: And these men verily were sufficient in making of these Rhythmi, and yet departed not from that good and laudable form: But Crexus, Timotheus, and Philoxenus, and those about their age, were overmuch addicted to new devices, and loved novelties, in affectiong that figure which in these days is called Philanthropon, that is to say, human; and Thematicon, that is to say, positive. For antiquity embraced few strings, simplicity also, and gravity of Music. Thus having according to my skill & ability discoursed of the primitive Music, and of the first authors who invented it, and by what inventions in process of time it grew to some mean perfection, I will break off my speech, and make an end, giving leave to our friend Soterichus for to speak in his turn, who is a man not only well studied in Music, and as well practised therein, but also thoroughly seen in all other learning, & liberal literature. For mine own part I am better acquainted with the fingering Music & manual practice than otherwise.  
When Lysias had thus said, he held his peace: and then Soterichus after him began thus: You have here good Onesicrates moved and exhorted us to discourse of Music, a venerable science, and a profession right pleasing to the gods: and for mine own part, I greatly approve of my master Lysias, as well for his good conceit and knowledge, as for his memory, whereof he hath given us a sufficient proof, by reciting the authors and inventors of the first Music, and the writers also thereof. This will I put you in mind by the way, that in all his proofs he hath reported himself, to the registers and records of those who have written thereof, and to nothing else. But I am of a far other mind, and think verily that no earthly man was the inventor of this so great good, which Music bringeth with it unto us, but even god Apollo himself, who is adorned with all manner of virtues. For neither Marsyas, nor Olympus, ne yet Hyagnis, as some do think, devised the use of the flute and pipe, no more than both of the one and the other: the lute or harp only was the invention of Apollo: for this god devised the play which may easily be known by the dances, and solemnities of sacrifices, which were brought in with the sound of hautboys and flutes, to the honour of that god: according as Alcaeus among many others, hath left written in one of his hymns: moreover, his very image in the Isle of Delos testifieth as much, where he is portrayed standing thus; holding in his right hand a bow, and in his left the Graces, and every one of them hath an instrument of Music; the one an harp or lute; another the shaulme or hautboys; and she in the mids a flute or shrill fife near unto her mouth. And because I would not have you to think, that I have picked this out of mine own fingers ends; both Anticles and Hister in their Commentaries, and Elucidartes, of these things do quote and allege as much. As for the image aforesaid, and the dedication thereof, so ancient it is, that by report, it was made and erected in the time that Hercules lived. Moreover, the child that bringeth the laurel out of the valley of Tempe to the city of Delphos, is accompanied with a piper or player of the hautboys: yea and the sacrifices which were wont in old time to besent from the Hyperborcans into the Isle of Delos, went with a sort of hautboys, flutes, pipes, and lutes or stringed instruments about them. And some there be who say more than this, namely, that god Apollo himself played upon the flute and hautboys. And thus writeth Alcman an excellent Poet, and maker of sonnets. And Corinna saith furthermore, that Apollo was taught by Minerva, for to pipe. See how honourable and sacred every way Music is, as being the very invention of the gods. And in old time they used it with great reverence, and according to the dignity thereof, like as they did all other such exercises and professions: whereas in these days men rejecting and disdaining the majesty that it hath, in stead of Music, manly, holy and acceptable to the gods, bring that into the theatres, which is effeminate, enervate, broken, puling and deceitful. And therefore Plato in this third book of his Common-weath, is offended with such Music, and utterly rejecteth the Lydian harmony, which is meet for moans and lamentations, like as it is said, that the first institution and making thereof was lamentable: for Aristoxenus in his first book of Music reporteth, that Olympus sounded with the hautboys a doleful and funeral dump in Lydian Music, upon the death of Python. And others there be who affirm, that Melanippides began first this tune. Pindarus in his Paeans saith, that this Lydian Music began first to be taught at the wedding of Niobe: others, that one Torebus used first this harmony, according as Dionysius jambus writeth. The Myxolydian Music also, is full of affection, and in that regard meet for tragedies. Aristoxenus writeth, that Sapph invented first this Myxolydian harmony, of whom the tragedy makers learned it, and joined it with the Dorian: for that as the one giveth a certain dignity and stately magnificence, so the other moveth affections: and a tragedy you wot well is mixed of them both: Howbeit, in their rolls and registers, who have written of Musicians, it is said, that Pythoclides, the player of the hautboys, was the first inventor of this Music. But Lysis referreth the invention thereof to Lamprocles the Athenian, who having found and perceived, that the disjunction is not there where in manner all others think it is, but toward that which is high and small, made such a form and figure thereof, as is from Paramese to Hypate Hypaton. Likewise the Sublydian Music, if it be contrary unto the Myxolydian, and in resemblance coming near unto the jonique, was by report devised by Damon the Athenian: Now because of these two harmonies, the one is mournful and lamentable, the other dissolute and enervate; Plato had good reason to reject them both: and therefore he chose the Dorian, as that which is most beseeming valiant, sober and temperate men: not I assure you because he was ignorant (as Aristoxenus saith, in his second book of Musicians and Music) that in the other there was some thing good for a commonwealth, and circumspect policy: (for Plato had much applied his mind unto Music, as having been the scholar of Draco the Athenian, & Metellus the Agrigentine) but considering as we have said before, that there was more gravity and dignity in the Dorian Music, he preferred the same before the rest. And yet he wist well enough, that Pindarus, Alcman, Simonides, and Bacchylides, had written and set many other Parthenies to the Dorian Music: besides Prosodies and Paeans also. Neither was he ignorant, that tragical plaints, and doleful moans, yea, and amatorious ditties, were composed for to be sung in this Dorian tune. But he stood sufficed and contented with those which were indited to the praise of Mars and Minerva, and with Spondaes'; for these are sufficient to & confirm the mind of a temperate and sober man. Neither was he unskilful in the Lydian Music, nor the lonian; for he knew well enough that the tragedy used this kind of melody. Moreover, all our ancients before time, being not unexpert of all other kinds of Music, yet contented themselves with the use of one. For ignorance or want of experience, was not the cause that they ranged themselves into so narrow a straight, & were contented with so few strings: neither are we to think that Terpander and Olympus, and they that followed their sect; for default of skill and experience, cut off the multiplicity of strings, and their variety. Witness hereof the Poems of Terpander, Olympus, and all their followers, and such as took their course: for being but simple, and having no more than three strings, yet are they more excellent than those which consist of many strings, and be full of variety; in such sort, as no man is able to imitate the manner of Olympus; and all those who use many strings and variety, be far short, and come behind him. Now that our ancients in old time abstained from the third, in that Spondeaik kind, not upon ignorance, they show sufficiently in the use of striking the strings: for never would they have used the accord and consonance with Pare-hypate, if the use thereof had been unknowen unto them: but certain it is, that beauty of affection which is in the Spondeaik kind, by the third, was it that led their sense to raise & exalt their note and song to Paranete: and the same reason also there is of Neat: For this verily they used to their stroke of the instrument, to wit, unto Paranete in discord, & unto Mese in accord. But in song they seemed not unto them, proper and fit for the Spondeaik kind. And not only in these, but also in Neat of the Tetrachord conjunct, all used so to do: For in the very stoake of the strings, they disaccorded with Paranete, Paramese, and Lichanos, but in song, they were ashamed thereof, for the very affection that resulted thereupon. Moreover, it appeareth manifestly by the Phrygians, that this was not for any ignorance of Olympus, or his sectaries: for they used it not only in fingering, and in the stroke of the strings, but also in singing at the solemn feasts of the great mother of the gods, Cybile, and in some other Phrygian solemnities. It appeareth also manifestly, by the Hypates, that it was not for ignorance that in the Dorian tunes they forbore this Tetrachord, for incontinently in other tunes they used it: so that it is evident that they did it wittingly but to avoid affection they took it out of the Dorique Music, honouring the beauty and honesty thereof: as we may observe some such like thing in tragical Poets. For never yet to this very day, did the tragedy use Chromaticke music, nor rhyme: whereas the cithern or lute, which by many ages is more ancient than the tragedy used it even from the very beginning. And evident it is that Chroma is of greater antiquity than is Harmony. For we must account this antiquity, whereby the one is said to be more ancient than an other, according to the use & practice of men, because in regard of the nature of thesekinds' one is not elder than another. If then some one would say, that Aeschylus or Phrynichus forbore to use Chromaticke Music upon ignorance, & for that they knew it not, were he not think you very absurd and much deceived? For the same man might as well say that Pancrates also was ignorant of this Chromaricke kind, because for the most part he forbore to use it: and yet in some places he used it. So that it was not for want of knowledge, but of set purpose, and upon judgement that he abstained from it. He imitated then, as he saith himself, the manner of Pindarus and Simonides, and in one word, that which the modern Musicians call the ancient Music. The like reason there is of Tyrtaeus the Mantinean, of Andrea's the Corinthian, Thrasyllus the Phliasian, and of many others whom we know upon good consideration to have abstained from the Chromaticke, from change and multiplicity of strings, yea and many other things interserted which are in common use, namely rhymes, harmonies, ditties, songs, and interpretations. And not to go far for proof hereof, Telephanes the Megarian was so great an enemy to flutes, fises, and small pipes, that he would never abide the artificers and pipe-makers so much as to set them to the shawme and hautboys; and for this cause especially, he forbore to come unto the Pythicke or Apollican games of prize. In sum, if a man will conjecture that if a thing be not used, it is long of ignorance, he might condemn of ignorance many of those who live in these days; as for example the Dorioneans, because they despise the Antigenidian kind of Music, for that they used it not. To the Antigenidians likewise they might impute ignorance of the Dirionian Music, for the same cause, as also the minstrels & harpers, as ignorant of the manner of Timotheus his Music. For they have in manner all betaken themselves to patcheries and fallen to the Poëmes of Polydius. On the other side, if a man consider aright, and with experience make comparison between that which then was and that which now is, he shall find that variety and diversity was in use and request even in those days also. For the ancient Musicians used in their numbers and measure, their variety, much more divers & different than now it is. So that we may boldly say that the variety of thymes, the difference also and diversity of strokes was then more variable. For men in these days love skill and knowledge, but in former times they affected numbers and measures. So that it appeareth plainly that the ancients abstained from broken Music and song, not because they had no skill, but for that they had no will to approve thereof. And no mervell: for many fashions there be in the world and this our life, which are well enough known, though they be not practised: many strange they be by reason of disuse, which grew upon occasion that some thing was observed therein, not decent & seemly. But, that it was not for ignorance, nor want of experience, that Plato rejected other kinds of Music, but only because they were not beseeming such a common wealth of his, we will show hereafter: and withal that he was expert and skilful in harmony: For in that procreation of the soul which he describeth in the book of Timaeus, he declareth what study he had employed in other Mathematical studies and in Music beside, writing after this manner: Thus in manner (quoth he) did God at the first: And after that, he filled the double and treble intervals, in cutting off one portion from thence, and putting it between both of them: in such sort as in every interval or distance, there were two moieties. Certes, this Exordium or Prooeme, is a sufficient proof of skill and experience in harmony, according as we will show hereafter. Three sorts of primitive medieties there be, out of which all other be drawn, to wit, Arithmetical, Geometrical, and Harmonical. Arithmetical is that which surmounteth, and is surmounted in equal number: Geometrical, in even proportion: and Harmonical neither in reason and proportion nor in number. Plato therefore intending to declare harmonically, the harmony of the four elements of the soul, and the cause why things so diverse accorded together: in each interval hath put down tow medieties of the soul, and that according to musical proportion. For in the accord Diapason in Music, two intervals there are between two extremities, whereof we will show the proportion. For the accord Diapason consisteth in a double proportion: as for example, six and twelve, will make a double proportion in number: And this interval, is from Hypate Meson, unto Neat Diczeugmenon: Now six and twelve being the two extremities: Hypate Meson containeth the number of six, and Neat Diezeugmenon that of twelve. It remaineth now, that we ought to take unto these the mean numbers between these two extremities; the extremes whereof will be found, the one in proportion Epitritos or 〈◊〉 the other Hemiotios, or sesquialterall. And these be numbers eight and nine. For eight is serquitertian to six and nine, sesquialterall. Thus much as touching one of the extremes. As for the other which is twelve, it is above nine in sesquitertian proportion, and above eight in sesquialterall. These two numbers then, being between six and twelve, and the interval 〈◊〉 compounded and consisting of Diatesseron and Diapente, it appeareth that Mese shall have the number of eight, and Paramese, the number of nine: which done there will be the same habitude, from Hypate and Mese, that is from Paramese to Nete, of a disjoint Tetrachord. The same proportion is found also in numbers, for the same reason that is from six to eight, is from nine to twelve, and look what reason there is between six and nine, the same is between eight and twelve. Now between eight and six the proportion is sesquitertian, as also between twelve and nine. But between nine and six, sesquialterall, like as between twelve and eight. Thus much may serve to show that Plato was well studied and very expert in the Mathematics.  
Now that harmony is a venerable, worthy and divine thing, Artstotle the desciple of Plato testifieth in these words: Harmony (quoth he) is celestial, of a beautiful and wonderful nature and more than humane: which being of itself divided into four, it hath two medieties, the one arithmetical, the other harmonical; and of the parts thereof the magnitudes and extremities are seen according to number and equality of measure: for accords in song are appropriate and fitted in two Tetrachords. These be the words of Aristotle: who said that the body of harmony is composed of parts dislike, and accordant verily one with the other, but yet the medieties of the same agree according to reason arithmetical: for that Neat according to Hypate, by double proportion maketh an accord and consonants of Diapason: For it hath as we have before said, Neat of twelve unities, and Hypate of six, & Paramese according with Hypate, in proportion sesquialterall of nine unities. But of Mese, we say, that it hath eight unities: & the principal intervals of Music are composed of these: to wit, Diatessaron, which consisteth of a proportion sesquitertian, & of Diapente, which standeth upon a sesquialterall: and Diapason of a duple: For so is preserved the proportion sesquioctave, which is accordingto the proportion Toniaeus. Thus you see how the parts of harmony do both surmount and also are surmounted of other parts, by the same excess: and the medieties of medieties, as well according to express in numbers, as Geometrical puissance. Thus Aristotle declareth them to have these and such like powers, namely that Neat surmounteth Mese by a third part, and that Hypate is semblably surmounted of Paramese: in such sort as these excesses, are of the kind of Relatives, which have relation to another: for they surmount and be surmounted by the same parts. And therefore by the same proportion the two extremes of Mese and Paramese, do surmount, and be surmounted, to wit sesquitertian and sesquialterall. And after this fort is the harmonical excess. But the excess of Neat and Mese by arithmetical proportion, showeth the exuperances' in equal party: and even so Paramese in proportion to Hypate: for Paramese surmounteth Mese in proportion sesquioctave: Like as again Neat is a double proportion of Hypate: and Paramese of Hypate in proportion sesquialterall: and Mese sesquitertian in regard of Hypate. See then how harmony is composed according to Aristotle himself, of her parts and numbers. And so verily by him it is composed most naturally of a nature as well finite as infinite: both of even and also of odd, itself and all the parts thereof: for itself totally and whole is even, as being composed of four parts or terms: the parts whereof and their proportions, be even, odd, and even not even. For neat it hath even of twelve unities: Paramese odd of nine unities: Mese even of eight unities, and Hypate even not even of six unities. So that harmony thus composed both itself and the parts thereof one to the other, as well in excess as in proportions, the whole acordeth with the whole and the parts together. And that which more is, the very senses being inserted and engraffed in our bodies by harmony, but principally those which are celestial and divine, namely sight and hearing, which together with God give understanding and discourse of reason unto men with the voice and the light, do represent harmony: yea and the other inferrior senses which follow them, in as much as they be senses, are likewise composed by harmony: for all their effects they perform not without harmony, and howsoever they be under them and less noble, yet they yield not for all that: for even they entering into the body accompanied with the presence of a certain divinity, together with the discourse of reason, obtain a forcible and excellent nature. By these reasons evident it is that the ancient Greeks, made great account, and not without good cause, of being from their infancy well instructed and trained up in Music: for they were of opinion, that they ought to frame and temper the minds of young folk unto virtue and honesty by the means of Music, as being right profitable to all honest things, and which we should have in great recommendation, but especially and principally for the perilous hazards of war: In which case some used the Hautboys, as the Lacedæmonians, who chanted the song called Castorium, to the said instruments, when they marched in ordinance of battle, for to charge their enemies. Others made their approach, for to encounter and give the first onset, with the noise of the Lyra that is to say, the harp or such like stringed instruments. And this we find to have been the practice of the Candiots for a long time, for to use this kind of Music, when they set forth and advanced forward to the doubtful dangers of battle. And some again continue even to our time in the use of Trumpets sound. As for the Argives, they went to wrestle at the solemn games in their city called Sthenia with the sound of the Hautboys. And these games, were by report instituted at first in the honour and memory of their king Danaus: and afterwards again were consecrated to the honour of Jupiter surnamed Sthenius. And verily even at this day, in the Pentathlian games of prize, the manner and custom is to play upon the Hautboys, and to sing a song thereto, although the same be not antic nor exquisite, nor such as was wont to be played and sung in times past as that Canticle composed sometime by Hierax, for this kind of combat, and named it was Eudrome. Well though it be a faint and feeble manner of song, yet somewhat, such as it was, they used with the Hautboys. And in the times of greater antiquity it is said that the Greeks did not so much as know Theatrical Music, for that they employed all the skill & knowledge thereof in the service and worship of the gods, & in the institution and bringing up of youth, before any Theatre was built in Greece by that people: but all the Music that yet was, they bestowed to the honour of the gods and their divine service in the temples, also in the praises of valiant and worthy men: So that it is very probable that these terms Theatre afterwards, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 long before were derived of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, God. And verily in our days, Music is grown to such an height of difference and diversity, that there is no mention made, nor memory remaining of any kind of Music for youth to be taught, neither doth any man set his mind thereto, or make profession thereof: but look whosoever are given to Music, betake themselves wholly to that of theatres for their delight. But some man may haply say unto me: What good sir, think you that in old time they devised no new Music and added nothing at all to the former? Yes I wis, I confess they did adjoin thereto some new inventions, but it was with gravity and decency. For the historians who wrote of these matters, attributed unto Terpander the Dorian Nete, which before time they used not in their songs and tunes: And even so it is said that the Myxolidien tune was wholly by him devised to the rest: as also the note of the melody Orthien: and the song named Orthius, by the Trochaeus, for sounding the al' arm and to encourage unto battle.  
And if it be true as Pindarus saith, Terpander was the inventor of those songs called Scolia, which were sung at feasts. Archilochus also adjoined those rhymes or jambicke measures called Trimetra: the translation also and change into other number and measures of a different kind, yea, and the manner how to touch and strike them. Moreover, unto him, as first inventor, are attributed the Epodes, Tetrameter, iambics, Procritique and Prosodiacks; as also, the augmentation of the first, yea, and as some think, the Elegy itself: over and beside, the intention of jambus unto Paean Epibatos, & of the Herous augmented both unto the Prosodiaque & also the Creticke. Furthermore, that of jambique notes, some be pronounced according to the stroke, others sung out. Archilochus was the man, by report, who showed all this first, and afterwards, tragical Poets used the same: likewise it is said, that Crexus receiving it from him, transported it to be used at the Bacchanal songs, called Dithyrambs. And he was the first also, by their saying, who devised the stroke after the song; for that beforetime they used to sing, and strike the strings together. Likewise unto Polymnestus is ascribed all that kind of note or tune which now is called Hypolydius, and of him they say, that he first made the drawing out of the note longer, and the dissolution and ejection thereof much greater than before. Moreover, that Olympus, upon whom is fathered the invention of the Greek music, that is tied to laws and rules, was he who first brought, by their saying, all the kind of harmony, and of rhymes or measures, the Prosodiaque, wherein is contained the tune and song of Mars; also the Chorios, whereof there is great use in the solemnities of the great mother of the gods: yea, and some there be, who make Olympus the author also of the measure Bacchius. And thus much concerning every one of the ancient tunes and songs. But Lasus the harmonian, having transferred the rhymes into the order of Dithyrambs, and followed the multiplicity in voice of hautboys, in using many sounds and those diffused and dispersed to and fro, brought a great change into Music, which never was before. Semblably, Melanippides who came after him, contained not himself in that manner of Music which then was in use, no more than Philoxenus did & Timotheus for he, whereas beforetime unto the days of Terpander the Antissaean, the harp had but seven strings, distinguished it into many more sounds and strings: yea, and the sound of the pipe or hautboys, being simple and plain before, was changed into a Music of more distinct variety. For in old time, unto the days of Melanippides a Dithyrambicke Poet, the players of the hautboys were wont to receive their salaries and wages at the hands of Poets, for that Poetry you must think, bore the greatest stroke, and had the principal place in Music and acting of plays, so as the Minstrels beforesaid were but their ministers: but afterwards, this custom was corrupted; upon occasion whereof, Pherecrates the Comical Poet bringeth in Music in form and habit of a woman, with her body piteously scourged and mangled all over: and he deviseth beside, that Dame Justice demandeth of her the cause why, and how she became thus misused; unto whom Poesy or Music maketh answer in this wise: MUSIC. 

I will gladly tell, since that we pleasure take  
You for to hear, and I to answer make:  
One of the first, who did me thus displease  
And work my woe, was Melanippides;  
He with twelve strings my body whipped so sore,  
That soft it is, and loser than before.  
Yet was this man unto me tolerable  
And not to these my harms now, comparable.  
For one of Athick land, Cynesias he,  
Shame come to him, and cursed may he be,  
By making turns and winding cranks so strange  
In all his strophes, and those without the range  
Of harmony; hath me perverted so,  
That where I am, unneath I now do know.  
His Dithyrambs are framed in such guise,  
That left seem right, in shield and target wise.  
And yet of him, one can not truly say,  
That cruelly he me ant me for to slay.  
Phrynis it was who set to me a wrest  
(His own device) that I could never rest:  
Wherewith he did me wind and writhe so hard,  
That I well near for ever was quite marred.  
Out of five strings for sooth he would devise  
No fewer than twelve harmonies to rise:  
Well, of this man I cannot most complain,  
For what he missed, he soon repaired again.  
Timotheus sweet Lady (out alas)  
Hath me undone: Timotheus it was,  
Most shamefully who wrought me all despite,  
He hath me torn, he hath me buried quite.   JUSTICE. 

And who might this Timotheus be (dear hart)  
That was the cause of this thy woeful smart?   MUSIC. 

I mean him of Miletus, Pyrrhias  
Surnamed, his head and hair so ruddy was.  
This fellow brought upon me sorrows more  
Than all the rest whom I have named before.  
A sort he of unpleasant quavers brings,  
And running points, when as he plays or sings:  
He never meets me when I walk alone  
Upon the way, but me assails anon.  
Off go my robes, and thus devested bare  
He teawes me with twelve strings, and makes no spare.   Aristophanes also the Comical Poet maketh mention of Philoxenus, and saith, that he brought songs into the dances called Rounds: and in this manner he deviseth, that Music should speak and complain: 
What with his Exharmonians,  
Niglars and Hyperbolians,  
And such loud notes, I wot not what,  
He hath me stuffed so full, as that  
My voice is brittle when I speak,  
Like radish root that soon will break.  Semblably, other Comical Poets have blasoned and set out in their colours, our modern Musicians, for their absurd curiosity, in hewing and cutting Music thus by piecemeal, and mincing it so small. But that this science is of great power and efficacy, aswell to set straight and reform, as to pervert, deprave and corrupt youth in their education and learning, Aristoxenus hath made very plain and evident: for he saith, that of those who lived in his time, Telesias the Theban happened when he was young, to be brought up and instructed in the most excellent kind of Music, and to learn many notable ditties and songs; among which, those also of Pindarus, of Dionysius the Theban, of Lamprus, Pratinas and other Lyrical Poets, singular men in their faculty, and profession of playing cunningly upon the harp and other stringed instruments. He had learned likewise to sound the hautboys passing well, and was sufficiently exercised and practised in all other parts of good literature: but when he was once past the flower and middle of his age, he became so far rivished and carried away with this Scenical music so full of variety, that he despised that excellent music and poesy wherein he was nourtred, & all for to learn the ditties and tunes of Philoxenus and Timotheus, and principally such of them as had most variety and novelty: and when he betook himself to compose ditties and set songs, making trial what he could do in both kinds, aswell in that of Pindarus and this of Philoxenus, he was able to perform nothing well and to the purpose in that Music of Philoxenus: the reason whereof, was his excellent education from his infancy. If rhen a man be desirous to use music well and judiciously, let him imitate the old manner: and yet in the mean while furnish the same with other sciences, learn Philosophy, as a mistress to guide and lead; for she is able to judge what kind of measures is meet for music, and profitable. For whereas three principal points and kinds there be, unto which all music is universally divided, to wit, Diatonos, Chroma and Harmony, he ought to be skilful in Poetry, which useth these several kinds, who cometh to learn Music; and withal, he must attain to that sufficiency, as to know how to express and couch in writing his poetical inventions. First and foremost therefore he is to understand, that all musical science is a certain custom and usage, which hath not yet attained so far as the knowledge to what end every thing is to be leatned by him that is the scholar. Next to this it would be considered, that to this teaching and instruction, there be not yet adjoined presently the enumeration of the measures & manners of music. But the most part learn rashly and without discretion, that which seemeth good & is pleasant either to the learner or the teacher; as the Lacedæmonians in old time, the Mantineans likewise and the Pellenians: for these, making choice of one manner above the rest, or else of very few, which they took to be meet for the reformation and correction of manners, used no other music but it: which more evidently may appear, if a man will inquire and consider, what it is that every one of these sciences taketh for the subject matter to handle: for certain it is, that the Harmonique skill containeth the knowledge of intervals, compositions, sounds, notes and mutations of that kind which is named Hermosmenon, that is to say, well befitting and convenient: neither is it possible for it to proceed farther. So that, we must not require nor exact of her, that she should be able to discern whether a Poet hath well, properly and fitly used (for example sake in music) the Hyperdorian tune in his entrance; the Mixolydian and the Dorian at his going forth; and the Phrygian or Hypophrygian in the mids: for this pertaineth not at all to the subject matter of the Harmonicke kind, and hath need of many other things: for he knoweth not well the force of the propriety. And if he be ignorant of the Chromaticke kind and Enharmonian, he shall never attain to have the perfect and absolute power of the propriety, according to which, the affection of the measures that are made are seen: for this is the office and part of the artificer. And manifest it is, that the voice of the composition called Systema, is one thing; and the melody or song which is framed in the said composition, another: which to teach and whereof to treat, pertaineth not to the faculty of the Harmonicke kind. Thus much also we are to say as touching Rhythme; for no Rhythme will ever come to have in it the power of perfect propriety: for that always which is said to be proper, is in regard and reference to the affection; whereof we affirm the cause to be either composition or mixtion, or else both together: like as with Olympus, the Enharmonian kind is put in the Phrygian tune, and Paeon mixed with Epibatos: for this affection of the beginning hath it engendered and brought forth in the song of Minerva. For when the melody and rhythm or measure was artificially set to, & the number or rhythm alone cunningly transmuted, so as a Trochaeus was put in stead of a Paeon. Hereof came the Harmonicke kind of Olympus to be composed. Yet nevertheless, when both the Enharmonicke kind and the Phrygian tune remain, and beside these, the whole composition also, the affection received a great alteration: for that which is called Harmony in the song of Minerva, is far different from the affection which is in common use and experience. If he then, who is expert and skilful in Music, had withal, the faculty to judge, certain it is, that such an one would be a perfect workman, and a passing good master in Music. For he who is skilful in the Dorique music, and knoweth not how to judge and discern the propriety, he shall never know what he doth, nor be able to keep so much as the affection, considering there is some doubt as touching the judgement of Dorian melodies and tunes, whether they appertain to the subject matter of Harmony or no? as some Dorians are of opinion. The like reason there is of all the Rhythmike skill; for he who knoweth Paeon, shall not incontinently know the property of the use thereof, forasmuch as there is some doubt as concerning the making of Paeonik rhythmes, to wit, whether the Rhythmetique matter is able to judge with distinct knowledge of them? or whether as some say, it do not extend so far? Of necessity therefore it followeth, that there must be two knowledges at the least in him, who would make distinction and be able to judge between that which is proper and that which is strange: the one of manners and affections, for which all composition is made; the other, of the parts and members of which the composition doth consist. Thus much therefore may suffice, to show that neither the Harmonique, nor the Rhythmicke, nor any one of these faculties of Music, which is named particular, can be sufficient of itself alone to judge of the affection, or to discern of other qualities. Whereas therefore, Hermosmenian, which is as one would say, the decent and elegant temperature of voices and sounds, is divided into three kinds, which be equal in the magnitudes of compositions, in puissances of sounds, and likewise of Tetrachords; our ancients have treated but of one: for those who went before us, never considered, either of Chroma, or Diatonos, but only of Enharmonios', and that only in a magnitude of a composition, called Diapason: for of the Chroma they were at some variance and difference: but they all in manner did accord to say, that there was no more but this Harmony alone. And therefore he shall never understand that which pertaineth unto the treatise of Harmony, who hath proceeded so far as to this only knowledge: but apparent it is that be aught to follow both other particular sciences, and also the total body of Music; yea & the mixtions and compositions of the parts: for he that is only Harmonical, is confined within one kind and no more. To speak therefore generally and once for all, it behoveth that both outward sense and inward understanding concur to the judgement of the parts in Music: Neither is one to prevent & run before another, as the senses do, which are more forward and hasty than their fellows; nor to lag behind and follow after, as those senses do which are slow and heavy of motion. And yet otherwhile in some senses it falleth out upon a natural inaequallitie which they have, that both happen at once, to wit, they draw back, and hast forward together: we must therefore cut off these extremities from the sense, if we would have it run jointly with the understanding: for necessary it is, that there be always three things at the least meet together in sense of hearing, to wit, the sound, the time, and the syllable or letter. And come to pass it will, that by the going of the sound, will be known the proportionable continuity, called Hermosmenon; by the gate of time, the Rhythme, and by the passing and proceeding of the syllable or letter, the ditty: Now when they march altogether, there must needs be an incursion of the sense. This also is evident, that the sense not being able to distinguish and discern every one of these three things, and accompany them severally, impossible it is, that it should know or judge that which is well or amiss, in each of them particularly. First and foremost therefore, we are to take knowledge of the coherence and continuation; for necessary it is, that there should be in the faculty and power of judging, a certain continual order, for as much as good and bad be not determinately in such sounds, times, letters or syllables, severed one from the other, but in the continued suit and conherence of them, for there is a certain mixture or parts which cannot be conjoined in usage. And thus much may suffice for the consequence. After this we are to consider, that men, sufficient otherwise, and skilful masters in Music, are not by and by able to judge: for impossible it is to be a perfect Musician, and a judge withal, of those which seem to be the parts of total Music, as the science and skill of instruments; likewise of song, as also of the exercise of the senses, I mean that which tendeth to the intelligence & knowledge of the well proportioned Hermosmenon, and of Rhythme. Over and beside, of the Rhythmick and Harmonique treatise, and of the speculation, touching the stroke and the ditty, and what other soever there are beside. But what the causes should be, that it is not possible for one to be a Critic and able to judge, by means of these things by themselves, let us endeavour to search and know. First, by this supposal, That of those things which are proposed unto us for to be judged of, some be perfect, others imperfect: Perfect, for example, every Poetical work, that is either chanted, or played upon the pipe, or sounded on the lute and stringed instrument; or else the interpretation or elocution of the said Poems, which they call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 as is the noise of the pipe, or of the voice, and such like: unperfect, as those which tend hereto, and are for them ordained, as by the parts of that which is called interpretation. Secondly, by Poesy or fiction, whereof the case is alike; because a man may as well judge if he hear the minstrel play or sing, whether his pipes accord or no, and whether his dialect or ditty be clear, or chose obscure; for each of these is a part of the foresaid interpretation of pipes, not the end itself, but that which respecteth the end; for the affection of the interpretations shall be judged hereby, and by all such causes, whether they be well fitted & accommodate to the Poem composed, which the agent hath taken in hand to treat of, to handle, to express and interpret. Semblable is the reason also of the affections and passions, which are signified in the Poems, by Poesy. Our ancients then, as those who made principal account of the affection, preferred and esteemed best that fashion of antic Music, which was grave, not curious nor much affected. For it is said that the Argives did set down in times past a punishment for those who broke the laws of Music, yea, and condemned him to pay a good fine, who first used more than seven strings, & who went about to bring in the use of the Myxolydian Music. But Pythagoras that grave and venerable parsonage, reproved all judgement of Music which is by the ear, for he said, that the intelligence and virtue thereof, was very subtle & slender, and therefore he judged thereof, not by hearing, but by proportional harmony: and he thought it sufficient to proceed as far as to Diapason, and there to stay the knowledge of Music: Whereas Musicians in these days disesteem and reject wholly that kind of Music which was in greatest reputation among our ancestors, for the gravity thereof: insomuch as the most part of them make no reckoning of any apprehension of Euharmonian intervals and spaces. So idle and lazy they be, that they think and say, the harmonical diesis giveth no appearance at all, nor representation of those things that fall under the sense of hearing; yea, and banish it quite out of their tunes and songs, counting those no better than prating, vain, and toyish persons, who have either written or spoken thereof, or used that kind: and for proof hereof, that they say true, they suppose they have found a doughty good argument and demonstration, drawn from their own gross stupidity and senselessness, as if all that which their sense apprehended not, must needs incontinently have no subsistence at all in nature, and be altogether unprofitable. And then moreover they hold, that there can no magnitude be apprehended by symphony and consonance of voice, as the half note, and other such intervals. Mean while they do not perceive (such is their ignorance) that they may as well banish the third magnitude, the fifth, and the seventh; whereof the first consisteth of three, the second of five, and the third of seven Dieses: and generally they should reject and reprove all the intervals that be odd, as superfluous and good for nothing: inasmuch as none of them can be found by consent or symphony. And these they may be, which the least Diesis doth measure in odd number: whereupon it followeth necessarily, that no division of the Tetrachord, is profitable, but this only, by which we may use all even intervals: and this verily were that of Syntonos, Diatonos, and Toniaean Chroma. But to give out, or to conceive such things, were the part not of those only who contradicted that which is apparent and evident, but also of such as went against themselves: for they use more than any other such partitions of Tetrachords, wherein all the intervals be either odd or else proportionable to those that be odd: for evermore they mollify all the notes, called Lichani, and Paranete: yea, and they let down a little, those very notes which are steadfast and firm, by I wot not what interval, without all reason; and together with them, they let slack also very absurdly, the Thirds and the Paranetae, & they suppose that the use of such compositions is most commendable, wherein the most part of the intervals, be without all reason & proportion, by letting down not only those sounds which naturally are wont to stir & bemooved, but also some of them which are innumerable: as appeareth manifestly to those who are sufficient and able to judge of such things.  
To come now to the use of Music, how meet and seemly it is for a valiant man; gentle Homer hath given us very well to understand: for to prove unto us how commodious Music is in many respects, he feigned and devised Achilles to concoct his anger which he had conceived against Agamemnon, by the means of Music, which he had learned of that most prudent and wise Chiron: for thus he writeth: 
They found him then, within his tent, with sound of lute so shrill,  
His heart that was now discontent, to solice and to still:  
An instrument right fair in sight this was, and trimly wrought:  
The neck with silver richly dight, which he himself had caught  
Out of the spoils then lately won of Thebes, that stately town,  
And city of Eetion, when it was razed down:  
Herewith I say, he passed his time, this was his heart's delight,  
He sung withal the praise in rhyme of many a valiant knight.  Note hereby and learn (quoth Homer) what use we ought to make of Music: for he sung unto the lute, the noble exploits of brave men, and the glorious acts of worthies and demigods: a thing that full well beseemed Achilles the son of most righteous Peleus. Over and beside, Homer teaching us the proper and convenient time of using Music, found out an exercise, both profitable and pleasant for a man at leisure, and not occupied otherwise in affairs. For Achilles being a martial man of action, yet for the anger that he had conceived against Agamemnon, had no hand in the perils and hazards of war: Homer thought therefore that it became very well this heroic and hardy knight, to what his courage by these excellent songs, to the end that he might be provided and ready against that sally and skirmish which soon after he undertook: and this no doubt he performed very well, by calling to remembrance the doughty deeds and feasts of arms achieved by others in times past. Such verily was the ancient Music, and for this purpose it served. For we do hear that both Hercules made use of Music, and also Achilles, with many other valorous knights, whom Chiron that most sage and learned master and bringer up of youth taught, who was a teacher not of Music only, but of justice beside and Physic. In sum, a man of wisdom and sound judgement, will thus deem, that good sciences are not to be blamed, if haply they be not well used, but impure all the fault unto them that abuse the same. And therefore if any one from his childhood, shall be well instructed and trained up in Music, and withal employ his labour and diligence therein, he will receive and approve that which is honest and commendable: blame also he will and reject the contrary: not in music only, but in all things else: and such a one will decline all unhonest and unwoorthy actions, and thus reaping from music the greatest and best contentment that can be, he may benefit exceeding much, as well himself as his whole country, using no word nor deed unseemly, but observing at all times and in every place, that which is befitting, decent, temperate and elegant. Moreover, that cities and states best governed by policy and good laws, have always had a special regard of generous and good music, many and sundry testimonies may be alleged: and namely, a man may very well cite to this purpose Terpander, who suppressed in times past, the great sedition and civil descord that was in Lacedaemon: Thales also the Candiot, who went as it is said, by the commandment and oracle of Apollo, to Lacedaemon, and there cured the citizens and delivered them from that great pestilence, which reigned in that city, and all by the means of music, as writeth Pratinas. Homer also himself saith, that the plague which afflicted the Greeks, was by music stayed and appeased: 
Then all day long, the Grecian youth in songs melodious,  
Besought god Phoebus of his grace, to be propitious:  
Phoebus I say, who from a far doth shoot his arrows nigh  
They chant and praise, who takes great joy, to hear such harmony.  with these verses as with Corollary, good master I will conclude this my discourse of Music, and the rather, because you first by the very same verses commended unto us the force and power of Music: for in very truth, the principal and most commendable work thereof, is thanksgiving unto the gods, and the acknowledgement of their grace and favour: the second, and that which next followeth, is a sanctified heart, a pure, consonant and harmonical estate of the soul. When Soterichus had said: Thus you have (quoth he) my good master heard us discourse of Music round about the board as we sit. And verily Soterichus was highly admired for that which he had delivered: for he showed evidently both by his voice and visage, how much he was affected unto Music, & what study he had employed thereto. Then my master: Over and above other things, this also I commend in you both, that you have kept your own course and place, the one as well as the other. For Lysias hath furnished our feast with those things which are proper and meet for a Musician, who knoweth only to handle the lute or harp, and hath no farther skill than manual practice. Soterichus also hath taught us whatsoever concerneth both the profit and also the speculation thereof, yea and withal comprehendeth therein the power and use of Music, whereby he hath mended our fare and feasted us most sumptuously. And I suppose verily that both of them, have of purpose and that right willingly, left thus much unto me, as to draw Music unto feasts and banquets: neither will I condemn them of timidity, as if they were ashamed so to do: For if in any part of man's life, certes in such feasts and merry meetings it is right profitable. For according as good Homer saith: 
Both song and dance, delight afford,  
And things that well beseem the board.  Neither would I have any man to infer hereupon, that Homer thought Music good for nothing else but to delight and content the company at a feast: considering there is in those verses couched and hidden a more deep and profound meaning. For he brought Music to those times and places wherein it might profit and help men most, I mean the feasts and meetings of our ancients: and expedient it was to have her company there, for that she is able to divert and temper the heat and strength of wine, according as our Aristoxenus also else where saith: Music (quoth he) is brought in thither, because that whereas wine is wont to pervert & overturn as well the bodies as the minds of those who take it immoderately, Music by that order, symmetry, and accord which is in it, reduceth them again into a contrary temperature, and dulceth all. And therefore Homer reporteth that our ancients used Music as a remedy and help, at such a time. But that which is principal and maketh Music above all things most venerable, you have my good friend let pass and omitted. For Pythagoras, Archias, Plato, and all the rest of the old Philosophers do hold that the motion of the whole world, together with the revolution of the stars, is not performed without Music: For they teach that God framed all things by harmony. But to prosecute this matter more at large, this time will not permit: and besides it is a very high point and most Musical to know in every thing how to keep a mean and competent measure. This said, he sung an hymn, and after he had offered a libation of wine unto Saturn, and to all the gods his children, as also to the Muses, he gave his guests leave to depart   

OF THE FORTUNE OR VIRTUE OF K. Alexander.  

The Summarie.  
IN this treatise and that which followeth, framed both in form of a declamation, Plutarch magnifieth Alexander, a praise worthy prince, for many good parts that were in him: wherein he showeth also, that we ought to attribute unto virtue and not to fortune, those brave exploits which he performed. By fortune, he meaneth that course of the affarres in this world, whereby it falleth out many times that the wisest men are not always most happy and best advanced. To prove therefore, that Alexander was endued with exquisite qualities for execution of those enterprises which by him were achieved afterwordes and brought to an end, he compareth him in the beginning of this treatise, with the kings of Persia raised up to their greatness by fortune: and then showeth, that Alexander being an excellent Philosopher, we ought not to wonder or be astonished, if by his virtue he saw the end of many things which the most fortunate princes of the world durst never take in hand and begin. Now the better to set out the excellency of this Philosophy of Alexander, he compareth his scholars with the disciples of Plato and Socrates: proving that those of this prince surpassed the others, as much as a good deed or benefit done to an infinite number of men surmounteth a good speech or instruction given to some particular persons; the most part of whom make no account thereof. He proceedeth forward and describeth the wisdom and sufficiency of Alexander in politic government, which he amplifieth by the consideration of his amiable behaviour and lovely carriage toward those nations which by him were subdued: also by the recital of some notable saying of his: likewise by the love and affection which he carried unto wisdom, and men's of knowledge. In brief his acts; be evident proofs of his virtue, and in no wise of the temerity and rashness of fortune. But even in this very place, Plutarch hath broken off his treatise, leaving the end thereof defectuous: namely where he began to discourse of the contempt of death, and of the constant resolution of Alexander against the most churlish and boisterous assaults of fortune.   

OF THE FORTUNE OR virtue of K. Alexander.  
THese are the sayings and allegations of fortune, affirming and proving that Alexander was her own peculiar piece of work, and to be ascribed unto her alone. But we must gainsay her in the name and behalf of Philosophy, or rather of Alexander himself: who taketh it not well, but is highly displeased, that he should be thought to have received his empire at fortune's hand gratis, and as a mere gift and benefit which he had bought and purchased with shedding much of his own blood, and receiving many a wound one upon another. 
Who many restless nights did pass  
Without all sleep full broad awake:  
And many a bloody day there was,  
Whiles be in field did skirmish make.  Whiles he fought against forces and armies invincible, against nations innumerable, rivers impassable, rocks inaccessible, and such as no shot of arrow could ever reach; accompanied always with prudent counsel, constant patience, resolute valour, and stayed temperance. And verily I am persuaded, that himself would say unto fortune, challenging unto herself he honour of his haughty & worthy acts, in this manner: Come not here either to deprave my virtue, or to deprive me of my due honour, in ascribing it unto thyself. Darius was indeed a piece of work made by thee, whom of a base servitor, no better than a currior or lackey to a king, thou diddest advance and make the lord of the Persians. Sardanapalus likewise was thy handy work, upon whose head, when he was earding and spinning fine purple wool among women, thou didst set the imperial diadem. As for me, I mounted up and ascended as far as to Susa with victory after the battle at Arbela. The conquest of Cilicia made the way open for me to enter into Egypt: and the field that I won at the river Granicus; which I passed over going upon the dead budies of Mithridates and Spithridates leutenants to the king of Persia, gave me entrance into Cilcia. Vaunt now and boast as much as thou wilt of those kings, who never were wounded in figat, nor lost one drop of their blood. These say may well be counted fortunate and thy derlings, Ochus I mean & Artaxerxes, whom immediately from the very day of their nativity, thou hast installed in the royal throne of Cyrus. But this body of mine carrieth the marks & tokens of fortune not favourable and gracious, but chose adverse and opposite unto me. First in Illyricum, I had my head broken with a great stone, and my neck bruised and crushed with a Pestle. Afterwards in the journey and battle of Granicus, my head was cloven with a Barbarians scimitar. At the field fought near Issus, my thigh was run through with a sword: before the city of Gaza, I was shot through the ankle above my foot with one arrow, and into the shoulder with another, whereupon I was unhorsed, and falling heavy in mine armour out of my saddle, I lay there for dead upon the ground. Among the Maracadarts, my shin bone was cut in sunder with shotof quarrels and arrows. Besides many a knock & wound which I got among the Indians: and every where I met with hot service among them, until I was shot quite through the shouder. Another time as I fought against the Gandridae I had the bone of my leg cut in twame, with another shot likewise in a skirmish with the Mallotae, I caught an arrow in my breast and bosom, which went so far and stuck so fast that it left the head behind: and with the rap and knock of an iron pestle my neck bone was crushed. And at what time as the scaling ladders reared against the walls broke, fortune enclosed and shut me up alone to fight and maintain combat, not against noble concurrents and renowned enemies, but obscure and simple Barbarous soldiers, gracing and gratifying them thus far forth, as that they went with in a little of taking away my life: And had not Ptolemaeus come between and covered me with his target; had not Limnaeus in defence of me opposed his own body and received many a thousand darts, and there lost his life in the place for me; had not I say the Macedonians by force of arms and resolure courage broken down the wall and laid it along, certes that base village, that Barbarous burrow of no name, had been at this day the sepulchre of Alexander. Furthermore, all that journey and expedition of mine, what was it else but tempestuous storms, extreme heat and drought, rivers of an infinite depth, mountains so exceeding high, as no bird could fly over them, monstrous beasts and so huge withal, as they were hideous and terrible to be seen, strange and savage fashions of life, revolts of disloyal states and governors, yea and afterwards their open treasons and rebellions? And as for that which went before his voyage: all Greece panting still and trembling for remembrance of the wars which they endured under his farther Philip, now up their head. The city of Athens now shaking off from their armour the dust of the battle at Chaeronea, began to rise again and recover themselves after that overthrow. To it joined Thebes and put forth their helping and All Macedonia was suspected, and stood in doubtful terms, as inclining to Amyntas and the children of Acropus. The Illyrians broke out into open wars and make hostile invasions. The Scythians hung in equal balance uncertain which side to take, expecting what their neighbours would do, that began to stir and revolt. Besides the good gold of Persia which had found the way into the purses of orators and governors of every city, made all Peloponnesus to rise in arms. The coffers of Philip his father were empty and had no treasure in them: but in instead thereof they were indebted and paid interest as Onesicritus writeth for 
* That is to say, 120000 French-crowns.  two hundred talents. In these great wants, in such poverty and so troubled a state, see a young man newly come out of his infancy childhood, durst hope and assuredly look, for to be lord of Babylon and Susa: nay to speak more truly and in a word, he intended in his designments the conquest of the whole world; and that with a power only of thirty thousand fooumen, and four thousand horse: for no greater forces brought he into the field as Aristobulus reporteth: or according as king Ptolemaeus writeth, they were thirty thousand foot and five thousand three hundred footmen and five thousand five hundred horsemen. Now all the glorious means and great provision for the maintenance and entertainment of this power more or less, which fortune had prepared for him, came to seventy talents: as Aristobulus hath set it down in writing, or as Duris recordeth he was furnished with money and victuals to serve for thirty days and no longer. How then? was Alexander so inconsiderate, rash and void of counsel, as to enterprise war with so small means, against so puissant an army of the Persians? No I wis: for never was their captain, that went forth to war better appointed and with greater and more sufficient helps than he, to wit, magnanimity, prudence, temperance, & fortitude, wherewith Philosophy had furnished him, as with munition for his voyage: as being better provided for this enterprise against the Persians by that which he had learned of his muster and teacher Aristotle, than by all the patrimony and revenues which his father Philip had left him. Well, to believe those who write, that Alexander himself would otherwhiles say, that the 〈◊〉 and Odyssaea a of Homer accompanied him always as his voyage provision to the wars, we may be easily induced, for the reverence and honour which we owe unto Homer: but if a man should say, that Homer's Ilias and Odyssaea, were unto him an easement of his travels, or an honest pastime and recreation at his leisure, and that the true munition and voyage provision indeed for the maintenance of his wars, were the discourses & precepts which he had learned out of Philosophy, and the treatises or commentaries as touching confidence & fearelesseresolution of prowess, valour, magnanimity and temperance, we are ready to mock and deride him: and why so? because forsooth he hath written nothing of Syllogisnres, of Axioms, or of the elements and principles of Geometry; because he hath not used to walk in the school of Lycen, nor held positions and disputed of questions in the Academy: for these be the things whereby they measure and define Philosophy, who think that it consisteth in words and not in deeds. And yet Pythagoras never writ aught, nor Socrates, nor Arcesilaus, no nor Carneades: who all, no doubt, were most renowned Philosophers: neither were they employed and occupied in so great wars, in reducing Barbarouskings to civility, or in founding and building great cities, among savage nations: neither traveled they through the world visiting lawless and cruel people, to teach them to live peaceably and in order, who had never heard of peace or of laws: but these great and famous personages, for all the leisure and rest that they had from employments and busy affairs, left all writing for Sophisters only. How came it then, that thy were reputed Philosophers? Surely it arose either upon their saying which they delivered, or the manner of life that they led, and the actions which they did, or else the doctrine which they taught. Let us now therefore judge of Alexander also accordingly, by the same: for it will be found and seen by the words which he said, the deeds that he wrought, and the lessons which he taught, that he was some great Philosopher: and in the first place, if you think good, consider (which at first sight may seem most strange and wonderful) what disciples Alexander had; and compare them with the scholars of Plato or of Socrates. These men taught those, who were of quick wit, and spoke the same language that they did; and if they had nothing else, yet understood they at leastwise the Greek tongue: howbeit for all this, many of their auditors and disciples there were whom they could never persuade to their rules and precepts: but such as Crittas, Alcibiades and Clestiphon, rejected and shaken off all their doctrine, as the bit of a bridle, and turned another way. Whereas, if you mark and consider the discipline of Alexander, you shall find, that he taught the Hyrcanians to contract marriage and live in wedlock; the Arachosians to till the ground and follow husbandry; the Sogdians he persuaded to nourish their aged fathers, and not to kill them; the Persians to reverence and honour their mothers, and not to marry them as they did before. O the admirable Philosophy of this prince! by means whereof, the Indians adore and worship the gods of Greece: the Scythians bury their dead and eat them not. We wonder at the powerful and effectual speech of Carneades, for that he knew how to make Clitomachus, named before Asdrubal, and a Carthaginian borne, to conform himslefe to the greeks fashions and language. We admire the emphatical gift of Zeno, who was able to persuade Diogenes the Babylonian, to give himself to the study of Philosophy. But while Alexander conquered Asia, and reduced it to civility, Homer was read ordinarily: the sons of the Persians, Susians, and Gedrosians, chanted the tragoedies of Euripides and Sophocles. As for Socrates, condemned he was and put to death by the Athenians, at the suit of sycophants and promoters, who informed against him, that he had brought into Athens new gods: whereas by the means of Alexander, the inhabitants of Bactra and the mountain Caucasus, even at this present, adore the gods of Greece. Plato hath left in writing one form of policy and government of commonwealth, but he could never persuade so much as one man to use and follow it, so harsh and austere it was found to be. But Alexander having founded above threescore and ten cities among the barbarous nations, and sown throughout all Asia, the mysteries, sacrifices, and ceremonies of Divine service which were used in Greece, reclaimed them from their savage and brutish life. And verily, few there be among us, who read and peruse the laws of Plato: whereas there be infinite thousands and millions of men, who have used, and do at this day practise those of Alexander's ordaining: and such nations were much more happy whom he conquered and subdued, than they that escaped his puissance. For these had never any person who eased and delivered them out of their miserable life, but the other were forced by the conqueror to lead a blessed life; in such sort, as that which Themistocles sometime said, when being banished out of Athens, and fled to the king of Persia, at whose hands having received rich gifts, and the donation beside of three cities which paid him yearly tribute, one for bread, another for wine, and the third for his meat and other viands; he spoke thus unto his sons: Oh, how had we been undone, if we had not been undone! The same may more justly be verified of those who were then subdued by Alexander: Never had they been civilized, if by him they had not been vanquished and brought under his subjection: there had been no city Alexandria built in Egypt, no Seleucia in Mesopotamia; no Prophthasia in the Sogdians country; no Bucephalia among the Indians; neither should the mountain Cacausus have had near unto it the city helas, inhabited and peopled: by the means of which cities, their rude bestiality being first stayed and held under, by little and little was extinct, and by custom of the better, changed the worse. To conclude therefore, if Philosophers stand most upon this point, and bear themselves aloft, for that they are able to dulce and reform rude manners, and not polished before by any doctrine. And if it be seen that Alexander hath altered and brought into order an infinite number of wild nations, and beastly natures; good reason there is, that he should be esteemed an excellent Philosopher.  
Moreover, that policy and form of government so highly esteemed, which Zeno the first founder of the Stoics sect devised, tendeth to this one principal point, that we who are men, should not live divided by cities, towns & diverse countries, separated by distinct laws, rights, & customs in several, but think all men our fellow citizens, & of the same country: also that there ought to be but one kind of life, like as there is but one world, as if we were all of the same flock under one herdman, feeding in a common pasture Zeno hath set this down in writing, as a very dream & imaginary Idea, of a commonwealth well governed by Philosophical laws; but Alexander hath put that in real execution and practice, which the other had figured and drawn out in words: for he did not as his master Aristotle gave him counsel to do: namely, to carry himself toward the Greeks as a father; and toward the Barbarians as a lord: likewise, to have regard and care of some, as of his friends and kinsfolk; but to make use of others, as if they were brute beasts or plants, and no better: for in so doing, he should have pestered his dominions and empire with banishments; which are evermore the secret seeds of war, of factions and sidings most dangerous: but taking himself to be sent down from heaven, as a common reformer, reconciler, and governor of the whole world; such as he could not draw to accord and agreement, by reason and speech, he compelled by force of arms, and so from every side reduced all into one; causing them to drink round (as one would say) of one and the same cup of amity and good fellowship, wherein he tempered and mixed together, their lives and manners, their marriages and fashions of life, commanding all men living to think the whole earth habitable, to be their country; his camp their citadel and castle of defence; all good men to be their kinsfolk and allies; all lewd persons, strangers and aliens. He commanded them moreover, to distinguish Greeks and Barbarians, not by their mantle, round target, cemeter turbans, or high crowned chaplets; but to mark and discern Greece by virtue; Barbary by vice: in reputing all virtuous folk Greeks, and all vicious persons Barbarians: to think also their habiliments and apparel common, their tables common, their marriages beside and manner of life common, as being united all, by the mixture of blood and communion of children. Demaratus verily the Corinthian, one of the friends that used to give entertainment to king Philip, when he saw Alexander in the city of Susa, greatly rejoiced thereat, insomuch as for very joy of heart, the tears ran down his cheeks, and he broke forth into these words: That the Greeks, before departed out of this life, were deprived of exceeding contentment, and hearts delight; in that they had not seen Alexander sitting upon theregall throne of Darius. For mine own part verily, I would not repute them very happy, for seeing such a sight as that, considering it is the gift of fortune, and as much as that befalleth ordinarily to meaner kings: but I assure you, much pleasure could I have taken, if I had beheld those goodly and sacred espousals, when under the roof of one pavilion, seeled all over, and wrought with gold, he entertained at once, all at one common feast and table, a hundred Persian Brides, married to an hundred Bridegrooms of Greece and Macedon: at which solemnity himself being crowned with a chaplet of flowers, was the first that began to sing the nuptial song Hymenaeus, as a canticle of general amity, when tow of the igreatest and most puissant nations of the world came to be joined in alliance together by marriage, being himself spouse unto one, but the maker of all their marriages, yea, and the common father and mediator to them all, being the means of that knot and conjunction. For willingly I would have said; O barbarous, senseless and blockish Xerxes, that tookest so great pains, and all to no purpose, about making a bridge over Hellespont. For after this manner should wise kings and prudent princes, conjoin Europe and Asia together, not with wood and timber; not with boats and barges, nor with those links and bonds which have neither life nor mutual affection; but by lawful love, by chaste and honest wedlock, by communication also of children, to unite and associate two nations together. To this comely or nament Alexander had an eye, when he would not admit the habiliments and robes of the Medes, but the attire and apparel of the Persians, as being far more sober, modest and decent than the other: for rejecting & casting aside that outlandish, unusual pompous and tragical excess in the barbarous habit, to wit, the copped turban Tiara, the side and superfluous purple mantel Candy's, their wide breeches and slack slops Anaxyridae; he wore himself a certain kind of rob, composed partly of the Macedonian, and in part of the Persian habit, according as Eratosthenes hath written. As a Philosopher he made use of things indifferent, neither good simply, nor ill: and as a gracious ruler and courteous king, he wan the love and heart of those whom he had subdued, by gracing and honouring upon his own person their apparel: to the end that they should continue fast unto him, and firm in loyalty; loving the Macedonians as their natural lords, and not hating them, as tyrannising enemies. For it would have bewrayed a foolish mind, and withal disdainful and proud, to have made great account of a selfe-coloured homely mantel, and withal, to have taken offence at a rich coat, embroidered all over with purple; or chose, to have had this in admiration, and the other in contempt; like unto some infant or little child, keeping still precisely to that apparel, which the custom of the country as a nurse or fostermother hath once put on: whereas we see, that huntsmen who use to choose dear, are wont to clad themselves with the skins and hides of those wild beasts which they have taken; as for example, of stags and hinds: fowlers also, that lie for to catch birds, cast upon themselves, gabardines, and coats of fetherworke, or beset with wings and feathers. Those who wear red clothes, beware how they come in the way of bulls: and such as be clothed in white, are as careful not to be seen of elephants; for that these beasts fare as though they were wood and mad at the sight of such colours. Now if so great a king as Alexander was, minding to tame warlike nations, like unto wild beasts, or to dulce and keep them gentle, who were so fierce and untractable, used those robes and habillimonts which were proper, usual, and familiar to them; and all to gain their hearts by little and little, mollifying by that means the fierceness of their courage, pacifying their displeasure, and dulcing their grimness and austerity: would any man blame or reprove, and not rather honour and admire his politic wisdom, in that with a little change and altering of his garments, he had the dexterity and skill to gain all Asia, and lead it as he would, making himself, thus by his armour, master and lord of their bodies; and by his apparel alluring and winning their hearts. And yet these men commend Aristippus the Philosopher, and disciple of Socrates, for that one while wearing a poor, thin and threadbare cloak, and another while putting on a rich mantel of tissue wrought and died at Miletus, he knew how to keep decorum, and decently to behave himself, as well in the one garment as the other: mean while, they blame and condemn Alexander, in that as he honoured the habit of his own country, so he disdained not the apparel of another, which he had conquered by arms, intending thereby to lay the groundwork & foundation of greater matters: for his design and purpose was not to overrun and waste Asia, as a captain and ringleader of a rabble of thieves and robbers would do, nor to sack and rack, harry and worry it, as the pray and booty of unexpected and unhoped for felicity: like as afterwards Hannibal did by Italy; and before time, the Trierians dealt by jonia; and the Scythians by Asia, who made havoc and waste as they went: but as one, who meant to range all the nations upon earth, under the obedience of one and the same reason, and to reduce all men to the same policy, as citizens under government of a commonweal, therefore thus he composed and transformed himself in his raiment and habit. And if that great God, who sent the soul of Alexander from heaven to earth below, had not so suddenly called it away again unto himself; peradventure there had been but one law to rule and overlook all men living, the whole world haply had been governed by one and the same justice, as a common light to illustrate all places: whereas now, those parts of the earth, which never had a sight of Alexander, remain in the shadow of darkness, as destitute of the very light of the sun: and therefore the very first project of his expedition and voyage showeth, that he carried the mind of a true Philosopher indeed, who aimed not at the gaining for himself dainty delights, and costly pleasures, but intended to procure and compass an universal peace, concord, unity and society of all men living one with another.  
In the second place consider we his words and sentences; for that in other kings and potentates also, their manners and intentions of their mind, are principally bewrayed by their speeches. Antigonus the elder, when a certain Sophister upon a time presented and pronounced unto him certain commentaries and treatises which he had composed as touching justice: Good fellow (quoth he) thou art a fool, to come and preach unto one of justice, when thou seest me bending mine ordinance against the cities of other princes, and battering their walls as I do. Denys also the tyrant was wont to say, that we should deceive children with dies and cockal bones, but beguile men with oaths: And upon the tomb of Sardanapalus was engraven this epitaph: 
What I did eat and drink, I have: the sports also remain  
Which lady Venus did vouchsave, all else I count but vain.  Who can deny, but that by the last of those speeches and apothegms, sensual lust and voluptuousness was authorized; by the second, Atheism and impiety; and by the first, injustice and avarice? Now if you take away from the sayings of Alexander his royal crown and diadem, the addition of Jupiter Amnion whose son he was styled to be, and the nobility of his birth, certes you would say they were the sage sentences of Socrates, Plato or Pythagoras. For we must not stand upon the brave titles and proud inscriptions which Poets have devised to be imprinted or engraven upon his pictures, images and statues, having an eye and regard not to show the modesty, but to magnify the puissance of Alexander: as for example; 
This image here that stands in brass so bright,  
Of Alexander is the portrait right:  
Up toward heaven he both his eyes doth cast,  
And unto Jove seems thus to speak at last:  
Mine is the earth, by conquest I it hold:  
Thou Jupiter in heaven mayst be bold.  And another: 
Of Jupiter that heavenly God of might,  
The son am I (Great Alexander height.)  These were the glorious titles which glavering Poets I say, in flattery of his fortune fathered upon him. But if a man would recount the true apothegms indeed of Alexander, he may do well to begin first at those which he delivered in his childhood: for being in footmanship the swftest of all other young lads of his age, when his familiar playfeeres and mates were in hand with him very earnestly to run a course at the Olympian games for a prize, he demanded of them again, whether he should meet with kings there for his concurrents in the race: and when they answered, No: Then were the match (quoth he) not equally nor indifferently made, wherein if I have the worse, a king shall be foiled; and if I gain the victory, I shall but conquer private persons. When his father Philip chanced in a battle against the Triballians to be run thorough the thigh with a lance; and albeit, that he escaped danger of death, yet was much grieved and dismayed to limp and halt thereupon as he did: Be of good cheer good father (quoth he) and go abroad hardly in the sight of the whole world, that at every step you tread and set forward, you may be put in mind of your valour and virtue. How say you now, proceed not these answers from a Philosophical mind? and show they not an heart, which being ravished with a divine instinct and ardent love of good and honest things, careth not for the defects of the body? for how greatly think you joyed and gloried he in the wounds that he received in his own person, who in every one of them bore the testimony and memorial of some nation subdued, some battle won, of some cities forced by assail, or of some kings that yielded to his mercy? Certes, he never took care to cover and hide his scars, but carried them about him, and showed them where ever he went, as so many marks and tokens engraved, to testify his virtue and prowess. And if at any time there grew some comparison, either by way of serious disputation in points of learning, or in table talk, as touching the verses of Homer, which of them were best: when some seemed to commend this verse, others that, he would evermore prefer this, above all other: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
A prince right good and gracious,  
A knight withal most valorous.  and making this account, that the praise which another had given to king Agamemnon before time, stood for a law unto himself; insomuch, as he would say, that Homer in that one 〈◊〉 recommended the virtue of Agamemnon, and prophesied the prowess of Alexander. And therefore, so often as he passed over the Straight of Helle spont, his manner was to go and 〈◊〉 Troy, where he represented unto his own mind, the worthy feats of arms which those brave princes and noble worthies performed, who fought there. And when one of that country promised to bestow upon him in free gift, if he would accept it, the harp of Paris: I have no need (quoth he) of it, for I have already, that of Achilles: to the sound whereof he was wont for his recreation, 
The praises for to sing and chant,  
Of dowtie knights and valiant:  whereas this here of Paris, warbled a wanton and feminine harmony, to which he used to sing sonnets and ballads of Love.  
Now most certain it is, that to love wisdom, and to have in esteem, sages and learned persons is an infallible sign of a philosophical spirit. And this was in Alexander, if ever in any other prince: for what kindness and affection he carried to his tutor and master, Aristotle; also, that he did as great honour unto Anaxarchus the skilful Musician, as to no favourite and familiar friend the like; I have already showed elsewhere. The first time that ever Pyrrho the Elian talked and conferred with him, he gave unto the man ten thousand pieces of gold. unto Xenocrates one of Plato's disciples, he sent a present of fifty talents. And as most historiographers do report, he made Onesicritus, one of Diogenes his scholars, his admiral at sea. And himself meeting upon a time with Diogenes at Corinth, where he communed with him, he so wondered at his manner of life, and had his gravity in such admiration, that many a time after, in speaking of him, he would say: Were I not Alexander, I would be Diogenes: which was as much to say, as thus: I could willingly employ my whole life and spend my time at my book and in contemplation, but that I am determined to be a Philosopher in deed and action. He said not: If I were not a king, I could find in mine heart to be Diogenes: nor, If I were not rich, and one that loved to go gay and in sumptuous robes, etc. For he never in his life preferred fortune before wisdom; nor the purple mantle of estate, or the royal diadem, before a scrip and a poor threedbare Philosopher's cloak; but simply this was his saying: Were I not Alexander, I would be Diogenes: that is to say, Had I not proposed to myself to join together in mutual society, Barbarous nations with the Greeks, and by traveling in voyage thorough the earth, to polish and make civil what savage people soever I find, searching from one end of the world to another, and visiting all the coasts of the sea, to join Macedon unto the Ocean, to sow as it were, Greece in all parts, and to spread throughout all nation's peace and justice, yet would I not sit still idle in delights, and take my pleasure, but imitate the simplicity and frugality of Diogenes. But now pardon me, I pray thee, o Diogenes: I follow Hercules, I take the way of Perseus, I tread the trace of god Bacchus, my stockefather and author of my race and progeny; I would gladly, that the Greeks might once more dance with victory among the Indians, and reduce into the memory and remembrance of those mountainers and savage nations who dwell beyond the mountain Caucasus, the joily feasts and merriments of the Bacchanales. And even there, by report, there be those who follow a certain strict, austere, and naked profession of wisdom, called thereupon Gymnosophists, holy men, living according to their own laws, devoted altogether to a contemplative service of God, making less account of this life than Diogenes doth, and living more barely, as having no need at all of bag and wallet; for, no provision make they of victuals, because the earth furnisheth them always with that which is new and fresh to their hand: the rivers afford them drink; the leaves falling from trees and the green grass of the earth together, serve for their beds: by my means shall they know Diogenes, and Diogenes them. I must also alter the stamp of the coin, and in stead of a Barbarian mark, sign it after the Greek manner and according to their common wealth. Well, thus much of his words and sayings: come we now to his deeds. And do they seem to carry before them the blind rashness and temerity of Fortune, and bare force of arms and violences of the hand? or rather, of the one side, great prowess and justice; on the other side, much clemency and lenity, together with good order and rare prudence, of one managing all things by sober, discreet and considerate judgement? Certes, I am not able to say and discern in all his acts thus much, as to pronounce, That this was a deed of valour; that, of humanity; and another, of patience or continence: but every exploit of his, seemeth to have been mingled and compounded of all virtues in one, to confirm the famous sentence and opinion of the Stoics, That every act, a wise man doth effect by all virtues jointly together. True it is indeed, that in each action there is one virtue or other, eminent and predominant always above others; but the same inciteth and directeth the rest to the same end: and even so we may see in the acts of Alexander, That as his martial valour is human, so his humanity is valorous; his bounty is thrifty, his liberality frugal; his choler soon appeased, his heat quickly cold; his loves temperate, his pastimes not idle; and his travels not without their solace and recreation; who, evermore tempered feasts with war, military expeditions with games, masks and sports; who, interlaced among his sieges of cities, warlike exploits and executions, festival Bacchanales, and nuptial songs of Hymenaeus. Who was there ever, greater enemy to those that do wrong, or more merciful and gracious to the afflicted? Who ever carried himself more heavy to stiffnecked and obstinate persons; and more friendly again; to humble suppliants? And here in this place it comes into my mind, for to allege and cite the saying of king Porus, who being brought prisoner before king Alexander, and demanded by him, in what manner he wished that he should use him: Royally (quoth he) o Alexander. And when Alexander replied again, and asked what he had else to say: Nothing, quoth Porus; for in that one word [Royally] is comprised all. And even so me thinks, that in all the actions of Alexander, a man may use this for a reffrein or faburden, All Philosophically. For this in deed containeth all. He was enamoured of Roxane the daughter of Oxiathres, by occasion that he saw her to dance with a good grace among other captive ladies: howbeit, he would not force her, nor offer any violence to her dishonour; but espoused her for his wife: wherein he did as a Philosopher. When he saw his enemy Darius lying dead, with many an arrow and dart sticking in his body, he neither sacrificed to the gods, nor sounded the triumph for joy, that so long a war by his death was come to an end; but taking the mantle from his own shoulders, cast it over the dead corpse, as if he would thereby have covered and hidden the woeful destiny of a king. And this also was done like a Philosopher. He received one day a letter of secrets from his own mother, which whiles he perused, it chanced that Hephaestion also sitring at that timeby him, read it simply together with him, and thought nothing, Alexander debarred him not; only he took the signet from his own finger, set it to his mouth, sealing as it were his silence, by the faith that he owed unto a friend. See how herein he showed the part of a Philosopher: for if these be not Philosophical acts, I know not what else be. Socrates was well enough content, that fair Alcibiades should lie with him; but Alexander, when Philoxenus his lieutenant general over the sea coasts of Asia, wrote unto him, that there was a young boy within his government in jonia, for sweet favour and beauty incomparable, demanding of him by his letters to know his pleasure, whether he should send the said youth unto him, he wrote sharply unto him, in this wise: What hast thou known by me, most lewd and wicked varlet as thou art, that thou shouldest presume thus to allure and entice me with such pleasures? Xenocrates we have in admiration, for turning back a present of fifty talents, which Alexander sent unto him; and shall we not wonder aswell at the giver? shall we not think, that he made as small account of money, who gave so liberally, as he who refused it? Xenocrates had no need of riches, professing as he did Philofophy; but Alexander had use therefore, even in regard of Philosophy, cecause he might exercife his iberality in bestowing the same so bountifully upon such perfons. We honour theremembrance of those, who have left behind them testimonies of their contempt of death: and how often thinkeyou, hath Alexander delivered as much, when he saw the drts and arrows flying so thick about his ears, and himselfepressed hard upon by the violence of enemies? We are persuaded verily, that there is in all men whatsoever, some light of sound judgement, for that nature herself frameth them to discern that which is good and honest: but a difference there is between the common sort and Philosophers, for that Philosophers excel the rest in this, that their judgements be more firm, settled and resolute in dangers than others; whereas the vulgar sort are not armda otiid beforehand with such deep impressions and resoutions as these: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
The best presage by augury and bird-flight,  
Is, in defence of country for to fight.  Again: 
This full account all men must make,  
By death one day their end to take.  But the occurrences and occasions of perils presented unto them, do break their discourse of reason; and the imaginations of dangers imminent, do drive out all counsel and considerate judgement. For fear doth not only maskre and astonish the memory, as Thucydides saith, but 
The end of this treatise is lost.  also driveth out every good intention, all motions and endeavours of well doing: whereas Philosophy bindeth them fast with cords round about, that they cannot stir.    

OF THE FORTUNE OR VIRTUE OF K. Alexander.  
The second Oration.  

The Summarie.  
PLutarch doth prosecute in this declamation, the argument and discourse begun in the former: the some whereof is this, that the virtue of Alexander surmounted his fortune, which was alwasies in manner contrary unto him. But before that he entereth into this matter he opposeth unto the sufficiency and singular parts of this prince, the base demeanour and brutish villainy of certain other kings and potentates, adjoining over and beside thus much, that all his exercises and employments, are proofs every one of his haughty courage and mognanimity, Then discourseth he particularly, in what account and reputation good workmen were with Alexander, and what his self conceit was of his own works in comparison of theirs. Afterwards, he cometh to show, that if Alexander be considered from his very first beginning to his last end, he will be found, to be the very handy work of valour and fortitude. In proceeding forward, he saith, that fortune received more honour by Alexander than he by her. The which is verified by considering the state of his army, after his death. Upon this, he entereth into a common place of man's greatness, which serveth to clear and illustrate the former points and matters handled. And by the consideration of the evil carriage and government of many other princes, as by a foil, he giveth a most beautiful lustre unto the virtues of Alexander, which he desciphereth in particular. This done, he answereth those, who object that fortune raised Alexander, to that greatness. And to give the mightier force and weight to the reasons by him produced, he disputeth against fortune herself: wherein he examineth his several exploits, wherein as virtue is evidently seen to accompany and assist, so fortune to oppose herself and resist him. And this doth he particularise at large. After this digression, he cometh again to his precedent matter, and bringeth out new proofs of the virtue and magnanimity of this mighty Monarch, even from his youth unto his dying day; comparing him as a Paragon, with the wisest Sages, and most valiant warriors both of Persia and of Greece. Showing also that he surpassed them all, in continency, liberality, piety, prudence, justice, beneficence and valour. For the last point, he relateth the great jeopardy wherein Alexander was plunged one time among the rest, out of which, virtue caused him to retire safe as it were, in despite of fortune: which is the very conclusion of this treatise, confirming the principal intention of our author, which is to prove that the foresaid grandeur of Alexander ought not to be ascribed unto fortune, but to virtue.   

THE FORTUNE OR virtue of K. Alexander.  
The second Oration.  
WE forgot yesterday (as it should seem) among other matters to say, that the age wherein Alexander lived was in this respect happy, for that it brought forth many excellent arts, and as many great and singular wits: or rather it may be said, that this was not so much the good fortune of Alexander, as of those cunning artisans and rare spirits, to have for their witness & spectator such a parsonage, who both knew best how to judge truly of good workmanship, and also was most able to reward the same as liberally. And verily to this purpose reported it is, that sometime after, in the age ensuing, when Archestratus a fine headed Poet and a pleasant, lived in great want and penury, for that no man made any reckoning of him to his desert, there came one unto him and said: Had it been thy hap Archestratus to have lived in the days of Alexander, he would for every verse of thine have bestowed upon thee either Cyprus or Phoenicia. Certes for mine own part thus I conceive of it, that the artificers and workmen living in that age, became so famous and excellent not so much under Alexander and by Alexander. For it is the good temperature of the weather and subtlety of the ambient air, that causeth abundance and plenty of fruits: but the gracious countenance, the fovor, honour, bounty and humanity of a prince, is it that provoketh and stirreth up good arts, yea and advanceth excellent wits: whereas chose all the same languisheth, decayeth, is extinguished and perisheth clean by the envy, avarice, spary pinching, and peevish frowardness of rulers and those in authority. And here I must call to mind the report that goeth of Dionysius the tyrant, who hearing one day a famous minstrel playing passing well upon the lute and as sweet singing thereto, said openly, that he would bestow upon him for a reward a talon of silver. The morrow after comes this musician to call for the money according to promise: unto whom Dionysius made this answer: Sirrah (quoth he) yesterday as I took contentment by thee so long as I heard thee play and sing, so I am sure I did thee a pleasure again in the hope of this promise: thou wert paid therefore presently for the delight which thou gavest me, by the joy that thou receivedst from me: go thy ways therefore, thou hast thy reward already. Alexander, the tyrant of Pherae, (whom indeed I should call by this addition only [tyrant] and not stain and contaminate so good a name as Alexander, by styling therewith so wicked a wretch:) this tyrant I say, whiles he beheld one day an excellent player acting in a tragedy, was so much moved with a certain tickling delight coming upon him, that his heart began to relent even upon a tender commiseration and pity: whereupon he suddenly left the theatre, made haste away, & went faster than an ordinary pace until he was out of sight, saying withal, that it were a great indignity for him to be seen for to weep and shed tears, in compassion of the miseries and calamities of queen Hecuba or lady Polyxena, who every day caused so many citizens and subjects throats to be cut. This monstrous tyrant was so mischievously bend, that he went within a little of punishing that excellent actor most grieveously, because he had mollified his hard heart and made it melt like a piece of iron in the furnace. Archelaus king of 〈◊〉 seemed to be not very free of gift, whereupon Timotheus the musician singing to the harp, would eftsoons glance at him, and iterate this pretty scoff as the foot of his song; 
This earth bred metal, silver bright,  
You 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  praise sir, as your whole delight.  But Archelaus met with him, extempore again, and replied not unwittily, in this wise, 
And thou as feign wouldst silver have,  
And dost as shamelessly it 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  crave.  Ateas a king of the Scythians, having taken prisoner in war, that famous minstrel Ismenias, commanded him to sound upon his flute or pipe, whiles he sat at dinner. Now when all the company beside wondered at his excellent music, and applauded him for his good playing, he himself swore a great oath, that he took more pleasure to hear his horse neigh, so unmusicall were his ears and so far removed from the Muses: so much also was his mind set upon the stable and manger, fitter indeed to hear asses bray than horses neigh. What honour then or advancement may a cunning artisan, or so absolute a master in music hope for at the hands of such kings? Certes no more than from those who would seem themselves to be skilful, yea and dare contend with professors in the sufficiency of their art: and therefore upon envy or malice seek to overthrow and deprave those that indeed be excellent artists. Such an one was Dionysius above named (whom here I must bring in again) who caused the Poet Philoxenus to be cast into the prison or dungeon called Latomiae, that is to say, the Quarries, because when Dionysius had put into his hands a tragedy of his own making, commanding him to review and correct the same, he dashed it out and interlined it all from the beginning to the end. And even Philip also king of Macedon, for that late it was ere he gave his mind to music, was in this behalf unlike himself and not answerable to his greatness otherwise. Howbeit upon an opinion that he had of his own skill that way, he would needs (as the report goes) enter into disputation with a professed musician and player of instruments, and argue about the strokes and stops, points and notes and such like terms, yea and seem forsooth to control him in his own art; whereat the minstrel smiling pleasantly upon him: God forbid sir (quoth he) that you a king, should ever be so unfortunate and at so low an ebb, as to have more skill in these matters than I. But Alexander knowing full well what things he should be a spectator and auditor of, as also what he ought himself to practise and execute with his own hand, studied continually to be expert and accomplished in feats of arms, endeavouring, as the Poet Aeschylus saith, 
Most manfully his standing, good to make:  
And terribly to force his foes to quake.  And this indeed was the hereditary art which he received by succession from his ancestors the Aeacidae, and Hercules: as for other sciences, he honoured them in other men, without any emulation at all for their profession: and as he highly commended any excellency or grace therein, so for no pleasure & delight that he took thereby, was he easily surprised with any affection for to follow the same. In his time there flourished two noble Tragedians above the rest Thessalus and Athenodorus; who when they contended one against another for the prize, who could act the better, the kings of Cyprus defrayed the charges belonging to this solemn spectacle, and pageant; but the principal and most renowned captains, were judges to decide the quarrel. In the end, when Athenodorus was declared victor; Alexander who stood better affected to Thessalus: I would I had (quoth he) lost the one half of my kingdom, so I had not seen Thessalus take the foil: howbeit, he neither expostulated with the umpiers, nor complained of their judgement; for howsoever he thought that himself ought in other respects to outgo all, yet he was to yield and give place to justice. Among Comedians in those days, there was one Lycon a Scarphean: this actor in playing his part before him in a comedy, had interlaced handsomely a verse, wherein he seemed cleanly to crave some reward: Alexander laughed at the conceit of the fellow, and gave him ten talents. Many excellent harpers there were, and players of the lute, and one Aristonicus among others, who in a certain battle running in to rescue and succour him, fought manfully, and there was slain, and fell dead at his foot: Alexander hereupon caused his statue to be made in brass, and to be set up in the temple of Apollo Pythius holding a lute in the one hand, and a lance in the other. In so doing he not only honoured the man, but also Music, as being an art which breedeth animosity in men's hearts, filling those with a certain ravishment of spirit and courageous heart to fight valiantly, who are naturally framed and bred up to action: for even himself one day, when Antigenides sounded the battle with his flute, and singing thereto a military song, called Harmation, was thereat so much moved, and set in such an heat by his warlike tune, that he started out of the place where he sat, and caught up the arms that hung up thereby, ready to brandish them and to fight, bearing witness thereby to the Spartans', chanting thus: 
Sweetly to play on Lute and Harp;  
To sing thereto as pleasantly:  
Beseemeth those that love at sharp,  
To fight it out right valiantly.  There lived also in the time of Alexander, Apelles the Painter, and Lysippus the Imager: the former of these two, painted Alexander holding a thunderbolt in his hand, but so exquisitely to the life, and so like unto himself, that it was a common saying; Of two Alexanders, the one, king Philip's son, was invincible; the other of Apelles drawing, was inimitable. As for Lysippus, when he had cast the first image of Alexander, with his face up toward heaven, expressing thereby the very countenance of Alexander, who was wont so to look, and withal, to turn his neck somewhat at one side; there comes me one and setteth over it this epigram, alluding very prettily to the said portraiture: 
This image here that stands in brass all bright,  
The portrait is of Alexander, right:  
Up toward heaven, he both his eyes doth cast,  
And unto Jove, seems thus to speak at last:  
Thou Jupiter in heaven mayst well be bold:  
Mine is the earth, by conquest I it hold.  And therefore Alexander gave commandment, that no other brass founder, should cast his image, but only Lysippus: for he alone it was (as it should seem) that had the feat to represent his natural disposition in brass, and to express his virtue answerable to the lineaments and proportion of his shape. As for others, howsoever they might be thought to resemble the bending of his neck, the cheerful cast & amiable volubility of his quick eye; yet could they never observe and keep that virility of visage and lion-like look of his. In the rank of other rare workmen, may be ranged a famous Architect, named Stasicrates, who would not seem to busy himself in making any thing, that was either gallant & pleasant, or delectable and gracious to the eye; but intended some great matter, and such a piece of work, and of that argument, as would require no less than the riches and treasure of a king to furnish and set forth. This fellow comes up to Alexander, being in the high countries and provinces of his dominion, where before him he found fault with all his images, as well painted, and engraven, as cast and portrayed any way; saying, they were the hand-works of base minded and mechanical artificers: But I (quoth he) if it may please your majesty, know how, and do intend to found and establish the similitude of your royal person, in a matter that is living and immortal, grounded upon eternal roots, the weight and ponderosity whereof is immooveable, and can not be shaken: For the mountain Athos (quoth he) in Thracia, whereas it is greatest, and riseth to a most conspicuous height; where the broad plains and high tops are proportionate to itself every way; having in it, members, limbs, joints, distances, and intervals, resembling for all the world, the form of man's body, may be wrought and framed so, as it would serve very well both to be called, and to be indeed, the statue of Alexander, and worthy his Greatness: the foot and base whereof, shall touch the sea; in one of the hands comprehending and holding a great city peopled and inhabited by an infinite number of men: and in the right, a running river, with a perpetual current, which it poureth as it were out of a great pot into the sea: as for all these petty images and puppets made of gold, brass, and ivory, these wooden tables with pictures, away with them all, as little paltrey portracts, which may be bought and sold, theefe-stollen and melted, defaced and marred. Alexander having heard the man speak, highly praised him, as admiring his haughty mind, his bold courage, the conceit of his extraordinary invention: Good fellow (quoth he) let Athos alone, and permit it to stand a God's name, in the place where it doth, and never alter the form of it: it sufficeth that it is the monument of the outrageous pride, insolent vanity and folly of one king already: and as for me, the mountain Caucasus, the hills Emodi, the river Tanais, and the Caspian sea, shall be the images and statues to represent my acts. But set the case I pray you, that such a piece of work had been made & finished as this great architect talked of: is there any man think you, seeing it in that form, disposition, and fashion, that would think it grew so by chance & adventure? No I warrant you. What say we now to his image called Ceraunophoros, that is to say, the thunder-boltbeare? what say we to another named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, leaning upon a lance? Can not the greatness & majesty of such a statue be performed by fortune, without the artificial hand of man, howsoever it confer and allow thereto great store of gold, brass, ivory, and all manner of rich & precious matter? and shall we think it then possible, that a great parsonage, nay rather the greatest that ever the world saw, was made & perfected by fortune without virtue? and that it was fortune only who made for him that provision of arms, of money, of men, cities, and horses: all which things, bring peril to those that know not how to use them well; and neither honour and credit, nor puissance, but rather argue their feebleness and impuissance. For Antisthenes said, very well and truly, that we should wish unto our enemies all the good things in the world, save only valour and fortitude: for by that means they be not theirs who are in present possession of them, but become theirs who are the conquerors. And this is the reason men say, that nature hath set upon the head of an Hart for his defence, the most heartless and cowardly beast that is, wonderful horns for bigness, and most dangerous by reason of their sharp and branching knagges: teaching us by this example, that bodily strength and armour, serveth them in no stead, who have not the courage and resolution to stand their ground and fight it out. And even thus we see, that fortune many times by heaping upon heartless cowards, and witless fools, a great estate of riches and dominion, which they know not how to wield, and wherewith they discredit themselves, doth honour and grace virtue, as upon which only dependeth all the puissance, all the worship, glory, and reputation of men: for if as Epicharmus saith, 
The mind it is that seeth clear:  
And 'tis the mind that eke doth hear.  than all the rest are blind and deaf, which be void of reason: for the senses seem verily to have their proper and peculiar functions. Now, that the mind is all in all, that the mind is available in all things, that the mind disposeth every thing in good order, that it is the mind which conquereth, which ruleth & reigneth over all; & whatsoever beside, blind, deaf, & without life, do hinder, depress, and dishonour the possessors thereof, if virtue be away, may be proved and exemplified by the experience and course of worldly affairs: for by the same puissance and command, Semiramis being but a woman, rigged and manned armadoes at sea, levied and armed main battles of land forces, built Babylon, scoured and conquered all the coast of the red sea, subdued and brought to her obedience the Arabians and Aethiopians: whereas Sardanapalus, a man borne, sat within house at home, carding and spinning purple, tumbling and lying along, waltting among a sort of concubines: and when he was dead, they made for him a statue in stone, dancing by himself alone after the Barbarian fashion, and knacking (as it were) with his fingers over his head, like an antic, with this epigram set over it: 
Eat, drink, the wanton lecher play,  
For nothing else is aught, I say.  Crates the Philosopher seeing upon a time within the temple of Apollo Pythius at Delphi, the image of Phryne the courtesan, shrined all in gold, cried out: Behold here stands the triumphant Trophaee, over the loose and lascivious life of the Greeks. But whosoever beholdeth the life or sepulture, whether you will (for in mine opinion there is no difference) of Sardanapalus, he may well and truly say to the Trophaee of fortunes goods. What then? shall we suffer fortune after Sardanapalus to meddle with Alexander, and to challenge unto herself any part of his mightiness and puissance? That were no reason at all: for what gave she ever unto him more than other kings have received at her hands? whether it were armour, horses, weapons, money, soldiers, and a guard about their persons? Well, let her by these means make Ariddaeus great if she can; let her magnify (I say) by these means Amasis, Ochus, Oarses; Tigranes the Armenian, and Nicomedes the Bithynian: of whom the one, to wit, Tigranes, flung down his crown and diadem at the feet of Pompeius, and shamefully lost his kingdom, as a pray or escheat fallen into his enemy's hand: the other, namely Nicomedes, having shaved his head, and wearing a cap upon it, declared himself thereby, to be an affranchised vassal of the Romans? What? Say we then, that fortune maketh men cowards, fearful, and base minded? Surely, it were no reason to impute cowardice upon infortunity, no more than to attribute valour and wisdom to prosperity. But well and truly may one say, that fortune herself was great, in regard of her lord and master Alexander: for in him she was glorious, invincible and magnanimous; not proud nor insolent, but full of clemency and humanity: no sooner was the breath out of his body, but presently her power, that is to say, his army and forces, as Leosthenes said wandering up and down straggling and running upon itself, resembled that same Cyclops Polyphemus, who after his eye was out of his head, went groping all about, putting forth his hands before him, but not knowing where to lay them: For even the greatness of her puissance, after he was once dead, went to and fro, wandering it wist not where, and stumbling ever and anon, wanting a director and governor, as in time of Anarchy, when there is no sovereign ruler known: or rather it might be compared unto dead bodies when the life is newly departed out of them. For like as the parts are not knit together, nor hold one to another any longer, but fall away one from the other, and loosely withdraw themselves apart: even so the army of Alexander after it had lost and foregone him, did no more but sprunt, pant, struggle and strive for life, toss and tumble to and fro, under the Perdiccaies, the Meleager's, the Seleuci, the Antegoni, and I wot not whom, like unto some small vital spirits, yet remaining hot and beating within the arteries here and there disorderly, and now and than like intermittent pulses, until such time as at the last it grew to putrefaction and corruption in manner of a dead carcase, and engendered worms crawling within it: I mean such base kings, degenerate rulers & captains who had no generosity nor heart in them. Certes, Alexander himself in his life time rebuking Hephaestion when he quarreled with Craterus, tanted him & took him up in this wise: What power hast thou of thyself? what couldst thou do, and where wouldst thou be, if a man should take Alexander from thee? Semblably, I will not stick to say thus unto the fortune of that time: What is thy greatness? what is thy glory? where is thy puissance? where is thine invincible power, if one should bereave thee of Alexander? That is as much to say, as if one should deprive thine arms & weapons, of skill and experience to use them; thy riches, of liberality; thy sumptuosity and magnificence, of temperance; thy fights & combats, of resolute valour; thy victories and superiorities, of mildness and lenity. Make any other great if thou canst, who bestoweth not his good bountifully, who in the forefront of the battle hazzardeth not his own person first before his army, who honoureth not nor regardeth his friends, who taketh no pity of his enemies captive, who is not in his pleasure's continent, in his occasions & affairs vigilant, in his victories soon pacified and easy to be compounded with, and last of all, who in his prosperity and good success is not kind and courteous. How can a man possibly be great, what power and authority so ever he have, if he be foolish, vicious, & wicked withal: for in one word, take virtue from a man otherwise fortunate, he is every way mean and of base account; mean in his gifts & donations, by reason of nigardise; mean in his travels, in regard of his cowardice and tenderness; mean in the sight of the gods, because of his superstition; mean among good men, for his envy; mean with valiant warriors, in respect of his timorousness; and mean in the conceit of honest women, considering his dissolute voluptuousness. For like as unskilful workmen who set little statues upon great bases and lage piedstals, show thereby the smallness of their statues so much the more: even so when fortune raiseth up a man of base mind into high place and to an estate wherein he is to be seen of the whole world, she discovereth his wants, she discrediteth and dishonoureth him the rather, waving and shaking every way through his levity. So that, by this we must confess, that greatness lieth not in the bare possession, but in the well using of good things: For many times it falleth out that very infants even from their cradle, inherit the realms and seignories of their fathers; like as Charillus did, whom Lycurgus his uncle brought in his swaddling bands into the common hall Phiditium, where the lords of Sparta were wont to dine together, set him in the royal throne, and in the stead of himself, declared and proclaimed him king of Lacedaemon. Now was not this babe for all this, great: but he rather might be accounted a great person, who rendering unto the new borne infant his father's honour due unto him, would not intervert and derive it upon himself, and so defraud his nephew thereof. As for Aridaeus, who could make him a great man, whom differing indeed nothing from a babe, Meleager swaddled indeed and enwrapped only within a purple rob and royal mantel of estate, and so installed him in the throne of Alexander: wherein he did very well, to give the world to understand within a few days after, how men reign by virtue; and how by fortune: for he subrogated in the place of a true prince that managed the empire indeed, a very counterfeit player and actor of a king's part; or to speak more truly, he brought a mute and dumb diadem to walk through the world for a time, as it were upon a stage. The comical 
* Aristoph.  Poet said: 
A very woman may well a burden bear,  
If first a man upon her do it rear.  But a man may chose say, that a silly woman or a young child may take up, yea and charge upon the shoulders of another, a scignory, a realm, a great estate and empire, as Bagoas the Eunuch took and laid upon Oarses and Darius the kingdom of the Persians. Mary when as one hath taken upon him a mighty power and dominion, to bear, to wield & manage the same, and not under the weight and heavy load of affairs belonging thereto, to be overwhelmed, bruised, or wrested awry: that is the act of a man endued with virtue understanding and courage, such an one as Alexander was: howsoever some there be who reproach him that he loved wine to well and would be drunk. But this great gift he had, that in his important affairs he was sober, neither was he drunk and overseen, nor ever forgot himself and grew to any outrage, for all the puissance, authority and liberty that he had: whereof others when they had some part and little taste, could not hold and contain themselves: For 
No sooner are their purses stuffed  
With coin: or they to honour brought,  
But they anon with pride are puffed,  
And soon bewray that they be nought:  
They kick, they wince, they fling and prance,  
None may stand safely in their way,  
If fortune once their house advance  
Some unexpected power to sway.  Clitus for having sunk three or four galleys of the Greeks, near the Isle Amorgus, would needs be styled with the name of Neptune, and a three tined mace carried before him. Demetrius, upon whom fortune had bestowed a little skirt or lappet (as it were) which he tore from Alexander's dominion, was well content to hear himself called Jupiter 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, the vawter. Cities sent unto him not ambassadors, but Theores, forsooth, that is to say, especial persons deputed for to consult with the gods: and his answers to them, must be termed (I would not else) Oracles. And Lysimachus who held the coasts of Thracia, which was but the border or edge of Alexander's kingdom, grew to that height of surly pride & intolerable arrogancy, that he would break out into these words: Now the Bizantines come to do homage unto me, seeing how I reach and touch the sky with my lance. At which speech of his, Pasiades standing by, could not forbear, but say unto the company: Let us be gone my masters, with all speed, lest this man bore an hole in heaven with the point of his lance. But what should we speak more of these persons? who might be allowed in some sort to carry an haughty mind and bear their heads aloft, in regard of Alexander, whose soldiers they were? seeing that Clearchus the tyrant of Heraclea, carried upon his sceptre as his device, the resemblance of lightning, and one of his sons he named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that is to say, a thunderbolt. And Denys the younger, called himself the son of Apollo, in a certain Epigram to this effect: 
Doris the Nymph, by Phoebus did conceive,  
And from them both my birth I do derive.  And in truth, Denys the elder, the natural father of this man, who put to death ten thousand of his own citizens and subjects (if not more) who for very envy betrayed his own brother into the hands of his enemies; who had not the patience to stay for his own mother's death, an aged woman, and who by the course of nature would have died within few days after, but smothered and stopped her breath; who also himself wrote in a tragedy of his own making, 
For why? know this, that lordly tyranny  
The mother is of wrong and villainy.  yet forsooth, of three daughters which he had, named one Arete, that is to say, Virtue; another, Sophrosyne, that is to say, Temperance; and a third, Dicoesyne, that is to say, Justice. Some there were, who needs would be surnamed Euergeta, that is to say, Benefactors; others, Soteres, that is to say, Saviour's. Some called themselves Callinici, that is to say, Victorious; others, Megali, that is to say, Great. And yet as glorious additions as they carried in their styles, who is able to express in words, their marriages following thick one in the neck of another, spending the long day continually, like a sort of stallions among a number of women, as if they had been a stud of so many mares; their unkind abusing of fair boys, their violent rapes and enforcements of young damosels, their drumming and tabouring with a sort of effeminate & womanlike wantoness, their dice playing in the day time, their piping and sounding the flute in open theatres, their nights spent in suppers, and whole days in long dinners? But Alexander got up, and sat to his dinner by the break of day, and went not to supper before it was late in the evening; he drank and made good cheer when he had first sacrificed to the gods; he played at dice with Midias, one time, whiles he had a fever upon him; his pastimes and recreations were, to travel and march upon the way, and withal, to learn how to shoot an arrow, how to lance a dart, how to mount a chariot nimbly, and dismount again with facility. Roxane he espoused and wedded, only for pure love, and to content his fancy and affection; but Statira the daughter of Darius he took to wife upon policy, because the state of his kingdom and affairs required such a match; for expedient it was, thus to mix and unite two nations together. As for other ladies and women of Persia, he went as far beyond them in chastity and continence, as he did the Persian men in valour and fortitude; for he never would so much as see one of them against her will; and those whom he saw, he less regarded than such as he never set eye upon: and whereas otherwise to all persons he was courteous and popular, to such only as were fair and beautiful he showed himself strange, and used them in some sort proudly. As touching the wife of Darius, a lady of surpassing beauty, he would not endure so much as one word that tended to the praise thereof; yet when she was dead, he performed her funerals with so sumptuous and princelike obsequies, he mourned and bewailed her death so piteously, that as his kindness in that behalf made the world mistrust and suspect his chastity, so his bountiful courtesy incurred the obloquy and imputation of injustice. And verily, Darius was at the first moved to conceive jealousy and a sinister opinion of him that way, considering he had the woman in his hands, and was beside, a gallant and young prince: for he also was one of them, who were persuaded that Alexander held the tenure of his mighty dominion and monarchy, by the goodness and favour of Fortune; but after he knew the truth once, upon diligent search and inquisition by all circumstances into the thing: Well (quoth he) the Persians state I perceive is not utterly overthrown, neither will any man repute us plain cowards and effeminate persons, for being vanquished by such an enemy: for mine own part, my first wish and principal prizer unto the gods is, that they would vouchsafe me fortunate success, and at the last, an happy victory of this war, to the end that I may surmount Alexander in beneficence; for an earnest desire I have and an emulation, to show myself more mild and gracious toward him, than he is to me ward: but if all be gone with me and my house, then, o Jupiter the protector of the Persians, and ye other tutelar gods and patrons of kings and kingdoms, suffer not any other but him, to be enthronised in the royal seat of Cyrus. Certes, this was a very adoption of Alexander, that passed in the presence and by the testimony of the gods. See what victories are achieved by virtue.  
Ascribe now (if you will) unto Fortune, the journey of Arbela, the battle sought in Cilicia, and all other such like exploits performed by force of arms: let it be, that the fortune it was of war which shook the city of Tyrus, and made it quake before him, and opened Egypt unto him; grant, that by the help of Fortune Halicarnassus fell to the ground, and Miletus was forced and won; that Mazeus abandoned the river Euphrates, and left it disfurnished of garrisons; and that all the plains about Babylon were overspread with dead bodies: yet it was not Fortune that made him temperant, neither was he continent by the means of Fortune; Fortune it was not, that kept and preserved his soul as within a fortress inexpugnable, so as neither pleasures could it surprise and captivate, nor lusts and fleshly desires wound or touch. And these were the very means whereby he vanquished and put to flight the person of Darius himself. All the rest were, the discomfiture of his great barbe-horses, the overthrow and loss of his armour, skirmishes, battles, murders, executions, massacres and flights of his men. But the great foil and defaiture indeed, most confessed, and against which least exception can be taken, was that wherein Darius himself was overthrown; namely, when as he yielded unto the virtue of Alexander, to his magnanimity, fortitude and justice, admiring that heart of his, invincible of pleasure, unconquered by travels, and in gratuities and liberality immatchable. For in shields and spears, in pikes and targuets, in shouts and alarms, in giving the charge and in buckling together with the clattering of armour, right hardy and undaunted, aswell as he, were Tarrias the soon of Dinomenes, Antigones of Pellen, and Philotas the son of Parmenio: but against tickling pleasures, against the attractive allurements of women, against flattering silver and gold, they were no better, nor had more rule of themselves than slaves and captives. For Tarrias at what time as Alexander undertook to pay all the debts of the Macedonians, and to make satisfaction unto all those who had lent them any money, falsely belied himself, saying, he was indebt, and withal suborned and brought forth a certain usurer, to the very table where this discharge was made, who took it upon him, that he was a creditor of his. And afterwards when Tarrias was detected and convict hereof, he had made himself away for very shame and compunction of heart, but that Alexander being advertised thereof, pardoned his fault, yea and permitted him also to keep the silver still, that he had disbursed for his counterfeit debt; calling to mind, how at what time as his father Philip laid siege to the city Perinthus, the said Tarrias in askirmish was shot into the eye, and would not suffer the same to be dressed, nor the shaft to be plucked forth, before the enemies were put to flight. Antigenes causing himself to be enroled, and his name registered among others who were sent back again from the camp into Macedon, by occasion of sickness or maim, whereby they were not serviceable: being found afterwards to ail nothing, but to counterfeit sickness, who otherwise was a good soldier, and carried the marks of many a scar in his body to be seen, offended Alexander hereby; and when the king demanded the reason, why he had so done; he confessed by and by, that he was in love with a young woman named Telesippa, whom he purposed to follow and accompany, being minded to go to the sea-coast, for that he could not find in his heart to be far from her. Then Alexander asked him, to whom the wench appertained, & who was to be dealt with, for to make her stay: Antigenes answered, she was her own woman, & of free condition: Why then (quoth Alexander) let us persuade her to tarry still by fair promises & good gifts; for in no wise force her we may. So easy was he to pardon and bear with love, in any other rather than in himself. The first cause of the infortunate fall of Philotas the son of Parmenio, was in some sort his own intemperance: for there was a young woman borne in the city of Pella, named Antigona, who in the saccage of the city of Damascus, was taken prisoner among other captives, and indeed had been thither brought before by Autophradates, who surprised her at sea, as she failed from the coast of Macedon, toward the Isle Samothrace: fair she was, & welfavored to see to; and so far had she entangled Philotas with her love, after he came once to be acquainted with her, that being a man otherwise as hard as iron, and steel to the very back, she had so mollified and made him pliable, that in the mids of his pleasures, poor man he, he was not master of himself and his own heart, but lying open unto the woman, revealed many secrets unto her, and let fall foolish words in her hearing: For what had that Philip been (would he sometimes say) but for Parmenio; and what were this Alexander here, without Philotas? what would become of his high addition, Jupiter Ammonius, where were those dragons of his, if we were not well pleased with him? Antigona told these speeches unto another woman one of her familiar friends; and she reported them again to Craterus: Craterus brought Antigona herself secretly unto Alexander: and verily Alexander touched not her body, but abstained from her: howbeit, by her means, sounding Philotas, & coming within him, he discovered fully what he was: yet in seven years space and more, he never either at any feast where he drank wine liberally, & was thought otherwhiles to be drunk, made he show of this suspicion conceived of him, or in his anger, being of nature hasty and choleric; or to his friend Hephaestion, unto whom he was wont to disclose all, and make partaker otherwise of his secrets: for one day by report, having opened a letter of secrets, sent from his own mother, as he read it to himself, Hephaestion held his head close to, and read it gently together with him; neither had he the heart to forbid him: only after he had suffered him to read it through, he took the signet from his own finger, set it to his mouth, as it were to seal up his lips, that he should say nothing. But if a man should go about to rehearse at large all the notable examples, whereby it might be proved that this prince used the greatness of his power exceeding well, and as most worthily became a king; his strength and voice would fail him: for say, that by the goodness and favour of Fortune he became great: yet greater he is, in that he used his fortune aright, and wisely as he should: and the more that a man extolleth his good fortune, the more doth he amplify that virtue of his, for which he was worthy of such fortune.  
But now it is high time that I should proceed to the beginning of his growth, and the first entry of his mighty power: wherein I consider and look every way about me, what act of fortune is therein, whereby men should suppose and maintain, that Alexander arose to such greatness? How now? Tell me I beseech you for the love of God, placed she him in the regal throne of Cyrus, without drawing a sword, without striking one stroke, without bloodshed, without wounds, without a field fought, or expedition of arms made? by the neighing (forsooth.) of an horse, as sometime she did by that first Darius, the son of Histaspes? or was it some kind husband won by the flattering persuasion of his wife, that crowned him king; like as the same Darius made Xerxes' king, induced by his wife Atossa; or haply the royal diadem came of itself to his very gates, as it came unto Parysatis, by the means of Bagoas the eunuch; who did no more for it, but change and put off his lackeys mandilion, put himself presently into the royal rob, and set upon his head the pointed turban, named Cydaris: or all on a sudden, beyond all expectation, by the fortunate fall of a lot, and the mere benefit of fortune, he became the monarch of the whole earth; like as at Athens their officers Thesmothete, and Archontes are created by lottery. But would you know how men come to be kings by the means of Fortune? This one example will tell you. The race of the Heraclidae, descending lineally from Hercules, out of which they were wont at Argos from time to time to elect their kings, chanced to fail, and be utterly extince: whereupon, when they had sent out to the oracle of Apollo, for to demand and inquire what to do in this case; this answer was made, That an eagle should direct them what was to be done. Some few days after, an eagle was seen soaring aloft in the air, and at length to settle upon the house of one named Aegon: and thus was Aegon declared for their king. Will you have another? He who reigned for the time in the citio Paphos, was found to be wicked, unjust, violent, and a great oppressor of his people: whereupon Alexander deposed him from his regal state and dignity; and when he had so done, sought for another to rule in his stead, out of the house & family of the Cinyradae, which was thought in manner to be worn out, and utterly extince: howbeit, advertised he was, that there remained of that race no more but one obscure and poor man, of whom there was no reckoning in the world made; and he dwelled in a certain garden unregarded, where he lived in very mean estate. Presently he sent forth to seek for this man: they who were put in commission hereabout. found him there indeed, watering certain beds of leeks, and such like words and potherbs. The man was wonderfully troubled and affrighted to see these soldiers come toward him, and especially when they said that he must come and speak with Alexander the king: thus was he brought unto him, in a simple thin linen waistcoat, and presently proclaimed king of Paphos, received the purple royal rob, and was reckoned in the number of those who are called the king's Minions: and his name was Alynomus. Lo how Fortune makes men kings, only by altering their robes, by pormutation of their names, and changing their copies a little, all on a sudden, quickly in a trice, with great facility, beyond all hope, and without any expectation at all. Come now unto Alexander, what great matter did he ever attain unto without his desert? what happened unto him without the sweat of his brows, nay without the effusion of his blood? what had he gratis, that he paid not for? what got he, that did not cost him pains and travel? Drunk he hath of rivers stained and coloured with blood; passed he hath over them upon bridges made of dead bodies; for very hunger he hath been glad to eat of grass and green herbs, the first he could find growing; he hath with much digging and searching, discovered nations buried under deep snow, and cities lying in caves within the ground: sailed he hath upon seas, warring and fight against him: and travelling over the dry sands of the Gedrosians and Arhachosians, he saw trees and plants growing within the sea, before any upon the land. Now if a man might be allowed to address his speech unto Fortune, as unto some person in the defence of Alexander, might not one say unto her? When and where was it, that thou ever madest way for the affairs of Alexander, what fortress wan he through thy favour, without the loss of blood? what city or town didst thou cause to be yielded unto him without a garrison? or what army, without their weapons? where found he ever through thy grace any kings sluggish and slothful; any captain careless and negligent; any warder or porter of the gates drowsy and sleepy? nay, he never met with river that had far passable, Winter that was tolerable, or Summer that was not painful and irksome. Go thy ways, go, to Antiochus the son of Seleucus; to Artaxerxes the brother of Cyrus; to Ptolomaeus Philadelphus. These were they, whom their fathers in their life time declared heirs apparent, yea, and crowned them kings: these won fields and battles, for which never eye shed tear: these kept holiday continually: these celebrated festival solemnities daily in theatres, with all manner of pomps and goodly sights: every one of these reigned in all prosperity, until they were very aged: whereas Alexander (if there were nothing else) lo how his body is wounded and piteously mangled, from the crown of his head, to the sole of his foot, gashed here, thrust in there, dry beaten, bruised and broken with all manner of hostile weapons, 
With lance and spear, with sword most keen,  
With stones that big and massy been.  At the river Granicus, his armet or morion was cleft with a curtelace, as far as to the hair of his head: before the town of Gaza he was shot into the shoulder with a dart: in the Maragandians country his shin was wounded with a javelin, in so much as the greater bone thereof was so broken and shattered, that it came out at the wound: in Hyrcania he got a knock with a great stone behind in his neck, which shook his head so, as that his eyesight was dimmed thereby, so as for certain days, he was afraid that he should have been stark blind for ever: in a skirmish with the Assacans, his ankle was wounded with an Indian dart: at what time when he saw it to bleed, he turned unto his flatterers and parasites, and showing them the place, smiled and said: This is very blood indeed, 
And not that humour, say all what you will,  
Which from the gods most blessed doth distil.  At the battle of Issus his thigh was pierced with a sword, even by king Darius himself, as Chares writeth, who came to close with him at hand fight. And Alexander himself writing simply and the plain truth to Antipater, I myself also caught a stab with a short sword in my thigh, but thanked be God (quoth he) I had no great hurt thereby either at the present or afterwards. Fight against the Mallians he was wounded with a dart two cubits long, that being driven through his cuirace entered in at his breast and came out again at his neck, according as Aristobulus hath left in writing. Having passed over the river Tanais for to march against the Scythians, when he had defaited them in battle, he followed the chase and pursued them on horseback for a hundred and fifty stadia, notwithstanding all the while he was troubled with a sore lask or flux of the belly. Now truly fortune, much beholden is Alexander unto thee for advancing his estate: Is this thy making of him great, by suffering him thus to be pierced through on every side? Here is a fair upholding of him indeed to lay open thus all the parts of his body: clean contrary to that which Minerva did unto Menelaus, who with her hand turned aside all the shot of the enemies, and made them light upon his armour where it was most sure and of the best proof, to wit, upon his cuirace, his bawdricke or belt, or upon his helmet; and by that means broke the force of the stroke before it could come to the bare body, so as all the harm it could do, was but a little to raze the skin and let out some small show and a few drops of blood: but thou chose, hast exposed his naked and unarmed parts and those most dangerous to be wounded, causing the shot to enter so far as to go through the very bone, environing and hemming in his body round, besetting his eyes and feet, impeaching him for chase his enemies, diverting the train of his victories, and overturning all his hopes. Certes I am of this opinion, that there never was king who had fortune more adverse & a shrewder stepdame than he; although she hath been cursed, envious and spiteful enough to many beside: for whereas she hath fallen upon others violently like a thunderbolt or shot of lightning, whom she hath cut off and destroyed right out at once; her malice and hatred unto Alexander hath been cankered obstinate and implacable even as it was before him unto Hercules. For what Typhon's or monstrous Giants of prodigious stature hath she not raised up as concurrents to fight with him? What enemies hath not she fortified and furnished against him with infinite store of arms, with deep rivers, with prerupt and craggy rocks, or with extraordinary strength of most savage beasts? Now if the courage of Alexander had not been undaunted, and the same arising from exceeding great virtue, firmly grounded and settled thereupon to encounter fortune, how could it otherwise have been, but the same should have failed and given over, as being wearied and toiled out with setting so many battles in array, arming his soldiers so daily, laying siege so many times unto cities and towns, chase and pursuing his enemies so often, checked with so many revolts and rebellions, crossed so commonly with infinite treasons, conspiracies and insurrections of nations; troubled with such a sort of stiff necked kings who shook off the yoke of allegiance? and in one word, whiles he conquered Bactra, Maracanda and the Sogdians, among faithless and treacherous nations who waited always to spy some opportunity and occasion to do him a displeasure, & who like to the serpent Hydra, as fast as one head was cut off, put forth another, and so continually raised fresh and new wars? I shall seem to tell you one thing very strange and incredible, howbeit most true: Fortune it was and nothing but fortune by whose malign and cross aspect, he went very near of losing that opinion that went of him, namely, that he was the son of Jupiter Ammon. For what man was there ever extract and descended from the seed of the gods, who exploited more laborious, more difficult and dangerous combats? unless it were Hercules again the son of Jupiter? And yet one outrageous and violent man there was who set him a work, enjoining him to take fell lions, to hunt wild bores, to chase away ravenous fowls, to the end that he should have no time to be employed in greater affairs whiles he visited the world, namely, in punishing such as Antaeus, and in repressing the ordinary murders which that tyrant Busiris and such like committed upon the persons of guests and travelers. But it was no other thing than virtue alone that commanded Alexander to enterprise and exploit such a piece of work as beseemed so great a king and one derived from a divine race: the end whereof was not a mass of gold to be carried along after him upon ten thousand camels backs, nor the superfluous delights of Media, not sumptuous and delicate tables, not fair and beautiful ladies, not the good and pleasant wines of Calydonia, nor the dainty fish of Hyrcania out of the Caspian sea: but to reduce the whole world to be governed in one and the same order, to be obedient to one empire, and to be ruled by the same manner of life. And verily this desire was inbred in him, this was nourished and grew up with him from his very infancy. There came ambassadors upon a time from the king of Persia to his father Philip, who at the same time was not in the country but gone forth: Alexander gave them honourable entertainment very courteously as became his father's son: but this especially was observed in him, that he did not ask them childish questions as other boys did, to wit, about golden vines trailed from one tree to another, nor of the pendant gardens at Babylon hanging above in the air, ne yet what robes and sumptuous habiliments their king did wear? but all his talk and conference with them was concerning matters most important for the state of an empire: inquisitive he was, what forces and power of men the king of Persia could bring out into the field and maintain; in what ward of the battle the king himself was arranged when he fought a field: much like unto that Ulysses in Homer, who demanded of Dolon (as touching Hector) 
His martial arms, where doth he lay?  
His horses, tell me, where stand they?  Which be the readiest and shortest ways for those who would travel from the coasts of the Meditteranean sea up into the high countries? in so much as these strangers, the ambassadors wondered exceedingly and said: Now surely this child is the 
* For the king of Persia was called the great king.  great king, and ours the rich. No sooner was his father Philip departed this life, but presently his heart served him to pass over the straits of Hellespont, and being already fed with his hopes, and forward in the preparation and provision of his voyage, he made what speed he could to set foot in Asia. But see here how fortune crossed his designs: she averted him quite and drew him back again, raising a thousand troubles and busy occasions to stay & hinder his intended course. First she caused those barbarous nations bordering and adjoining upon him, to rise up in arms, and thereby held him occupied in the wars against the Illyrians and Triballians: by the means whereof he was haled away as far as to Scythia and the nations inhabiting along the river Danubie, who diverted him clean from his affairs intended in the high provinces of Asia. Howbeit having overrun these countries and dispatched all difficulties with great perils and most dangerous battles, he set in hand again with his former enterprise, and made haste to his passage & voyage a second time. But lo, even there also fortune excited the city of Thebes against him, and laid the war of the Greeks in his way to stop his expedition, driving him to extreme straits and to a very hard exigent, by fire and sword to be revenged of a people that were his own countrymen, and of the same kindred and nation, the issue whereof was most grievous and lamentable. Having exploited this, he crossed the seas at the last, furnished with provision of money and victuals as Phylarchus writeth: to serve for thirty days and no longer, or as Aristobulus reporteth having only seventy talents of silver to defray the whole charges of the voyage. For of his own demain and possessions at home, as also of the crown revenues, he had bestowed the most part upon his friends and followers: only Perdiccas would receive nothing at his hands, but when he made offer to give him his part with the rest, demanded thus of him: But what reserve you for yourself, Alexander? Who answered, My hopes. Why then (quoth he) I will take part thereof: for it is not reason that we should receive your goods, but wait for the pillage of Darius. And what were those hopes of Alexander, upon which he passed over into Asia? Surely not a power measured by the strong walls of many rich & populous cities, not fleets of ships sailing through the mountains, not whips and fetters, testifying the folly and madness of barbarous princes, who thought thereby to punish and chastise the raging sea. But for external means without himself, a resolution of prowess in a small power of armed men well trussed and compact together, an emulation to excel one another among young men of the same age, a contention and strife for virtue and glory in those that were his minions about him: But the great hopes indeed and most assured were in his own person, to wit, his devout religion to Godward, the 〈◊〉 confidence and affiance that he had in his friends, frugality, continence, bounty, a contempt of death, magnanimity and resolution, humanity, courtesy, affable entertainment, a simple nature, plain without plaits, not feigned and counterfeit, constancy in his counsel, celerity in his execution, sovereignty and priority in honour, and a resolute purpose to accomplish any honest duty and office. For Homer did not well and decently, to compose and frame the beautiful parsonage of Agamemnon, as the pattern of a perfect prince out of three images, after this manner, 
For eyes and head, much like he was in sight  
To Jove, who takes in lightning such delight:  
God Mars in waist and loins resembled he:  
In breast compared to Neptune he may be.  But the nature of Alexander (in case that God who made or created him, form and compounded it of many virtues) may we not well and truly say, that he endued with the courageous spirit of Cyrus, the sober temperance of Agesilaus, the quick wit and pregnant conceit of Themistocles, the approved skill and experience of Philip, the valorous boldness of Brasidas, the rare eloquence and sufficiency of Pericles in State matters and politic government? For to speak of those in ancient times, more continent he was and chaste, than Agamemnon, who preferred a captive concubine before his own espoused and lawful wife: as for Alexander, he abstained from those women whom he took prisoners in war, and would not touch one of them before he had wedded her: more magnanimous than Achilles, who for a little money yielded the dead corpse of Hector to be ransommed; whereas Alexander defrayed great sums in the funerals and interring of Darius' body. Again, Achilles took of his friends, for the appeasing of his choler, gifts and presents after a mercenary manner: but Alexander enriched his very enemies, when he had gotten the victory. More religious he was than Diamedes, a man who was evermore ready to fight against the gods: whereas he, thought that all victory & happy success came by the grace and favour of the gods. Dearer he was to his near kinsfolk and friends, and more entirely beloved than Ulysses, whose mother died for sorrow and grief of heart: whereas when Alexander died, his very enemy's mother, for kind affection and good will died with him for company. In sum, if it was by the indulgence of Fortune, that Solon established the commonwealth of Athens so well at home, that Miltiades conducted the armies so happily abroad; if it was by the benefit and favour of fortune, that Aristides was so just: then farewell virtue for ever; then is there no work at all effected by her; but only it is a vain name and speech that goeth of her, passing with some show of glory and reputation thorough the life of man; feigned and devised by these prating Sophisters, cunning Lawgivers and Statists. Now if every one of these persons, and such like, was poor or rich, feeble or strong, foul or fair, of long life or short, by the means of fortune; again, in case each of them showed himself a great captain in the field, a great politician or wise lawgiver, a great governor and ruler in the city and commonwealth, by their virtue and the direction of reason within them; then consider (I pray you) what Alexander was in comparison of them all: Solon instituted at Athens, a general cutting off and canceling of all debts, which he called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which is as much to say, as A discharge of burdens; but Alexander out of his own purse paid all debts in the name of debtors, due unto their creditors. Pericles having imposed a tax and tribute upon the Greeks, with the money raised by that levy, beautified the citadel or castle of Athens with temples and chapels; whereas Alexander sent of the pillage and treasure which he got from the Barbarians, to the number of ten thousand talents into Greece, with commandment to build there with sacred temples to the honour of the gods. Brasidas won a great name and reputation of valour among the Greeks, for that he passed from one end to another thorough his enemy's camp, pitched along the sea side before the town Methon: but that wonderful leap that Alexander made into a town of the Oxydraques, which to them that hear it, is incredible, and to as many as saw it, was most fearful; namely, at what time as he cast himself from the battlements of the walls among his enemies, ready to receive him with pikes, with javelins, with darts and naked swords; whereto may a man compare, but unto a very flash of lightning breaking volently out of a cloud, and being carried with the wind lighteth upon the ground, resembling a spirit or apparition resplendent all about with flaming and burning armours? insomuch as at the first sight, men that saw it were so affrighted, as they ran backward and fled: but after that they beheld it was but one man setting upon many, than they came again, and made head against him. here Fortune showed (no doubt) many plain and evident proofs of her special good will 〈◊〉 Alexander; namely, first when she put him into an ignoble, base and barbarous town, and there enclosed him sure enough within the walls thereof; then, after that those without made haste to rescue him, and reared their scaling ladders against the walls for to get over and come unto him, she caused them all to break & fall in pieces, whereby she overthrew and cast them down who were climbed half way up: again, of those three only whose hap it was to mount up to the top before the ladder's brake, and who flung themselves desperately down, and stood about the king, to guard his person, she fell upon one immediately and killed him in the place, before he could do his master any service: a second, overwhelmed with a cloud of arrows and darts, was so near death, that he could do no more, but only see and feel. All this while, the Macedonians without, ran to the walls with a great noise and outcry, but all in vain, for artillery they had none, nor any ordinance or engines of battery; only they laid at the walls with their naked swords and bare hands: and so earnest they were to get in, that they would have made way with their very teeth, if it had been possible. Mean while, this fortunate prince, upon whom Fortune attended at an inch, ready now to accompany and defend him, you may be sure, as at all times else, was taken and caught as a wild beast within toils, abandoned and left alone, without aid and succour, not iwis to win the city of Susa or of Babylon, nor to conquer the province of Bactra, nor to seize upon that mighty body of king Porus: for of great and renowned attempts, although the end always prove not happy, yet there can redound no infamy. But to say a truth, Fortune was on his behalf so spiteful and envious, but on the other side, so good and gracious to the Barbarians, so adverse I say she was to Alexander, that she went about as much as lay in her, to make him not only lose his life and body, but also to forfeit his honour and glory: for if he had been left lying dead along the river Euphrates, or Hydaspes, it had been no great desastre and indignity: neither had it been so dishonourable unto him, when he came to join with Darius' hand to hand, if he had been massacred among a number of great horses, with the swords, glawes, & battleaxes of the Persians fight for the empire: no, nor when he was mounted upon the walls of Babylon, if he had taken the foil and been put by his great hope of forcing the city: for in that sort, lost Pelopidas and Epaminondas their lives; and their death was rather an act of virtue, than an accident of infortunity, whiles they gave the attempt to execute so great exploits, and to gain so worthy a prize. But as touching fortune, which now we examine and consider; what piece of work effected she? In a Barbarous country far removed, on the further side of a river, within the walls of a base village in comparison, to shut up and enclose the king and sovereign lord of the earth, that he might perish there shamefully, by the hands & rude weapons of a multitude of Barbarous rascals, who should knock him down with clubs and staves, and pelt him with whatsoever came next hand; for wounded he was in the head with a bill that clove his helmet quite thorough, and with a mighty arrow which one discharged out of a bow, his breastplate was pierced quite thorough, whereof the steile that was without his body weighed him down heavily: but the iron head which stuck fast in the bones about one of his paps, was four fingers broad and five long. And to make up the full measure of all mischiefs, whiles he defended himself right manfully before, and when the fellow who had shot the foresaid arrow adventured to approach him with his sword, to dispatch him outright with a dead thrust, him he got within, and with his dagger gave him such a stab, as he laid him along and killed him out of hand: but see the malice of Fortune, there runs me forth out of a milihouse or backhouse thereby, another villain with a pestle, and coming behind him, gave him such a sauce upon the very neck bone, that he was astonished therewith, and there lay along in a swoone, having lost his sight and other senses for a time. But virtue it was that assisted him, which gave both unto himself a good heart, and also unto his friend's strength, resolution and diligence to succour him: for Limnaeus, Ptolemeus, and Leonnatus, with as many beside, as either had clambered over the walls or broken thorough, came in and put themselves between him and his enemies: they with their valour were to him in stead of a wall and rampire; they for mere affection and love unto their king, exposed their bodies, their forces and their lives before him, unto all dangers whatsoever. For it is not by fortune, that there be men who voluntarily present themselves to present death; but it is for the love of virtue; like as bees having drunk (as it were) the amatorious potion of natural love and affection, are always about their king, and stick close unto him. Now say there had been one there without the danger of shot, to have seen this sight at his pleasure, would not he have said, that he had beheld a notable combat of fortune against virtue? wherein the Barbarians by the help of fortune prevailed above their desert; and the Greeks by means of virtue resisted above their power: and if the former get the better hand, it would be thought the work of fortune and of some malign and envious spirit; but if these become superior, virtue, fortitude, faith and friendship should carry away the honour of victory; for nothing else accompanied Alexander in this place. As for the rest of his forces and provisions, his armies, his horses and his fleets, fortune set the wall of this vile town between him and them. Well, the Macedonians in the end defaited these Barbarians, beat the place down over their heads, and razed it quite, and buried them in the ruins and fall thereof. But what good did all this to Alexander in this case? Carried he might well be and that speedily away out of their hands, with the arrow sticking still in his bosom; but the war was yet close within his ribs, the arrow was set fast as a spike or great nail, to bind as it were the cuirace to his body; for, whosoever went about to pluck it out of the wound, as from the root, the head would not follow withal, considering it was driven so sure into that solid breast bone which is over the heart; neither durst any saw off that part of the steile that was without, for fear of shaking, cleaving & cracking the said bone by that means so much the more, and by that means cause exceeding and intolerable pains, besides the effusion of much blood out of the bottom of the wound: himself seeing his people about him a long time uncerteine what to do, set in hand to hack the shaft a two with his dagger, close to the superficies of his cuirace aforesaid, and so to cut it off clean; but his hand failed him, and had not strength sufficient for to do the deed, for it grew heavy and benumbed with the inflammation of the wound: whereupon he commanded his chirurgeons to set to their hands boldly and to fear nought, encouraging (thus hurt as he was) those that were sound and unwounded, chiding and rebuking some that kept a weeping about him and bemoaned him; others he called traitors, who durst not help him in 
〈◊〉 this to be an 〈◊〉 breach of this Oration, and not a perfect 〈◊〉.  this distress; he cried also to his minions and familiars, Let no man be timorous and cowardly for me, no not though my life lie on it: I shall never be thought and believed not to fear dying, if you be affrayed of my death. *****************    

OF ISIS AND OSIRIS.  

The Summarie.  
THe wisdom and learning of the Egyptians hath been much recommended unto us by ancient writers, and not without good cause: considering that Egypt hath been the source and fountain from whence have flowed into the world arts and liberal sciences, as a man may gather by the testimony of the first Poets and philosophers that ever were: But time, which consumeth all things, hath bereft us of the knowledge of such wisdom: or if there remain still with us any thing at all, it is but in fragments and pieces scattered here and there, whereof many times we must divine or guess, and that is all. But in recompense thereof, Plutarch, a man careful to preserve all goodly and great things, hath by the means of this discourse touching Isis and Osiris maintained and kept entire a good part of the Egyptians doctrine: which he is not content to set down literally & there an end, but hath adjoined thereto also an interpretation thereof, according to the mystical sense of the Isiake priests: discovering in few words an in finite number of secrets hidden under ridiculous & monstrous fables, in such sort, as we may call this treatise a commentary of the Egyptians Theology and Philosophy. As for the contents thereof, a man may reduce it into three principal parts: In the first, which may serve instead of a preface, he yieldeth a reason of his enterprise, & upon the consideration of the rasture, vesture, continence and ab stinence of Isis' priests, there is an entry made to the rehearsal of the fable concerning Isis & Osiris. But before he toucheth it, he showeth the reason why the Egyptians have thus darkly enfolded their divinity. Which done, he cometh to decipher in particular the said fable, relating it according to the bare letter: which is the second part of this book. In the third he expoundeth the fable itself: and first discovereth the principles of the said Egyptian Philosophy, by a sort of temples, sepulchres and sacrifices. Afterwards having refuted certain contrary opinions, he speaketh of Daemons, ranging Isis, Osiris and Typhon in the number of them. After this Theological exposition, he considereth the fable according to natural Philosophy; meaning by Osiris the river Nilus and all other power of moisture whatsoever: by Typhon, Dryness: and by Isis that nature which preserveth and governeth the world. Where he maketh a comparison between Bacchus of Greece and Osiris of Egypt, applying all unto natural causes. Then expoundeth he the fable more exactly and in particular manner, conferring, this interpretation thereof with that of the Stoics: whereupon he doth accommodate and fit all to the course of the Moon, as she groweth and decreaseth, to the rising also and inundation of Nilus, making of all the former opinions a certain mixture, from whence he draweth the explication of the fable. By occasion hereof, he entereth into a disputation as touching the principles and beginnings of all things, setting down twain, and alleging for the proof and confirmation of his speech, the testimony of the ancient Mages and Philosophers: which done he entereth into a discourse of Osiris, Isis and Typhon, referring and reducing all into Physics and Metaphysics, with a certain conference or comparison of Plato's doctrine with that of the Egyptians, which maketh him take in hand a particular treatise of matter, form, the Ideae, of generation also and corruption. Having thus examined and discussed the Egyptians Theology & Philosophy, he ariseth to the more hidden & secret mysteries of the Isiake priests, & then descendeth again to the consideration of natural causes, especially of the state of the Moon, and drawing compendiously into one word, all his precedent discourse, he declareth what we ought to understand by Isis, Osiris and Typhon. Consequently he adjoineth three observations, to make this treatise more pleasant and profitable: withdrawing thereby the reader and plucking him back both from super stition and Atheism. Then having condemned the Greeks for being taint with the same folly that the Egyptians were addicted to he broacheth many opinions concerning the transformation of the pagans gods into sundry sorts of beasts; discovering thereby the dotage and foolery, arising from this argument and matter most corruptly under stood: and stretching the same yet farther he rendereth areason of that honour which the Egyptians did to such creatures: whereupon he would not have us in any wise to rest, but rather to look into the divinity represented by them. And for an end he entereth into an allegorical discourse, of the habiliments, perfumes, and diverse odoriferous confections made every day in the temple of Isis: but more especially he treateth of one named Cyphi: wherein there be to the number of sixteen ingredients: which composition they use in their very drink, observing therein as in all the rest of their superstitions, a million of ceremonies, whereof he doth particularise especially in the third part of this discourse, even to the very end thereof. All the premises being reduced to their right use, do show the vanity of men abandoned and given over to their own senses: and prove that all their sufficienct is nothing but blockish folly, and their intelligence a dark and mirke night, when the brightness and light of God's word doth fail them. For the more appearance they have both of celestial and also human wisdom, the more appeareth their blind superstition: in such sort as in stead of resting upon the creator they remain fixed upon the creatures, and have a longing and languishing desire after discourses void of true instructions and consolations: which ought to incite so much the more all Christians to make great account of the effectual grace offered unto them in the meditation and practice of true Philosophy as well natural as divine.   

OF ISIS AND OSIRIS.  
MEn that are wise, or have any wit in them (o Clea) ought by prayer to crave all good things at the hand of the gods: but that which we most wish for, and desire to obtain by their means, is the very knowledge of them, so far forth as it is lawful for men to have: for that there is no gift either greater for men to receive, or more magnifical and beseeming the gods to give, than the knowledge of the truth: for God bestoweth upon men all things else, whereof they stand in need, but this he reserveth to himself, and keepeth for his own use. Neither is the godhead and divine power in this regard counted happy and blessed, because it possesseth a great quantity of gold or silver, nor puissant in respect of thunder and lightning, but for prudence and wisdom. And verily of all those things which Homer hath well delivered, this simply is the best and most elegant speech, when as touching Jupiter and Neptune, he saith thus: 
The self same parents they both had, one native soil them bred,  
But Jupiter the elder was, and had the wiser head.  whereby he affirmeth, that the pre-eminence and rule of Jupiter, being the elder, was more venerable, sacred and fuller of majesty, for his knowledge and wisdom. And of this opinion I assure you am I, that the beatitude and felicity of eternal life, which Jupiter enjoieth, consisteth herein, that he is ignorant of nothing that is done: as also, that immortality if it be despoiled of the knowledge and intelligence of all things that be, and are done, is not life indeed, but bare time. And therefore we may very well say, that the desire of deity and divinity is all one with the love of truth, and especially of that truth which concerneth the nature of the gods; the study whereof, and the searching after such science, is as it were a profession and entrance into religion, yea, and a work more holy than is the vow or obligation of all the chastity & purity in the world, or than the cloister or sanctuary of any temple whatsoever: right acceptable also is this 
* 〈◊〉.  goddess whom you serve, considering that she is most wise, & full of knowledge, according as the very derivation of her name doth imply, that skill & cunning appertaineth unto her more than to any other: for Isis is a mere Greek word; like as Typhon also the very adversary and enemy opposite unto this goddess, as one puffed up and swollen by his ignorance and error, dissipating, defacing, and blotting out the sacred word and doctrine, which this goddess collecteth, composeth, and delivereth unto those who are initiated and professed in this divine religion, by a continual precise observance of a sober and holy life, in abstaining from many meats, in depriving themselves of all fleshly pleasures, for to repress lust and intemperance; and in being acquainted long before to abide and endure within temples and churches, hard and painful services performed unto the gods: of all which abstinences, pains, and sufferances, the end is the knowledge of that first prince and lord, who is apprehended only by intelligence and understanding, whom the goddess exhorteth to search and seek after, as conversing and companying with her. And verily, the name of her temple, doth manifestly promise an intelligence or knowledge of that which is, for Ision it is called, which is as much to say, as 
* Importing the knowledge of that which is.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, for that, if we enter into that sacred place and holy religion of this goddess, with reason and devotion, as we ought to do, we shall attain to the understanding of all things whatsoever. Moreover, many have written, that she is the daughter of Mercury, others of Prometheus, of which twain, the one is reputed the author of wisdom and providence, and the other, namely Mercury, the inventor of Grammar and Music. And hereupon it is, that in the city Hermopolis, they call the former of the Muses, both Isis and also Justice; as being wisdom herself, (according as hath elsewhere been said) and showing divine things to them who are justly surnamed Hierophori, and Hierostoli, that is to say, religious, and wearing the habits of holiness and religion. And these be they that carry in their mind, and keep enclosed as within a box or casket, the holy doctrine of the gods, pure and cleansed from all superstition and affected curiosity: who also of that opinion which is held of the gods, declare some things which are obscure & dark, others also which be clear and lightsome; like as be those, which are reported as touching their holy and religious habit. And therefore whereas the religious priests of Isis, after they be dead, are thus clad with these holy habiliments; it is a mark and sign witnessing unto us, that this sacred doctrine is with them, and that they be departed out of this world into another, and carry nothing with them but it: for neither to wear a long beard, nor to put on a freeze rug and course gabardine (dame Clea) makes a Philosopher; no more doth the surplice and linen vestment or shaving, an Isiaque priest. But he indeed is a priest of Isis, who after he hath seen and received by law and custom, those things which are showed and practised in the religious ceremonies about these gods, searcheth and diligently inquireth, by the means of this holy doctrine, and discourse of reason, into the truth of the said ceremonies. For very few there be who among them, who understand and know the cause of this ceremony, which is of all other the smallest, and yet most commonly observed; namely, why the Isiaque priests shave their heads, and wear no hair upon them; as also wherefore they go in vestments of Line? And some of them there be, who care not at all for any knowledge of such matters: yet others say, they forbear to put on any garments of wool, like as they do to cat the flesh of those sheep which caric the said wool, upon a reverence they bear unto them: semblably, that they cause their heads to be shaved in token of dole and sorrow: likewise that they wear surplices and vestments of linen, in regard of the colour that the flower of line or flax beareth, which resembleth properly that celestial azure sky that environeth the whole world. But to say a truth, there is but one cause indeed of all: for lawful it is not for a man who is pure and clean, to touch any thing (as Plato saith) which is impure and unclean. Now it is well known, that all the superfluities and excrements of our food and nourishment, be foul and impure, and of such be engendered and grow, wool, hair, shag and nails: and therefore a mere ridiculous mockery it were, if when in their expiatory sanctifications and divine services, they cast off their hair, being shaved and made smooth all their bodies over, they should then be clad and arrayed with the superfluous excrements of beasts: for we must think that Hesiodus the Poet when he writeth thus, 
At feast of gods and sacredmeriment,  
Take heed with knife, thy nails thou do not pair,  
To cut I say, that dry dead excrement,  
From lively flesh of fingers five, beware.  teacheth us, that we ought first to be cleansed and purified, then to solemnise festival holidays, and not at the very time of celebration and performance of holy rites and divine service, to use such cleansing and ridding away of superfluous excrements. Now the herb Line groweth out of the earth which is immortal, bringeth forth a fruit good to be eaten, and furnisheth us wherewith to make a simple, plain, and slender vestment, which sitteth light upon his back that weareth it, is meet for all seasons of the year; and of all others, (as men say) lest breedeth louse or vermin; whereof I am to discourse else where. Now these Isiaque priests so much abhor the nature and generation of all superfluities and excrements, that they not only refuse to eat most part of pulse, and of flesh meats, mutton and pork, for that sheep and swine breed much excrement, but also upon their days of sanctification and expiatory solemnities, they will not allow any salt to be eaten with their viands; among many other reasons, because it whetteth the appetite, and giveth an edge to our stomach, provoking us to eat and drink more liberally: for to say as Aristagoras did, That salt was by them reputed unclean, because when it is congealed and grown hard, many little animals or living creatures, which were caught within it, die withal, is a very foolery. Furthermore, it is said, that the Egyptian priests have a certain pit or well apart, out of which they water their bull or beef Apis: and be very precise in any wise not to let him drink of Nilus, not for that they think the water of that river unclean, in regard of the crocodiles which are in it, as some be of opinion (for chose, there is nothing so much honoured among the Egyptians as the river Nilus) but it seemeth that the water of Nilus doth fatten exceeding much, and breed flesh over fast, and they would not in any case that their Apis should be fat, or themselves gross and corpulent: but that their souls might be clothed with light, nimble, and delicate bodies; so as the divine part in them should not be oppressed or weighed down, by the force and ponderosity of that which is mortal. In Heliopolis, which is the city of the Sun, those who serve and minister unto their god, never bring wine into the temple, as thinking it not convenient in the day time to drink in the sight of their lord and king: otherwise the priests drink thereof, but sparily: and besides many purgations and expiations they have, wherein they abstain wholly from wine; and during those days, they give themselves wholly to their studies and meditations, learning and teaching holy things: even their very kings are not allowed to drink wine their fill, but are stinted to the gage of a certain measure, according as it is prescribed in their holy writings, and those kings also were priests, as Hecataeus writeth. And they began to drink it after the days of king Psammetichus; for before his time they drank it not at all, neither made they libaments thereof unto their gods, supposing it not acceptable unto them; for they took it to be the very blood of those giants which in times past warred against the gods; of whom after they were slain, when their blood was mixed with the earth, the vine tree sprang: and this is the cause, say they, why those who be drunk, lose the use of their wit & reason, as being full of the blood of their progenitors. Now that the Egyptian priests both hold and affirm thus much, Eudoxus hath delivered in the second book of his Geography. As concerning fishes of the sea, they do not every one of them abstain from all indifferently; but some forbear one kind, & some another: as for example, the Oxyrynchites will eat of none that is taken with an hook; for adoring as they do, a fish named Oxyrynchos, they are in doubt and fear lest the hook should be unclean, if haply the said fish swallowed it down with the bait. The Sienites will not touch the fish Phagrus, For it should seem that it is found, what time as Nilus begins to flow; and therefore the said fish by his appearing, signifieth the rising and inundation of Nilus, whereof they be exceeding joious, holding him for a certain and sure messenger. But the priests absteme from all fish's in general: and whereas upon the ninth 〈◊〉 of the first month, all other inhabitants of Egypt, seed upon a certain broiled or roasted fish before their doors; the priests in no wise taste thereof; mary they burn fishes before the gates of their houses; and two reasons they have; the one holy, fine and subtle, which I will deliver hereafter: as that which acordeth and agreeth very well to the sacred discourses as touching Osiris and Typhon: the other plain, vulgar and common, represented by the fish, which is none of the viands that be necessary, rare and exquisite, according as Homer beareth witness, when he brings not in the Phaeacians delicate men & loving to feed daintily, nor the Ithacesians, Islanders, to eat fish at their feasts: no nor the mates and fellow travelers with Ulysses, during the time of their long navigation and voyage by sea, before they were brought to extreme necessity. To be brief, the very sea itself they think to be produced a part by fire, without the bounds & limits of nature, as being no portion nor element of the world, but a strange excrement, a corrupt superfluity and unkind malady: For nothing absurd and against reason, nothing fabulous and superstitious, (as some untruly think) was inserted or served as a sacred sign in their holy ceremonies, but they were all marks grounded upon causes and reasons moral, and the same profitable for this life, or else not without some historical or natural elegancy. As for example, that which is said of the oinion; for that Dictys the foster father of Isis, fell into the river of Nilus, and was there drowned, as he was reaching at oinions and could not come by them, it is a mere fable and carrieth no sense or probability in the world: but the truth is this, the priests of Isis hate the oinion and avoid it as a thing abominable, because they have observed, that it never groweth nor thriveth well to any bigness but in the decrease and wain of the Moon: Neither is it meet and fit for those who would lead an holy and sanctified life, or for such as celebrate solemn feasts and holidays, because it provoketh thirst in the former; and in the other causeth tears, if they feed thereupon. And for the same reason they take the sow to be a profane and unclean beast, for that ordinarily she goeth a brimming and admitteth the boar, when the Moon is passed the full: and look how many drink of her milk, they break out into a kind of leprosy or dry scurf all over their bodies. As touching the tale which they infer, who once in their lives do sacrifice a sow when the Moon is in the full, and then eat her flesh: namely that Typhon hunting and chase the wild swine at the full of the Moon, chanced to light upon an ark or coffin of wood, wherein was the body of Osiris which he dismembered and threwaway by piece meal, all men admit not thereof, supposing that it is a fable as many others be, misheard and misunderstood. But this for certain is held, that our ancients in old time so much hated and abhorred all excessive delicacy, superfluous and costly delights and voluptuous pleasures, that they said within the temple of the city of Thebes in Egypt there stood a square column or pillar, wherein were engraven certain curses and execrations against their king Minis, who was the first that turned and averted the Egyptians quite from their simple and frugal manner of life, without money, without sumptuous fare & chargeable delights. It is said also that Technatis the father of Bocchoreus, in an expedition or journey against the Arabians, when it chanced that his carriages were far behind and came not in due time to the place where he encamped, was content to make his supper of whatsoever he could get, & so to take up with a very small and simple pittance, yea and after supper to lie upon a course and homely pallet, where he slept all night very sound and never awoke: whereupon, he ever after loved sobriety of life & srugality, & cursed the foresaid king Minis: which malediction of his being by the priests of that time approved, he caused to be engraven upon the pillar abovesaid. Now their kings were created either out of the order of their priests, or else out of the degree of knights and warriors; for that the one estate was honoured and accounted noble for valour, the other for wisdom and knowledge. And look whomsoever they chose from out of the order of knighthood, presently after his election he was admitted unto the college of priests, and unto him were disclosed and communicated the secrets of their Philosophy, which under the vail of fables and dark speeches couched and covered many mysteries, through which the light of the truth in some sort though dimly appear. And this themselves seem to signify and give us to understand, by setting up ordinarily before the porches and gates of their temples, certain Sphinxes: meaning thereby, that all their Theology containeth under enigmatical and covert words, the secrets of wisdom. In the city of Sais, the image of Minerva which they take to be Isis, had such an inscription over it, as this: I am all that which hath been, which is, and which shall be, and never any man yet was able to draw open my vail. Moreover many there be of opinion, that the proper name of Jupiter in the Egyptians language is 〈◊〉, of which we have in Greek, derived the word Ammon: whereupon 〈◊〉 Jupiter, Ammon: but Manethos who was an Egyptian himself of the city of 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 that by this word is signfied, a thing hidden, or occulation: and 〈◊〉 the Abderite 〈◊〉, that the Egyptians used this term among themselves, when they called one unto another, for it was a vocative word, and for that they imagined the prince and sovereign of the gods to be the same: that Pan, that is to say, an universal nature, and therefore unseen, hidden and unknowen, they prayed and be sought him for to disclose and make himself known unto them, by calling him 〈◊〉. See then, how the Egyptians were very strict and precise, in not profaning their wisdom, nor publishing that learning of theirs which concerned the gods. And this the greatest Sages and most learned clerks of all Greece do testify, by name, Solon, Thales, Plato, Eudoxus, Pythagoras, & as some let not to say, Lycurgus himself; who all traveled of a deliberate purpose into Egypt, for to confer with the priests of that country. For it is constantly held that Eudoxus was the auditor of Chonupheus the priest of Memphis, Solon of Sonchis the priest of 〈◊〉, Pythagoras of Oenupheus the priest of Heliopolis. And verily this Pythagoras last named; was highly esteemed among those men, like as himself had them in great admiration, in so much as he of all others seemed most to imitate their manner of mystical speaking under covert words, & to involve his doctrine and sentences within figurative & enigmatical words: for the characters which are called Hieroglyphics in Egypt, be in manner all of them, like to these precepts of Pythagoras: Eat not upon a stool or chair; Sat not over a bushel; Plant no date tree; Stir not the fire in the house, nor rake into it with a sword. And me thinks, that whereas the Pythagoreans call unity, Apollo, Tiro, Diana; the number of seven, Minerva; and the first cubic, Neptune; this resembleth very near, that which the Egyptians consecrate & dedicate in their temples, and agreeth with that which they both do & write. For their king and lord Osiris, they depaint and portray, by an eye and a sceptre: and some there be, who make this interpretation of the name Osiris, as if it signified, having many eyes, for that Os in the Egyptian tongue, betokeneth many, and Iri, an eye. As for heaven, they describe by a young countenance, by reason of the perpetuity thereof, whereby it never waxeth old. An eye they set out by an heart, having under it an hearth with fire burning upon it. In the city of Thebes there stood up certain images without hands, resembling Judges; and the chief or Precedent among them, was blindfolded or hoodwincked, to give us to understand, that justice should neither be corrupted with bribery, nor partial and respective of persons. In the signet or seal ring of their 〈◊〉 and military men, there was engraven the portraiture of the great fly called the Beettill, because in that kind there is no female, but they be all males: they blow or cast their seed in form of a pellet or round ball, under dung; which they prepare to be a place, not for their food more, than for their brood. Whensoever therefore you shall hear the Egyptians tell tales of the gods, to wit, of their vagrant and wandering perigrinations, or of their dismemberings, and other such like fabulous fictions, you must call to mind, that which we have before said; and never think that they mean any such thing is or hath been done according to that literal sense: for they do not say, that Mercury properly is a dog, but forasmuch as the nature of this beast is to be wary, watchful, vigilant and wise, able to distinguish by his taking knowledge and semblance of ignorance, a friend and familiar from an anemy and stranger: therefore (as Plato saith) they attributed and likened him to the most eloquent of all the gods. Neither do they think, when they describe the Sun, that out of the bark of the tree Lotus there ariseth a babe new borne; but in this wise do they represent unto us the Sunnerising, giving thus much to understand covertly, that the light and illumination of the Sun proceedeth out of the waters of the sea: for even after the same manner the most cruel and terrible king of the Persians, Ochus, who put to death many of his nobles and subjects, and in the end slew their beef Apis, and eat him at a feast together with his friends, they called. The sword; and even at this day, in the register and catalogue of their kings, he goeth under that name; not signifying thereby his proper substance, but to express his hard and fell nature, and his mischievous disposition, they compared him to a bloody instrument and weapon made to murder men. In hearing then and receiving after this manner, that which shallbe told unto you as touching the gods after an holy and religious manner, in doing also and observing always diligently the accustomed rites ordained for the sacred service of the gods, and believing firmly, that you can not perform any sacrifice or liturgy more pleasing unto them, than to study for to have a sound and true opinion of them: by this means you shall avoid superstition, which is as great a sin as impiety and Atheism. Now the fable of Isis and Osiris, is as briefly as may be, by cutting off many superfluous matters that serve to no purpose, delivered in this wise: It is said, that dame Rhea; at what time as Saturn lay secretly with her, was espied by the Sun, who cursed her; and among other maledictions, prayed that she might not be delivered, nor bring forth child, neither in any month nor year: but Mercury being enamoured of this goddess, companied likewise with her; and afterwards, as he played at dice with the Moon and won from her the seventieth part of every one of her illuminations, which being all put together, make five entire days, he added the same unto the three hundred and threescore days of the year; and those odd days the Egyptians do call at this present, the days of the Epact, celebrating and solemnising them as the birthdays of their gods: for that when the full time of Rhea was expired, upon the first day of them was Osiris borne; at whose birth a voice was heard, That the lord of the whole world now came into light: and some say, that a certain woman named Pamyle, as she went to fetch water for the temple of Jupiter in the city of Thebes, heard this voice, commanding her to proclaim aloud, That the Great King and Benefactor Osiris was now borne: also, for that Saturn committed this babe Osiris into her hands for to be nursed, therefore in honour of her there was a festival day solemnised, named thereupon Pamylia, much like unto that which is named Phallephoria, unto Priapus. On the second day she was delivered of Aroveris, who is Apollo, whom some likewise call the elder Orus. Upon the third day she brought forth Typhon, but he came not at the just time nor at the right place, but broke thorough his mother's side, and issued forth at the wound. On the fourth day was Isis borne, in a watery place called Panhygra. And the fifth day she was delivered of 
* Or Nephthy.  Nephthe, who of some is named also Teleute and Venus; others call her Nice. Now it is said, that she conceived Osiris and Aroveris by the Sun, Isis by Mercury, Typhon and Nephthe by Saturn, which is the cause that the kings reputing the third of these intercalar days to be desasterous and dismal, dispatched no affairs thereupon, neither did they cherish themselves by meat and drink or otherwise, until night: that Nephthe was honoured by Typhon; that Isis and Osiris were in love in their mother's belly before they were borne, and lay together secretly and by slealth; and some give out, that by this means Aroveris was begotten and borne, who by the Egyptians is called Orus the elder, and by the Greeks, Apollo. Well, during the time that Osiris reigned king in Egypt, immediately he brought the Egyptians from their needy, poor and savage kind of life, by teaching them how to sow and plant their grounds, by establishing good laws among them, and by showing how they should worship and serve God. Afterwards, he traveled throughout the world, reducing the whole earth to civility, by force of arms least of all, but winning and gaining the most nations by effectual remonstrances & sweet persuasion couched in songs, and with all manner of Music: whereupon the Greeks were of opinion, that he and Bacchus were both one. Furthermore, the tale goes, that in the absence of Osiris, Typhon stirred not, nor made any commotion, for that Isis gave good order to the contrary, and was of sufficient power to prevent and withstand all innovations; but when he was returned, Tyyhon complotted a conspiracy against him, having drawn into his confederacy seventy two complices, besides a certain queen of Aethiopia, who likewise combined with him, and her name was Aso. Now when he had secretly taken the just measure and proportion of Osiris' body, he caused a coffer or hutch to be made of the same length, and that most curiously and artificially wrought and set out to the eye, he took order, that it should be brought into the hall, where he made a great feast unto the whole company. Every man took great pleasure with admiration, to behold such a singular exquisite piece of work; and Typhon in a merriment, stood up and promised that he would bestow it upon him, whose body was meet & fit for it: hereupon, all the company one after another assayed whose body would fit it; but it was not found proportionate nor of a just size to any of all the rest: at length, Osiris got up into it, and laid him there along; with that, the conspirators ran to it, and let down the lid and cover thereof upon him, and partly with nails, and partly with melted lead which they powered aloft, they made it sure enough; and when they had so done, carried it forth to the river side, and let it down into the sea, at the very mouth of Nilus named Taniticus; which is the reason, that the said mouth is even to this day odious and execrable among the Egyptians, insomuch as they call it Cataphyston, that is to say, Abominable, or to be spit at. Over and beside, it is said, that this fell out to be done upon the seventeenth day of the month named Athyr, during which month, the Sun entereth into the sign Scorpius, and in the eight and twentieth year of Osiris' reign: howbeit, others affirm, that he lived in deed, but reigned not so long. Now the first that had an inkling and intelligence of this heinous act, were the Panes and satires inhabiting about Chennis, who began to whisper one unto another, & to talk thereof; which is the reason, that all sudden tumults and troubles of the multitude and common people, be called Panic affrights. Moreover, it followeth on in the tale, that Isis being advertised hereof, immediately cut off one of the tresses of her hair, and put on mourning weeds in that place which now is called the city Coptus, in remembrance thereof; howsoever others say, that this word Coptos, betokeneth Privation, for that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek, signifieth as much as to deprive. In this doleful habit she wandered up and down in great perplexity to hear tidings of Osiris, and whomsoever she met withal, she failed not to inquire of them; and she miss not so much as little children playing together, but asked them, whether they had seen any such coffer: at length, she light of those children who had seen it indeed, and they directed her to the mouth of the river Nilus, where the complices and associates of Typhon had let the said vessel into the sea. And ever since that time, the Egyptians are of opinion, that young children have the gift of revealing secrets, and they take all their words which they pass in play and sport, as offes and presages, but especially within the temples, what matter soever it be that they prattle of. Moreover, when Isis understood that Osiris fell in love with her sister Nephthys, thinking she was Isis and so carnally companied with her, and withal, found a good token thereof, to wit, a chaplet or garland of Melilot which he had left with Nephthe, she went for to seek her babe (for presently upon the birth of the infant, for fear of Typhon she hid it) and when with much ado and with great pains taken, Isis had found it, by the means of certain hounds which brought her to the place where he was, she reared and brought it up, in such sort, as when he came to some bigness, he became her guide and squire, named Anubis, who also is said to keep the gods, like as dogs guard men. After this, she heard news of the foresaid coffer, and namely, that the waves of the sea had by tides cast it upon the coast of Byblus, where, by a billow of water it was gently brought close to the foot of a shrub or plant called 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Erice: now this Erice or Tamarix in a small time grew so fair, and spread forth so large and big branches withal, that it 
* Or some such shrub.  compassed, enclosed and covered the said coffer all over, so as it could not be seen. The king of Byblus wondering to see this plant so big, caused the branches to be lopped off, that covered the foresaid coffin not seen, and of the trunk or 
* Some translate this, as if the 〈◊〉 were enclosed within the 〈◊〉 of the plank.  body thereof, made a pillar to sustain the roof of his house: whereof Isis by report being advertised by a certain divine spirit or wind of flying fame, came to Byblus, where she sat her down by a certain fountain, all heavy and in distress, piteously weeping to herself; neither spoke she a word unto any creature, only the Queen's waiting maids and women that came by, she faluted and made much of, plaiting and broiding the 〈◊〉 of their hair most exquisitely, and casting from her into them a marvelous sweet and pleasant sent issuing from her body, whiles she dressed them. The queen perceiving her women thus curiously and trimly set out, had an earnest desire to see this stranger, aswell for that she yielded such an odoriferous smell from her body, as because she was so skilful in dressing their heads: so she sent for the woman, and being grown into some familiar acquaintance with her, made her the nurse and governess of her young son: now the king's name himself was 〈◊〉, and the queens, Astarte, or rather Saofis, or as some will have it, Nemanous, which is as much to say in the Greek tongue, as Athenais. And the speech goes, that Isis suckled and nourished this infant, by putting her finger in stead of the brest-head or nipple, into the mouth thereof; also, that in the night season she burned all away that was mortal of his body: and in the end, was herself metamorphized and turned into a swallow, flying, and lamenting after a moaning manner about the pillar aforesaid, until such time as the queen observing this, and crying out when she saw the body of her child on a light fire, bereft it of immortality. Then Isis being discovered to be a goddess, craved the pillar of wood: which she cut down with facility, and took from underneath the trunk of the Tamarix or Erice, which she anointed with perfumed oil, and enwrapped within a linen cloth, and gave it to the kings for to be kept: whereof it cometh, that the Byblians even at this day reverence this piece of wood, which lieth confecrate within the temple of Isis. Furthermore, it is said, that in the end she 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  light upon the coffer, over which she wept and lamented so much, that the youngest of the king's sons died for very pity of her; but she herself accompanied with the eldest of them, together with the coffer, embarked, took sea & departed. But when the river Phaedrus turned the wind somewhat roughly, about the dawning of the day, Isis was so much displeased and angry, that she dried it quite. And so soon as she came unto a solitary place, where she was by herself alone, she opened the coffer, where finding the corpse of Osiris, she laid her face close to his, embraced it and wept. Herewith came the child softly behind and espied what she was doing: whom when she perceived, she looked back, casting an untoward eye, and beheld him with such an angry aspect, that the poor infant not able to endure so terrible a look, died upon it. Some say it was not so; but that he fell into the sea, in manner aforesaid, and was honoured for the goddess sake, and that he is the same whom the Egyptians chant at their feasts, under the name of Maneros. But others give out, that this child was named Palestinus, and that the city Pelusium was built in remembrance of him by the goddess Isis and so took the name after him; and how this Maneros whom they so celebrate in their songs, was the first inventor of music. Howbeit others there are again, who affirm, that this was the name of no person, but a kind of dialect or language, proper and agreeable unto those who drink and banquet together, as if a man should say, In good hour and happily may this or that come. For the Egyptians were wont ordinarily to use this term Maneros in such a sense: like as no doubt the dry sceletoes or dead corpse of a man which they used to carry about and show in a bierre or coffin at the table, was not the representation or memorial of this accident which befell unto Osiris, as some do imagine, but served as an admonition to put the guests in mind to be merry and take their pleasure and joy in those things that were present; for that soon after they should be like unto it. This I say was the reason that it was brought in at their feasts and merry meetings. Furthermore when Isis was gone to see her son Horus who was fostered and brought up in the city Butus, and had laid the foresaid coffer with Osiris' body out of the way, Typhon fortuned as he hunted in a clear moonshine night to meet with it, and taking knowledge of the body, cut it into fourteen pieces and flung them here and there one from another: which when Isis understood, she searched for them in a boat or punt made of papyr reed, all over the moors and marshes: whereof it comes that the Crocodiles never hurt those who sail or row in vessels made of that plant, whether it be that they are afraid of it, or reverence it for this goddess sake I know not. And thus you may know the reason, why there be found many sepulchers of Osiris in the country of Egypt, for ever as she found any piece of him, she caused a tomb to be made for it: others say no: but that she made many images of him, which she left in every city, as if she had bestowed among them his very body indeed: to the end that in many places he might be honoured: and that if haply Typhon when he sought for the true sepulchre of Osiris (having vanquished and overcome Horus) many of them being reported and showed, he might not know which was it, and so give over seeking farther. Over and beside, the report goes, that Isis found all other parts of Osiris' body but only his privy member, for that it was immediately cast into a river and the fishes named Lepidotus, Phagrus and Oxyrynchus devoured it: for which cause Isis detesteth them above all other fishes: but in stead of that natural part, she made a counterfeit one, called Phallus, which she consecrated: and in the honour thereof the Egyptians hold a solemn feast. After all this it followeth in the fable, that Osiris being returned out of the infernal parts, appeared unto Horus, for to exercise, instruct and train him against the battle: of whom he demanded what he thought to be the most beautiful thing in the world: who answered, To be revenged of the wrong and injury which had been done to a man's parents. Secondly, what beast he thought most profitable to go into the field withal: unto whom Horus should make answer, The horse: whereat Osiris marveled, and asked him why he named the horse and not the lion rather: Because (quoth Horus) the lion serveth him in good stead, who stands upon his own guard and defence only and hath need of aid: but the horse is good to defait the enemy quite, to follow him in chase and take him prisoner. When Osiris heard him say so, he took great pleasure and contentment herein, judging hereby that his son was sufficiently appointed and prepared to give battle unto his enemies. And verily it is said that among many that daily revolted from Typhon and sided with Horus, even the very concubine of Typhon named Thueris was one, who came to him: and when a certain 
* 〈◊〉  serpent followed after and pursued her, the same was cut in pieces by the guard about Horus: in remembrance whereof, at this very day they bring forth a certain cord, which likewise they chop in pieces. Well, they say the battle continued many days: but in the end Horus had the victory: As also that Isis having Typhon prisoner fast bound in her hands, killed him not: but loosed him and let him go: which Horus not able to endure with patience, laid violent hands upon his mother, and plucked from her head the royal ornament that she had thereon: in stead whereof, Mercury set one a morion made in manner of a cows head. Then Typhon called Horus judicially into question, charging him that he was a bastard; but by the help of Mercury who pleaded his cause, he was judged by the gods, legitimate: who also in two other battles vanquished Typhon. And more than all this, the tale saith, that Isis after death, was with child by Osiris, by whom she had Helitomenus and Harpocrates who wanted his neither parts. Thus you see what be in manner all the principal points of this fable, setting aside and excepting those which are most execrable, to wit, the dismembering of Horus and the beheading of Isis. Now, that, if any there be who hold and affirm such fables as these touching the blessed and immortal nature, whereby especially we conceived in our mind the deity, to be true and that such things were really done or happened so indeed, 
We ought to spit upon their face  
And curse such mouths with all disgrace.  as Aeschylus saith, I need not say unto you, for that you hate and detest those enough already of yourself, who conceive so barbarous and absurd opinions of the gods. And yet you see very well, that these be not narrations like unto old wives tales, or vain and foolish fictions, which Poets or other idle writers devise out of their own fingers ends, after the manner of spiders, which of themselves without any precedent, & subject matter, spin their threads, wove and stretch out their webs: for evident it is that they contain some difficulties and the memorial of certain accidents. And like as the Mathematicians say, that the rainbow is a representation of the Sun, and the same distinguished by sundry colours, by the refraction of our eyesight against a cloud: even so this fable, is an appearance of some doctrine or learning, which doth reflect and send back our understanding, to the consideration of some other truth; much after the manner of sacrifices, wherein there is mingled a kind of lamentable dole, and sorrowful heaviness. Semblably, the making and disposition of temples, which in some places have fair open Isles and pleasant allies open over head: and in other, dark caves vaults, and shrouds under the earth, resembling properly caves, sepulchres, or charnel faults, wherein they put the bodies of the dead; especially the opinion of the Osirians: for albeit the body of Osiris, be said to be in many places, yet they name haply Abydus the town, or Memphis a little city, where they affirm that his true body lieth, in such sort, as the greatest and wealthiest persons in Egypt usually do ordain and take order, that their bodies be interred in Abydus, to the end they may lie in the same sepulchre with Osiris: and at Memphis was kept the bees Apis, which is the image and figure of his soul, and they will have his body also to be there. Some likewise there be, who interpret the name of this town, as if it should signify the haven and harbour of good men: others, that it betokeneth the tomb of Osiris: and there is before the gate of the city, a little Isle, which to all others is inaccessible, and admitteth no entrance, insomuch, as neither fowls of the air will there light, nor fishes of the sea approach thither: only at one certain time, the priests may come in, and there they offer sacrifices, and present oblations to the dead; where also they crown and adorn with flowers the monument of one Mediphthe, which is overshadowed and covered with a certain plant, greater and taller than any olive tree. Eudoxus writeth, that how many sepulchers soever there be in Egypt wherein the corpse of Osiris should lie, yet it is in the city Busiris; for that it was the country and place of his nativity: so that now there is no need to speak of Taphosiris, for that the very name itself saith enough, signifying as it doth, the sepulture of Osiris. Well, I approve the cutting of the wood, and renting of the linen, the effusions also and funeral libaments there performed, because there be many mysteries mingled among. And so the priests of Egypt affirm, that the bodies not of these gods only, but also of all others, who have been engendered, and are not incorruptible, remain among them where they honoured and reverenced; but their souls became stars, and shine in heaven: and as for that of Isis, it is the same which the greeks call Cyon, that is to say, the dogge-starre, but the Egyptians Sothis': that of Orus is Orion, and that of Typhon, the Bear. But whereas all other cities and states in Egypt contribute a certain tribute imposed upon them, for to portray, draw and paint such beasts as are honoured among them, those only who inhabit the country Thebais, of all others give nothing thereto, being of opinion, that no mortal thing, subject to death, can be a god: as for him alone, whom they call Cneph, as he was never borne, so shall he never die. Whereas therefore many such things as these, be reported and showed in Egypt, they who think, that all is no more but to perpetuate and eternize the memory of marvellous deeds and strange accidents of some princes, kings, or tyrants, who for their excellent virtue & mighty puissance, have adjoined to their own glory, the authority of deity, unto whom, a while after, there befell calamities; use herein a very cleanly shift, and expedite evasion, transferring handsomely from the gods unto men, all sinister infamy that is in these fable, and help themselves by the testimonies which they find and read in histories: for the Egyptians write, that Mercury was but small of stature, and slender limmed: that Typhon was of a ruddy colour; Orus white; Osiris of a blackish hue, as who indeed were naturally men. Moreover, they call Osiris, captain or general, Canobus pilot or governor of a ship, after whose name they have named a star: and as for the ship which the Greeks name Argo, they hold that it was the very resemblance of Osiris' ship, which for the honour of him, being numbered among the stars, is so situate in heaven, as that it moveth and keepeth his course not far from that of Orion, and the Cyon or dogge-starre; of which twain, the one is consecrate unto Horus, the other to Isis. But I fear me, that this were to stir and remove those sacred things which are not to be touched and meddled withal, and as much as to fight against, not continuance of time only and antiquity, as Simonides saith, but also the religion of many sorts of people and nations, who are long since possessed with a devotion toward these gods: I doubt (I say) lest in so doing they fail not to transfer so great names as these out of heaven to earth, and so go very near and miss but a little to overthrow and abolish that honour and belief, which is ingenerate and imprinted in the hearts of all men, even from their very first nativity: which were even to set the gates wide open for a multitude of miscreants and Atheists, who would bring all divinity to humanity, and deity to man's nature; yea and to give a manifest overture and liberty for all the impostures and juggling casts of Euemerus the Messenian, who having himself coined and devised the originals of fables, grounded upon no probability nor subject matter, but even against the course of reason and nature, spread and scattered abroad throughout the world all impiety, transmuting and changing all those whom we repute as gods, into the names of admiral's, captains general, and kings, who had lived in times past, according as they stand upon record, by his saying, written in golden letters, within the city 
* Or, 〈◊〉.  Panchon, (which never Grecian nor Barbarian save himself see) as having sailed unto the countries of the Panchonians and Triphylians; nation's 
Or, 〈◊〉.  forsooth that neither are, nor ever were in this world. And yet verily, a great name there goeth among the Assyrians, of the worthy and renowned acts of Semiramis: as also in Egypt of Sesostris. As for the Phrygians, even at this day they term noble exploits and admirable enterprises, by the name Manica, of one of their ancient kings, whom they called Manis, who in his time was a most prudent and valiant prince, and whom others named Masdes. Cyrus' led the Persians, and Alexander the Macedonians, with conquest still and victory, from one end of the world in manner to another: and yet for all these brave acts, no otherwise renowned they are, nor remembered, but only for puissant and good kings: and say, there were haply some of them who upon an overweening and high conceit of themselves, helped forward with youth, and want of experience, as Plato saith, and whose minds were puffed up and inflamed with pride and vainglory, took upon them the surnames of gods, and had temples founded in their names, yet this glory of theirs lasted but a while, and soon after being condemned by the posterity, of vanity, and arrogancy together, with impiety and injustice, 
Were quickly gone, like smoke which mounting high,  
Into the air, doth vanish by and by.  and now as fugitive slaves that may be brought back again where ever they be found, they are haled and pulled away from their temples and altars, and nothing remaineth for them but their tombs & sepulchres: and therefore that old king Antigonus, when a certain Poet named Hermodotus, in his verses called him the son of the Sun, yea, & a god. Well quoth he, my groom that daily voideth my close stool, knows no such matter by me. Lysippus also the Imager did very well to reprove Apelles the painter, for that, when he drew the picture of Alexander, he portrayed him with lightning in his hand; whereas Lysippus put in his hand a lance, the glory and renown whereof, as due and proper unto him, yea, and beseeming his person indeed, no time nor age should ever be able to abolish. In which regard, I hold better with them who think that the things which be written of Typhon, Osiris, and Isis, were no accidents or passions incident to gods or to men; but rather to some great Daemons: of which mind were Pythagoras, Plato, Xenocrates, and Chrysippus, following herein the opinions of the ancient Theologians, who hold, that they were far stronger than men, and that in puissance they much surmounted our nature: but that divinity which they had, was not pure and simple; but they were compounded of a nature corporal and spiritual, capable of pleasure, of grief, and other passions and affections, which accompanying these mutations, trouble some more, others less. For in these Daemons, there is like, as also among men, a diversity and difference of vice and of virtue. For the acts of Giants and Titans, so much chanted in every Greek song, the abominable deeds likewise and practices of one Saturn, the resistance also of Python against Apollo, the sounds of Bacchus, and the wander of Ceres, differ in no respect from the accidents of Osiris and Typhon, and of all other such like fabulous tales, which every man may hear as much as he list: as also whatsoever lying covered and hidden under the vail of mystical sacrifices and ceremonies, is kept close not uttered nor showed to the vulgar people, is of the same sort. And adding hereto, we may hear Homer how he calleth good men, and such as excel others diversely, one while 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, like unto the gods; otherwhile, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, comparable to the gods: sometimes 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, having their wisdom and counsel from the gods. But the denomination or addition drawn from the Daemons, he useth commonly as well to the good as the bad; indifferent to valiant persons and to cowards: to a timorous and fearful soldior thus: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Daemonian, approach thou near:  
The Greeks why dost thou so much fear?  On the other side, of an hardy soldior: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
When he the charge in field the fourth time gave,  
Like to some Daemon he did himself behave.  And again, in the worse sense, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  

* That is to say, wicked or cursed 〈◊〉, to 〈◊〉,  Daemonian, what is that great offence,  
Which Priam and his sons committed have  
Against thee, for to make thy just pretence,  
In wrathful terms upon them thus to rave,  
And them no grace and mercy to vouchsave,  
Nor rest, until thou seest the stately town,  
Of Ilium destroyed and razed down?  Giving us hereby thus much to understand, that the Daemons have a mixed nature, and a will or affection which is not equal, nor always alike. And hereupon it is, that Plato verily attributeth unto the Olympian and celestial gods, all that which is dexterous and odd: but unto the Daemons, whatsoever is sinister and even. And Xenocrates holdeth, that those days which be unlucky and dismal, those festival solemnities likewise, which have any beat or knockin and thumping of breasts, or fasting, or otherwise any cursed speeches and filthy words, are not meet for the honour & worship either of gods or of good Daemons: but he supposeth that there be in the air about us, certain natures great & puissant; howbeit, shrewd, malicious and unsociable, which take some pleasure in such matters: and when they have obtained and gotten so much to be done for their sake, they go about no farther mischief, nor wait any shrewder turns: whereas chose, both Hesiodus calleth the pure and holy Daemons, such also as be the good angels and keepers of men, 
Givers of wealth and opulence, as whom  
This regal gift and honour doth become.  And Plato also termeth this kind of Daemons or angels Mercurial, that is to say, expositors or interpreters, and ministerial, having a middle nature between gods and men, who as mediators, present the prayers and petitions of men here unto the gods in heaven, and from thence transmit and convey unto us upon earth, the oracles and revelations of hidden and future things, as also their donations of goods and riches. As for Empedocles, he saith, that these Daemons or fiends, are punished and tormented for their sins and offences which they have committed, as may appear by these his verses: 
For why? the power of air and sky, did to the sea them chase:  
The sea them cast up, of the earth, even to the outward face:  
The earth them sends unto the beams, of never-tyred Sun,  
The Sun to air, whence first they came, doth fling them down anon:  
Thus posted to and fro, twixt seas beneath, and heavens above,  
From one they to another pass: not one yet doth them love.  until such time as being thus in this purgatory chastised and cleansed, they recover again that place estate and degree which is meet for them and according to their nature. These things and such like for all the world they say, are reported of Typhon, who upon envy and malice committed many outrages; and having thus made a trouble and confusion in all things, filled sea and land with woeful calamities and miseries, but was punished for it in the end. For Isis the wife and sister of Osiris in revenge plagued him in extinguishing and repressing his fury and rage: and yet neglected not she the travels and pains of her own which she endured, her trudging also and wandering to and fro, nor many other acts of great wisdom and prowess suffered she to be buried in silence and oblivion: but inserting the same among the most holy ceremonies of sacrifices, as examples, images, memorials and resemblances of the accidents happing in those times, she consecrated an ensignement, instruction and consolation of piety and devout religion to godward, as well for men as women afflicted with miseries. By reason whereof she and her husband Osiris of good Daemons were transmuted for their virtue into gods, like as afterwards were Hercules and Bacchus, who in regard thereof, and not without reason, have honours decreed for them both of gods and also of Daemons intermingled together, as those who in all places were puissant, but most powerful both upon and also under the earth. For they say that Sarapis is nothing else but Pluto, and Isis the same that Proserpina, as Archemachus of Eubaea and Heraclitus of Pontus' testify and he thinketh that the oracle in the city Canobus, is that of father Dis or Pluto. King Ptolemaeus surnamed Soter that is to say, saviour, caused that huge statue or coloss of Pluto which was in the city Sinope, to be be taken from thence, not knowing, nor having seen before of what form and shape it was, but only that as he dreamt he thought that he saw Serapis, commanding him withal speed possible to transport him into Alexandrta. Now the king not knowing where this statue was, nor where to find it, in this doubtful perplexity related his vision aforesaid unto his friends about him, and chanced to meet with one Sosibius a great traveller and a man who had been in many places, and he said that in the city of Sinope he had seen such a statue as the king described unto them. Whereupon Ptolemaeus sent Soteles and Dionysius, who in long time, and with great travel, and not without the especial grace of the divine providence, stole away the said coloss and brought it with them: Now when it was come to Alexandria and there seen, Timotheus the great Cosmographer and Antiquary, and Manethon of the province Sebennitis, guessed it by all conjectures to be the image of Pluto, and namely by Cerberus the hel-dog and the dragon about him, persuading the king that it could be the image of no other god but of Serapis. For it came not from thence with that name; but being brought into Alexandria, it took the name Serapis, by which the Egyptians do name Pluto. And yet Heraclitus verily the Naturalist saith, that Hades and Dronisis, that is to say, Pluto and Bacchus, be the same. And in truth when they are disposed to play the fools and be mad, they are carried away to this opinion. For they who suppose that Hades, that is to say, Pluto, is said to be the body and as it were the sepulchre of the soul, as if it seemed to be foolish and drunken all the while she is within it, me thinks they do allegorize but very baldly. And better it were yet to bring Osiris and Bacchus together, yea and to reconcile Sarapis unto Osiris, in saying that after he hath changed his nature, he became to have this denomination. And therefore this name Sarapis is common to all, as they know very well who are professed in the sacted religion of Osiris. For we ought not to give ear and credit to the books and writings of the Phrygians, wherein we find, that there was one Charopos the daughter of Hercules, and that of Isatacus a son of Hercules was engendered Typhon: neither yet to make account of Phylarchus who writeth, that Bacchus was the first, who from the Indians drove two beeses, whereof the one was named Apis, and the other Osiris: That Sarapis is the proper name of him who ruleth and embelisheth the universal world, and is derived of the word Sairein, which some say, signifieth as much as to beautify and adorn. For these be absurd toys delivered by Phylarchus: but more monstrous and senseless are their absurdities who write, that Sarapis is no god, but that it is the coffin or sepulchet of Apis that is so called: as also that there be certain two leaved brazen gates in Memphis, bearing the names of Lethe & Cocytus, that is to say, oblivion and wailing, which being set open when they inter and bury Apis, in the opening make a great sound and rude noise: which is the cause that we lay hand upon every copper or brazen vessel when it resoundeth so, to stay the noise thereof. Yet is their more appearance of truth and reason in their opinion, who hold that it was derived of these verbs 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth to move, as being that which moveth the whole frame of the world. The priests for the most part hold, that Sarapis is a word compounded of Osiris and Apis together, giving this exposition withal and teaching us, that we ought to believe Apis to be an elegant image of the soul of Osiris. For mine own part, if Sarapis be an Egyptian name, I suppose rather 〈◊〉 it betokeneth joy and mirth: And I ground my conjecture upon this, that the Egyptians ordinarily call the feast of joy and gladness termed among the Athenians Charmosyna, by the name of Sairei. For Plato himself saith, that Hades which signifieth Pluto, being the son of Aidos', that is to say, of shamefastness and reverence, is a mild and gracious god to those who are toward him. And very true it is, that in the Egyptians language, many other proper names are significant and carry their reason with them: as namely that infernal place under the earth, into which they imagine the souls of the dead do descend after they be departed, they call Amenthes, which term is as much to say, as taking and giving; but whether this word be one of those, which in old time came out of Greece and were transpotted thither, we will consider and discuss better hereafter: Now for this present let us prosecute that which remaineth of this opinion now in hand. For Osiris and Isis of good Daemons were translated into the number of the gods: And as for the puissance of Typhon oppressed and quelled, howbeit panting as yet at the last gasp and striving as it were with the pangs of death, they have certain ceremonies and sacrifices, to pacify and appease. Other feasts also there be again on the contrary side wherein they insult over him, debase and defame him what they can: In so much as men of a ruddy colour they deride & make of them a laughing stock. And as for the inhabitants of Coptos, they use at a certain feast to throw an ass headlong down from the pitch of an high rock, because Typhon was ruddy and of a red asses colour. The Busiritants and Lycopolites forbear to sound any trumpets, because they resemble the braying of an ass: and generally they take an ass to be an unclean beast and daemonicall, for the resemblance in hue that it hath with him: and when they make certain cakes in their sacrifices of the months, Payni and Phaophi, they work them in paistry with the print upon them of an ass bound. Also in their solemn sacrifice to the Sun, they command as many as will be there to worship that god, not to we are any brooches or jewels of gold about their bodies, nor to give any meat or provander unto an ass what need soever he have thereof. It seemeth also, that the Pythagoreans themselves were of opinion, that Typhon was some fiend or daemonicall power: for they say that Typhon was borne in the even number of six and fifty: again, that the triangular number or figure, is the puissance of Pluto, Bacchus and Mars: of the quadrangle, is the power of Rhea, Venus, Ceres, Vesta, and Juno: that of twelve angles belongeth to the might of Jupiter: but that of fifty six angles is the force of Typhon, as Eudoxus hath left in writing. But the Egyptians supposing that Typhon was of a reddish colour, do kill for sacrifice unto him, kine and oxen of the same colour, observing withal so precisely, that if they have but one hair black or white, they be not sacrificeable: for they think such sacrifices not acceptable, but chose displeasant unto the gods, imagining they be the bodies which have received the souls of lewd and wicked persons, transformed into other creatures. And therefore after they have cursed the head of such a sacrifice, they cut it off and cast it into the river, at least ways in old time: but now they give it unto strangers. But the ox which they mean to sacrifice indeed, the priests called Sphragistae, that is to say, the sealer's, come & mark it with their seal, which as Castor writeth, was the image of a man kneeling, with his hands drawn back and bound behind him, and having a sword set to his throat: Semblably they use the name of an ass also, as hath been said, for his uncivil rudeness and insolency, no less than in regard of his colour, wherein he resembleth Typhon; and therefore the Egyptians gave unto Ochus a king of the Persians, whom they hated above all others as most cursed and abominable, the surname of ass: whereof Ochus being advertised and saying withal, This ass shall devour your ox; caused presently their beef 〈◊〉 to be killed and sacrificed, as Dinon hath left in writing. As for those who say, that Typhon after he had lost the field, fled six days journey upon an ass back, and having by this means escaped, beg at two sons, Hierosolymus and Judaeus, evident it is herein that they would draw the story of the jews into this fable. And thus much of the allegorirall conjectures which this tale doth afford. But now from another head, let us (of those who are able to discourse somewhat Philosophically and with reason) consider first and foremost such as deal most simply in this behalf. And these be they that say, like as the Greeks allegorize that Saturn is time, Juno the air, and the generation of Vulcan, is the transmutation of air into fire; even so they give out that by Osiris the Egyptians mean Nilus, which lieth and keepeth company with Isis, that is to say, the earth: That Typhon is the sea, into which Nilus falling loseth himself, and is dispatched here and there, unless it be that portion thereof, which the earth receiveth and whereby it is made fertile. And upon the river Nilus there is a sacred lamentation, even from the days of Saturn: wherein there is lamenting, how Nilus springing and growing on the left hand, decayeth and is lost on the right: For the Egyptians do think, that the east parts where the day appeareth, be the forefront and face of the world, that the North part is the right hand & the South part the left. This Nilus therefore, arising on the left hand, and lost in the sea on the right hand, is said truly to have his birth and generation in the left side, but his death and corruption in the right. And this is the reason why the priests of Egypt have the sea in abomination, and term salt the foam and froth of Typhon. And among those things which are interdicted and forbidden this is one, that no salt be used at the board: by reason whereof they never salute any pilots or sailors, for that they keep ordinarily in the sea, and get their living by it. This also is one of the principal causes, why they abhor fishes; in such sort as when they would describe hatred, they draw or purtray a fish: like as in the porch before the temple of Minerva within the city Sai, there was purtraied and engraven, an infant, an old man; after them a falcon or some such hawk, and close thereto a fish, and last of all a river-horse: which Hieroglyphics, do symbolise and signify thus much in effect. O all yea that come into the world and go out of it: God hateth shameless injustice. For by the hawk they understand God, by the fish hatred, and by the river-horse impudent violence and villainy, because it is said that he killeth his father, and after that, forceth his own mother and covereth her. And semblably it should seem, that the saying of the Pythagoreans, who give out that the sea is a tear of Saturn, under covert words do mean, that it is impure and unclean. Thus have I been willing by the way to allege thus much, although it be without the train of our fable, because they fall within the compass of a vulgar and common received history. But to return to our matter: the priests as many as be of the wiser and more learned sort, understand by Osiris, not only the river Nilus, and by Typhon the sea: but also by the former, they signify in one word and simply, all virtue and power that produceth moisture and water, taking it to be the material cause of generation, and the nature generative of seed: and by Typhon they represent all desiccative virtue, all heat of fire & dryness, as the very thing that is fully opposite and adverse to humidity: and hereupon it is, that they hold Typhon to be red of hair and of skin yellow: and by the same reason they willingly would not encounter or meet upon the way men of that hue, no nor delight to speak unto such. chose they feign Osiris to be of a black colour, because all water, causeth the earth, clothes and clouds to appear black with which it is mingled. Also the moisture that is in young folk maketh their hair black; but grisled hoariness, which seemeth to be a pale yellow, cometh by reason of siccity unto those who be past their flower, and now in their declining age: also the Spring time is green, fresh, pleasant, and generative: but the latter season of Autumn, for want of moisture, is an enemy to plants, and breedeth diseases in man and beast.  
To speak also of that ox or beef named Mnevis, which is kept and nourished in Heliopolis at the common charges of the city, consecrated unto Osiris, and which some say, was the sire of Apis; black he is of hair, and honoured in a second degree after Apis. Moreover, the whole land of Egypt is of all others exceeding black, such a black I mean, as that is of the 〈◊〉, which they call Chemia, and they liken it to the heart; for hot and moist it is, and inclineth to the left and South parts of the earth, like as the heart lieth most to the left side of a man. They affirm also, that the Sun and Moon are not mounted upon chariots, but within bardges or boats continually do move and sail as it were round about the world; giving us thereby covertly to understand, that they be bred and nourished by moisture. Furthermore, they think, that Homer (like as Thales also) being taught out of the Egyptians learning, doth hold and set down this position, That water is the element and principle that engendereth all things: for they say, that Osiris is the Ocean, and Isis, Tethys, as one would say, the nurse that suckleth and feedeth the whole world. For the Greeks call the ejaculation or casting forth of natural seed, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, like as the conjunction of male and female 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: likewise 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which in Greek signifieth a son, is derived of the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, water, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 betokeneth also to rain. Moreover, Bacchus they surname hies, as one would say, the lord and ruler of the moist nature; and he is no other than Osiris. Furthermore, whereas we pronounce his name Osiris, Hellanicus putteth it down Hysiris, saying, that he heard the very priests themselves of Egypt to pronounce it so. And thus verily calleth he the said god in every place, not without good show of reason, having regard unto his nature and invention. But that Osiris is the same god that Bacchus, who should in all reason better know than yourself (o Clea) considering that in the city of Delphi you are the mistress and lady Prioress as it were of the religious Thyans, and from your infancy have been a votary and Nun consecrated by your father and mother to the service of Osiris. But if in regard of others, we must allege testimonies, let us not meddle with their hidden secrets; howbeit, that which the priests do in public when the inter Apis, having brought his corpse in a boat or punt, differeth not at all from the ceremonies of Bacchus: for, clad they be in stag's skins, they carry javelins in their hands, they keep a loud crying, and shaking of their bodies very unquietly, much after the manner of those who are transported with the fanatical and sacred fancy of Bacchus. And what reason else should there be, that many nations of Greece portray the statue of Bacchus with a bulls head? and the dames among the Elians in their prayers and invocations do call unto him, beseeching this god to come unto them with his bulls foot? yea, and the Argives commonly surname Bacchus, Bugenes, which is as much to say, as the son of a Cow, or engendered by a bull: and that which more is, they invocate and call upon him out of the water with sound of trumpets, casting into a deep gulf, a lamb, as to the Portier, under the name of Pylaochos. Their trumpets they hide within their javelins, called Thyrsi, according as Socrates hath written in his books of sacred ceremonies. Moreover, the Titanicall acts, and that whole, entire and sacred night, accord with that which is reported as touching the dismembering of Osiris, and the resurrection or renovation of his life: in like manner, those matters which concern his burial. For the Egyptians show in many places the sepulchers of Osiris: and the Delphians think, they have the bones and relics of Bacchus among them, 〈◊〉 and bestowed near unto the oracle: and his religious priests celebrate unto him a secret sacrifice within the temple of Apollo, when the Thyades who are the Priestresses begin to chant the sonnet 
* One of the surnames of Bacchus.  Licnites. Now that the Greeks are of opinion, that Bacchus is the lord and governor, not of wine liquor only, but also of every other nature which is moist and liquid, the testimony of Pindarus is sufficient, when he saith thus: Bacchus 
Taking the charge of trees that grow,  
Doth cause them for to bud and blow:  
The verdure fresh and beauty pure  
Of lovely fruits he doth procure.  And therefore it is, that those who serve and worship Osiris are straightly forbidden and charged, not to destroy any fruitful tree, nor to stop the head of any fountain. And not only the river Nilus, but all water and moisture whatsoever in general, they call the effluence of Osiris: by reason whereof, before their sacrifices they carry always in procession a pot or pitcher of water, in honour of the said god.  
They describe also a king and the Southern or meridional climate of the world, by a fig tree leaf, which fig leaf signifieth the imbibition and motion of all things: and beside, it seemeth naturally to resemble the member of generation. Also, when they solemnize the feast called Pamylitia, which as before hath been said, was instituted in the honour of Priapus, they show and carry about in procession an image or statue, the genital member whereof, is thrice as big as the ordinary: for this god of theirs is the beginning of all things; and every such principle, by generation multiplieth itself. Now, we are wont moreover to say, Thrice, for many times; to wit, a finite number for an infinite; as when we use the word, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Thrice happy, for most happy; and Three bonds, for infinite; unless peradventure this ternary or threefold number was expressly and properly chosen by our ancients. For the nature of moisture being the principle that engendereth all things, from the beginning hath engendered these three elements or primitive bodies, Earth, air and Fire. For that branch which is set unto the fable, to wit, that Typhon flung the genital member of Osiris into the river, that Isis could not find it, but caused one to be made to resemble it, and when she was provided thereof, ordained that it should be honoured and carried in a solemnepompe; tendeth to this, for to teach us, that the generative and productive virtue of god, had moisture at the first for the matter, and by the means of the said humidity, was mixed with those things that were apt for generation. Another branch there is yet, growing to this fable, namely, that one Apopis brother to the Sun, warred against Jupiter; that Osiris aided Jupiter and helped him to defait his enemy; in regard of which merit he adopted him for his son, and named him Dionysus, that is to say, Bacchus. Now the Muthology of this fable, as it evidently appeareth, acordeth covertly, with the truth of Nature: for the Egyptians call the wind, Jupiter, unto which nothing is more contrary, than siccity and that which is fiery: and that is not the Sun, although some consanguinity it hath unto it: but moisture coming to extinguish the extremity of that dryness, fortifieth and augmenteth those vapours, which nourish the wind and keep it in force. Moreover, the Greeks consecreate the Ivy unto Bacchus, and the same is named among the Egyptians, Chenosiris, which word, (as they say) signifieth in the Egyptian tongue, the plant of Osiris: at leastwise Ariston who enroled a colony of the Athenians, affirmeth that he light upon an epistle of Anaxarchus, wherein he found as much; as also, that Bacchus was the son of a water nymph, Naias. Other Egyptians also there be, who hold, that Bacchus was the son of Isis, and that he was not called Osiris, but Arsaphes, in the letter Alpha, which word signifieth prowess or valour. And thus much giveth Hermaeus to understand, in his first book of Egyptian acts; where he saith also, that Osiris by interpretation, is as much, as 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  stout or mighty. here I forbear to allege Mnasaes', who referreth and ascribeth unto Epaphus, Bacchus, Osiris, and Sarapis. I overpass Anticlides likewise, who affirmeth, that Isis was the daughter of Prometheus, and married unto Bacchus. For the very particular properties that we have said were in their feasts and sacrifices, yield a more clear evidence and prose, than any allegations of witnesses whatsoever. Also they hold, that among the stars, the dog or Sirius was consecrate unto Isis, the which star draweth the water. And they honour the lion, with whose heads and having the mouth gaping and wide open, they adorn the doors and gates of their temples, for that the river Nilus riseth 
So soon as in the circle Zodiac,  
The Sun and Leo sign, encounter make.  And as they both hold and affirm, Nilus to be the effluence of Osiris; even so they are of opinion, that the body of Isis is the earth or land of Egypt; and yet not all of it, but so much as Nilus oversloweth, and by commixtion maketh fertile and fruitful: of which conjunction, they say, that Orus was engendered, which is nothing else but the temperature and disposition of the air, nourishing and maintaining all things. They say also, that this Orus was nourished within the mores near unto the city Butus, by the goddess Latona: for that the earth being well drenched and watered, bringeth forth and nourisheth vapours, which overcome, extinguish, and repress (nothing so much) great siccity and dryness. Furthermore, they call the marches and borders of the land, the confines also of the coasts which touch the sea, Nephthys: and this is the reason why they name Nephthys, Teleutaea, that is to say, final or last; and say that she was married unto Typhon. And when Nilus breaketh out and overrunneth his banks so, as he approacheth these borders, this they call the unlawful conjunction or adultery of Osiris with Nephthys, the which is known by certain plants growing there, among which is the Melilot: by the seed whereof, saith the tale, when it was shed and left behind, began Typhon to perceive the wrong that was done unto him in his marriage. And here upon they say, that Orus was the legitimate son of Iris, but Anubis was borne by Nephthys in bastardy. And verily in the succession of kings they record Nephthys married unto Typhon, to have been at first barren. Now if this be not meant of a woman, but of a goddess, they understand under these enigmatical speeches, a land altogether barren and unfruitful, by reason of hardness and stiff solidity. The lying in wait of Typhon to surprise Osiris, his usurped rule and tyranny, is nothing else but the force of dryness, which was very mighty, which dissipated also and spent all that humidity that both engendereth and also increaseth Nilus to that height. As for that 〈◊〉 of Aethiopia, who came to aid & assist him, she betokeneth the Southerly winds coming from Aethiopia: for when these have the upper hand of the Etesian winds, which blow from the North, and drive the cloulds into Aethiopia, and so hinders those showers and gluts of 〈◊〉 which power out of the clouds, and make the river Nilus to swell: then Typhon, that is to say, drought, is said to win the better, and to burn up all; and so having gotten the mastery clean of Nilus, who by reason of his weakness and feebleness, is driven in, and forced to retire a contrary way, he chaseth him, poor and low into the sea. For whereas the fable saith, that Osiris was shut fast within an ark or coffer, there is no other thing signified thereby; but this departure back of the water, and the hiding thereof within the sea: which is the cause also, that they say Osiris went out of sight in the month Athyr, and was no more seen; at what time as when all the Etesian winds are laid and given over to blow, Nilus' 〈◊〉 into his channel, leaving the land discovered and bare. And now by this time as the night groweth longer, the darkness increaseth, like as the force of the light doth diminish and is impaired: and then the priests among many other ceremonies, testifying their sadness and heavy cheer, bring forth and show a bees with golden horns, whom they cover all over with a fine vail of black silk, thereby to represent the heavy dole and mourning of the goddess for Osiris: (for thus they think, that the said beef is the image of Osiris: and the vestment of black aforesaid, testifying the earth, doth signify Isis) and this show exhibit they four days together; to wit, from the seventh unto the tenth following: And why? Four things there be for which they make demonstration of grief & sorrow: the first is the river Nilus, for that he seemeth to retire and fail: the second are the north-winds, which now are hushed and still, by reason of the Southern winds, that gain the mastery over them: the third is the day, for that now it waxeth shorter than the night: and last of all, the discovering and nakedness of the earth, together with the divesting of trees, which at the very same time begin to shed and lose their leaves. After this, upon the nineteenth day at night, they go down to the sea side, and then the priests revested in their sacred Stoles and habits, carry forth with them, a consecrated chest, wherein there is a vessel of gold, into which they take and power fresh and potable water; and with that, all those who are present set up a note and shout, as if they had found Osiris again: then they take a piece of fatty and fertile earth, and together with the water, knead and work it into a paste, mixing therewith most precious odours, perfumes and spices, whereof they make a little image in form of the Moon croissant, which they deck with robes and adorn, showing thereby evidently that they take these gods to be the substance of water and earth.  
Thus when Isis had recovered Osiris, nourished Orus, and brought him up to some growth, so that he now became strengthened & fortified, by exhalations, vapours, mists and clouds, Typhon verily was vanquished, howbeit, not shine, for that the goddess, which is the lady of the earth, would not permit & suffer, that the power or nature which is contrary unto moisture, should be utterly abolished: only she did slacken and let down the vehement force thereof, willing that this combat and strife should still continue; because the world would not have been entire and perfect, if the nature of fire had been once extinct & gone. And if this go not currant among them, there is no reason and probability, that any one should project this assertion also, namely, that Typhon in times past overcame one part of Osiris: for that in old time, Egypt was sea: whereupon it is, that even at this day, within the mines wherein men dig for metals, yea, and among the mountains, there is found great store of seafish. Likewise, all the fountains, wells and pits (and those are many in number) carry a brackish, saltish and bitter water, as if some remnant or residue of the old sea were reserved, which ran thither. But in process of time, Orus subdued Typhon, that is to say, when the seasonable rain came, which tempered the excessive heat, Nilus expelled and drove forth the sea, discovered the champain ground, and filled it continually more and more by new deluges and inundations, that laid somewhat still unto it. And hereof, the daily experience is presented to our eyes; for we perceive even at this day, that the overflows and rising of the river, bringing new mud, and adding fresh earth still by little and little, the sea giveth place and retireth: and as the deep in it is filled more and more, so the superficies riseth higher, by the continual shelves that the Nile casts up; by which mean, the sea runneth backward: yea, the very Isle Pharos, which Homer knew by his days to lie far within the sea even a days sailing from the continent & firm land of Egypt, is now a very part thereof: not for that it removed and approached nearer and nearer to the land; but because the sea which was between, gave place unto the river that continually made new earth with the mud that it brought, and so maintained and augmented the main land. But these things resemble very near, the Theological interpretations that the Stoics give out: for they hold, that the generative and nutritive Spirit, is Bacchus; but that which striketh and divideth, is Hercules; that which receiveth, is Ammon; that which entereth and pierceth into the earth, is Ceres and Proserpina; and that which doth penetrate farther and pass thorough the sea, is Neptune. Others, who mingle among natural causes and reasons, some drawn from the Mathematics, and principally from Astrology, think that Typhon is the Solare circle or sphere of the Sun; and that Osiris is that of the Moon; inasmuch as the Moon hath a generative and vegetable light, multiplying that sweet and comfortable moisture which is so meet for the generation of living creatures, of trees and plants: but the Sun having in it a pure fiery flame indeed without any mixture or rebatement at all, heateth and drieth that which the earth bringeth forth, yea, and whatsoever is verdant and in the flower; insomuch, as by his inflammation he causeth the greater part of the earth to be wholly desert and inhabitable, and many times subdueth the very Moon. And therefore the Egyptians evermore name Typhon, Seth, which is as much to say, as ruling lordly, and oppressing with violence. And after their fabulous manner they say, that Hercules sitting as it were upon the Sun, goeth about the world with him; and Mercury likewise with the Moon: by reason whereof, the works and effects of the Moon resemble those acts which are performed by eloquence and wisdom: but those of the Sun are compared to such as be exploited by force and puissance. And the Stoics say, that the Sun is lighted and set on fire by the Sea, and therewith nourished: but they be the fountains and lakes which send up unto the Moon a mild, sweet and delicate vapour. The Egyptians feign, that the death of Osiris happened on the seventeenth day of the month, on which day, better than upon any other, she is judged to be at the full: and this is the reason why the Pythagoreans call this day, The obstruction, and of all other numbers they most abhor and detest it: for whereas sixteen is a number quadrangular or foursquare, and eighteen longer one way than another; which numbers only of those that be plain, happen for to have the ambient unities, that environ them equal to the spaces contained and comprehended within them; seventeen, which falleth between, separateth and disjoineth the one from the other, and being cut into unequal intervals, distracteth the proportion sesquioctave. And some there be who say, that Osiris lived, others that he reigned, eight and twenty years: for so many lights there be of the Moon, and so many days doth she turn about her own circle: and therefore in those ceremonies which they call The sepulture of Osiris, they cut a piece of wood, and make a certain coffin or case in manner of the Moon croissant, for that as she approacheth near to the Sun, she becometh pointed and cornered, until in the end she come to nothing, and is no more seen. And as for the dismembering of Osiris into fourteen pieces, they signify unto us under the covert vail of these words, The days wherein the said planet is in the wane, and decreaseth even unto the change, when she is renewed again. And that day on which she first appeareth, by passing by and escaping the rays of the Sun, they call an Unperfect good: for Osiris is a doer of good: and this name signifieth many things, but principally an active and beneficial power, as they say: and as for the other name Omphis, Hermaeus saith, that it betokeneth as much as a benefactor. Also, they are of opinion, that the risings and inundations of the river Nilus, answer in proportion to the course of the Moon; for the greatest height that it groweth unto in the country Elephantine, is eight and twenty cubits; for so many illuminations there be, or days, in every revolution of the Moon: and the lowest gage about mends and Xois, six cubits, which answereth to the first quarter: but the mean between, about the city Memphis, when it is just at the full, cometh to fourteen cubits, correspondent to the full Moon. They hold moreover, Apis to be the lively image of Osiris, and that he is engendered and bred at what time as the generative light descendeth from the Moon and toucheth the Cow desirous of the male: and therefore Apis resembleth the forms of the Moon, having many white spots obscured and darkened with the shadows of black. And this is the reason, why they solemnize a feast in the new Moon of the month Phamenoth, which they call The ingress or entrance of Osiris to the Moon; and this is the beginning of the Spring season: and thus they put the power of Osiris in the Moon. They say also, that Isis (which is no other thing but generation) lieth with him; and so they name the Moon, Mother of the world; saying, that she is a double nature, male and female: female, in that she doth conceive and is replenished by the Sun: and male, in this regard, that she sendeth forth and sprinkleth in the air, the seeds and principles of generation: for that the dry distemperature and corruption of Typhon is not always superior, but often times vanquished by generation, and howsoever tied it be and bound, yet it riseth fresh again, and fighteth against Orus, who is nothing else but the terrestrial world, which is not altogether free from corruption, nor yet exempt from generation. Others there be, who would have all this fiction covertly to represent no other thing but the eclipses: for the Moon is eclipsed, when she is at the full directly opposite to the Sun, and cometh to fall upon the shadow of the earth: like as they say, Osiris was put into the chest or coffer above said. On the other side, she seemeth to hide and darken the light of the Sun, upon certain thirtieth days, but yet doth not wholly abolish the Sun, no more than Isis doth kill Typhon: but when Nephthys bringeth forth Anubis, Isis putteth herself in place: for Nephthys is that which is under the earth and unseen; but Isis, that which is above, and appeareth unto us: and the circle named Horizon, which is common to them both, and parteth the two hemisphaeres, is named Anubis, and in form resembleth a dog: for why? a dog seeth aswell by night as by day: so that it should seem, that Anubis among the Egyptians hath the like power that Proserpina among the Greeks, being both terrestrial and celestial. Others there be, who think, that Anubis is Saturn, and because he is conceived with all things, and bringeth them forth, which in Greek the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifieth, therefore he is surnamed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Adogge. So that there is some hidden and mystical secret in it, that causeth some, even still to reverence and adore A dog: for the time was, when more worship was done unto it in Egypt, than to any other beast; but after that Cambyses had killed Apis cut him in pieces, and flung the same here and there, no other creature would 〈◊〉 near to taste thereof, save the dog only; whereupon he lost that prerogative and pre-eminence to be more honoured than other beasts. Others there are, who would have the shadow of the earth, which causeth the Moon to be eclipsed when she entereth into it, to be named Typhon. And therefore me thinks, it were not amiss to say, that in particular there is not any one of these expositions and interpretations perfect by itself and right, but all of them together carry some good construction: for it is neither drought alone, nor wind, nor sea, ne yet darkness; but all that is noisome and hurtful whatsoever, and which hath a special part to hurt and destroy, is called Typhon. Nether must we put the principles of the whole world into bodies that have no life and soul, as Democritus and Epicurus do: nor yet set down for the workman and framer of the first matter, a certain reason and providence, without quality (as do the Stoics:) such a thing as hath a subsistence before and above all, and commandeth all: for impossible it is, that one sole cause, good or bad, should be the beginning of all things together; for God is not the cause of any evil, and the coagmentation of the world bendeth contrary ways, like as the composition of a lute or bow, as Heraclitus saith, and according to Euripides, 
Nothings can be by themselves good or bad:  
That things do well, a mixture must be had.  And therefore this opinion so very ancient, is descended from Theologians and Lawgivers unto Poets and Philosophers, the certain author and beginning whereof, is not yet known: howbeit, so firmly grounded in the persuasion and belief of men, that hard it is to suppress or abolish the same; so commonly divulged not only in conferences, disputations, and ordinary speeches abroad, but also in the sacrifices and divine ceremonies of gods service, in many places, as well among the Barbarians as Greeks, to wit, that neither this world floateth and waveth at aventure, without the government of providence and reason, nor reason only it is that guideth, directeth, and holdeth it (as it were) with certain helms or bits of obeisance, but many things there be confused and mixed, good and bad together: or to speak more plainly, there is nothing here beneath that nature produceth and bringeth forth, which of itself is pure and simple: neither is there one drawer of two tons, to disperse and distribute abroad the affairs of this world, like as a taverner or vintner doth his wines or other liquors, brewing and tempering one with another. But this life is conducted by two principles and powers, adverse one unto another; for the one leadeth us to the right hand directly, the other chose turneth us aside and putteth us back: and so this life is mixed, and the very world itself, if not all throughout, yet at leastwise, this beneath about the earth, and under the Moon, is unequal, variable, and subject to all mutations that possibly may be. For if nothing there is, that can be without a precedent cause, and that which of itself is good can never minister cause of evil; necessary it is, that nature hath some peculiar cause and beginning by itself, of good aswell as of bad. And of this opinion are the most part of the ancients, and those of the wisest sort. For some think there be two gods as it were of a contrary mystery & profession; the one, author of all good things, and the other of bad. Others there be who call the better of them god; and the other Daemon, that is to say, devil, as Zoroastres the Magician did, who by report, was five thousand years before the war of Troy. This Zoroastres (I say) named the good god Oromazes, and the other Arimanius. Moreover, the gave out, that the one resembled light, more than any sensible thing else whatsoever: the other darkness and ignorance: also that there is one in the mids between them, named Mithres: (and hereupon it is, that the Persians call an intercessor or mediator, Mithres.) He teacheth us also to sacrifice unto the one of them, for petition of good things, and for thanksgiving: but to the other, for to divert and turn away sinister and evil accidents. To which purpose they used to stamp in a mortar a certain herb which they call Omomi, calling upon Pluto and the darkness: then temper they it with the blood of a wolf which they have killed in sacrifice: this done, they carry it away, and throw it into a dark corner, where the Sun never shineth. For this conceit they have, that of herbs and plants, some appertain unto the good god, and others to the evil daemon or devil. Semblably, of living creatures, dogs, birds, and land urchins, belong to their good god: but those of the water, to the evil fiend. And for this cause they repute those very happy, who can kill the greatest number of them. Howbeit these Sages and wise men report many fabulous things of the gods: as for example, that Oromazes is engendered of the clearest and purest light, and Arimanius of deep darkness: also that they war one upon another. And the former of these created six other gods, the first of Benevolence; the second of Verity; the third of good discipline and public Law; and of the rest behind, one of Wisdom, another of Riches; and the sixth, which also is the last, the maker of joy for good and honest deeds. But the 
* That is to say, 〈◊〉.  later produceth as many other in number, concurrents as it were and of adverse operation to the former above named. Afterwards when Oromazes had augmented and amplified himself three times, he removed as far from the Sun, as the Sun is distant from the earth, adoring and embellishing the heaven with stars: and one star above the rest he ordained to be the guide, mistress, and overseer of them all, to wit, Sirius, that is to say, the Dogge-starre. Then, after he had made four and twenty other gods, he enclosed them all with in an egg. But the other, brought forth by Arimanius, who were also in equal number, never ceased until they had pierced and made a hole unto the said smooth and polished egg: and so after that, evil things became mingled pelmell with good. But there will a time come predestined fatally, when this Arimanius who brings into the world plague and famine, shall of necessity be rooted out and utterly destroyed for ever, even by them; and the earth shall become plain, even, and uniform: neither shall there be any other but one life, and one commonwealth of men, all happy and speaking one and the same language. Theopompus also writeth, that according to the wise Magis, these two gods must for three thousand years, conquer one after another, and for three thousand years be conquered again by turns: and then for the space of another three thousand years, levy mutual wars, and fight battles one against the other, whiles the one shall subvert and overthrow that which the other hath set up: until in the end Pluto shall faint, give over, and perish: then shall men be all in happy estate, they shall need no more food, nor cast any shadow from them; and that god who hath wrought and effected all this, shall repose himself, and rest in quiet, not long (I say) for a god, but a moderate time as one would say for a man taking his sleep and rest. And thus much as touching the fable devised by the Magi. But the Chaldaeans affirm that of the gods, whom they call Planets or wandering stars, two there be that are beneficial and doers of good; two again mischievous and workers of evil; and three which are of a mean nature and common. As for the opinion of the Greeks, concerning this point, there is no man I suppose ignorant thereof: namely, that there be two portions or parts of the world, the one good, allotted unto Jupiter Olympius, that is to say, Celestial; another bad, appertaining to Pluto infernal. They fable moreover, and feign, that the goddess Harmonia, that is to say, Accord, was engendered of Mars and Venus: of whom, the one is cruel, grim, and quarrelous; the other mild, lovely, and generative. Now consider the Philosophers themselves, how they agree herein: For Heraclitus directly and disertly nameth war, the Father, King, and Lord of all the world; saying, that Homer when he wisheth and prayeth, 
Both out of heaven and earth to banish war,  
That god and men, no more might be at jar.  wist not how (ere he was aware) he cursed the generation and production of all things, which indeed have their essence and being by the fight and antipathy in nature. He was ignorant that the Sun would not pass the bounds and limits appointed unto him; for otherwise the furies and cursed tongues which are the ministresses and coadjutresses of justice would find him out. As for Empedocles, he saith, that the beginning and principle which worketh good, is love and amity, yea, and otherwhiles is called Harmony by Merops: but the cause of evil, 
Malice, hatred, cankered spite,  
Quarrel, debate, and bloody fight.  Come now to the Pythagoreans, they demonstrate and specify the same by many names: for they call the good principle, One, finite, permanent or quiet, strait or direct, odd, quadrat or square, right and lightsome: but the bad, twain, infinite, moving, crooked, even, longer one way than another, unequal, left and dark, as if these were the fountains of generation. Anaxagoras calleth them the mind or understanding and infinity. Aristotle termeth the one form, the other privation. And Plato under dark and covert terms hiding his opinion, in many places calleth the former of these two contrary principles, The Same, and the later, The other. But in the books of his laws, which he wrote when he was now well stepped in years, he giveth them no more any obscure and ambiguous names, neither describeth he them symbolically and by enigmatical and intricate names, but in proper and plain terms, he saith, that this work is not moved and managed by one sole cause, but haply by many, or at leastwise no fewer than twain: where of the one is the creator and worker of good, the other opposite unto it and operative of contrary effects. He leaveth also and alloweth a third cause between, which is neither without soul nor reasonless ne yet unmoovable of itself, as some think, but adjacent and adherent to the other twain, howbeit inclining always to the better, as having a desire and appetite thereto, which it pursueth and followeth, as that which hereafter we will deliver shall show more manifestly, which treatise shall reconcile the Egyptian Theology with the Greeks Philosophy, and reduce them to a very good concordance: for that the generation, composition, and constitution of this world is mingled of contrary powers, howbeit the same not of equal force: for the better is predominant: but impossible it is that the evil should utterly perish and be abolished, so deeply is it imprinted in the body & so far inbred in the soul of the universal world, in opposition always to the better, and to war against it. Now then, in the soul, reason and understanding, which is the guide, and mistress of all the best things, is Osiris. Also in the earth, in the winds, in water, sky and the stars, that which is well ordained, stayed, disposed and digested in good sort, by temperate seasons and revolutions, the same is called the defluxion of Osiris, and the very apparent image of him: chose, the passionate, violent, unreasonable, brutish, rash and foolish part of the soul, is Typhon: Semblably in the bodily nature, that which is extraordinarily adventitious, unwholesome & diseased, as for example, the troubled air and tempestuous indispositions of the weather, the obscuration or eclipse of the Sun, the defect of the Moon and her occulation, be as it were the excursions, deviations out of course, and disparations: and all of them be Typhons; as the very interpretation of the Egyptian word signifieth no less: for Typhon, they name Seth, which is as much to say, as violent and oppressing after a lordly manner. It importeth also many times reversion, & otherwhiles aninsultation or supplantation. Moreover some there be who say, that one of Typhon's familiar friends was named Bebaeon. But Manethos affirmeth, that Typhon himself was called Bebon, which word by interpretation is as much as cohibition, restraint or impeachment, as if the puissance and power of Typhon were to stay and withstand the affairs that are in good way of proceeding, and tend as they should do, to a good end. And hereupon it is that of tame beasts they dedicate and attribute unto him, the most gross and indocible of all others, namely an ass: but of wild beasts the most cruel and savage of all others, as the crocodiles and riverhorses. As for the ass, we have spoken before of him. In the city of Mercury, named Hermupolis, they show unto us the image of Typhon, purtraied under the form of a river-horse, upon whom sitteth an hawk, fight with a serpent. By the foresaid horse they represent Typhon: and by the hawk, the power and authority which Typhon having gotten by force, maketh no care oftentimes, both to be troubled and also to trouble others by his malice. And therefore when they solemnize a sacrifice, the seventh day of the month Tybi, which they call the coming of Isis out of Phoenicia, they devise upon their hallowed cakes for sacrifice, a river-horse, as if he were tied and bound. In the city of Apollo the manner and custom confirmed by law was, that every one must eat of a crocodile: and upon a certain day they have a solemn chase and hunting of them, when they kill as many of them as they can, and then cast them all before the temple: and they say, that Typhon being become a crocodile hath escaped from Orus: attributing all dangerous wicked beails, all hurtful plants and violent passions unto Typhon, as if they were his works, his parts or motions. chose they purtray and depaint unto us Osiris, by a sceptre and an eye upon it: meaning by the eye foresight and providence, by the sceptre authority and puissance: like as Homer nameth Jupiter who is the prince, lord and ruler of all the world, Hypatos, that is, sovereign, and Mestor, that is, foreseeing: giving us to understand, by sovereign, his supreme power, by foreseeing his prudence and wisdom. They represent Osiris also many times by an hawk, for that she hath a wonderful clear and quick sight, her flight also is as swift, and she is wont naturally to sustain herself with very little food. And more than that (by report) when she flieth over dead bodies unburied, she casteth mould and earth upon their eyes. And look whensoever she flieth down to the river for to drink she setteth up her feathers strait upright, but when she hath drunk she layeth them plain and even again, by which it appeareth that safe she is and hath escaped the crocodile: For if the crocodile seize upon her and catch her up, her pennache abideth stiff and upright as before. But generally throughout wheresoever the image of Osiris is exhibited in the form of a man, they purtray him with the natural member of generation stiff and strait, prefiguring thereby the generative and nutritive virtue. The habiliment also, wherewith they clad his images is bright, shining like fire: For they repute the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Sun to be a body representing the power of goodness, as being the visible matter of a spiritual and intellectual substance. And therefore their opinion deserveth to be rejected who attribute unto Typhon the sphere of the Sun, considering that unto him properly appertaineth nothing that is resplendent, healthful and comfortable, no disposition, no generation or motion which is ordered with measure or digested by reason: But if either in the air or upon the earth there be any unseasonable disposition of winds, of weather, or water, it happeneth when the primitive cause of a disordinate and indeterminate power cometh to extinguish the kind vapours and exhalations. Moreover in the sacred hymns of Osiris, they invocate and call upon him who lieth at repose hidden within the arms of the Sun. Also upon the thirtieth day of the month Epiphi, they solemnize the feast of the nativity or birth of Orus eyes: at what time as the Sun and Moon be in the same direct line: as being persuaded that not only the Moon but the Sun also is the eye and light of Horus: Likewise upon the twenty eight day of the month Phaopi they celebrate another feast of the suns basons or staves, and that is after the equinox in Autumn, giving covertly thereby to understand that the Sun hath need of an appuy or supporter to rest upon and to strengthen him, because his heat begins then to decay and languish sensibly, his light also to diminish and decline obliqucly from us. Moreover about the soltice or middle of winter, they carry about his temple seven times a cow: and this procession is called the seeking of Osiris, or the revolution of the Sun, as if the goddess than desired the waters of winter: And so many times they do it, for that the course of the Sun, from the Winter solstice unto the Summer solstice is performed in the seventh month. It is said moreover, that 
* 〈◊〉.  Horus the son of Isis was the first who sacrificed unto the Sun, the fourteenth day of the month, according as it is written in a certain book as touching the nativity of Horus: howsoever every day they offer incense and sweet odours to the Sun three times: First at the Sun rising, Rosin: secondly about noon, Mirth: and thirdly at the Sun setting, a certain composition named Kiphi. The mystical meaning of which perfumes and odours I will hereafter declare: but they are persuaded that in all this they worship and honour the Sun. But what need is there to gather and collect a number of such matters as these? seeing there be some who openly maintain that Osiris is the Sun, and that the Greeks call him Sirtus, but the article which the Egyptians put before, to wit, [O] is the cause that so much is not evidently perceived: as also that Isis is nothing else but the Moon: and of her images those that have horns upon them, signify no other thing but the Moon croissant: but such as are covered and clad in black, betoken those days wherein she is hidden or darkened, namely, when she runneth after the Sun: which is the reason that in love matters they invocate the Moon. And Eudoxus himself saith, that Isis is the precedent over amatorious folk. And verily in all these ceremonies there is some probability and likelihood of truth. But to say that Typhon is the Sun, is so absurd, that we ought not so much as give ear to those who affirm so. But return we now to our former matter. For Isis is the feminine part of nature, apt to receive all generation, upon which occasion called she is by Plato, the nurse and Pandeches, that is to say, capable of all: yea and the common sort name her Myrionymus, which is as much to say, as having an infinite number of names, for that she receiveth all forms and shapes, according as it pleaseth that first reason to convert and turn her. Moreover, there is imprinted in her naturally, a love of the first and principal essence, which is nothing else but the sovereign good, and it she desireth, seeketh, and pursueth after. chose, she flieth and repelleth from her, any part and portion that proceedeth from ill. And howsoever she be the subject matter, and meet place apt to receive as well the one as the other, yet of itself, inclined she is always rather to the better, and applieth herself to engender the same, yea, and to disseminate and sow the defluxions and similitudes thereof, wherein she taketh pleasure and rejoiceth, when she hath conceived and is great therewith, ready to be delivered. For this is a representation and description of the substance engendered in matter, and nothing else but an imitation of that which is. And therefore you may see it is not besides the purpose, that they imagine and devise the soul of Osiris to be eternal and immortal: but as for the body, that Typhon many times doth tear, mangle, and abolish it, that it cannot be seen: and that Isis goeth up and down, wandering here and there, gathering together the dismembered pieces thereof, for that which is good and spiritual, by consequence is not any ways subject to change and alteration; but that which is sensible and material, doth yield from itself certain images, admitting withal and receiving sundry porportions, forms, and similitudes, like as the prints and stamps of seals set upon wax, do not continue and remain always, but are subject to change, alteration, disorder and trouble, and this same was chased from the superor region, and sent down hither, where it fighteth against Horus whom Isis engendered sensible, as being the very image of the spiritual and intellectual world. And hereupon it is, that Typhon is said to accuse him of bastardy, as being nothing pure and sincere, like unto his father, to wit, reason, and understanding; which of itself is simple, and not meddled with any passion: but in the matter adulterate and degenerate, by the reason that it is corporal. Howbeit, in the end the victory is on Mercury's side, for he is the discourse of reason, which testifieth unto us, and showeth, that nature hath produced this world material metamorphozed to the spiritual form: for the nativity of Apollo, engendered between Isis & Osiris, whiles the gods were yet in the belly of Rhea, symbolizeth thus much, that before the world was evidently brought to light and fully accomplished, the matter of reason, being found naturally of itself rude and unperfect, brought forth the first generation: for which cause they say, that god being as yet lame, was borne and begotten in darkness, whom they call the elder Horus. For the world yet it was not, but an image only and design of the world, and a bare fantasy of that which should be. But this Horus here is determinate, definite and perfect, who killeth not Typhon right out, but taketh from him his force and puissance that he can do little or nothing. And hereupon it is, that (by report) in the city Coptus, the image of Horus holdeth in one hand the general member of Typhon: and they fable beside, that Mercury having bearest him of his 〈◊〉, made thereof strings for his harp, and so used them. Hereby they teach, that reason framing the whole world, set it in tune, and brought it to accord, framing it of those parts which before were at jar and discord: howbeit removed not, nor abolished altogether the pernicious and hurtful nature, but accomplished the virtue thereof. And therefore it is, that it being feeble and weak, wrought also (as it were) and intermingled or interlaced with those parts and members which be subject to passions and mutations, causeth earthquakes and tremble, excessive heats, and extreme dryness, with extraordinary winds in the air, besides thunder, lightnings and fiery tempests. It impoisoneth moreover the waters and winds, infecting them with pestilence, reaching up and bearing the head aloft, as far as to the Moon, obscuring and darkening many times even that which is by nature clean and shining. And thus the Egyptians do both think and say, that Typhon sometime struck the eye of Horus, and another while plucked it out of his head and devoured it, and then afterwards delivered it again unto the Sun. By the striking aforesaid, they mean enigmatically the wane or decrease of the Moon monthly: by the total privation of the eye, they understand her eclipse and defect of light: which the Sun doth remedy by relumination of her straight ways, as soon as she is gotten past the shade of the earth. But the principal and more divine nature is composed and consisteth of three things, to wit, of an intellectual nature, of matter, and a compound of them both, which we call the world. Now, that intellectual part, Plato nameth Idea, the pattern also of the father: as for matter, he termeth it a mother, nurse, a foundation also and a plot or place for generation: and that which is produced of both, he is wont to call the issue and thing procreated. And a man may very well conjecture, that the Egyptians compared the nature of the whole world, especially to this, as the fairest triangle of all other. And Plato in his books of policy or common wealth, seemeth also to have used the same, when he composeth and describeth his nuptial figure: which triangle is of this sort: that the side which maketh the right angle, is of three, the basis of four, and the third line called Hypotinusa of five, aequivolent in power to the other two that comprehend it: so that the line which directly falleth plumb upon the base, must answer proportionably to the male; the base to the female, and the Hypotinusa to the issue of them both. And verily, Osiris representeth the beginning and principle: Isis that which receiveth; and Horus the compound of both. For the number of three is the first odd and perfect: the quaternarie is the first square or quadrate number, composed of the first even number, which is two; and five resembleth partly the father, and in part the mother, as consisting both of two and three. And it should seem also that the very name 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is the universal world, was derived of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, five, and so in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in old time signified as much as to number: and that which more is, five being multiplied in itself, maketh a quadrat number, to wit, twenty five, which is just as many letters as the Egyptians have in their alphabet, and so many years Apis also lived. And as for Horus, they used to call him Kaimin, which is as much to say, as seen, for that this word is sensible and visible. Isis likewise is sometime called Mouth, otherwhiles Athyri or Methyer. And by the first of these names, they signify a Mother: by the second, the fair house of Horus, like as Plato termeth it to be the place capable of generation: the third is compounded of Full and the cause: for Matter is full of the world, as being married and keeping company with the first principle, which is good, pure, and beautifully adorned. It should seem haply also, that the Poet Hesiodus, when he saith, that all things at the first, were Chaos, Earth, Tartarus and Love, groundeth upon no other principles than those, which are signified by these names, meaning by the Earth Isis; by Love Osiris; and by Tartarus Typhon; as we have made demonstration. For by Chaos it seems that he would understand some place & receptacle of the world. Moreover, in some sort these matters require the fable of Plato, which in his book entitled Symposium, Socrates inferred, namely, wherein he setteth down the generation of Love: saying that Penia, that is to say, poverty, desirous to have children, went and lay with Poros, that is to say, riches, and slept with him, by whom she conceived with child, and brought forth Love; who naturally is long and variable; and begotten of a father who is good, wife, and all-sufficient; and of a mother who is poor, needy, and for want, desirous of another, and evermore seeking and following after it. For the foresaid Poros, is no other, but the first thing amiable, desirable, perfect and sufficient. As for Penia, it is matter, which of itself is evermore bare and needy, wanting that which is good, whereby at length she is conceived with child, after whom she hath a longing desire, and evermore ready to receive somewhat of him. Now Horus engendered between them (which is the world) is not eternal, nor impassable, nor incorruptible, but being evermore in generation, he endevoreth by vicissitude of mutations, and by periodical passion, to continue always young, as if he should never die and perish. But of such fables as these we must make use, not as of reasons altogether really subsisting: but so, as we take out of each of them, that which is meet and convenient to our purpose. When as therefore we say Matter, we are not to rely upon the opinions of some Philosophers, and to think it for to be a body without soul, without quality, continuing in itself idle, and without all action whatsoever: for we call oil the matter of a perfume or ointment; and gold the matter of an image or statue, which notwithstanding is not void of all similitude: and even so we say, that the very soul and understanding of a man, is the matter of virtue and of science, which we give unto reason, for to bring into order, and adorn. And some there were, who affirmed the mind or understanding to be the proper place of forms, and as it were, the express mould of intelligible things: like as there be Naturalists who hold, that the seed of a woman hath not the power of a principle serving to the generation of man, but standeth in stead of matter and nourishment only: according unto whom, we also being grounded herein, are to think that this goddess having the fruition of the first and chief god, and conversing with him continually, for the love of those good things & virtues which are in him, is nothing adverse unto him, but loveth him as her true spouse and lawful husband: and like as we say, that an honest wife who enjoieth ordinarily the company of her husband, loveth him nevertheless, but hath still a mind unto him; even so giveth not she over to be enamoured upon him, although she be continually where he is, and replenished with his principal and most sincere parts. But when and where as Typhon in the end thrusteth himself between, and setteth upon the extreme parts, then and there she seemeth to be sad and heavy, and thereupon is said to mourn and lament, yea and to seek up certain relics and pieces of Osiris, and ever as she can find any, she receiveth and arraieth them with all diligence, and as they are ready to perish and corrupt, she carefully tendeth and keepeth them close, like as again she produceth and bringeth forth other things to light of herself. For the reasons, the Idaeae, and the influences of God which are in heaven and among the stars, do there continue and remain: but those which be disseminate among the sensible and passable bodies, in the earth and in the sea, diffused in the plants and living creatures, the same dying and being buried, do many times revive and rise again fresh by the means of generations. And hereupon the fable saith thus much more, that Typhon cohabiteth and lieth with Nephthys, and that Osiris also by stealth and secretly, keepeth company with her: for the corruptive and destroying power, doth principally possess the extreme parts of that matter which they name Nephthys and death: and the generative & preserving virtue, conferreth into it little seed, & the same weak and feeble, as being marred and destroyed by Typhon: unless it be so much as Isis gathereth up & saveth, which she also nourisheth & maintaineth. But in one word, & to speak more generally, he is still better, as Plato & Aristotle are of opinion: for the natural puissance to engender & to preserve, moveth toward him as to a subsistence and being: whereas that force of killing & destroying moveth behind, toward non subsistence: which is the reason, that they call the one Isis, that is to say, a motion animate and wise; as if the word were derived of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth to move by a certain science and reason, for a barbarous word it is not. But like as the general name of all gods and goddesses, to wit, Theos, is derived of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, of visible, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, of running; even so, both we and also the Egyptians have called this goddess 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and Isis, of intelligence and motion together. Semblably Plato saith, that in old time, when they said Isia, they meant Osia, that is to say, sacred; like as Noesis also and Phronesis, quasi 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the stirring and motion of the understanding, being carried and going forward: and they imposed this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to those who have found out and discovered goodness and virtue: but chose, have by reproachful names noted such things as impeach hinder and stay the course of natural things, binding them so, as they can not go forward, to wit, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, vice, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, indigence, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, cowardice, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, grief, as if they kept them from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, free progress and proceeding forward. As for Osiris, a word it is composed of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, holy and sacred; for he is the common reason or Idea, of things above in heaven, and beneath: of which, our ancients were wont to call the one sort, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, sacred; and the other, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, holy. The reason also which showeth celestial things, and such as move upward, is called Anubis, and otherwhiles Hermanubis; as if the one name were meet for those above, and the other for them beneath: whereupon they sacrificed unto the former a white cock, and to the other a yellow or of saffron colour; for that they thought those things above, pure, simple and shining; but those beneath, mixed of a medley colour. Neither are we to marvel, that these terms are disguised to the fashion of Greek words; for an infinite number of more there be, which have been transported out of Greece with those men who departed from thence in exile, and there remain until this day as strangers without their native country: whereof some there be which cause Poetry to be slandered, for calling them into use, as if it spoke barbarously, namely, by those who term such Poetical and obscure words, Glottas. But in the books of Herimes or Mercury, so called, there is written by report, thus much concerning sacred names, namely, that the power ordained over the circular motion and revolution of the Sun, the Egyptians call Horus, and the Greeks Apollo: that which is over the wind, some name Osiris, others Sarapis, & some again in the Egyptian language Sothi, which signifieth as much as conception or to be with child: and thereupon it is, that by a little deflexion of the name, in the Greek tongue that Canicular or Dog star is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is thought appropriate unto Isis. Well I wot, that we are not to strive as touching names, yet would I rather give place unto the Egyptians about the name Sarapis than Osiris; for this is a mere Greek word, whereas the other is a stranger: but as well the one as the other signifieth the same power of Divinity. And hereto acordeth the Egyptian language; for many times they term Isis by the name of Minerva, which in their tongue signifieth as much, as I am come of myself. And Typhon, as we have already said, is named Seth, Baebon and Smy, which words betoken all, a violent stay and impeachment, a contrariety and a diversion or turning aside another way. Moreover, they call the loadstone or Sederitis, the bone of Horus; like as iron, the bone of Typhon, as Manethos is mine author: for as the iron seemeth otherwhiles to follow the said loadstone, and suffereth itself to be drawn by it, and many times for it again, returneth back and is repelled to the contrary: even so, the good and comfortable motion of the world endued with reason, by persuasive speeches doth convert, draw into it, and mollify that hardness of Typhon: but otherwhiles again, the same returneth back into itself, and is hidden in the depth of penury and impossibility. Over and beside, Eudoxus saith, that the Egyptians devise of Jupiter this fiction, that both his legs being so grown together in one, that he could not go at all, for very shame he kept in a desert wilderness: but Isis, by cutting and dividing the same parts of his body, brought him to his sound and upright going again. Which fable giveth us covertly thus to understand, that the understanding and reason of God in itself going invisibly, and after an unseen manner, proceedeth to generation by the means of motion. And verily, that brazen Timbrel which they sounded and 〈◊〉 at the sacrifices of Isis, named Sistrum, showeth evidently, that all things ought 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to bestir and shake, and never cease moving, but to be awakened and raised, as if otherwise they were drowsy, lay asleep and languished: for it is said, that they turn back and repulse Typhon with their Timbrels aforesaid, meaning thereby, that whereas corruption doth bind and stay nature, generation again unbindeth and seteeths it a work by the means of motion. Now the said Sistrum being in the uppert part round, the curvature and Absis thereof comprehendeth four things that are stirred and moved: for that part of the world which is subject to generation and corruption, is comprehended under the sphere of the Moon, within which all things move and alter by the means of the four elements, Fire, Earth, Water and air, upon the Absis or rundle of the Sistrum toward the top, they engrave the form of a cat with a man's face; but beneath, under those things which are shaken, one while they engrave the visage of Isis, another while of Nephthys; signifying by these two faces, nativity and death: for these be the motions and mutations of the elements. By the cat, they understand the Moon, for the variety of the skin, for the operation and work in the night season, and for the fruitfulness of this creature: for it is said, that at first she beareth one kitling, at the second time two, the third time three, than four, afterwards five, and so to seven; so that in all she brings forth 28, which are the days of every Moon. And howsoever this may seem fabulous, yet for certain it is true, that the appuls or sights of these cats are full and large when the Moon is at full; but chose, draw in and become smaller as the Moon is in the wane. As for the visage of a man, which they attribute unto the cat, they represent thereby the witty subtlety and reason about the mutations of the Moon. But to knit up all this matter in few words, reason would, that we should think neither the Sun nor the water, neither earth nor heaven to be Isis or Osiris; no more than exceeding drought, extreme heat, fire and sea, is Typhon: but simply, whatsoever in such things is out of measure & extraordinary either in excess or defect, we ought to attribute it unto Typhon: chose, all that is well disposed, ordered, good and profitable, we must believe it to be the work verily of Isis, but the image, example and reason of Osiris: which if we honour and adore in this sort, we shall not sin or do amiss: and that which more is, we shall remove and stay the unbelief and doubtful scrupulosity of Eudoxus, who asked the reason, why Ceres had no charge and superintendance over Love matters, but all that care lay upon Isis, and why Bacchus could neither make the river Nilus to swell and overflow, nor govern and rule the dead: for if we should allege one general and common reason for all, we deem these gods to have been ordained for the portion and dispensation of good things, and whatsoever in nature is good and beautiful, it is by the grace and means of these deities; whiles the one yieldeth the first principles, and the other receiveth and 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, 〈◊〉.  distributeth the same: by which means we shall be able to satisfy the multitude, and meet with those mechanical and odious fellows; whether they delight in the change & variety of the air, according to the seasons of the year, or in the procreation of fruits, or in seedness and tillings, appropriating and applying thereto what hath been delivered of these gods; wherein they take pleasure, saying, that Osiris is interred, when the seed is covered in the ground; that he reviveth and riseth again to light, when it beginneth to spurt. And hereupon it is said, that Isis when she perceiveth herself to be conceived and with child, hangeth about her neck a preservative the sixth day of the month 〈◊〉, and is delivered of Harpocrates about the Solstice of Winter, being as yet unperfect, and come to no maturity in the prime of the first flowers and buds: which is the reason that they offer unto her the first fruits of Lentils new sprung, and solemnize the feast and 〈◊〉 of her childbirth and lying in after the equinox of the Spring: for when the vulgar sort hear this, they rest therein, take contentment, and believe it straightways, drawing a probability for belief, out of ordinary things which are daily ready at hand. And verily, herein there is no inconvenience, if first and for most they make these gods common, and not proper and peculiar unto the Egyptians, neither comprise Nilus only and the land which Nilus watereth, under these names, nor in naming their Mere, Lakes and Lotes, and the nativity of their gods, deprive all other men of those great gods, among whom there is neither Nilus, nor Butus, nor Memphis; yet nevertheless acknowledge and have in reverence the goddess Isis and other gods about her, of whom they have learned not long since to name some with the Egyptian appellations: but time out of mind they knew their virtue and power, in regard whereof they have honoured and adored them. Secondly, which is a far greater matter, to the end they should take heed and be affrayed, lest ere they be aware, they dissolve and dissipate these divine powers in rivers, winds, sowing, ploughing and other passions and alterations of the earth; as they do, who hold, that Bacchus is wine, Vulcan the flame of fire, and Proserpina (as Cleanthes said in one place) the spirit that bloweth and pierceth thorough the fruits of the earth. A Poet there was, who writing of reapers and mowers, said: 
What time young men their hands to Ceres put,  
And her with hooks and scythes by piecemeal cut.  And in no respect differ they from those, who think the sails, cables, cordage and anchor, are the pilot; or that the thread and yarn, the warp and woose, be the weaver; or that the goblet and potion cup, the Ptisane or the Mede and honeyed water, is the Physician. But verily in so doing, they imprint absurd and blasphemous opinions of the gods, tending to Atheism and impiety, attributing the names of gods unto natures and things senseless, lifeless and corruptible, which of necessity men use as the need them, and can not choose but mar and destroy the same. For we must in no wise think, that these very things be gods; for nothing can be a god which hath no soul, and is subject to man and under his hand: but thereby we know, that they be gods who give us them to use, and for to be perdurable and sufficient: not these in one place, and those in another, neither Barbarians nor Greeks, neither Meridional nor Septentrional; but like as the Sun and Moon, the heaven, earth and sea, are common unto all, but yet in diverse places called by sundry names: even so of one and the same intelligence that ordereth the whole world, of the same providence which dispenseth and governeth all, of the ministerial powers subordinate over all, sundry honours and appellations according to the diversity of laws have been appointed. And the priests and religious, professed in such ceremonies, use mysteries and sacraments, some obscure, others more plain and evident, to train our understanding to the knowledge of the Deity: howbeit, not without peril and danger; for that some missing the right way, are fallen into superstition; and others avoiding superstition as it were a bog or quavemire, have run before they could take heed, upon the rock of impiety. And therefore, it behoveth us in this case especially to be inducted by the direction of Philosophy, which may guide us in these holy contemplations, that we may worthily and religiously think of every thing said and done; to the end, that it befall not unto us as unto Theodorus, who said, that the doctrine which he tendered and reached out with the right hand, some of his scholars received and took with the left; even so, by taking in a wrong sense and otherwise than is meet and convenient, that which the laws have ordained touching feasts and sacrifices, we grossly offend. For, that all things ought to have a reference unto reason, a man may see and know by themselves: for celebrating a feast unto Mercury the nineteenth day of the first month, they eat honey and figs, saying withal, this Mot, Sweet is the truth. As to that Phylactery or preservative, which they feign Isis to wear when she is with child, by interpretation it signifieth, A true voice. As for Harpocrates, we must not imagine him to be some young god, and not come to ripe years, nor yet a man: but that he is the superintendent and reformer of men's language as touching the gods, being yet new, unperfect, and not distinct nor articulate; which is the reason, that he holdeth a seale-ring before his mouth, as a sign and mark of taciturnity and silence. Also in the month Mesori, they present unto him certain kinds of Pulse, saying withal, The tongue is Fortune: The tongue is Daemon. Now of all plants which Egypt bringeth forth, they consecreate the Peach tree unto him especially, because the spruce resembleth an heart, and the leaf a tongue: For of all those things which naturally are in man, there is nothing more divine than the tongue and speech, as touching the gods principally, neither in any thing cometh he nearer unto beatitude: and therefore I advise and require every man who repaireth hither and cometh down to this Oracle, to entertain holy thoughts in his heart, and to utter seemly words with his tongue, whereas the common sort of people in their public feasts and solemn processions do many ridiculous things, notwithstanding they proclaim and pronounce formally by the voice of the Crier and Bedil in the beginning of such solemnities, to keep silence or speak none but good words: and yet afterwards they cease not but to give out most blasphemous speeches and to think as basely of the gods. How then shall men behave and demean themselves in those heavy and mournful sacrifices from whence all 〈◊〉 and laughter is banished: if it be not lawful either to omit any thing of the accustomed and usual ceremonies, or to confound and mingle the opinions of the gods with absurd and false suspicions? The Greeks do many semblable things unto the Aepyptians even in manner at the very same time: For at Athens in the feast called Thesmophoria to the honour of Ceres, the women do fast, sitting upon the ground: And the Boeotians make a rifling and removing of the houses of Achaea, naming this feast 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, odious: as if Ceres were in heaviness and sorrow for the descent of her daughter 〈◊〉 into hell: and this is that month wherein the stars called Pleyades appear, and when the husbandmen begin to sow, which the Egyptians name Athyr, the Athenians Pyanepsion, and the Boeotians Damatrios, as one would say Cerealis. And Theopompus writeth, that the people inhabiting westward, do both think and also call the Winter Saturn, the Summer Venus, and the Spring Proserpina: and that of Saturn and Venus all things be engendered. The Phrygians also imagining that God sleepeth all Winter, and lieth awake in Summer; thereupon celebrate in the one season, the feast of lying in bed and sleeping; in the other of experrection or waking, and that with much drinking & belly cheer. But the Paphlagonians say, that he is bound and kept in ward as a prisoner during Winter, & in the Spring enlarged again and set at liberty when he beginneth to stir and move. Now the very time giveth us occasion to suspect, that the heavy countenance & 〈◊〉 which they show, is because the fruits of the earth be then hidden: which fruits our ancients in times passed never thought to be gods, but the profitable and necessary gifts of the gods, availing much to live civilly, and not after a savage and beastly manner. But at what time of the year as they saw the fruits from the trees to fall and sail at once; and those which themselves had sown, with much ado, by little and little opening and cleaving the earth with their own hands and so covering and hilling the same, without any assured hope what would betide thereupon, and whether the same would come to any proof and perfection or no, they did many things like unto those that commit dead bodies to the earth, and mourn therefore. Moreover, like as we say, that he who buyeth the books of Plato, buyeth Plato: and who is the actor of Menandres comedies, is said to act and play Menander: Semblably, they did not spare and forbear to give the names of the celestial gods unto their gifts and inventions, honouring the same with all reverence, for the use and need they had of them. But they who come after taking this grossly and foolishly, and upon ignorance unskilfully returning upon the gods the accidents of their fruits; not only called their presence and fruition, the nativity of the gods; and their absence or want of them, the death and departure of the gods; but also believed so much and were persuaded fully so: In such wife, as they have filled themselves with many absurd, lewd and confused opinions of the said gods. And yet verily, the error and absurdity of their opinions they had evidently before their eyes presented by Xenophanes the 〈◊〉, or other Philosophers after him, who admonished the Egyptians, that if they 〈◊〉 them gods, they should not lament for them: and if they mourned, they should not take them for gods: as also that it was a ridiculous mockery, in their lamentations to pray unto them for to produce new fruits and bring them unto perfection for them, to the end that they might be consumed again, & lamented for. But the case stands not so: for they bewail the Fruits that are gone and spent, but they pray unto the gods the authors and givers thereof, that they would vouchsafe to bestow upon them new, and make them grow in supply of those which were 〈◊〉 & lost. Right well therefore was it said of the Philosophers, that those who have not learned to hear and take words aright, receive also and use the things themselves amiss: as for example, the Greeks who were not taught nor accustomed to call the statues of brass and stone or painted images, the statues and images made to the honour of the gods, but the gods themselves: and afterwards were so bold, as to say, that Lachares despoiled and stripped Minerva out of her clothes, and that Dionysius the tyrant polled Apollo who had a peruke or bush of golden hair; also that Jupiter Capitolinus during the civil wars was burnt and consumed with fire. And thus they see not, how in so doing they draw & admit false and erroneons opinions which follow upon such manner of speeches. And herein the Egyptians of all other nations, have faulted most, about the beasts which they honour & worship. For the Greeks verily in this point both believe and also speak well, saying that the dove is a bird sacred unto Venus, the dragon to Minerva, the raven or crow to Apollo, and the dog to Diana, according to that which Euripides said; 
The goddess Diana shining by night,  
In a dog's portrait will take much delight.  But the Egyptians, at least wise the common sort of them, worshipping and honouring these very beasts as if they were gods themselves, have not only pestered with laughter and ridiculous mockery their Liturgy and divine service, (for ignorance and folly in this case is the least sin of all others) but also there is crept into the midst of men a strong opinion, which hath so far possessed the simple and weaker sort, as that it bringeth them to mere superstition. And as for such as be of more quick and witty capacity, and who beside are more audacious, those it driveth headlong into beastly cogitations and Athisticall discourses: And therefore I hold it not amiss, cursarily and by the way to annex hereto such things as carry some probability and likelihood with them. For to say, that the gods for fear of Typhon were turned into these creatures, as if they thought to hide themselves within the bodies of the black storks called Ibises, of dogs and hawks, passeth all the monstrous wonders and fixions of tales that can be devised. Likewise to hold, that the souls of those who are departed, so many as remain still in being, are regenerate again only in the bodies of these beasts, is as absurd and incredible as the other. And as for those who will seem to render a civil and politic reason hereof; some give out that Osiris in a great expedition or voyage of his, having divided his army into many parts (such as in Greek are called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, bands and companies) he gave unto every of them for their several ensigns the portraitures and images of beasts: and each band afterwards honoured their own & had in reverence as some holy and sacred thing. Others affirm, that the kings who succeeded after Osiris, for to terrify their enemies went forth to battle, carrying before them, the heads of such beasts made in gold and silver, upon their arms. Some there be again, who allege, that there was one of these their subtle and fine headed kings, who knowing that the Egyptians of their own nature were lightly disposed, ready to revolt and given to change and innovations, also that by reason of their great multitude, their power was hardly to be restrained and in manner invincible, in case they joined together in counsel and drew jointly in one common line, therefore he sowed among them a perpetual superstition, which gave occasion of dissension and enmity among them that never could be appeased: For when he had given commandment unto them, for to have in reverence those beasts which naturally disagreed and warred together, even such as were ready to eat and devour one another, whiles every one endeavoured always to succour and maintain their own, and were moved to anger if any wrong or displeasure were done to those which they affected; they sell together themselves by the ears ere they were aware and killed one another, for the enmity and quarrel which was between those beasts whom they adored, and so fostered mutual and mortal hatred. For even at this day, of all the Egyptians the Lycopolitans only, eat 〈◊〉, because the wolf whom they adore as a god is enemy unto sheep. And verily in this our age, the Oxyrinchites, because the 
* Who worship the 〈◊〉.  Cynopolites, that is to say, the inhabitants of the city Cynopolis, eat the fish named Oxyrinchos, that is to say, with the sharp beck, whensoever they can entrap or catch a dog, make no more ado but kill him for a sacrifice and eat him when they have done. Upon which occasion having levied war one against the other, and done much mischief reciprocally, after they had been well chastised and plagued by the Romans, they grew to atonement and composition. And for as much as many of them do say, that the soul of Typhon, departed into these beasts, it seemeth that this fiction importeth thus much, that every brutish and beastly nature, cometh and proceedeth from some evil daemon, and therefore to pacific him that he do no mischief, they worship and adore these beasts. And if peradventure there happen any great drowght or contagious heat which causeth pestilent maladies or other unusual and extraordinary calamities, the priests bring forth some of those beasts which they serve and honour in the dark night, without any noise in great silence, menacing them at the first and putting them in fright. Now if the plague or calamity continue still, they kill and sacrifice them, thinking this to be a punishment and chastisement of the said evil daemon, or else some great expiation for notable sins and transgressions. For in the city verily of Idithya, as Manethos maketh report, the manner is to burn men alive, whom they called Typhony: whose ashes when they had bolted through a tamise, they scattered abroad, until they were reduced to nothing: But this was done openly at a certain time in those days which are called Cynades or Canicular. Mary the immolation of these beasts, which they accounted sacred, was performed secretly and not at a certain time or upon perfixed days, but according to the occurrences of those accidents which happened. And therefore the common people neither knew nor saw aught, but when they solemnize their obsequies and funerals for them, in the presence of all the people they show some of the other beasts and throw them together into the sepulchre, supposing thereby to vex and gall Typhon, and to repress the joy that he hath in doing mischief. For it seemeth that Apis with some other few beasts was consecrated to Osiris: howsoever they attribute many more unto him. And if this be true, I suppose it importeth that which we seek and search all this while, as touching those which are confessed by all, and have common honours; as the foresaid stroke Ibis, the hawk and the Babian or Cynecephalus, yea and Apis himself, for so they call the goat in the city mends. Now their remaineth the utility and symbolisation hereof: considering that some participate of the one, but the most part of both. For as touching the goat, the sheep and the Ichneumon, certain it is, they honour them for the use and profit they receive by them: like as the inhabitants of Lemnos honour the birds called 
* 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 as some think.  Corydali, because they find out the locusts nests and quash their eggs. The Thessalians also have the storks in great account, because whereas their country is given to breed a number of serpents, the said storks when they come, kill them up all. By reason whereof they made an edict, with an intimation, that whosoever killed a stork should be banished his country. The serpent Aspis also, the weezle and the fly called the bettill, they reverence, because they observe in them I wot not what little slender images (like as in drops of water we perceive the resemblance of the Sun) of the divine power. For many there be even yet, who both think and say, that the male weezle engendereth with the female by her care, and that she bringeth forth her young at the mouth: which symbolizeth as they say, and representeth the making and generation of speech. As for the beetils, they hold, that throughout all their kind there is no female, but all the males do blow or cast their seed into a certain globus or round matter in form of balls which they drive from them and roll to and fro contrary ways, like as the Sun, when he moveth himself from the west to the east, seemeth to turn about the heaven clean contrary. The Aspis also they compare to the planet of the Sun, because he doth never age and wax old, but moveth in all facility, readiness and celerity without the means of any instruments of motion. Neither is the crocodile set so much by among them, without some probable cause: For they say that in some respect he is the very image representing god: as being the only creature in the world which hath no tongue: for as much as divine speech needeth neither voice nor tongue: 
But through the paths of Justice walks with still and silent pace:  
Directing right all mortal things, in their due time and place.  And of all beasts living within the water, the crocodile only (as men say) hath over his eyes a certain thin film or transparent web to cover them, which cometh down from his forehead in such sort, as that he can see and not be seen: wherein he is conformable and like unto the sovereign of all the gods. Moreover look in what place the female is discharged of her spawn, there is the utmost mark and limit of the rising and inundation of Nilus: for being not able to lay their eggs in the water, and afraid withal to sit far off, they have a most perfect and exquisite foresight of that which will be; insomuch as they make use of the rivers approach when they lay: and whiles they sit and cove, their eggs be preserved dry, and are never drenched with the water. A hundred eggs they lay, in so many days they hatch, and as many years live they, which are longest lived: And this is the first and principal number that they use who treat of celestial matters. Moreover, as touching those beasts which are honoured for both causes, we have spoken before of the dog: but the Ibis or black stork, besides that it killeth those serpents whose prick and sting is deadly, she was the first that taught us the use of that evacuation or cleansing the body by clistre, which is so ordinary in Physic: for perceived she is to purge, cleanse, and mundify herself in that sort: whereupon the most religious priests, and those who are of greatest experience, when they would be purified, take for their holy water to sprinkle themselves with, the very same out of which the Ibis drinketh, for she never drinks of empoisoned and infected water, neither will she come near unto it. Moreover, with her two legs standing at large one from the other, and her bill together, she maketh an absolute triangle with three even sides, beside, the variety and speckled mixture of her plume, consisting of white feathers and black, representeth the Moon when she is past the full. Now we must not marvel at the Egyptians, for pleasing and contenting themselves in such slight representations and similitudes, for even the Grecks themselves as well in their pictures as other images of the gods, melted and wrought to any mould, used many times such resemblances: for one statue in Creta they had of Jupiter without ears, because it is not meant for him who is lord & governor of all, to have any instruction by the hearing of others. Unto the image of Pallas, Phidias the Imager set a dragon; like as to that of Venus in the city of Elisa Tortoise: giving us by this to understand, that maidens had need of guidance and good custody, and that married woman ought to keep the house and be silent. The threeforked mace of Neptune, signifieth the third place, which the sea and element of water holdeth, under heaven and air; for which cause they called the sea Amphitrite, and the petty sea gods Triton's. Also the Pythagoreans have highly honoured the numbers and figures Geometrical, by the gods names: for the triangle with three equal sides, they called Pallas, borne out of Jupiter's brain, and Tritogenia, for that it is equally divided with three right lines, from three angles drawn by the plumb. One or unity they named Apollo, 
As well for his persuasive grace; as plain simplicity,  
That doth appear in youthful face, and this is unity.  Two, they termed Contention and Boldness: and three Justice. For whereas to offend and be offended, to do and to suffer wrong, come the one by excess, and the other by defect, Just remaineth equally between in the mids. That famous quaternary of theirs, named 〈◊〉, which consisteth of four nine, and amounteth to thirty six, was their greatest oath, 〈◊〉 in every man's mouth, & they called it the World, as being accomplished of the first four even numbers, and the first four odd, compounded into one together. If then the most excellent and best renowned Philosophers, perceiving in things which have neither body nor soul, some type and figure of deity, have not thought it good to neglect or despise any thing herein, or pass it over without due honour, I suppose we ought much less so to do in those properties and qualities which are in natures sensitive, having life, and being capable of passions and affections, according to their inclinations and conditions. And therefore we must not content ourselves and rest in the worshipping of these and such like beasts, but by them adore the divinity that shineth in them, as in most clear and bright mirrors, according to nature, reputing them always as the instrument and artificial workmanship of God, who ruleth and governeth the universal world: neither ought we to think, that any thing void of life, and destitute of sense, can be more worthy or excellent than that which is endued with life and senses; no not although a man hung never so much gold or a number of rich emerauds about it: for it is neither colours nor figures, nor polished bodies, that deity doth inhabit in: but whatsoever doth not participate life, nor is by nature capable thereof, is of a more base and abject condition than the very dead. But that nature which liveth and seeth, which also in itself hath the beginning of motion and knowledge of that which is proper and meet, as also of that which is strange unto it, the same (I say) hath drawn some influence and portion of that wise providence, whereby the universal world is governed, as Heraclitus saith. And therefore the deity is no less represented in such natures, than in works made of brass and stone, which are likewise subject to corruption and alteration, but over and beside, they are naturally void of all sense and understanding. Thus much of that opinion, as touching the worship of beasts, which I approve for best.  
Moreover the habiliments of Isis be of different tinctures and colours: for her whole power consisteth and is employed in matter which receiveth all forms, and becometh all manner of things, to wit, light, darkness, day, night, fire, water, life, death, beginning and end. But the robes of Osiris, have neither shade nor variety, but are of one simple colour, even that which is lightsome and bright. For the first & primitive cause is simple; the principle or beginning, is without all mixture, as being spiritual & intellegible. Whereupon it is that they make show but once for all of his habiliments, which when they have done they lay them up again and bestow them safe and keep them so straightly, that no man may see or handle them: whereas chose they use those of Isis many times: For that sensible things be in usage, and seeing they are ready and ever in hand, and be subject evermore to alternative alterations, therefore they be laid abroad and displayed, for to be seen often. But the intelligence of that which is spiritual and intellectual, pure, simple, and holy, shining as a flash of lightning, offereth itself unto the soul but once, for to be touched and seen. And therefore Plato and Aristotle call this part of Philosophy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, for that those who discourse of reason, have passed beyond all matters subject to mingled & variable opinions, leap at length to the contemplation of this first principle, which is simple, and not material: and after they have in some sort attained to the pure and sincere truth of it, they suppose that their Philosophy as now accomplished is come to 〈◊〉 perfection. And that which the priests in these days are very precise and wary to show, keeping it hidden and secret with so great care and diligence, allowing not so much as a sight thereof secretly & by the way also that this god reigneth & ruleth over the dead, and is no other than he whom the Greeks name Hades and Pluto: the common people not understanding how this is true, are much troubled; thinking it very strange that the holy & sacred Osiris should dwell within or under the earth, where their bodies lie who are thought to be come unto their final end. But he verily is most far removed from the earth, without stain or pollution, pure and void of all substance or nature, that may admit death or any corruption whatsoever. Howbeit the souls of men, so long as they be here beneath clad within bodies and passions, can have no participation of God, unless it be so much only as they may attain unto the intelligence of, by the study of Philosophy, and the same is but in manner of a dark dream. But when they shall be delivered from these bonds, and pass into this holy place, where there is no passion, nor passable form: then, the same god is their conductor and king: then they cleave unto him, as much as possible they can: him they contemplate and behold without satiety: desiring that beauty, which it is not possible for men to utter and express: whereof according to the old tales, Isis was always enamoured: and having pursued after it until she enjoyed the same, she afterwards became replenished with all goodness and beauty that here may be engendered. And thus much may suffice for that sense and interpretation which is most beseeming the gods, Now if we must beside speak as I promised before, of the incense and odours which are burnt every day: let a man consider first in his mind and take this with him, that the Egyptians were men evermore most studious in those matters which made for the health of their bodies, but principally in this regard, they had in recommendation those that concerned the ceremonies of divine service in their sanctifications and in their ordinary life, and conversation; wherein they have no less regard unto wholesomeness then to holiness: For they think it neither lawful nor beseeming to serve that essence which is altogether pure, every way sound and impolluted, either with bodies or souls corrupt with inward sores and subject to secret maladies. Seeing then, that the air, which we most commonly use, and within which we always converse, is not evermore alike disposed nor in the same temperature: but in the night is thickened and made gross, whereby it compresseth and draweth the body into a kind of sadness and pensiveness, as if it were overcast with dark mists and weighed down: so soon as ever they be up in a morning, they burn incense by kindling Rosin, for to cleanse and purify the air by this rarefaction and subtilization, awaking as it were and raising by this means, the inbred spirits of our bodies which were languishing and drowsy: for that in this odor there is a forcible virtue which vehemently striketh upon the senses. Again, about noon, perceiving that the Sun draweth forcibly out of the earth by his heat, great quantity of strong vapours, which be intermingled with the air, than they burn 〈◊〉: For the heat of this aromatical gum and odor is such, as that it dissipateth & dispatcheth whatsoever is gross, thick and muddy in the air. And verily in the time of pestilence Physicians think to remedy the same by making great fires, being of this opinion, that the flame doth subtiliate and rarefie the air: which it effecteth no doubt the better in case they burn sweet wood, as of the Cypress trees, of Juneper, or 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Pitch tree. And hereupon reported it is that the Physician Acron, when there reigned a grievous plague at Athens, won a great name and reputation, by causing good fires to be made about the sick persons: For he saved many by that means. And Aristotle writeth that the sweet scents and good smells of perfumes, ointments, flowers and fragrant meadows, serve no less for health than for delight and pleasure. For that by their heat and mildness they gently dissolve and open the substance of the brain, which naturally is cold and as it were congealed. Again, if it be so that the Egyptians call mirth, in their language Bal, which if a man interpret signifieth as much as the discussing and chase away of idle talk and raving; this also may serve for a testimony to confirm that which we say. As for that composition among them named Cyphi, it is a confection or mixture receiving sixteen ingredients. For there enter into it, honey, wine, raisins, cyperous, rosin myrrh, aspalathus & seseli. Moreover, the sweet rush Schaenos, Bitumen, Moss, and the dock: Besides two forts of the juniper berries, the greater & the less, Cardamomum and Calamus. All these speeches are compounded together not at a venture and as it cometh into their heads: but there be read certain sacred writings unto the Apothecaries and Perfumers, all the while that they mix them. As for this number, although it be quadrate, and made of a square, and only of the numbers equal, maketh the space contained within equal to his cercumference, we are not to think that this is any way material to the virtue thereof: but most of the simples that go to this composition being aromatical, cast a pleasant breath from them and yield a delectable and wholesome vapour, by which the air is altered: and withal, the body being moved with this evaporation, is gently prepared to repose, and taketh an attractive temperature of sleep, in letting slack and unbinding the bonds of cares, weariness and sorrows incident in the day time, and that without the help of surfeit and drunkenness: polishing and smoothing the imaginative part of the brain which receiveth dreams in manner of a mirror, causing the same to be pure and neat, as much or rather more, than the sound of harp, lute, viol, or any other instruments of music; which the Pythagoreans used for to procure sleep, enchanting by that device, and dulcing the unreasonable part of the soul which is subject to passions. For sweet odours, as they do many times excite and stir up the sense when it is dull and beginneth to fail: so chose they make the same as often drowsy and heavy, yea and bring it to quietness, whiles those aromatical smells by reason of their smoothness are spread and defused in the body: According as some Physicians say, that sleep is engendered in us, when the vapour of the food which we have received, creepeth gently along the noble parts and principal bowels, and as it toucheth them, causeth a kind of tickling which lulleth them asleep. This Cyphi they use in drink, as a composition to season their cups and as an ointment beside: for they hold, that being taken in drink, it scoureth the guts within and maketh the belly laxative: and being applied outwardly as a lineament, it mollifieth the body. Over and above all this, Rosin is the work of the Sun: but Myrrh they gather by the Moon light, out of those plants from which it doth distil: But of those simples whereof Cyphi is compounded, some there be which love the night better, as many I mean as be nourished by cold winds, shadows, dews, and moisture. For the brightness and light of the day is one and simple: and Pindarus saith that the Sun is seen through the pure and solitary air: whereas the air of the night is a compound and mixture of many lights and powers, as if there were a confluence of many seeds from every star running into one. By good right therefore they burn these simple perfumes in the day as those which are engendered by the virtue of the Sun: but this being mingled of all forts and of diverse qualities, they set on fire about the evening, and beginning of the night.    

OF THE ORACLES THAT HAVE CEASED TO GIVE ANSWER.  

The Summarie.  
THe spirit of error hath endeavoured always and assayed the best he can, to maintain his power and dominion in the world, having after the revolt and fall of Adam been furnished with instruments of all sorts, to tyrannize over his slaves. In which number we are to range the oracles and predictions of certain idols erected in many places by his instigation; by means whereof, this sworn enemy to the glory of the true God, 〈◊〉 much prevailed. But when it pleased our heavenly father to give us his son for to be our Saviour, who descending from heaven to earth, took upon him our human nature, wherein he sustained the 〈◊〉 and punishment due for our sins, to deliver us out of hell, and by virtue of his merits, to give us entrance into the kingdom of heaven, the truth of his grace being published and made knovenin the world by the preaching of the Aposlles and their faithful successors; the Devil and his angels, who had in many parts and places of the world abused and deceived poor idolaters, were forced to acknowledge their Sovereign, and to keep silence and suffer him to speak unto those whom he meant to call unto salvation, or else to make them unexcusable, if they refused to hear his voice. This cessation of the Oracles put the priests and sacrificers of the the paynim to great trouble and wonderful perplexity, in the time of the Roman Emperors: whiles some imputed the cause to this, others to that. But our author in this Treatise discourseth upon this question, showing thereby, how great and lamentable is the blindness of man's reason and wisdom, when it thinketh to attain unto the secrets of God. For all the speeches of the Philosophers, whom he bringeth in here as interlocutours, are 〈◊〉 tales and fables devised for the nonce, which every Christian man of any mean judgemeut will at the first sight condemn. Yet thus much good there is in this discourse, that the Epicureans are here taxed and condemned in sundry passages. As touching the contents of this conference, the occasion thereof ariseth from the speech of Demetrius and Cleombrotus, who were come unto the Temple of Apollo: for the one of them having rehearsed a wonder as touching the Temple of Jupiter Ammon, moveth thereby a farther desire of disputation: but before they enter into it, they continue still the former speech, of the course and motion of the Sun. Afterwards, they come to the main point, namely, Why all the Oracles of Greece (excepting that only of Lebadia) ceased? To which demand, 〈◊〉 a Cynique Philosopher answereth, That the wickedness of men is the cause thereof. Ammonius 〈◊〉 attributeth all unto the wars which had consumed the Pilgrims that used to resort unto the said Oracles. Lamprias proposeth one opinion, and Cleombrotus inferring another of his, fall into a discourse and common place as touching Daemons, whom he verily rangeth between gods and men, disputing of their nature, according to the Philosophy of the Greeks. Then he proveth, that these Daemons have the charge of Oracles, but by reason that they departed out of one country into another, or died, these Oracles gave over. To this purpose he telleth a notable tale as touching the death of the great Pan, concluding thus, that 〈◊〉 Daemons be mortal, we ought not to wonder at the cessation of Oracles. After this, Ammonius confuteth the Epicureans, who hold, That there be no 〈◊〉. And upon the confirmation of the former positions, they enter together into the examination of the opinions of the 〈◊〉 and Platonists, concerning the number of the worlds, to wit, whether they be many or infinite? growing to this resolution after long dispute, that there be many, and 〈◊〉, to the number of five. Which done, Demetrius reviving the principal question, moveth also a 〈◊〉 one, Why the Daemons have this power to speak by Oracles? Unto which there be many and 〈◊〉 answers made, which determine all in one Treatise according to the Platonists Philosophy, of 〈◊〉 principal, efficient and final cause, of those things that are effected by reason, and particularly of 〈◊〉 and predictions: for which, he maketh to concur, the Earth, the Sun, Exhalations, Daemons, and the Soul of man. Now all the intention and drift of Plutarch groweth to this point, that the earth being incited and moved by a natural virtue, and that which is proper unto it, and in no wise divine and perdurable, hath brought forth certain powers of divination: that these inspirations breathing and arising out of the earth, have touched the understandings of men with such efficacy, as that they have caused them to foresee future things afar off and long ere they happened; yea, and have addressed and framed them to give answer both in verse and prose. Item, that like as there be certain grounds and lands more 〈◊〉 one than the other, or producing some particular things according to the diverse and peculiar propriety of each: there be also certain places and tracts of the world endued with this temperature, which both engender and also incite these Enthusiaque and divining spirits. Furthermore, that this puissance is mere divine indeed; howbeit, not per petual, eternal, unmovable, nor that which is forever perdurable: but by process and succession of time, doth diminish and decay by 〈◊〉 and little, until at length through age it consume to nothing. Semblably, that this great number of spirits are not engendered incessantly, neither proceed they forward or retire back continually; but this virtue of the earth moveth of itself in certain revolutions, and by that means is enchafed and puffed up: and after that in time it hath gathered abundance of new vapours, it filleth the caves and holes so full until they discharge & send them up again. Whereupon it cometh to pass, that the exhalations stirred in the said caves, and desirous to issue forth, after that they have been beaten back again, violently assail the foundations, and stir the temples built upon them, in such sort, as being shaken as it were by earthquakes, more or less in one place than another, according to the avertures and passages made for the exhalation, they find issue through the straits, break forth with forcible violence, and so produce these Oracles. In sum, the intention and mind of Plutarch is to prove, that the beginning, progress and end of these Oracles proceed all from natural causes, to wit, the exhalations of the earth. Wherein he is foully and grossly deceived, considering that such Oracles in Greece have been inspired by the devil, who hath kept an open shop there of imposture, deceits, and the most horrible seducements that can be devised. For mine own part, I impute this whole discourse of Plutarch unto the ignorance of the true God, the very mother of this despite, which bringeth forth this present treatise, saved by the Pagans, for to darken the resplendent light of that great King of the world and his truth: which hath discussed and brought to nothing all the subtle devices of Satan, who triumphed over all Greece by the means of his Oracles. Thus after large discourses upon these matters, Plutarch concludeth the whole disputation: the conclusion whereof he 〈◊〉 with an accident that befell unto the Prophetess of Delphi; where a man may evidently see the imposture and fraud of devils and of malicious spirits (and those be the Daemons which Plutarch would design) and their horrible tyranny over men destitute of God's grace.   

OF THE ORACLES THAT have ceased to give answers.  
THere goeth a tale, my friend Terentius Priscus, that in times past certain Eagles, or else Swans, flying from the utmost ends of the earth opposite one unto the other, toward the mids thereof encountered & met together at the very place where the temple of Apollo Pythius was built, even that which is called Omphalos, that is to say, the Navel. And that afterwards, Epimenides the Phaestian being desirous to know whether this fable was true, sought unto the Oracle for to be resolved: but having received from the god a doubtful and uncerteine answer; by reason thereof, made these verses: 
Now sure in mids of land or sea, there is no Navel such;  
Or if there be, the gods it know: men must not see so much.  And verily the god Apollo chastised and punished him well enough, for being so curious as to search into the 〈◊〉 or proof of an old received tale, as if it had been some antic picture. But true it is, that in our days, a little before the solemnity of the Pythique games, which were held during the magistracy of Callistratus, there were two devout & holy personages, who coming from the contrary ends of the earth, met together in the city of Delphi: the one was Demetrius the Grammarian, who came from as far as 
* That is to say, England.  Britain, minding to return unto Tarsus in Cilicia, the city of his nativity; and the other, Cleombrotus the Lacedaemonian, who had traveled and wandered long time in Egypt within the Troglodytique province, and sailed a good way up into the Red sea, not for any traffic or negotiation of merchandise, but only as a traveller that desired to see the world and to learn new fashions abroad. For having wherewith sufficiently to maintain himself, and not caring to gather more than might serve his own turn, he employed that time which he had, this ways, and gathered together a certain history, as the subject, matter and ground of that Philosophy, which proposed for the end thereof (as he himself said) theology. This man having not long before been at the temple and Oracle of Jupiter Ammon, made semblance as if he wondered not much at any thing that he saw there; only he reported unto us a strange thing, worth the observation, and better to be considered of, which he learned of the Priests there, as touching the burning lamp that never goeth out: for by their saying, every year it spendeth less oil than other. Whereby they gather certainly (quoth he) the inequality of the years, whereby the latter is evermore shorter than the former: for great probability there is, that seeing less oil is consumed, the time also is in proportion so much less. Now when all the company there present made a wonder hereat, Demetrius among the rest made a very jest of it, and said it was a mere mockery to search into the knowledge of matters so high, by such slight and small presumptions: for this was not, as Alcaeus said, to paint a lion by measure of his claw or paw, but to move and alter heaven, and earth, and all the world, by the conjecture only of a weike and lamp; yea, and to overthrow at once all the Mathematical sciences. It is neither so nor so, good sir, quoth Cleombrotus; for neither the one nor the other will trouble these men. For first, they will never yield and give place unto the Mathematicians in the certitude of their proofs; for sooner may the Mathematicians misreckon the time, and miss in their calculation and accounts, in such long motions and revolutions so far remote and distant, than they fail in the measure of the oil which they observe continually and mark most precisely, in regard of that which they see so strange and against all discourse of reason. Again, not to grant and allow (o Demetrius) that petty things may many times serve for signs and arguments of great and important matters, would hinder and prejudice many arts, considering that it is as much as to take away the proofs from many demonstrations, conclusions and predictions. And verily, even you that are Grammarians, will seem to verify and avow one point which is not of the least consequence: namely, that those heroic princes and Worthies, who were at the Trojane war, used to shave their hair, and keep their skin smooth with the razor; because for sooth in reading of Homer you meet with some place where he maketh mention barely of the razor. Semblably, that in those days men used to put forth their money upon usury, for that in one passage the said Poet writeth thus: 
Whereas my debt is neither new nor small:  
But as days come and go, it 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  grows 〈◊〉 hall.  Meaning by the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that his debt did grow unto him by the interest for use. Furthermore, because ever and anon the same. Homer attributeth unto the night, the epither 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth Quick and sharp; you Grammarians are much affected to this word, saying: He understandeth thereby, that the shadow of the earth being round, groweth point-wise or sharp at the end, in manner of a cone or pyramid. And what is he, who standing upon this point, that small things may not be the proofs and signs of greater matters; will approve this argument in Physic: namely, that when there is a multitude of spiders seen, it doth prognosticate a pestilent Summer: or in the Spring season, when the leaves of the olive three resemble the crowes-feets? Who (I say) will ever abide to take the measure of the suns body, by clepsydres or water-dials, with a gallon or pint of water? or that a tyle-formed tablet, making a sharp angle by the plumb, inclining upon a plain superficies, should show the just measure of the elevation of pole from the Horizon, which always is to be seen in our Hemisphere? Lo, what the priests and prophets in those parts may allege and say. And therefore we ought to produce some other reasons against them, in case we would maintain the course of the Sun to be constant and unvariable, as we hold here in these countries. And not of the Sun only, (cried out with a loud voice Ammonius the Philosopher, who was then in place) but also of the whole heaven, which by this reckoning cometh in question. For if it be granted, that the years decrease: the race of the Sun which he runneth between the one Tropic and the other, must of necessity be cut shorter, and that it taketh not up so great a part of the Horizon, as the Mathematicians set down; but that it becometh shorter, and less according as the Southern or Meridional parts be contracted, and gather always toward the Septentrional and Northern. Whereupon it will ensue that our Summer will be shorter, and the temperature of the air by consequence colder; by reason that the Sun turneth more inwardly, and describeth greater parallels, or equidistant circles, than those be about the Tropics, at the longest and shortest days of the year. Moreover, this would follow hereupon, that the Gnomon in the dials at Syene in Egypt, will be no more shadowlesse at the Summer Tropic or Solstice: and many of the fixed stars will run under one another; some also of them will be forced for want of room to run one upon another, and be huddled pellmell together. And if they shall say, that when other stars hold their own, and keep their ordinary courses, the Sun only observeth no order in his motions, they cannot allege any cause that should so much as hasten his motion alone among so many others as there be, but they shall trouble and disquiet most of those things which are seen evidently above: and namely, those generally which happen unto the Moon in regard of the Sun. So that we shall have no need of those, who observe the measures of oil, for to prove the diversity of the years; because the eclipses both of the Moon and Sun will sufficiently show if there be any at all, for that the Sun shall many times meet with the Moon, and the Moon reciprocally fall as often within the shadow of the earth: so as we shall need no more to display and discover the vanity and falsity of this reason. Yea, but I myself (quoth Cleombrotus) have seen the said measure of oil, for they showed many of them unto me; and that of this present year when I was with them, appeared to be much less than those in years past. So that Ammonius made answer in this wise: And how is it that other men who adore the inextinguible fires, who keep and preserve the same religiously for the space of an infinite number of years, one after another, could not as well perceive and observe so much? And say that a man should admit this report of yours to be true, as touching the measures of the oil: were it not much better to ascribe the cause thereof unto some coldness or moisture of the air; or rather chose to some dryness and heat, by reason whereof, the fire in the lamp being enfeebled is not able to spend so much nutriment, and therefore hath no need thereof? For I have heard it many times affirmed by some: That in Winter the fire burneth much better, as being more stronger & more fortified, by reason that the heat thereof is drawn in, more united and driven closer by the exterior cold: whereas great heats and droughts do weaken the strength thereof, so as it becometh faint, loose, and raw without any great vehemency and vigour; nay, if a man kindle it against the Sunshine, the operation of it is less, hardly catcheth it hold of the wood or fuel, and more slowly consumeth it the same. But most of all, a man may lay the cause upon the oil itself; for it goeth not against reason to say, that in old time the oil was of less nutriment, and stood more upon the waterish substance than now it doth, as pressed out of olives which grew upon young trees: but afterwards being better concocted, and riper in the fruit, coming of plants more perfect and fully grown in the same quantity, was more effectual, and able longer to nourish and maintain the fire. Thus you see how a man may salve and save that supposition of the Ammonian priests, although it seem very strange and wonderfully extravagant. After that Ammonius had finished his speech: Nay rather (quoth I) Cleombrotus, I beseech you tell us somewhat of the oracle: for there hath gone a great name, time out of mind of the deity resident there; but now it seemeth that the reputation thereof is clean gone. And when Cleombrotus made no answer hereto, but held down his head, and cast his eyes upon the ground: There is no need (quoth Demetrius) to demand or make any question of the oracles there, when as we see the oracles in these parts to fail, or rather indeed (all save one or two) brought to nothing. This rather would be inquired into, what the cause should be, that generally they all do cease? For to what purpose should we speak of others, considering that Boeotia itself, which heretofore in old time resounded and rung again with oracles; now is quite void of them, as if the springs and fountains were dried up, and a great siccity and drought of oracles had come over the whole land? For there is not at this day, go throughout all Boeotia, (unless it be only in Lebadia) one place where a man may, would he never so feign, draw any divination, what need soever he hath of any oracle: for all other parts are either mute, or altogether desolate and forlorn. And yet in the time of the Medes war, the oracle of Ptous Apollo was in great request, and that of Amphiaraus was in no less reputation; for both the one and the other was sought unto. And in that of Ptous Apollo when the priest or prophet who served in the oracle, used the Aeolian language, and made answer unto those who were sent thither from the Barbarians, insomuch as none of the assistants understood one word: this Enthusiasm or divine inspiration, covertly gave thereby thus much to understand, that these oracles pertained nothing unto the Barbarians, neither were they permitted to have the ordinary Greek language at their command. As for that of Amphiaraus, the servant who was thither sent, falling a sleep within the sanctuary, thought as he dreamt, that he saw and heard the minister of the god, as if with his word and voice he seemed at the first to drive him out, and command him to depart forth of the temple, saying, that his god was not there; but afterwards to thrust him away with both his hands: but in the end, seeing that he stayed still, took up a great stone, and therewith smote him upon the head. And verily all this answered just to that which afterwards befell, and was a very prediction and denunciation of a future accident: for Mardonius was vanquished not by the king himself, but by the Tutor and lieutenant of the king of Lacedaemon, who at that time had the conduct and command of the Greeks army; yea and with a stone felled to the ground, according as the Lydian servant aforesaid imagined in his sleep that he was smitten with a stone. There flourished likewise about the same time the Oracle of Tegyrae, where the report goeth that the god Apollo himself was borne: and verily two rivers there are that run near one to the other, whereof the one some at this day call Phoenix, that is to say, the date tree; the other Elaea, that is to say, the olive tree. At this Oracle, during the time of the Medes war, when the prophet Echecrates there served, god Apollo answered by his mouth, that the Greeks should have the honour of the victory in this war, and continue superior. Also in the time of the Peloponnesiaque war, when the Delians were driven out of their Island, there was brought unto them an answer from the Oracle at Delphi; by virtue whereof, commanded they were, to search and seek out the place where Apollo was borne, and there to perform certain sacrifices: whereat, when they marveled, and in great perplexity demanded again, whether Apollo were borne any where else, but among them? the prophetess Pythia added moreover & said: That a crow should tell them the place. Whereupon these deputies who were sent unto the Oracle, in their return homeward chanced to pass through the city Chaeronea, where they heard their hostess in whose house they lodged, talking with some passengers and guests (who were going to Tegyrae) as touching the Oracle; and when they departed and took their leave, they saluted her, and bad her farewell in these terms: Adieu dame Cornice, for that was the woman's name, which signifieth as much as Crow. By this means they understood the meaning of the forsesaid Oracle or answer of Pythia: and so when they had sacrificed at Tegyrae, not long after they were restored and returned into their native country. Moreover, there were other apparitions beside of Oracles, more fresh and later, than those which we have alleged; but now they are altogether ceased: so that it were not amiss, considering that we are met near unto Apollo Pythius, for to inquire into the cause of this so great change & alteration. As we thus communed & talked together, we were now by this time gone out of the temple, so far as to the very gates of the Gnidian hall: and when we were entered into it, we found those friends of ours sitting there within, whom we desired to meet withal, and who attended our coming. Now when all the rest were at leisure, and had nothing else to do (being at such a time of the day) but either to anoint their bodies, or else look upon the champions and wrestlers, who there exercised themselves; Demetrius after a smiling manner began and said: 
What? were I best to tell some lie,  
Or make report of truth shall I?  It seemeth as far as I can perceive, that you have in hand no matter of great consequence: for I saw you sitting at your ease, and it appeareth by your cheerful and pleasant looks, that you have no busy thoughts hammering in your heads. True it is indeed (quoth Heracleo the Megarian:) for we are not in serious argument & disputation about the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, whether in the Future tense it should lose one of the two comparatives? neither reason we about these two comparatives 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (that is to say, Worse and better) of what Positves they should come? nor of what Primitives these two Superlatives 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (that is to say, Worst and best) be derived? For these questions & such like, are those that make men knit and bend their brows: but of all other matters we may reason and Philosophise well enough and quietly, without making any furrows in our foreheads, and looking with an austere and sour countenance for the matter upon the company present with us. Why then (quoth Demetrius) admit and receive us into your society, and together with us, entertain the question also, which erewhile was moved among us, being as it is, meet for this place, and in regard of god Apollo, pertinent unto us all as many as we be: but I beseech you of all loves, let us have no srowning nor knitting of brows whiles we reason upon the point. Now when we were set intermingled one with another, and that Demetrius had propounded the foresaid question, immediately Didymus the Cynique Philosopher, surnamed Planetiades, started up, and stood upon his feet; and after he had stamped with his staff twice or thrice upon the floor, cried out in this manner: O God Come you hither with this question indeed, as if it were a matter so hard to be decided, and had need of some long and deep inquisition? for a great marvel no doubt it is, if seeing so much sin and wickedness is spread over the face of the whole world at this day, not only shame and just indignation or Nemesis (according as Hesiodus prophesied before) have abandoned man's life; but also the providence of God being dislodged and carrying away with it all the Oracles that be, is clean departed and gone for ever? But chose I will put forth unto you another matter to be debated of: namely, how it comes to pass, that they have not rather already given over every one? and why Hercules is not come again, or some other of the gods, and hath not long since plucked up and carried away the threefooted table and all, being so full ordinarily of shameful, villainous and impious demands, proposed there daily to Apollo? whiles some prefer matters unto him as a Sophister, to try what he can say; others ask him concerning treasure hidden; some again would be resolved of succession in heritage's, and of incestuous and unlawful marriages? Insomuch as now Pythagoras is manifestly convinced of error and losing, who said, that men were then best, and excelled in goodness, when they presented themselves before the gods: for such things as it would well beseem to hide and conceal in the presence only of some ancient parsonage (I mean the foul maladies and passions of the soul) the same they discover and lay abroad naked before Apollo. And as he would have gone forward still, and prosecuted this theme, both Heracleon plucked him by the cloak, and I also (who of all the company was most familiar & inward with him) Peace (quoth I) my good friend Planetiades, and cease to provoke Apollo against you: for a choleric and testy god he is, and not mild and gracious; but according as Pindarus said very well: 
Misdeemed he is, and thought amiss: To be  
Most kind to men, and full of lenity.  And were he either the Sun, or the lord and father of the Sun, or a substance beyond all visible natures, it is not like and probable, that he would disdain to speak any more unto men at this day living, of whose generation, nativity, nourishment, being, and understanding, he is the cause and author: neither is it credible, that the divine providence, which is a good, kind, and tender mother, produceth and preserveth all things for our use, should show herself to be malicious, in this matter only of divination and prophesy; and upon an old grudge and rancour, to bereave us of that which at first she gave us, as if forsooth even then when Oracles were rise in all parts of the world, there was not in so mighty a multitude of men, the greater number of wicked. And therefore make Pythicke truce (as they say) for the while with vice and wickedness, which you are ever wont to chastise and rebuke in all your speeches, and come and sit down here by us again, that together with us you may search out some other cause of this general eclipse and cessation of Oracles, which now is in question: but withal remember that you keep this god Apollo propitious, and move him not to wrath and displeasure.  
But these words of mine wrought so with Planetiades, that without any word replying, out of the doors he went his ways. Now when the company sat still for a pretty while in great silence, Ammonius at length directing his speech to me: I beseech you (quoth he) Lamprias, take better heed unto that which we do, and look more nearly into the matter of this our disputation, to the end that we clear not the god altogether, and make him to be no cause at all that the Oracles do cease. For he who attributeth this cessation unto any other cause than the will and ordinance of God, giveth us occasion to suspect him also, that he thinketh they never were not be at this present by his disposition, but rather by some other means: for no other cause and puissance there is, more noble, more mighty, or more excellent, which might be able to destroy and abolish divination, if it were the work of God. And as touching the discourse that Planetiades made, it pleaseth me never a whit: neither can I approve thereof, as well for other causes, as for that he admitteth a certain inequality and inconstance in the god. For one while he maketh him to detest and abhor vice, and another while to allow and accept thereof: much like unto some king or tyrant rather, who at one gate driveth out wicked persons, and receiving them in at another doth negotiate with them. But seeing it is so, that the greatest work which can be, sufficient in itself, nothing superfluous, but fully accomplished every way is most beseeming the dignity and majesty of the gods, let this principle be supposed and laid for a ground, and then a man in mine opinion may very well say, that of this general defect and common scarcity of men, which civil seditions and wars before time have brought generally into the world, Greece hath felt the greatest part: insomuch as at this very day, hardly is all Greece able to make three thousand men for the wars, which are no more in number than one city in times past (to wit, Megara) set forth and sent to the battle of Plataea: and therefore, whereas the god Apollo in this our age hath left many oracles, which in ancient time were much frequented, if one should infer 〈◊〉 and say, that this argueth no other thing but that Greece is now much depopulate & dispeopled, in comparison of that which it was in old time, I would like well of his invention, and furnish him sufficiently with matter to discourse upon. For what would it boot, and what good would come of it, if there were now an Oracle at Tegyrae as sometime there was, or about Ptoum? whereas all the day long a man shall peradventure meet with one, and that is all, keeping and feeding cattle there. And verily it is found written in histories, that this very place of the Oracle where now we are, which of all others in Greece is for antiquity right ancient, and for reputation most noble and renowned, was in times passed for a great while desert and unfrequented; nay unaccessable altogether, in regard of a most venomous and dangerous beast, even a dragon which haunted it. But those who write this, do not collect hereupon the cessation of the Oracle aright, but argue clean contrary: for it was the solitude and infrequency of the place that brought the dragon thither, rather than the dragon that caused the said desert solitariness. But afterwards when it pleased God, that Greece was fortified again and replenished with many cities, and this place well peopled and frequented, they used two Prophetesses, who one after the other in their course descended into the cave and there sat; yea and a third there was beside chosen, as a suffragan or assistant to sit by them and help if need were: but now there is but one Propehtesse in all, and yet we complain not; for she only is sufficient for all comers that have any occasion to use the Oracle. And therefore we are in no wise to blame or accuse the god: for that divination and spirit of prophesy which remaineth there at this day, is sufficient for all, and sendeth all suitors away well contented, as having their full dispatch and answer for whatsoever they demand. Like as therefore Agamemnon in Homer had nine Heralds or Criers about him, and yet hardly with them could he contain and keep in order the assembly of the Greeks being so frequent as then it was; but now within these few days you shall see here the voice of one man alone able to resound over the whole Theatre, and to reach unto all the people their contained: even so, we must think, that this divination and spirit of prophecy in those days used many organs and voices to speak unto the people, being a greater multitude than now there be. And therefore we should on the other side rather wonder, if God would suffer to run in vain like waste water, this prophetical divination: or to resound again, like as the desert rocks in the wide fields and mountains ring with the resonance and echoes of heardmens' hollaing, and beasts bellowing. When Ammonius had thus said, and I held my peace, Cleombrotus addressing his speech unto me: And grant you indeed (quoth he) thus much, that it is the god Apollo, who is the author and overthrower also of these Oracles? Not so, answered I, for I maintain and hold, that God was never the cause of abolishing any Oracle or divination whatsoever: but chose, like as where he produceth and prepareth many other things for one use and behoof, nature bringeth in the corruption and utter privation of some; or to say more truly, matter being itself privation, or subject thereto, avoideth many times and dissolveth that which a more excellent cause hath composed: even so I suppose there be some other causes, which darken and abolish the virtue of divination, considering that God bestoweth upon men many fair & goodly gifts, but nothing perdurable & immortal: in such sort as the very works of the gods do die, but not themselves, according as Sophocles saith. And verily the Philosophers and naturalists, who are well exercised in the knowledge of nature and the primitive matter, ought indeed to search into the substance, property and puissance of Oracles, but to reserve the original and principal cause for God, as very meet and requisite it is that it should so be. For very foolish and childish it is that the god himself, like unto those spirits speaking within the bellies of possessed folks, such as in old time they called Eugastrimithi, and Euryclees, and be now termed Python's, entered into the bodies of Prophets, spoke by their mouths, and used their tongues and voices as organs and instruments of speech: for he that thus intermeddleth God among the occasions and necessities of men, maketh no spare as he ought of his majesty, neither carrieth he that respect as is meet, to the preservation of the dignity and greatness of his power and virtue. Then Cleombrotus: You say very well and truly (quoth he:) but for as much as it is a difficult matter to comprise and define in what manner, and how far forth, and to what point we ought to employ this divine providence: in my conceit, they who are of this mind, that simply God is cause of nothing at all in the world, and they again, that make him wholly the author of all things, hold not a mean and indifferent course, but both of them miss the very point of decent mediocrity. Certes as they say passing well, who hold that Plato having invented and devised that element or subject, upon which grow and be engendered qualities, the which one while is called the primitive matter, and otherwhile nature, delivered Philosophers from many great difficulties: even so me thinks, they who ordained a certain kind by themselves of Daemons between god and men, have assoiled many more doubts and greater ambiguities by finding out that bond and link (as it were) which joineth us and them together in society: Were it the opinion that came from the ancient Magis and Zoroasties, or rather a Thracian doctrine delivered by Orpheus; or else an Egyptian or Phrygian tradition, as we may conjecture by seeing the sacrifices both in the one country and the other: wherein, among other holy and divine ceremonies, it seemeth there were certain doleful ceremonies of mourning and sorrow intermingled, savouring of mortality. And verily of the Greeks, Homer hath used these two names indifferently, terming the God's Daemons, and the Daemons likewise Gods. But Hesiodus was the first who purely & distinctly hath set down four kinds of reasonable natures, to wit, the Gods: then the Daemons, and those many in number and all good: the Heroes and Men; for the Demigods are ranged in the number of those Heroic worthies. But others hold, that there is a transmutation aswell of bodies as souls: and like as we may observe, that of earth is engendered water, of water air, and of air fire, whiles the nature of the substance still mounteth on high: even so the better souls are changed, first from men to Heroes or Demigods, and afterwards from them to Daemons, and of Daemons some few after long time, being well refined and purified by virtue, came to participate the divination of the gods. Yet unto some it befalleth, that being not able to hold and contain, they suffer themselves to slide and fall into mortal bodies again, where they lead an obscure and dark life, like unto a smoky vapour. As for He siodus, he thinketh verily, that even the Daemons also, after certain revolutions of time, shall die: for speaking in the person of one of their Nymphs called Naiads, covertly and under enigmatical terms he designeth their time, in this wise: 
Nine 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  ages of men 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  in their flower, doth live  
The 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 crying.  railing Crow: four times the Stags surmount  
The life of Crows: to Ravens doth nature give  
A threefold age of Stags, by true account:  
One Phoenix lives as long as Ravens nine:  
But you fair Nymphs, as the daughters verily  
Of mighty Jove and of nature divine,  
The Phoenix years ten fold do multiply.  But they that understand not well, what the Poet meaneth by this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, make the total sum of this time to amount unto an exceeding great number of years. For in truth it is but one year and no more. And so by that reckoning, the whole ariseth in all to nine thousand seven hundred and twenty years just; which is the very life of the Daemons. And many Mathematicians there be, by whose computation it is less. But more than so Pindarus would not have it, when he saith, that the Nymphs age is limited equal to trees; whereupon they be named Hamadryades, as one would say, living and dying with Okes. As he was about to say more, Demetrius interrupted his speech, and taking the words out of his mouth: How is it possible, quoth he, o Cleombrotus, that you should make good and maintain, that the Poet called the age of man, a year only and no more? for it is not the space either of his flower and best time, nor of his old age, according as some read it in Hesiodus: for as one reads 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is say, flourishing; so, another readeth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, aged. Now they that would have it to be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, put down for the age of man, thirty years, according to the opinion of Heraclitus, which is the very time that a father hath begotten a son able to beget another of his own: but such as follow the reading that hath 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, attribute unto the age of man an hundred and eight years, saying that four and fifty is the just moiety or one half of a man's life: which number is composed of an unity; the two first plains, two squares, and two cubics: which numbers Plato also took to the procreation of the soul which he describeth. But it seemeth verily, that Hesiodus by these words covertly did signify that general conflagration of the world; at what time, it is very probable, that the Nymphs together with all humours and liquid, matters shall perish: 
Those Nymphs I mean, which many a tree and plant  
In forests fair and goodly groves do haunt,  
Or near to springs and river streams are seen,  
Or keep about the meadows gay and green.  Then Cleombrotus: I have heard many (quoth he) talk hereof, and I perceive very well how this conflagration which the Stoics have devised, as it hath crept into the Poems of Heraclitus and Orpheus, and so perverted their verses: so it hath seized upon and caught hold of Hesiodus, and given a perverse interpretation of him aswell as of others. But neither can I endure to admit this consummation and end of the world, which they talk of, nor any such impossible matters; and namely, those speeches as touching the life of the Crow and the Stag or Hind, which years, if they were summed together, would grow to an excessive number. Moreover, a year containing in it the beginning and the end of all things which the seasons thereof do produce, and the earth bring forth, may in mine opinion not impertinently be called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, the age of men: for even yourselves confess, that Hesiodus in one passage called man's life 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. How say you, is it not so? Then Demetrius avowed as much. This also (quoth Cleombrotus) is as certain, that both the measure, and also the things which be measured, are called by one and the same names: as it appeareth by Cotyla, Chaenix, Amphora and Medimnus. Like as therefore we name Unity, a number, which indeed of all numbers is the least measure and beginning only of them: semblably, Hesiodus termed Year the age of man, for that with it principally we measure his age, and so communicate that word with the thing that it measureth: as for those numbers which they make, there is no singularity at all or matter of importance in them as touching the renowned numbers indeed. But the number of 9720 hath a special ground and beginning, as being composed of the four first numbers arising in order from one and the same, added together or multiplied by four, every way arise to forty. Now if 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. I suspect this place. Some to 〈◊〉 all 〈◊〉 read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: but neither the one 〈◊〉 the the other you that have 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 it  these be reduced into triangles five times, they make the just sum of the number before named. But as touching these matters, what need I to contend with Demetrius? for whether there be meant thereby a longer time or a shorter, a certain or uncerteine, wherein Hesiodus would have the soul of a Daemon to change, or the life of a Demi god or Heros to end, it skilleth not; for he proveth nevertheless that which he would, and that by the evidence of most ancient and wise witnesses, that there be certain nature's neuter and mean (as it were) situate in the confines between gods and men, and the same subject to mortal passions, and apt to receive necessary changes and mutations: which natures according to the traditions & examples of our forefathers, meet it is that we call Daemons, and honour them accordingly, And to this purpose, Xenocrates one of the familiar friends of Plato, was wont to bring in the demonstration and example of triangles, which agreed very well to the present matter in hand: for that triangle which had 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  three sides and angles equal, he compared unto the nature divine and immortal; that which had 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  all sides unequal, unto the human and mortal nature; and that which had 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  two equal and one unequal, unto the nature of the Daemons: for the first is every way equal, the second on every side unequal, and the last in some sort equal and in other unequal; like unto the nature of the Daemons, having human passions and affections, yet withal, the divine power of some god. But nature herself hath proposed unto us sensible figures and similitudes visible above; of gods vetily the Sun and other stars; but of mortal men, sudden lights and flashes in the night, blazing comets, and shooting of stars: for unto such Euripides compared them, when he said: 
Who was ere while and lately in the flower,  
Of his fresh youth, at sudden in an hour,  
Became extinct (as star which seems to fall  
From sky) and into air sent breath and all.  Now for a mixed body, representing the nature of Daemons or Angels, there is the Moon: which they seeing to be so subject to growing and decreasing, yea and to perishing altogether and departing out of sight, thought to accord very well, and to be sortable unto the mutability of the Daemons kind. For which cause, some have called her a terrestrial star; others an Olympian or celestial earth; and there be again who have named her The heritage and possession of Proserpina, both heavenly and earthly. Like as therefore, if one took the air out of the world, and removed it from between the Moon and the earth, he should dissolve the continuation, coherence and composition of the whole universal frame, by leaving a void and empty place in the mids, without any bond to join and link the extremes together: even so, they who admit not the nation and kind of the Daemons, abolish all communication, converse and conference between gods and men, considering they take away that nature which serveth as a hanchman, interpreter, and minister between both, as Plato said: or rather they would drive us to confound and huddle together, yea and to jumble all in one, if we came to interningle the divine nature and deity among human passions and actions, and so pluck it out of heaven, for to make it intermeddle in the negocies and affairs of men; like as they faith, the wives of Thessaly draw down the Moon from heaven. Which devise & fiction hath taken root, and is believed among women, by reason that Aglaonica, the daughter of Agetor (by report) being a wise dame, and well seen in Astrology, made semblance and persuaded the vulgar sort, that in every eclipse of the Moon, she used always some charms and enchantments; by virtue whereof, she fetched the Moon out of heaven. As for us, give we no ear and credit unto them, who say, there be some Oracles and divinations without a deity, or that the gods regard not sacrifices, divine services, and other sacred ceremonies, exhibited 〈◊〉 them: neither on the other side let us believe, that God is present to intermeddle or employ himself in person, but betaking and referring that charge unto the ministers of the gods, as it is meet and just; like as if they were deputies, officers, and secretaries: let us constantly hold, that those be the Daemons which are their espies and escouts, going too and fro throughout all parts, some to oversee and direct the sacrifices, and sacred rites and ceremonies performed to the gods: others to chastise and punish the enormous and outrageous offences and wrongs committed by men: and others there are beside, of whom the Poet Hesiodus speaketh most 〈◊〉 verently, saying: 
Pure, holy, and sincere they be, the Donors of good things:  
This honour is allotted them, beseeming noble kings.  Giving us by the way thus much to understand, that to do good and be beneficial is a royal office and function: for a difference there is, and sundry degrees there be in the gifts and virtues of Daemons, like as among men. For in some of them there remain still certain small relics (and the same very feeble and scarce sensible) of that passionate and sensitive part of the soul which is not reasonable, even as a very excrement and superfluity left behind of the rest: but in others again, there abideth a great deal, and the same hardly to be extinguished, whereof we may see lively the works and evident tokens in many places, disseminate in some sacrifices, feasts and ceremonies celebrated unto them; yea, and in the tales reported by them. Howbeit, as touching the mysteries and sacred services (by which & through which a man may more clearly perceive than by any other means whatsoever, the true nature of the gods) I will not speak a word: let them lie close and hidden still for me, as Herodot us saith. But as for certain festival solemnities and sacrifices, which are held as dismal, unfortunate and heavy days; when sometimes they use to eat raw flesh, and tear human bodies piecemeal; or otherwhile to fast and knock their breasts; and in many places utter most filthy and beastly words during the sacrifices: 
Wagging their heads in frantic wise,  
With strange all arms and hideous cries.  I will never believe that this is done for any of the gods: but will say rather, it is to avert the ire and appease the fury of some malign devils. Neither carrieth it any likelihood and probability, that ever any god would require men to be sacrificed unto them, as they were in old time: or stand well pleased with any such sacrifices. Neither was it for nought that kings and great captains gave their own children thus to be slain; yea, and with their own hands killed them for sacrifice: but we are to believe that it was to turn away and divert the rancour and wrath of some perverse spirits and malicious fiends, or to satisfy such hurtful devils; yea, and to fulfil the violent, furious and tyrannical lusts of some, who either could not, or would not enjoy them with their bodies, or by their bodies. But like as Hercules besieged the city of Oechalia, for a virgin's sake who was within: even so these powerful and outrageous fiends, demanding some human soul clad and compassed within a body, to be given unto them, and yet not able to fulfil their lust by the body, bring pestilence, famine, dearth, and sterility of the ground upon cities, raise wars and civil dissensions, until such times as they come to have and enjoy that which they loved: and some do clean contrary; as it was my hap to observe in Candie, (where I abode a long time) how they celebrated a certain monstrous feast, in which they made show of an headless man's image, saying it was Molus, the father of Meriones: for having forced or deflowered a Nymph, he was afterwards found without an head. Moreover, what ravish meant soever, what wandering voyages, what occultations, flights, banishments, ministries and services of the gods be reported and sung in fables or hymns, certes they be all of them no passions and accidents that befell to gods indeed, but to some Daemons, whose fortunes were recorded in memorial of their virtue & puissance: neither meant the Poet Aeschylus (a god) when he said: 
Apollo chaste, who now is fled,  
And out of heaven bantshed;  Nor Admetus in Sophocles: 
My chanting cock that crows so shrill,  
Hath raised 〈◊〉 and brought to mill.  Also the Divines and Theologians of Delpht, are in a great error, and far from the truth, who think, that sometimes in this place, there was a combat between Apollo and a dragon, about the hold and possession of this Oracle. They are to blame also, who suffer Poets and Orators, striving one against another in their Theatres, to act or relate such matters; as if of purpose and expressly they contradicted and condemned those things which themselves perform in their most sacred solemnities. hereat, when Philippus wondered much (for the Historiographer of that name was present in this company) & demanded withal, what divine rites and ceremonies they might be, which were contradicted and testified against by these who contended in the theatres? Mary even those (quoth Cleombrotus) which concern this very Oracle of Delphi, and by which this city not long since hath admitted and received into the sacred profession of holy mysteries, all the Greeks without Thermopylae, and excluded those that dwell as far as the vale of Tempe. For the tabernacle or cottage here of boughs (which is erected and set up every ninth year, within the court-yard of this temple) is not a representation of the dragon's cave or den, but rather of some tyrants or king's house: as also the affault or surprise thereof in great silence, by the way called Dolonia. Likewise, that a little after they bring thither a boy who hath both father and mother living, with torches light burning: and when they have set the said tabernacle or tent on fire, and overthrown the table, run away as hard as they can through the doors of the temple, and never look behind them. And finally, the wander of this boy in diverse places, and his servile ministries, together with the expiatory sacrifices and ceremonies about Tempe, move suspicion that there should be represented thereby some notorious outrage, and audacious fact perpetrated there in old time. For it were a mere mockery (my friend Philippus) to say, that Apollo for killing the dragon, fled as far as to the utmost coasts and marches of Greece, for to be purified and assoiled: also, that he offered thereon certain expiatory libations and effusions, and performed all such duties and services which men do, when they would appease the wrath and indignation of such Daemons and cursed fiends, whom we call Alastor as and Palamnaeos', as one would say, The revengers of such enormities and crimes as could not be forgotten, and those who bore still in mind some old sins, and pursued the same. As for that tale, which I myself of late have heard as touching this flight and banishment, it is wonderful strange and prodigious: but if it contain some truth among, we must not think, that it was a small and ordinary matter that befell in those days about the said Oracle. But for fear I might be thought as Empedocles sometimes said: 
To stitch the heads of sundry tales together,  
And go in diverse paths I know not whether:  Suffer me I beseech you to make a convenient end here of my light discourses. For now are we just come so far, as we may also be bold after many others to affirm and pronounce, that seeing the Daemons ordained for the presidence and superintendance of prophecies and Oracles do fail, of necessity these Oracles also and divinations must cease with them; and when they be fled and gone, or change their residence, it cannot choose but the former places must lose their prophetical power and virtue: also, that when after long time they be returned thither, the said places will begin again to speak and sound, like unto instruments of music; namely, if they be present who have the skill to handle and use them accordingly. After that Cleombrotus had thus discoursed: There is not (quoth Heracleon) any one of this company that is a profane miscreant and infidel, not professed in our religion, or who holdeth any opinions as touching the gods, discordant from us. Howbeit, let us take heed ourselves o Philippus, lest ere we be aware, we do not in our discourse & disputation put down some erroneous suppositions and such as may make great ground works of impiety. You say very well (quoth Philip) but what point is it of all those that Cleombrotus hath put down, that is so offensive and scandalizeth you most? Then Heracleon: That they be not gods indeed who are the precedents of Oracles (because we ought to believe of them, that they be exempt from all terrestrial affairs) but that they be Daemons rather, or the angels and ministers of the gods; in my conceit is no bad nor impertinent supposal: but all at once & abruptly, by occasion of Empedocles his verses, to attribute unto these Daemons crimes, plagues, calamities, transgressions, 〈◊〉 and errors sent from the gods above, and in the end to make them for to die, as mortal men; this I take to be somewhat to presumptuously spoken, and to smell of barbarous audacity. Then Cleombrotus asked Philippus, who this young man was, and from whence he came? And when he had heard his name and his country, he answered in this wise: We are not ignorant ourselves (o Heracleon) that we are fallen into a speech savouring somewhat of absurdity: but a man cannot possibly discourse of great matters, without he lay as great foundations at the beginning, for to proceed unto probability and prove his opinion. And as for yourself, you are not aware, how you overthrew even that which you grant: for confess you do, that there be Daemons; but when you will needs maintain that they be neither lewd nor mortal, you cannot make it good that they be at all. For wherein I pray you do they differ from gods, in case they be in substance incorruptible, and in virtue impassable, or not subject to sin? Hereupon Heracleon, when he had mused with himself not saying a word, and studied what answer to make, Cleombrotus went on and said: It is not Empedocles alone who hath given out there were evil Daemons, but Plato also himself, 〈◊〉 also and Chrysippus; yea and 〈◊〉 when he wished and prayed that he might meet with lucky images, both knew and gave us (no doubt) thereby to understand, that he thought there were others of them crooked and shrewd, and such as were badly affected and had evil intentions. But as touching the death of such, and how they are mortal, I have heard it reported by a man who was no fool nor a vain lying person: and that was Epitherses the father of Aemilianus the orator, whom some of you (I dare well say) have heard to plead & declaim. This Epitherses was my fellow-citizen and had been my schoolmaster in grammar, and this narration he related: That minding upon a time to make a voyage by sea into Italy, he was embarked in a ship fraught with much merchandise and having many passengers beside aboard. Now when it drew toward the evening, they happened (as he said) to be calmed about the Isles Echinades; by occasion where of their thip hulled with the tides until at length it was brought near unto the Islands Paxae, whiles most of the passengers were awake, and many of them still drinking after supper: but then, all on a sudden there was heard a voice from one of the Islands of Paxae, calling aloud unto one Thamus; insomuch as there was not one of all our company but he wondered thereat. Now this Thamus was a Pilot and an Egyptian born: but known he was not to many of them in the ship by that name. At the two first calls, he made no answer; but at the third time he obeyed the voice, and answered: Here I am. Then he who spoke, strained his voice and said unto him: When thou art come to 
* Some take it to be a place of many 〈◊〉 and shallows.  Palodes, publish thou and make it known: That the Great Pan is Dead. And as Epitherses made report unto us, as many as heard this voice were wonderfully amazed thereat, and entered into a discourse and disputation about the point, whether it were best to do according to this commandment, or rather to let it pass and not curiously to meddle withal; but neglect it? As for Thamus, of this mind he was and resolved: If the wind served, to sail by the place quietly and say nothing; but if the winds were laid and that their ensued a calm, to cry and pronounce with a loud voice that which he heard. Well, when they were come to Palodes aforesaid the wind was down and they were becalmed, so as the sea was very still without waves. Whereupon Thamus looking from the poop of the ship toward the land, pronounced with a loud voice that which he had heard, and said: The great Pan is Dead. He had no sooner spoken the word but there was heard a mighty noise, not of one but of many together, who seemed to groan and lament, and withal to make a great wonder. And as it falleth commonly out when as many be present, the news thereof was soon spread and divulged through the city of Rome, in such sort as Tiberius Caesar the emperor sent for Thamus: and Tiberius verily gave so good credit unto his words, that he searched and inquired with all diligence who that Pan might be. Now the great clerks and learned men (of whom he had many about him) gave their conjecture that it might be he, who was the son of Mercury by Penelope. And verily Philippus had some of the company present to bear witness with him, such as had been Aemilianus scholars and heard as much. Then Demetrius made report, that many little desert and desolate Isles there were lying dispersed and scattering in the sea about Britain, like unto those which the Greeks call Sporades; whereof some were named the Isles of Daemons, and Heroes or Demigods: also that himself by commission and commandment from the emperor, sailed toward the nearest of those desert Isles for to know and see somewhat; which he found to have very few inhabitants, and those all were by the Britain's, held for sacrosainct and inviosable. Now within a while after he was arrived thither, the air and weather was mightily troubled, many portenteous signs were given by terrible tempests and storms, with extraordinary winds, thunders, lightnings, and fiery impressions: but after that these tempests were ceased, the Islanders assured him, that one of those Daemons or Demigods (who surmounted the nature of man) was departed. For like as a lamp (say they) or candle, so long as it burneth light offendeth no body; but when it is put out or goeth forth, it maketh a stink offensive unto many about it: even so, these great Souls whiles they shine and give light, be mild, gracious, and harmless; but when they come to be extinct or to perish, they raise (even as at that present) outrageous tempests, yea and oftentimes infect the air with contagious and pestilent maladies. They reported moreover, that in one of those islands Briareus kept Saturn prisoner in a sound sleep (for that was the devise to hold him captive) about whose person there were many other Daemons of his train and his servitors. Cleombrotus then taking occasion for to speak: I am able myself also (quoth he) to allege many such examples if I list; but it may suffice for this present matter in hand, that this is nothing contrary nor opposite unto that which by us hath been delivered. And verily we know full well, that the Stoics hold the same opinion not only of Daemons that we do, but also of the gods: that there being so great a multitude of them, yet there is but one alone immortal and eternal; whereas all the rest had their beginning by nativity and shall have an end by death. And as for the scoffs, scorns, and mockeries that the Epicureans make, we ought not to regard them, nor be afraid of them: for so audacious they are, that they use the same even in the divine providence, terming it a very fable and oldwives' tale. But we chose hold, that their infinity of worlds is a fable indeed: as also to say, that among those innumerable worlds, there is not so much as one governed by reason or the providence of God; but that all things were first made and afterwards maintained by mere chance and fortune. Certes, if it be lawful to laugh, and that we must needs make game in matters of Philosophy, we should rather mock those who bring into their disputations of natural questions, I wot not what deaf, blind, dumb and inanimate images; remaining I know not where, and continuing in appearance infinite revolutions of years, wandering round about and going to and fro: which say they, issue and flow from bodies partly yet living, and partly from those who long ago were dead, burnt, yea and rotten and putrefied to nothing. These men (I say) we should do well to laugh at, who draw such ridiculous toys and vain shadows as these, into the serious disputations of nature.  
Meanwhile forsooth, offended they are and angry, if a man should say there be Daemons: and that not only in nature but in reason also it standeth with good congruity, they should continued and endure a long time. These speeches thus passed, Ammonius began in this wise: 
* Or Theophrastus some read.  Cleombrotus in mine opinion (quoth he) hath spoken very well: and what should impeach us, but that we may admit and receive his sentence, being so grave as it is, and most beseeming a Philosopher? For reject it once, we shall be forced to reject also and deny many things which are, and usually happen, whereof no certain cause and reason can be delivered: and if it be admitted, it draweth after it no train and consequence of any impossibility whatsoever, nor of that which is not subsistent. But as touching that one point, which I have heard the Epicureans allege against Empedocles, and the Daemons which he bringeth in, namely: That they cannot possibly be happy and long lived, being evil and sinful as they are, for that vice by nature is blind, and of itself falleth ordinarily headlong into perils and inconveniences which destroy the life; this is a very sottish opposition: for by the same reason they must confess, that Epicurus was worse than Gorgias the Sophister; and Metrodorus, than Alexis the Comical Poet: for this Poet lived twice as long as Metrodorus; and that Sophister, longer than Epicurus, by a third part of his age. For it is in another respect, that we say Virtue is puissant, and vice feeble, not in regard of the lasting continuance or dissolution of the body: for we see, that of beasts there be many dull, slow and blockish of spirit; many also by nature libidinous, unruly and disordered, which live longer than those that are full of wit, wily, wary and wise. And therefore they conclude not aright, in saying, that the divine nature enjoieth immortality, by taking heed and avoiding those things that be noisome and mischievous. For it behoved, in the divine nature which is blessed and happy, to have set down an impossibility of being subject to all corruption and alteration, and that it standeth in no need of care and labour to maintain the said nature. But peradventure it seemeth not to stand with good manners and civility, to dispute thus against those that are not present to make answer for themselves: it were meet therefore, that Cleombrotus would resume and take in hand that speech again, which he gave over and laid aside of late, as touching the departure and translation of these Daemons from one place to another. Then Cleombrotus: Yes mary, quoth he: but I would marvel, if this discourse of mine would not seem unto you much more absurd than the former delivered already: and yet it seemeth to be grounded upon natural reason, and Plato himself hath made the overture thereto, not absolutely pronouncing and affirming so much; but after the manner of a doubtful opinion and under covert words, casting out a certain wary conjecture tending that way, although among other Philosophers it hath been disclaimed and cried out against. But forasmuch as there is set a cup on the board, full of reasons and tales mingled together, and for that a man shall hardly meet in any place again with more courteous and gracious hearers, among whom he may pass and put away such narrations, as pieces of foreign coin, and strange money: I will not think much to gratify you thus far forth, as to acquaint you with a narration that I heard a stranger and a Barbarian relate: whom (after many a journey made to and fro for to find him out, and much money given by me for to hear where he was) I met with at length by good hap, near unto the Red sea. His manner was to speak and converse with men but once in the year; all the rest of his time (as he said himself) he spent among the Nymphs, Nomades and Daemons. Well, with much ado I light upon him, I communed with him, and he used me courteously. The fairest man he was to see to, of all that ever I set eye on: neither was he subject to any disease: once every month he fed upon a medicinable and bitter fruit of a certain herb: and this was the fare he lived upon. A good linguist he was, and used to speak many languages; but with me he talked commonly in Greek, after the Doric dialect. His speech differed not much from song and meeter: and whensoever he opened his mouth for to speak, there issued forth of it so sweet and fragrant a breath, that all the place about was filled therewith and smelled most pleasantly. As for his other learning and knowledge, yea, the skill of all histories, he had the same all the year long: but as touching the gift of divination, he was inspired therewith one day every year, and no more; and then he went down to the sea side and prophesied of things to come: and thither resorted unto him the Princes and great Lords of that country, yea and Secretaries of foreign kings, who there attended his coming at a day prefixed: which done, he returned. This parsonage then attributed unto Daemons the spirit of divination and prophesy: most pleasure took he in hearing and speaking of Delphi: and look whatsoever we hold here as touching Bacchus, what adventures befell unto him, & what sacrifices are performed by us in his honour, he had been informed thereof, and knew all well enough, saying withal: That as these were great accidents, that happened to Daemons; so like wife was that, which men reported of the serpent Python: whom he that slew, was neither banished for nine years, nor fled into the valley of Tempe, but was chased out of this world, and went into another; from whence (after nine revolutions of the great years) being returned all purified and Phoebus indeed, that is to say, clear and bright, he recovered the superintendance of the Delphic Oracle, which during that while was left to the custody of Themis. The same was the case (said he) of the Titons and Typhous. For he affirmed, they were the battles of Daemons against Daemons: the flights and banishments also of 〈◊〉 who were vanquished: or rather the punishments inflicted by the gods upon as many as 〈◊〉 committed such outrages as Typhon had done against Osiris, and Saturn against 
* .  Caelus or the heaven: whose honours were the more obscure or abolished altogether, by reason that themselves were translated into another world. For I understand and hear, that the Solymians who border hard upon the Lycians, highly honoured Saturn when the time was: but after that he having slain their princes, Arsalus, Dryus and Trosobius, fled & departed into some other country (for whither he went they knew not) they made no more any reckoning of him: but Arsalus and the other, they termed by the name of Scleroi, that is to say, severe gods: and in truth, the Lycians at this day, aswell in public as private, utter and recite the form of all their curses and execrations in their names.  
Many other semblable examples a man may draw out of Theological writings, as touching the gods. Now if we call some of these Daemons by the usual and ordinary names of the goes, we ought not to marvel thereat (quoth this stranger unto me:) for look unto which of the gods they do retain, upon whom they depend, and by whose means they have honour and puissance; by their names they love to be called: like as here among us men, one is called Jovius of Jupiter; another, Palladius or Athenaeus of Minerva; a third, Apollonius of Apollo; or 〈◊〉 and Hermaeus of Bacchus and Mercury. And verily, some there be who although they be named thus at aventure, yet answer very fitly to such denominations; but many have gotten the denominations of the gods, which agree not unto them, but are transposed wrong and 〈◊〉. Herewith Cleombrotus paused: and the speech that he had delivered seemed very strange unto all the company. Then Heracleon demanded of him, whether this doctrine concerned Plato? and how it was, that Plato had given the overture and beginning of such matter? You do well (quoth Cleombrotus) to put me in mind hereof, and to reduce it into my memory. First and foremost therefore, he condemneth evermore the infinity of worlds: mary about the just and precise number of them he doubteth: and howsoever he seems to yield a probability and appearance of truth unto those who have set down five, and attributed to every element one; yet himself sticketh still to one, which seemeth indeed to be the peculiar opinion of Plato: whereas other Philosophers also have always mightily feared to admit a multitude of worlds; as if necessary it were, that those who stayed not by the means of matter in one, but went out of it once, could not choose but fall presently into this indeterminate and troublesome infinity. But this your stranger, (quoth I) determined he nothing of this multitude of worlds, otherwise than Plato did? or all the while that you conversed with him, did you never move the question thereof unto him, to know what his opinion was thereof? Think you (quoth Cleombrotus) that I failed herein, and was not (howsoever otherwise I behaved myself) a diligent scholar and affectionate auditor of his in these matters, especially seeing he was so affable, and showed himself so courteous unto me? But as touching this point, he said: That neither the number of the worlds was infinite, nor yet true it was, that there were no more but one, or five in all: for there were 183, and those ordained and ranged in a form triangular; of which triangle, every side contemed threescore worlds; and of the three remaining still, every corner thereof had one: that they were so ordered, as one touched and entertained another round, in manner of those who are in a ring dance: that the plain within the triangle, is as it were the foundation and altar common to all the worlds, which is called The Plain or Field of Truth: and within it lie immovable the designs, reasons, forms, ideae and examples of all things that ever were or shall be: and about them is eternity, whereof time is a portion, which as a riveret, 〈◊〉 from thence to those things that are done in time. Now the sight and contemplation of these things was presented unto the souls of men, if they lived well in this world, and that but once in ten thousand years: as for our mysteries here beneath, and all our best and most sacred ceremonies, they were but a dream in comparison of that spectacle and holy ceremonies. Moreover, he said: That for the good things there, and for to enjoy the sight of those beauties, men employed their study in Philosophy here: or else all their pains taken was but in vain, and their travellost. And verily (quoth he) I heard him discourse of these matters plainly and without any art, no otherwise than if it had been some religion wherein I was to be professed, in which he instructed me without using any proof and demonstration of his doctrine. Then I (turning to Demetrius) called unto him, and asked what were the words that the wooers of Penelope spoke, when they befield with admiration 〈◊〉 handling his bow? And when Demetrius had prompted unto me the verse out of Homer: Surely (quoth I) it comes into my mind to say the very same of this stranger: 
Surely, this fellow as I Ween,  
Some 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, a hunter.  prying spy or thief hath been,  not of bows, as he said of Ulysses, but of sentences, resolutions and discourses of Philosophy: he hath been conversant, I say, no doubt in all manner of literature: and I warrant you, no stranger nor Barbarian borne, but a Grecian, thoroughly furnished with all knowledge and doctrine of the Greeks. And verily, this number of the worlds whereof he talketh, bewrayeth not an Egyptian nor an Indian, but favoureth of some Dorian out of 〈◊〉, and namely, of Petron, borne in the city of Himera, who wrote a little book of this argument; which I have not read myself, neither do I know whether it be now extant: but Hippys the Rhegine (of whom Phanias the Eressian maketh mention) writeth, that this was the opinion and doctrine of Petron; namely, that there were 183 worlds, which reached one another in order and train: but what he meant by this Reaching one another in order or train, he declared not; neither annexed he any other probable reason thereof. Then Demetrius: And what likelihood or probability (quoth he) may there be in such matters, considering that Plato himself alleging no argument or conjecture that carrieth with it any show of truth and reason, hath by that means overthrown that opinion? And yet (quoth Heracleon) we have heard you Grammarians say, that Homer was the first author of this opinion, as if he divided the universal frame of All into five worlds; to wit, Heaven, Water, air, Earth, and Olympus: of which, he leaveth two to be common, namely, Earth, to Allbeneath; and Olympus, to All above: but the three in the 〈◊〉 between them, he attributeth unto three gods. Semblably, it seemeth that Plato allotting unto the principal parts and members of the said universal nature, the first forms and most excellent figures of the bodies, called them five worlds; to wit, of the Earth, the Water, the Air, the Fire, and finally, of that which comprehendeth the other; and that he called the form of Dodecaedron, that is to say, with twelve bases or faces, which amply extentendeth itself, is very capable and mooveable, as being a figure proper and meet for the animal motions and revolutions of the souls. What need we at this present (quoth Demetrius) to meddle with Homer? we have had fables enough already, if that be good. As for Plato, he is far enough off from naming those five different substances of the world, five worlds: considering that even in that very place where he disputeth against those who maintain an infinite number of wor'ds, he affirmeth there is but one created by God, and beloved by him, as his only begotten child, composed of all nature, having one entire body, sufficient in itself, and standing in need of nothing else. Whereupon a man may very well wonder and think it strange, that having himself delivered a truth, he should give occasion to others thereby, to take hold of a false opinion, and wherein there is no appearance of reason. For, if he had not stuck hard to this unity of the world, in some sort he might have laid the foundation for those who hold them to be infinite: but that he should precisely affirm there were five, and neither more nor fewer, is exceeding absurd, and far from all probability; unless haply, you (quoth he, casting his eye upon me) can say somewhat to this point. How now (quoth I then) are you minded thus to leave your first disputation of Oracles, as if it were fully finished and ended, and to enter upon another matter of such difficulty? Nay (qooth Demetrius) we will not paste it over so; but this here that presenteth itself now, and taketh us as it were by the hand, we cannot put by: for we will not dwell long upon it, but only touch it so, and handle it by the way, as that we may find out some probability, and then will we presently return unto our former question proposed in the beginning. First and foremost therefore, I say: The reasons which permit us not to allow an infinite number of worlds, impeach us not, but that we admit more than one. For as well in many worlds as in one, there may be divination, there may be providence, and the least intercurrence of fortune: but the most part of the greatest and principal things shall have and take their generations, changes and mutations ordinarily: which cannot possibly be in that infinity of worlds. Over and beside, more consonant it is to reason, and acordeth better with the nature of God, to say, that the world is not created by him, one only and solitary: for being (as he is) perfectly and absolutely good, there is no virtue wanting in him, and least of all others that which concerneth justice and amity; which as they be of themselves most beautiful, so they are best befitting the gods. Now such is the nature of God, that he hath nothing either unprofitable or in vain and without use: and therefore needs there must be beside and without him, other gods and other worlds, unto whom and which he may extend those social virtues that he hath. For neither in regard of himself, nor of any part in him, needeth he to use, justice, gracious favour and bounty, but unto others. So that it is not likely that this world floateth and moveth without a friend, without a neighbour, and without any society and communication, in a vast and infinite voidness; especially seeing we behold how nature encloseth, environeth, and comprehendeth all things, in their several genders and distinck kinds, as it were within vessels or the husks and covertures of their seeds. For look throughout the universal nature, there is nothing to be found one in number, but it hath the notion and reason of the essence and being thereof, common to others: neither hath any thing such and such a denomination, but beside the common notion it is by some particular qualities distinct from others of the same kind. Now the world is not called so in common: then must it be such in particular: and qualified it is in particular, and distinguished by certain differences, from other worlds of the same kind, and yet hath a peculiar form of the own. Moreover, considering there is in the whole world, neither man alone, nor horse, nor star, ne yet God or Daemon solitary: what should hinder us to say, that nature admitteth not one only world, but hath many? Now if any man shall object unto me and say, that in nature there is but one earth, or one sea: I answer, that he is much deceived and overseen, in not perceiving the evidence that is of similare parts: for we divide the earth into parts similare, that it is to say, of the semblable and the same denomination, like as we do the sea also; for all the parts of the earth are called earth, and of the sea likewise: but no part of the world is world, for that it is composed of diverse and different hatures. For as touching that inconvenience which some especially fear, who spend all matter within one world, lest forsooth if there remained any thing without, it should trouble the composition and frame thereof, by the jurres and resistances that it would make: surely there is no such cause why they should fear; for when there be many worlds, and each of them particularly having one definite and determinate measure and limit of their substance and matter, no part thereof will be without order and good disposition, nothing will remain superfluous, as an excrement without, to hinder or impeach; for that the reason which belongeth to each world, being able to rule and govern the matter that is allotted thereto, will not suffer any thing to go out of course and order, and wandering to and fro, for to hit and run upon another world; nor likewise that from another aught should come for to rush upon it because in nature there is nothing in quantity infinite & inordinate, nor in motion without reason & order. But say there should haply be some deflux or effluence that pasleth from one world to another, the same is a brotherly sweet and amiable communication, and such as very well agreeth to all: much like unto the lights of stars, and the influences of their temperatures, which are the cause that they themselves do joy in beholding one another with a kind and favourable aspect; yea and yield unto the gods, which in every star be many (and those good) means to entertain and embrace one another most friendly. For in all this, verily, there is nothing impossible, nothing fabulous nor contrary unto reason: unless peradventure some there be who will suspect and fear the reason and sentence of Aristotle, as consonant unto nature. For if as he saith, every body hath a proper and natural place of the own; by reason thereof necessarily it must be, that the earth from all parts should tend toward the midst, and the water afterwards upon it, serving (by means of their weight and ponderosity) in stead of a foundation to other elements of a lighter substance. And therefore (quoth he) if there were many worlds, it would fall out oftentimes that the earth should be found situate above air and fire, and as often under them: likewise the air and fire sometime under, otherwhiles in their natural places, and again in others contrary to their nature. Which being impossible, as he thinketh, it must follow of necessity, that there be neither two nor more worlds, but one alone, to wit, this which we visibly 〈◊〉 composed of all sorts of substance, and disposed according to nature, as is meet and convenient for diversity of bodies. But in all this there is more apparent probability than verity indeed. For the better proof hereof, consider I pray you my good friend Demetrius, that when he saith, among simple bodies some bend directly to the midst, that is to say downward: others from the midst that is to say upward: and a third sort move round about the midst and circularly: in what respect taketh he the midst? Certain it is, not in regard of voidness, for there is no such thing in nature, even by his own opinion: again, according unto those that admit it, middle can it have none, no more than first or last: For these be ends and extremities: and that which is infinite must consequently be also without an end. But suppose, that some one of them should enforce us to admit a middle in that voidness, impossible it is to conceive and imagine the difference in motions of bodies toward it: because there is not in that voidness any puissance attractive of bodies; nor yet within the same bodies, any deliberation or inclination and affection to tend from all sides to this middle. But no less impossible is it to apprehend, that of bodies having no soul any should move of themselves to an incorporal place, and having no difference of situation; than it is that the same should draw them or give them any motion or inclination to it. It remaineth then, that this middle aught to be understood not locally but corporally, that is to say not in regard of place, but of body. For, seeing this world is an union, or mass compounded of many bodies different and unlike conjoigned together; it must needs be, that their diversities engender motions discrepant and 〈◊〉 one from the other: which appeareth by this; that every of these bodies changing substance, change their place also withal. For the subtilization and rarefaction distributeth round about the matter which ariseth from the midst and ascendeth on high: chose, condensation and constipation depresseth and driveth it downward to the middle. But of this point, we need not discourse any more in this place. For what cause soever a man shall suppose to produce such passions and mutations, the same shall contain in it a several world: for that each of them hath an earth and sea of the own, each one hath her own proper middle, as also passions and alterations of bodies, together with a nature and power which preserveth and 〈◊〉 every one in their place and being. For that which is without, whether it have nothing at all, or else an infinite voidness, middle can it afford none, as we have said before: but there being many worlds, each of them hath a proper middle apart; in such sort, as in every one there shall be motions proper unto bodies, some falling down to the midst, others mounting aloft from the midst, others moving round about the midst, according as they themselves do distinguish motions. And he who would have, that there being many middles, weighty bodies from all parts should tend unto one alone; may very well be compared unto him, who would have the blood of many men to run from all parts into one vain: likewise that all their brains should be contained within one and the same membraine or pannicle; supposing it a great inconvenience and absurdity, if of natural bodies all that are solid be not in one and the same place, and the rare also in another. Absurd is he that thus saith; and no less foolish were the other, who thinketh much and is offended, if the whole should have all parts, in their order, range and situation natural. For it were a very gross absurdity for a man to say, there were a world, which had the Moon in it so situate, as if a man should carry his brain in his heels, and his heart in the temples of his head: but there were no absurdity nor inconvenience, if in setting down many distinct worlds and those separate one from another, a man should distinguish with all and separate their parts. For in every of them, the earth, the sea, and the sky, shall be so placed and situate in their natural seats, as it is meet and appertaineth: and each of those worlds shall have superior, inferior, circular, and a centre in the midst; not in regard of another world nor of that which is without, but in itself and in respect of itself. And as for the supposition which some make of a stone without the world, it cannot be imagined how possibly it should either rest or move: for how can it hang still, seeing it is ponderous and weighty? or move toward the midst of the world as other heavy bodies, considering it is neither part of it, nor counted in the substance thereof?  
As concerning that earth which is contained in another world and fast bound, we need not to make doubt and question, how it should not fall down hither by reason of the weight, not be plucked away from the whole; seeing as we do, that it hath a natural strength to contain every part thereof. For if we shall take high and low, not within and in respect of the world, but without forth, we shall be driven unto the same difficulties and distresses, which Epicurus is fallen into, who maketh his little Atoms or indivisible bodies to move and tend toward those places which are under foot: as if either his voidness had feet, or the infinity which he speaketh of, permit a man to imagine either high or low. And therefore some cause there is to marvel at Chrysippus, or rather to inquire and demand what fancy hath come into his head, and moved him to say, that this world is seated and placed directly in the midst; and that the substance thereof, from all 〈◊〉 having taken up and occupied the place of the midst, yet nevertheless it is so compact and tied together that it endureth always and is (as one would say) immortalised: for so much hath he written in his fourth book 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Of possible things; dreaming (to no purpose) of a middle place in that vast 〈◊〉: and yet more absurdly attributing unto that middle (which is not, nor hath any subsistence) the cause of the world's continuance and stability; especially having written thus much many times in other places, that the substance is governed and maintained partly by the motions tending to the mids, and partly by others from the mids of it. As for other oppositions beside, that the Stoics make, who is there that feareth them? as namely, when they demand, How it is possible to maintain one fatal necessity, and one divine providence? and how it can otherwise be, but that there should be many DIES and ZENES, that is to say, Jove's and Jupiter's, if we grant that there be many worlds? For to begin withal, if it be an inconvenience, to allow many such Joves and Jupiter's, their opinions verily be far more absurd: for they devise an infinite sort of Suns, Moons, Apollo's, Diana's and Neptune's, in innumerable conversions & revolutions of worlds. Moreover, what necessity is there, to enforce us to avow many Jupiter's, if there be many worlds? and not rather, in every of them a several god, as a sovereign governor and ruler of the whole, furnished with all understanding and reason, as he whom we surname the Lord and Father of all things? Or what should hinder, but that all worlds might be subject to the providence & destiny of Jupiter: and he reciprocally have an eye to oversee all, to direct, digest and conduct all, in ministering unto them the principles, beginnings, seeds and reasons of all things that are done and made? For it being so that we do see even here many times, a body composed of many other distinct bodies; as for example, the assembly or congregation of a city, an army, and a dance; in every one of which bodies there is life, prudence, and intelligence, as Chrysippus thinketh: impossible it is not likewise, that in this universal nature, there should be ten, fifty, yea and a hundred worlds, using all one and the same reason, and correspondent to one beginning. But chose, this order and disposition is best beseeming the gods. For we ought not to make the gods like unto the kings of a swarm of bees, which go not forth, but keep within the hive; nor to hold them enclosed and imprisoned (as it were) rather, and shut up fast within Matter, as these men do, who would have the gods to be certain habitudes or dispositions of the air; and supposing them to be powers of waters and of fire infused and mixed within, make them to arise and be engendered together with the world, and so afterwards, to be burnt likewise with it, not allowing them to be loose and at liberty, like as coatch-men and pilots are; but in manner of statues or images are set fast unto their bases with nails, and soldered with lead: even so they enclose the gods within bodily matter, and pin them hard thereto; so as being jointed (as it were) sure unto it, they participate therewith all changes and alterations, even to final corruption and dissolution. Yet is this opinion fare more grave, religious and magnificent, in my conceit: to hold that the gods be of themselves free, and without all command of any other power. And like as they fiery light Castor and Pollux succour those who are tossed in a tempest, and by their coming and presence 
Allay the surging waves of sea below,  
And still the blustering winds aloft that blow;  and not sailing themselves, nor partaking the same perils with the mariners, but only appearing in the air above, save those that were in danger: even so the gods for their pleasure go from one world to another, to visit them; and together with nature, rule and govern every one of them. For Jupiter verily in Homer, cast not his eyes far from the city of Troy, either into Thracia, or the Nomads and vagrant Scythians along the river Ister or Daunbie: but the true Jupiter indeed hath many fair passages & goodly changes beseeming his majesty out of one world into another, neither looking into the infinite voidness without, nor beholding himself and nothing else, as some have thought; but considering the deeds of men and of gods, the motions also and revolutions of the stars in their spheres. For surely, the deity is not offended with variety, nor hateth mutations: but taketh much pleasure therein, as a man may guess by the circuitions, conversions and changes which appear in the heaven. I conclude therefore, that the infinity of worlds is a very senseless and false conceit, such as in no wise will bear and admit any god, but emploieth fortune and chance in the managing of all things: but chose, the administration and providence of a certain quantity and determinate number of worlds, seemeth unto me neither in majesty and worthiness inferior, nor in travel more laborious, than that which is employed and restrained to the direction of one alone; which is transformed, renewed and metamorphozed (as it were) an infinite sort of times. After I had delivered this speech, I paused and held my peace. Then Philippus, making no long stay: As for me, I will not greatly strive nor stand upon it (quoth he) whether the truth be so or otherwise: but in case we force God out of the superintendance of one only world, how is it, that we make him to be Creator of five worlds, neither more nor less? and what the peculiar and special reason is of this number to a plurality of worlds, rather than of any other, I would more willingly know, than the occasion or cause, why this Mot [EI] is so consecrated in this Temple. For it is neither a triangular, nor a quadrat, nor a perfect, ne yet a cubique number: neither seemeth it to represent any other elegancy unto those, who love and esteem such speculations as these.  
And as for the argument inferred from the number of elements, which Plato himself obscurely and under covert terms touched, it is very hard to comprehend; neither doth it carry and show any probability, whereby he should be induced to conclude, and draw in a consequence: that like it is, considering in matter there be engendered five sorts of regular bodies, having equal angels, equal sides, and environed with equal superficies; there should semblably of these five bodies, be five worlds made and form, from the very first beginning. And yet (quoth I) it should seem, that Theodorus the Solian, expounding the Mathematics of Plato, handleth this matter not amiss, nor misinterpreteth the place; and thus goeth he to work: The Pyramid, Octaedron, Dodecaedron, and Icosaedron (which Plato setteth down for the first bodies) are right beautiful all, both for their proportions, and also for their equalities: neither is there left for nature any other, to devise and form better than they, or indeed answerable and like unto them. Howbeit, they have not all either the same constitution, nor the like original: for the least verily and smallest of the five is the Pyramid; the greatest and that which consisteth of most parts, is Dodecaedron; and of the other two behind, the Icosaedron is bigger by two fold and more, than Octaedron, if you compare their number of triangles. And therefore impossible it is, that they should be all made at once of one and the same matter; for the small and subtle, and such as in composition are more simple than the rest, were more pliable no doubt, and obedient unto the hand of workmen, who moved and form the matter, and therefore by all consequence sooner made and brought into subsistence, than those which had more parts and a greater mass of bodies: of which, and namely of such as had more laborious making, and a busier composition, is Dodecaedron. Whereupon it followeth necessarily, that the Pyramid only was the first body, and not any of the other as being by nature created and produced afterwards. But the remedy and means to salve and avoid this absurdity also, is to separate and divide the matter into five worlds: for here the Pyramid came forth first; there the Octaedron, and elsewhere the Icosaedron; and in every of these worlds, out of that which came first into esse, the rest drew their original, by the concretion of parts, which causeth them all to change into all, according as Plato doth insinuate, discoursing by examples in manner throughout all: but it shall suffice us briefly to learn thus much. For air is engendered by the extinction of fire: and the same again being subtilized and rarefied, produceth fire. Now in the seeds of these two, a man may know their passions, and the transmutations of all. The seminary or beginning of fire is the Pyramid, composed of four & twenty first triangles: but the seminary of the air is Octaedron, consisting of triangles of the same kind, in number forty eight. And thus the one element of air, standeth upon two of fire, composed and conjoined together: and again, one body or element of the air, is divided and parted into twain of fire; which becoming to be thickened and constipate more still in itself, turneth into the form of water; in such sort, as throughout, that which cometh first into light, giveth always a ready and easy generation unto all the rest, by way of change and transmutation: and so, that never remaineth solitary and alone which is first; but as one mass and constitution hath the primitive & antecedent motion in another of original beginning: so in all there is kept one name and denomination. Now surely (quoth Ammonius) it is stoutly done of Theodorus, and he hath quit himself very well, in fetching about this matter so industriously. But I would much marvel if these presuppositions of his making, do not overthrow and refute one another: for he would have, that these five worlds were not composed all at once together; but that the smallest and most subtle which required least workmanship in the making, came forth first: then as a thing consequent, and not repugnant at all, he supposeth that the matter doth not thrust forth always into essence, that which is most subtle and simple; but that otherwhiles the thickest, the most gross and heaviest parts, show first in generation. But over and beside all this, after a supposal made, that there be five primitive bodies or elements, and consequently thereupon five worlds; he applieth not his proof and probability but unto four only. For as touching the cube, he subtracteth and removeth it quite away, as they do who play at nine holes, and who trundle little round stones: for that such a square & quadrate body every way is naturally unfit, either to turn into them, or to yield them any means to turn into it for that the triangles of which they be composed, are not of the same kind: for all the rest do in a common consist of a demi-triangle, as the base; but the proper subject whereof this cube particularly standeth, is the triangle Isoscetes, which admitteth no inclination unto a demi-triangle, nor possibly can be concorporate or united to it. Now if it be so, that of those five bodies there be consequently five worlds, & that in each one of those worlds the beginning of their generation and constitution, is that body which is first produced and brought to light: it would come to pass, that where the cube cometh forth first for the generation of the rest, none of the other bodies can possibly be there, forasmuch as the nature of it is not to turn or change into any one of them. For I let pass here to allege, that the element or principle whereof Dodecaedron is composed, is not that triangle which is called Scalenon, with three unequal sides, but some other as they say, how ever Plato hath made his Pyramid, Octaedron, and Icosaedron of it: And therefore (quoth Ammonius, smiling thereat) either you must dissolve these objections, or else allege some new matter as touching the question now presently in hand. Then answered I: For mine own part allege I am not able at this time any thing that carrieth more probability: but peradventure it were better for a man to yield reasons of his own opinion rather, than of another's. To begin again therefore I say, that nature being parted and divided at the first in two parts, the one sensible, mutable, subject to generation and corruption, and variety every way; the other spiritual and intelligible, and continuing evermore in one and the same state, it were very strange and absurd my good friends, first to say that the spiritual nature receiveth division, and hath diversity and difference in it: and then to think much and grow into heat of choler and anger, if a man allow not the passable and corporal nature wholly united and concorporate in itself, without dividing or separating it into many parts. For more meet it were yet, and reasonable, that natures permanent and divine should cohere unto themselves inseparably, and avoid as much as is possible all distraction and divulsion: and yet this force and power of The Other, meddling also even with these, causeth in spiritual and intellectual things, greater dissociations and dissimilitudes in form and essential reason, than are the local distances in those corporal natures. And therefore Plato confuting those who hold this position, that all is one, affirmeth these five grounds and principles of all, to wit, Essence or seeing, The same, The other, and after all, Motion, and Station. Admit these five, no marvel is it, if nature of those five bodily elements hath framed proper figures and representations for every one of them, not simple and pure, but so, as every one of them is most participant of each of those properties and puissances. For, plain and evident it is that the cube is most meet and sortable unto station and repose, in regard of the stability and steady firmitude of those broad and flat faces which it hath. As for the Pyramid who seeth not and acknowledgeth not incontinently in it the nature of fire, ever moving in those long and slender sides and sharp angles that it hath. Also the nature of Dodecaedron apt to comprehend all other figures, may seem propetly to be the image representing Ens, or That which is, in respect of all corporal essence. Of the other twain, Icosaedron resembleth The Other, or Divers: but Octaedron, hath a principal reference to the form of The same. And so by this reckoning, the one of them produceth forth Air, capable of all substance in one form; and the other exhibiteth unto us Water, which by temperature may turn into all sorts of qualities. Now if so be that nature requireth in all things and throughout all, an equal and uniform distribution, very probable it is, that there be also five worlds, and neither more nor fewer, than there be moulds or patterns: to the end that each example or pattern may hold the first place and principal puislance in each world, like as they have in the first constitution and composition of bodies. And this may stand in some sort for an answer, and to satisfy him who mervaileth, how we divide that nature which is subject to generation and alteration, into so many kinds: but yet I beseech you, consider and weigh with me more diligently this argument. Certain it is, that of those two first and supreme principles, I mean Unity, and Binary or Duality; this latter being the element and original primitive of all difformity, disorder and confusion, is called Infinity: but chose the nature of Unity, determining and limiting the void infinity, which hath no proportion nor termination, reduceth it into a good form, and maketh it in some sort capable and apt to receive a denomination, which always accompanieth sensible things. And verily these two general principles show themselves; first in number, or rather indeed to speak generally, no multitude is called number, until such time as unity coming to be imprinted as the form in matter, cutteth off from indeterminate infinity, that which is superfluous, here more and there less; for then each multitude becometh and is made number, when as it is once determined and limited by unity: but if a man take unity away, than the indesinite and indeterminate duality, coming again in place to confound all, maketh it to be without order, without grace, without number, and without measure. Now considering it is so, that the form is not the destruction of matter, but rather the figure, ornament and order thereof; it must needs be, that both these principles are within number, from which proceedeth the chief dissimilitude and greatest difference. For the indefinite and indeterminate principle, to wit, Duality, is the author and cause of the even number: but the better, to wit, Unity is the father (as one would say) of the odd number; so as the first even number is two, and the first odd number three, of which is compounded five, by conjunction common to both, but in the own puissance odd. For it behoved, & necessary it was, in as much as that which is corporal & sensible for composition sake, is divided into many parts by the power and force of The Other, that is to say, of Diversity, that it should be neither the first even number, nor yet the first uneven or odd, but a third consisting of both: to the end that it might be procreate of both principles, to wit, of that which engendereth the even number, and of that which produceth the odd; for it could not be, that the one should be parted from the other, because that both of them have the nature & puissance of a principle. These two principles then being conjoinct together, the better being the mightier, is opposed unto the indeterminate infinity, which divideth the corporal nature; & so the matter being divided, the unity interposing itself between, impeacheth the universal nature, that it was not divided and parted into two equal portions: but there was a plurality of worlds caused by The Other, that is to say, by Diversity, and difference of that which is infinite and determinate; but this 〈◊〉 was brought into an odd and uneven number, by the virtue and puissance of The same and that which is finite, because the better principle suffered not nature to extend farther than was expedient. For if one had been pure and simple without mixture, the matter should have had no separation at all; but in as much as it was mixed with duality, which is a divisive nature, it hath received indeed and suffered by this means separation and division: howbeit, stayed it hath in good time, because the odd was the master and superior over the even. This was the reason that our ancients in old time were wont to use the verb Pempasesthai, when they would signify to number or to reckon: And I think verily that this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, All, was derived of Penned, that is to say, Five, & not without good reason, because that five is compounded of the two first numbers; and when other numbers afterwards be multiplied by others, they produce diverse numbers: whereas five if it be multiplied by an even number and doubled, bringeth forth Ten, a perfect number; but if by the odd, it representeth itself again. here I omit to say, that it is composed of the two first quadrate numbers, to wit of Unity and Four; and that it is the first number which is equivalent to the two before it, in such sort as it compoundeth the fairest triangle of those that have right angle, and is the first number that containeth the sesquialter all proportion. For haply these reasons be not well suitable nor proper unto the discourse of this present matter: but this rather is more convenient to allege, that in this number, there is a natural virtue and faculty of dividing, and that nature divideth many things by this number. For even in our own selves she hath placed five exterior senses, as also five parts of the soul, to wit, natural, sensitive, concupiscible, irascible, and reasonable: likewise so many fingers in either hand. Also the general seed is at the most distributed into five portions: for in no history is it found written, that a woman was delivered of more than five children at one birth. The Egyptians also in their fables do report, that the goddess Rhea brought forth five gods and goddesses: signifying hereby under covert words, that of one and the same matter five worlds were procreated. Come to the universal fabric and frame of nature, the earth is divided into five zones; the heaven also in five circles, two Arctiques, two tropics, and one Equinoctial in the midst. Moreover five revolutions there be of the Planets or wandering stars: for that the Sun, Venus and Mercury run together in one race. Furthermore the very world itself is composed 〈◊〉 respective to five. Like as even among us our musical accord and consent consisteth of the positure of five tetrachords, ranged orderly one after another, to wit, of Hypates, Meses, Synnemenae, Diezeugmenae, and Hyperboliaeae likewise. The intervals likewise in song which we use be five in number, Dresis, Semitonion, Tonus, 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉. So as, it seemeth that nature taketh more pleasure in making all things according to the number of five, than after a Spherical or round form; as Aristotle writeth. But what is the cause will some one say, that Plato hath reduced the number of five worlds to the five primitive figures of regular bodies, saying, that God in ordaining and describing the whole world used the Quinarie construction? and yet afterwards having proposed the doubtful question of the number of worlds (to wit, whether we should hold, there was but one, or rather that there were five in truth?) he showeth plainly that his conjecture is grounded upon this very argument. If therefore we ought to apply the probability to his mind and opinion, then of necessity with the diversity of these figures and bodies there must ensue presently a difference also of motions, according as he himself teacheth, affirming: Whatsoever is subtilized or thickened, with the alteration of substance changeth withal the place. For so, if of the air is engendered fire, namely when the Octaedron is dissolved and parted into Pyramids: and chose air of fire being driven close and thrust together into the force of octaedron: it is not possible that it should be in the place where it was afore, but fly and run into another, as being forced and driven out of the former, and so fight against whatsoever standeth in the way and maketh resistance. And yet more fully and evidently declareth he the same by a similitude and example of such things, as by fans or such like instruments whereby corn is cleansed & shaken out, or winnowed and tried from the rest: saying that even so the elements shaking the matter, and likewise shaken by it, went always to bring like to like, and some took up this place, others that, before the universal world was of them composed as now it is. The general matter therefore being in such estate then (as by good likelihood All must needs be where god is away) presently the first five qualities, or rather the first five bodies, having every one of them their proper inclinations and peculiar motions, went apart: not wholly and altogether, nor severed sincerely asunder one from another, for that when all was huddled pellmell confusedly, such as were surmounted and vanquished, went evermore even against their nature with the mightier and those which conquered. And therefore when some were haled one way, and others carried another way, it happened that they made as many portions and distinctions in number just as there were diverse kinds of those first bodies: the one of fire, and yet the same not pure, but carrying the form of 〈◊〉: another of a celestial nature, not sincere heaven indeed, but standing much of the sky: a third of earth, and yet not simply and wholly earth, but rather earthly. But principally, there was a communication of air and water, as we have said heretofore, for that these went their ways filled with many diverse kinds. For it was not God who separated and disposed the substance, but having found it so rashly and confusedly dissipated of itself, and each part carried diversely in so great disorder, he digested and arranged it by Symmetry and competent proportion. Then, after he had set over every one, Reason as a guardian and governess, he made as many worlds as there were kinds of those first bodies subsistent. And thus let this discourse for Ammontus sake, be dedicated as it were to the grace and favour of Plato. For mine own part, I will never stand so precisely upon this number of worlds: mary of this mind I am rather, that their opinion who hold that there be more worlds than one (howbeit not infinite but determinate) is not more absurd than either of the other, but founded upon as much reason as they: seeing as I do, that Matter of the own nature is spread and diffused into many parts, nor resting in one, and yet not permitted by reason, to run in in finitum. And therefore, especially here (if else where) putting ourselves in mind of the Academy and the precepts thereof, let us not be over credulous, but as in a slippery place restrain our assent and belief: only in this point of infinity of worlds, let us stand firm and see we fall not but keep ourselves upright. When I had delivered these reasons abovesaid: Believe me (quoth Demetrius) Lamprias giveth us a good and wise admonition, For 
The gods, for to deceive us men, devise  
Right many means not of false Sophistries  as Euripides faith: but of their deeds & works, when we presume and dare pronounce of so high and great matters, as if we knew them certainly. But as the man himself said even now, we must recall our speech unto the argument which was first proposed. For that which heretofore hath been said, namely that the Oracles are become mute and lie still without any validity, because the Daemons which were wont to govern them, be retired and gone, like as instruments of music yield no sound and harmonic when the Musicians handle them not: this (I say) giveth occasion to move another question of greater importance, as touching the cause and power, by which the Daemons use to make their prophets and prophetesses to be ravished with an Enthusiasm or divine fury and full of fantastical visions. For it is to no purpose to say, that the Oracles are silent, because they be abandoned and forsaken of the Daemons; unless we be first persuaded, that when they be present and precedent over them, they set them a work, and cause them to speak and prophesy. Then Ammonius taking his turn to speak: Think you (quoth he) that these Daemons be called any thing else, 
Then spirits clad with substance of the air,  
Which walk about the earth, now here now there,  as saith Hesiodus? For it seemeth unto me, that look how one man differeth from another, playing either in a Comedy or a Tragedy: the same difference showeth in the soul, which is arrayed and clothed within a body during this life. There is nothing therefore herein, either strange or without appearance of reason, if souls meeting with other souls, imprint in them visions and fancies of future things: like as we also show many accidents done and passed, yea and foretell and prognosticate of such as are to come, not all by lively voice, but some by letters and writings, nay by touching only and the regard of the eye; unless peradventure, you have somewhat else (o Lamprias) to say against this. For it was not long since told us, that you had much disputation and conference with certain strangers in 〈◊〉; but he who related this news unto us, could not call exactly to mind what talk passed between you. Marvel not thereat (quoth I:) for many affairs and occurrents fell out at once between, by occasion that the Oracle was open, and a sacrifice solemnised, which caused our speeches to be dispersed, distracted and scattered disorderly. But now (quoth Ammonius) your auditors be at good leisure, willing also to ask questions and to learn, not desirous to contest and contradict in a litigious and quarrelsome humour; before whom you may have good leave to speak what you will, and for that liberberty of speech have pardon at their hands and be held excused, as you see. Now when the rest of the company invited and exhorted me likewise, after some pause made and silence for a while, I began again in this manner: Certes (quoth I,) o Ammonius it fortuned so, I wot not how, that even yourself gave the overture and first occasion of those discourses which then and there were held. For if Daemons be spirits and souls separate from bodies, and having no fellowship with them (as yourself said, following herein the divine Poet Hesiodus who calleth them: 
Pure saints, here walking on the earth at large:  
Of mortal men, who have the care and charge)  why deprive we those spirits and souls which are within the bodies, of this same puissance, whereby the Daemons are able to foresee and foretell things to come? For it is not like, that the souls acquired any new propriety or power, when they have abandoned the bodies, wherewith they were not endued before: but think we must that they had the same parts and faculties always, although worse I must needs say, when they be mixed with bodies. And some of them verily appear not at all, but be hidden: others are but obscure and feeble, such as heavily and slowly perform their operations (much like unto those who see through a thick mist, or move in some moist and waterish substance) desiring greatly to be cured, and to recover that faculty which is their own; to be discharged also and cleansed of that which hindereth and defraudeth them of it. For the soul, even while it is bound and tied to the body, hath indeed a power to foresee and 〈◊〉 things: but blinded it is with the terrestrial mixture of corporal substance; for that, like as the Sun becometh not then to be clear, and not afore, when he is past the clouds; but being of himself always shining, he seemeth unto us dark and troubled through a mist: even so the soul, getteth not then a new power of divination and prophesy, when she departeth out of the body, as if she were escaped out of a cloud; but having the same before, is dimmed and obscured by the commixtion and confusion with that which is mortal and corruptible. Neither ought we to make a wonder hereat, and think it incredible, seeing as we 〈◊〉 there were nothing else in the soul) how that faculty which we call Memory, is equipollent and answerable in an opposite respect unto the puissance of divination; and considering the great effect thereof, in preserving and keeping things past or rather indeed keeping them whiles they be. For to say truly, of that which is once passed nothing remaineth nor subsisteth in esse, were they actions, words, or passions: for all things be transitory and pass away as soon as they are, because time, in manner of a current or stream, carrieth all away before it: but this memorative faculty of the soul catching hold thereof I know not how, and staying it for slipping away, giveth an imagination of essence and being to those things, which in truth are not. For the Oracle verily which was given to the Thessalians as touching the city Arna, willed them to utter and speak 
That which the blind see clear,  
And what the deaf do hear.  But memory is unto us the hearing of the deaf, and the sight likewise of the blind; in such sort, as no marvel it is (as I have already said) if our soul in retaining still things which are no more, doth anticipate many of those also, which are not yet. And such objects indeed concern it rather, and therewith is it affected more. For she bendeth and inclineth towards things that are to come: whereas of such as be already past and come to their end, she is freed and delivered, but only that she remembreth them. Our souls then having this puissance in them inbred and natural, though feeble, obscure, and hardly able to express and represent their imaginations; yet nevertheless some of them show and put them forth many times in dreams and in certain sacred ceremonies and mysteries: namely, when the body is well purified, or receiveth a fit temperature therefore, or else for that the reasonable and speculative faculty being then sreed from the cares of things present, joineth with the unreasonable and imaginative part, and turneth it to think upon the future. For I approve not that which Euripides saith: 
I hold him for Divinor hest,  
Who in conjectures museth jest.  but he verily who is directed by the reasonable and intelligent part of the soul, and followeth the conduct and leading there of by all probability. Now that power or faculty of divination (like unto a pair of blank writing tables, wherein there is nothing written) void of reason and not determinate of itself, but only apt and meet to receive fancies, affections, and presensions, without any discourse of reason, or ratiocination, hitteth upon that which is to come, at what time as it is most removed from that which is present; and in this ecstasy is it transmuted, by a certain temperature and disposition of the body, which we call Enthusiasm or inspiration. Now such a disposition as this, many times the body of itself hath; but the earth putteth forth and yieldeth unto men the sources and fountains of many other powers and faculties: some of which transport them out of their wits, bringing maladies, contagions, and mortalities: others again be sometime good, kind, and profitable, as they know full well who make experience thereof. But this spring, this wind, or prophetical spirit of divination, is most divine and holy, whether it arise and breathe up alone by itself through the air, or be drawn up with some liquid humour. For coming once to be infused and mixed within the body, it causeth a strange temperature and unusual disposition in the souls: the property whereof, a right hard matter it is to declare exactly, and express certainly; but a man in reason may attain thereto by conjecture sundry ways: for by heat and dilatation, it openeth (I wot not what) little holes, by which in all likelihood the imaginative faculty is set on work about future things; much like as wine which working and boiling in the body fumeth up, and among other motions, it revealeth and discovereth many hidden secrets. For the fury of Bacchus and of drunkenness, if we may believe Euripides, containeth much divination: when the soul being enchased and inflamed, expelleth all fear, which human wisdom bringeth in, and by that means many times averteth and quencheth the divine inspiration. And heerewithall a man may allege very well, and not without great reason, that siccity coming intermingled with heat, subtilizeth the spirit, and maketh it pure, and of the nature of fire (for according to Heraclitus, The soul itself is of a dry constitution:) whereas humidity doth not only dim the sight, and dull the hearing, but also being mingled with the air, and touching the superficies of mirrors, dusketh the brightness of the one, and taketh away the light of the other. On the contrary side, it is not impossible that by some refrigeration and 〈◊〉 of this spirit, after the manner of the tincture and hardness of iron, this part of the soul which doth 〈◊〉, should show itself and get a perfect edge. And like as tin being melted with brass (which of itself is a metal in the oar, rare, spongeous, and full of little holes) doth drive it nearer, and maketh it more massy and solid, and withal, causeth it to look more bright and resplendent: even so, I see no inconvenience to hinder, but that this prophetical exhalation having some congruence and affinity with the souls, should fill up that which is lax and empty, and drive it close together more inwardly. For many things there be, that have a reference and 〈◊〉 one unto the other: thus the bean is sortable unto the purple die; Sal-nitre likewise helpeth much the tincture of a rich scarlet or crimson colour, if it be mixed therewith, according also as Empedocles said: 
And with the flower of Saffron red,  
Fine flax and silk are coloured.  And we have heard you speak (good friend Demetrius) of the river Cydnus, and the sacred cutting knife of Apollo in Tarsus; and namely, how the said river only cleanseth that iron whereof the knife is made, neither is there any other water in the world able to scour that knife: like as in the city Olympia, they temper the ashes that cometh of the sacrifices, with the water of the river Alpheus, and make thereof a mortar, wherewith they plaster the altar there; but if they assay to do it with the water of any other river else, it will not stick to, nor bind one jot. No marvel therefore it is, if the earth sending up out of it many exhalations, these only are found to transport the souls with an enthusiasm or divine fury, and represent the imaginations and fancies of future things. But without all question and contradiction, the report that goeth of the Oracle in this place, acordeth well to this purpose. For it is said, that this prophetical and divining power here, showed itself first, by occasion of a certain herdman, who chanced here to fall; who thereupon began to cast forth certain fanatical cries and voices, as if he had been possessed with such a divine inspiration. Whereof the neighbours and those that came about him, at first made no account; but afterwards, when they saw that it fell out so indeed, as he had foretold, they had the man in great admiration: and the greatest clerks and wisest men of all the Delphians, calling to remembrance his name, gave out that it was Coretas. So that, it seemeth to me, that the soul admitteth this temperature and mixtion with this prophetical spirit, as the sight of the eye is affected with the light. For albeit the eye hath naturally a property and power to see, yet the same is not effectual without the light: even so the soul having this puissance and faculty, to foresee future things, like unto the eye had need of some proper and convenient thing to kindle it as it were, and set an edge upon it. And hereupon it is, that many of our ancients have thought Apollo, and the Sun, to be one and the same god. They also who know what this beautiful and wise proportion is, and withal do honour it: look what reference or respect there is of the body to the soul, of the sight to light, and of the 
* Our understanding, or light.  understanding to the truth; the same force and power they esteemed there is of the suns power unto the nature of Apollo: saying, that he is the issue and geniture proceeding from Apollo who is eternal, and who continually bringeth him forth. For like as the one kindles, bringeth forth and stirreth up the visual power and virtue of the sense: even so doth the other by the prophetical virtue of the soul. They therefore who thought that it was one and the self same god, by good right dedicated and consecrated this Oracle unto Apollo, and unto the Earth: judging, that the Sun it was which wrought that temperature and imprinted this disposition in the earth, whereof arose this prophetical evaporation. And verily as Hesiodus upon good consideration, and with much more reason than some Philosophers, called the Earth: 
The groundwork sure  
Of all nature:  even so we deem it to be eternal, immortal, and incorruptible: many of the virtues and faculties which are in it, we hold that some fail in one place, and others breed a new and engender in another: and great probability there is, that there be transmutations and changes from one place to another, and that such revolutions as these, in the course and process of long time turn and return circularly often in it; as a man may conjecture and certainly collect by such things as manifestly do appear. For in diverse and sundry countries, we see that lakes and whole rivers, yea and many more sountaines and springs of hot waters, have failed and been quite lost, as being fled out of our sight, and hidden within the earth; but afterwards in the very same places they have in time showed themselves again, or else run hard by. And of metal mines, we know that some have been spent clean and emptied, as namely, those of silver about the territory of Attica: semblably the veins of brass oar in Euboea, out of which they forged sometime the best swords, that were hardened with the tincture of cold water: according to which the Poet Aeschylus said: 
He took in hand the keen and douty blade,  
Which of Euboean steel sometime was made.  The rock also and quarry in Carystia, it is not long since it gave over to bring forth certain balls or bottoms of soft stone, which they use to spin and draw into thread, in manner of flax: for I suppose that some of you have seen towels, napkins, nets, cawls, kerchiefs and coifs woven of such thread, which would not burn and consume in the fire; but when they were foul and soiled with occupying, folk flung them into the fire, and took them forth again clean and fair: but now all this is quite gone, and hardly within the said delfe shall a man meet with some few hairy threads of that matter, running here & there among the hard stones digged out from thence. Now of all these things Aristotle and his sectaries hold: That an exhalation within the earth, is the only efficient cause, with which of necessity such effects must fail and pass from place to place; as also otherwhiles, breed again therewith. Semblably are we to think of the spirits and exhalations prophetical which issue out of the earth; namely, that they have not a nature immortal, and such as can not age or wax old, but subject to change and alteration. For probable it is, that the great gluttes of rain and extraordinary floods, have extinguished them quite, and that by the terrible fall of thunderbolts the places were smitten, and they withal dissipated and dispatched: but principally, when the ground hath been shaken with earthquakes, and thereupon settled downward and fallen in, with trouble and confusion of whatsoever was below; it cannot choose but such exhalations contained within the hollow caves of the earth, either changed their place and were driven forth, or utterly were stifled and choked. And so in this place also, there remained and appeared some tokens of that great earthquake, which overthrew the city and stayed the Oracle here: like as, by report in the city Orchomenos, there was a plague which swept away a number of people; and therewith the Oracle of Tiresias the prophet, failed for ever, & so continueth at this day mute and to no effect. And whether the like befell unto the Oracles which were wont to be in Cilicia, as we hear say, no man can more certainly inform us than you Demetrius. Then Demetrius: How things stand now at this present, I wot not; for I have been a traveller and out of my native country a long time, as ye all know: but when I was in those parts, both that of Mopsus, and also the other of Amphtlochus, flourished and were in great request. And as for the Oracle of Mopsus, I am able to make report unto you of a most strange and wonderful event thereof, for that I was myself present. The Governor of Cilicia is of himself doubtful and wavering, whether there be gods or no? upon infirmity, as I take it, of miscredance and unbelief (for otherwise he was a naughty man, a violent oppressor, and scorner of religion.) But having about him certain Epicureans, who standing much upon this their goodly and beautiful physiology forsooth (as they term it) or else all were marred, scoff at such things; he sent one of his affranchised or freed servants unto the Oracle of Mopsus indeed, howbeit, making semblance as if he were an espial, to discover the camp of his enemies: he sent him (I say) with a letter surely sealed, wherein he had written without the privity of any person whatsoever, a question or demand to be presented unto the Oracle. This messenger, after the order and custom of the place, remaining all night within the sanctuary of the temple, fell there asleep, and rehearsed the morrow morning what a dream he had; and namely, that he thought he saw a fair and beautiful man to present himself unto him, and say unto him this only word Black, and no more: for presently he went his way out of his sight. Now we that were there, thought this to be a foolish and absurd toy, neither wist we what to make of it. But the governor aforesaid was much astonished thereat, and being stricken with a great remorse and prick of conscience, worshipped Mopsus and held his Oracle most venerable; for opening the letter, he showed publicly the demand contained therein, which went in these words: Shall I sacrifice unto thee a white Bull, or a black? insomuch as the very Epicureans themselves who conversed with him, were much abashed and ashamed. So he offered the sacrifice accordingly, and ever afterwards to his dying day honoured Mopsus right devoutly.  
Demetrius having thus said, held his peace: but I desirous to conclude this whole disputation with some corollary, turned again and cast mine eye upon Philippus and Ammonius who sat together. Now they seemed as if they had somewhat to speak unto me, and thereupon I stayed myself again. With that, Ammonius: Philip (quoth he) o Lamprias, hath somewhat yet to say of the question which hath been all this while debated. For he is of opinion, as many others beside him are, that Apollo is no other god than the Sun, but even the very same. But the doubt which I move, is greater and of more important matters. For I wot not how erewhile, in the train of our discourse, we took from the gods all divination and ascribed the same in plain terms to Daemons and angels: and now we will seem to thrust them out again from hence, and to disseise them of the Oracle and three footed table of which they were possessed; conferring the beginning and principal cause of prophesy, or rather indeed the very substance and power itself, upon winds, vapours, and exhalations. For even those temperatures, heats, tinctures, and consolidations (if I may so say) which have been talked of, remove our mind and opinion farther off still from the gods, and put into our heads this imagination and conceit of such a cause, as Euripides deviseth Cyclops to allege in the Tragedy bearing his name: 
The earth must needs bring forth grass, this is flat,  
Will she or nill she, and feed my cattle fat.  This only is the difference, because he saith not that he sacrificed his beasts unto the gods, but unto himself and his belly, the greatest of all the Daemons: but we both sacrifice and also power forth our prayers unto them, for to have their answer from the Oracles: and to what purpose I pray you, if it be true, that our own souls bring with them a prophetical faculty and virtue of divination, and the cause which doth excite and actuate the same, be some temperature of the air, or rather of wind? What means then, the sacred institutions and creations of these religious prophetesses ordained for the pronouncing of answers? And what is the reason that they give no answer at all, unless the host or sacrifice to be killed, tremble all over even from the very feet, and shake whiles the libaments & effusions of hallowed liquors be powered upon it. For it is not enough to wag the head, as other beasts do which are slain for sacrifice, but this quaking, panting and shivering must be throughout all the parts of the body, and that with a trembling noise. For if this be wanting, they say the Oracle giveth no answer, neither do they so much as bring in the religious priestess Pythia. And yet it were probable that they should both do and think thus, who attribute the greatest part of this prophetical inspiration, either to God or Daemon. But according as you say, there is no reason or likelihood thereof: for the exhalation that ariseth out of the ground, whether the beast tremble or no, will always if it be present, cause a ravishment and transportation of the spirit, and evermore dispose the soul alike, not only of Pythia, but also of any body else that first cometh or is presented. And thereupon it followeth, that a mere folly it is, to employ one silly woman in the Oracle, and to put her to it (poor soul) to be a votary and live a pure maiden all the days of her life, sequestered from the company of man. And as for that Coretas, whom the Delphians name to have been the first that chancing to fall into this chink or crevasse of the ground, gave the handsel of the virtue and property of the place, in mine opinion he differed nothing at all from other goteheards, or shepherds, nor excelled them one whit: at least wise if this be a truth that is reported of him, and not a mere fable and vain fiction, as I suppose it is no better. And verily when I consider and discourse in myself, how many good things this Oracle hath been cause of unto the Greeks, as well in their wars and martial affairs, as in the foundations of cities, in the distresses of famine and pestilence, me thinks it were a very indignity and unworthy part, to attribute the invention and original thereof unto mere fortune and chance, and not unto God and divine providence. But upon this point, I would gladly, o Lamprias, (quoth he) have you to dispute and discourse a little: how say you Philippus, may it please you to have patience the while? Most willingly (quoth Philippus) for my part: and so much I may be bold also to promise in the behalf of all the company, for I see well that the question by you proposed hath moved them all. And as for myself (quoth I) o Philippus, it hath not only moved, but also abashed and dismayed me, for that in this so notable assembly and conference of so many worthy parsonages, I may seem above mine age, in bearing myself and taking pride in the probability of my words, to overthrow or to call into question any of those things, which truly have been delivered, or religiously believed as touching God and divine matters. But satisfy you I will, and in the defence of myself produce for my witness and advocate both, Plato. For this Philosopher reproved old Anaxagoras, in that being to much addicted to natural causes and entangled with them; following also and pursuing always that which necessarily is effected in the passions and affections of natural bodies, he overpassed the final and efficient causes, for which and by which things are done, and those are indeed the better causes and principles of greater importance: whereas himself either before, or else most of all other Philosophers hath prosecuted them both: attributing unto God the beginning of all things wrought by reason: and not depriving in the mean while the matter of those causes which are necessary unto the work done: but acknowledging herein, that the adorning and dispose of all this world sensible, dependeth not upon one simple cause alone, as being pure and uncompound, but was engendered and took essence, when matter was coupled and conjoined with reason. That this is so, do but consider first the works wrought by the hand of Artisans: as for example (not to go farther for the matter) that same foot here and basis so much renowned, of the standing cup, among other ornaments and oblations of this temple (which Herodotus called, Hypocreteridion) this hath for the material cause verily, fire, iron, the mollefying by the means of fire, and the tincture or dipping in water, without which this piece of work could not possibly have been wrought. But the more principal cause and mistress indeed, which moved all this, and did work by all these, was art and reason applied unto the work. And verily we see that over such pieces, whether they be pictures or other representations of things, the name of the artificer and workman is written, as for example: 
This picture Polygnotus drew, of Troy won long before,  
Who father had Aglaophon, and was in Thasos borne.  And verily he it was indeed as you see, who painted the destruction of Troy: but without colours ground, confused and mingled one with another, impossible had it been for him to have exhibited such a picture, so fair and beautiful to the eye as it is. If then some one come now and will needs meddle with the material cause, searching into the alterations and mutations thereof, particularizing of Sinopre mixed with Ochre, or Ceruse with black, doth he impair or diminish the glory of the painter 〈◊〉? He also, who discourseth how iron is hardened, and by what means mollified: and how being made soft and tender in the fire, it yieldeth and obaieth them who by beating and knocking drive it out in length and breadth: and afterwards being dipped and plunged into fresh waters still, by the actual coldness of the said water (for that the fire heats had softened and rarefied it before) it is thrust close together and condensate: by means whereof it getteth that stiff, compact and hard temper of steel, which Homer calleth the very force of iron; reserveth he for the workman any thing less hereby, in the principal cause and operation of his work? I suppose he doth not. For some there be who make proof and trial of Physic drogues, and yet I trow they condemn not thereby the skill of Physic: like as Plato also himself, when he saith: That we do see, because the light of our eye is mixed with the clearness of the Sun; and hear by the percussion and beating of the air, doth not deny that we have the faculty of seeing and power of hearing by reason and providence. For in sum, as I have said and do still aver, whereas all generation proceedeth of two causes, the most ancient Theologians and Poets, vouchsafed to set their mind upon the better only and that which was more excellent, chanting evermore this common refrain and foot (as it were) of the song in all things and actions whatsoever: 
Jove is the first, the midst, the last; all things of him depend:  
By him begin they, and proceed; in him they come to end.  After other necessary and natural causes they never sought farther, nor came near unto them: whereas the modern Philosophers who succeeded after them and were named naturalists, took a contrary course; and turning clean aside from that most excellent and divine principle, ascribed all unto bodies, unto passions also of bodies, and I wot not what percussions, mutations and temperatures. And thus it is come to pass, that as well the one sort as the other, are in their opinions defective and come short of that which they should. For as these either of ignorance know not, or of negligence regard not to set down the efficient principal cause, whereby, and from which: so the other before, leave out the material causes, of which; and the instrumental means, by which things are done. But he who first manifestly touched both causes, and coupled with the reason that freely worketh and moveth, the matter which necessarily is subject and suffereth; he (I say) for himself & us, answereth all calumniations, and putteth by all surmises and suspicions whatsoever. For we bereave not divination either of God, or of reason: for as much as we grant unto it for the subject matter, the soul of man; and for an instrument and plectre (as it were) to set it awork, we allow a spirit or wind, and an exhalation enthusiasticke. First and foremost, the earth it is that engendereth such exhalations: then, that which giveth unto the earth all power and virtue of this temperature and mutation is the Sun, who (as we have learned by tradition from our fore fathers) is a god. After this we adjoin thereto, the Daemons as superintendants, overseers and keepers of this temperature (as if it were some harmony and consonance) who in due and convenient time let down and slack, or else set up and stretch hard the virtue of this exhalation: taking from it otherwhiles the over-active efficacy that it hath to torment the soul and transport it beside itself: tempering therewith a motive virtue without working any pain, or hurt and damage to them that are inspired and possessed therewith. Wherein me thinks, we do nothing that seemeth either absurd or impossible: neither in kill sacrifices before we come to move the Oracle, and adorning them with coronets of flowers, and pouring upon them sacred liquors and libations, do we ought that is contrary to this discourse and opinion of ours. For the priests and sacrificers, and whosoever have the charge to kill the beast, and to power upon it the holy libations of wine or other liquors; who also observe and consider the motion, trembling and the whole demeanour thereof, do the same for no other end or cause but to have a sign, that God giveth ear unto their demand. For necessary it is that the beast sacrificed unto the gods be pure, sound, entire, immaculate, and uncorrupt both in soul and body. And verily, for the body it is no hard matter to judge and know the marks: as for the soul they make an experiment, by setting before bulls, meal: by presenting unto swine, cich-pease: for if they will not fall to, nor taste thereof, it is a certain token that they be not right. For the goat, cold water is the trial. Now if the beast make no show and semblance of being moved or affected, when as the said water is powered aloft on it, be sure the soul thereof is not disposed as it ought to be by nature.  
Now, say it go for currant and be constantly believed, that it is an undoubted and infallible sign, that the God will give answer, when the host or sacrifice thus drenched doth stir; and chose, that he will not answer, if the beast quetch not: I see nothing herein repugnant unto that, which we have before delivered. For every natural power produceth the effect for which it is ordained, better or worse, according as the time and season is more or less convenient: and probable it is, that God giveth us certain signs, whereby we may know when the opportunity is past. For mine own part, I am of this mind, that the very exhalation itself which ariseth out of the earth, is not always of the same sort; but at one time is slack and feeble, at another stretched out and strong. And the argument which maketh me thus to judge, I may easily confirm and verify by the testimony of many strangers and of all those ministers who serve in the temple. For the chamber or room, wherein they are set and give attendance who come to demand the answer of the Oracle, is filled thorough (not often, nor at certain set times, but as it falleth out after some space between) with so fragrant an odour and pleasant breath, as the most precious ointments and sweetest perfumes in the world can yield no better. And this ariseth from the sanctuary and vault of the temple, as out of some source and lively fountain: and very like it is, that it is heat, or at leastwise some other puissance, that sendeth it forth. Now if peradventure, this may seem unto you not probable nor to sound of truth: yet will ye at leastwise confess unto me, that the Prophetess Pythia hath that part of the soul, unto which this wind or prophetical spirit approacheth, disposed some time in this sort and otherwhiles in that, and keepeth not always the same temperature, as an harmony immutable. For many troubles and passions there be that possess her body, and enter likewise in her soul, some apparent; but more, secret and unseen: with which she finding herself seized and replenished, better it were for her not to present and exhibit herself to this divine inspiration of the god, being not altogether clean and pure from all perturbations; like unto an instrument of Music well set in tune and sounding sweetly, but passionate and out of order. For neither wine doth surprise the drunken man always alike, and as much at one time as at another; nor the sound of the slut or shaulme affecteth after one and the same sort at all times, him who naturally is given to be soon ravished with divine inspiration: but the same persons are one time more, and another while less transported beside themselves; and drunken likewise, more or less. The reason is, because in their bodies there is a diverse temperature: but principally, the imaginative part of the soul, and which receiveth the images and fantasies, is possessed by the body, and subject to change with it, as appear evidently by dreams: for sometimes there appear many visions and fancies of all sorts in our sleeps; otherwhiles again, we are free from all such illusions, and rest in great quietness and tranquility. We ourselves know this Cleon here of Daulia, who all his life time (and many years he lived) never (as he said himself) dreamt nor saw any vision in his sleep: and of those in former times, we have heard as much reported of Thrasymedes the Hoereian. The cause whereof, was the temperature of the body: whereas chose it is seen, that the complexion of melancholic persons is apt to dream much, and subject to many illusions in the night; although it seemeth their dreams and visions be more regular, and fall out truer than others, for that such persons touching their imaginative faculty with one fancy or other, it can not choose but they meet with the truth otherwhiles: much like as when a man shoots many shafts, it goeth hard if he hit not the mark with one. When as therefore the imaginative part and the prophetical faculty is well disposed and suitable with the temperature of the exhalation, as it were with some medicinable potion, then of necessity there must be engendered within the bodies of Prophets an Enthusiasm or divine fury: chose, when there is no such proportionate disposition, there can be no prophetical inspiration; or if there be, it is fanatical, unseasonable, violent and troublesome: as we know, how of late it befell to that Pythias or Prophetess, who is newly departed. For there being many pilgrims and strangers come from foreign parts to consult with the Oracle, it is said, that the host or beast to be sacrificed, did endure the first libaments and liquors that were powered upon it, never stirring there at nor once quetching for the matter: but after that the Priests and Sacrificers powered still, and never gave over to cast liquor on, beyond all measure; at length (after great laving and drenching of it) hardly and with much ado it yielded and trembled a little. But what happened hereupon to the Prophetess or Pythias aforesaid? Went she did indeed down into the cave or hole, against her will (as they said) and with no alacrity at all: but incontinently, when she was come up again, at the very first words and answers that she pronounced, it was well known by the hoarsness of her voice, that she could not endure the violence of possession, being replenished with a malign and mute spirit, much like unto a ship carried away under full sails with a blustering gale of wind. Insomuch as in the end being exceedingly troubled, and with a fearful and hideous cry, making haste to get out, she flung herself down, and fell upon the earth: so that not only the foresaid pilgrims fled for fear, but Nicander also the Highpriest, and other Sacrificers and religious ministers that were present. Who notwithstanding afterwards taking heart unto them, and entering again into the place, took her up lying still in an ecstasy besides herself: and in very truth, she lived not many days after. And therefore it is, that the said Pythias keepeth her body pure and clean from the company of man, and forbidden she is to converse or have commerce all her life time with any stranger. Also, before they come to the Oracle, they observe certain signs; for that they think it is known unto the God, when her body is prepared and disposed to receive (without danger of her person) this Enthusiasm. For the force and virtue of this exhalation, doth not move and incite all sorts of persons, nor the same always after one manner, nor yet as much at one time as at another: but giveth only a beginning, and setteth to (as it were) a match to kindle it, as we have said before; even unto those only who are prepared and framed aforehand to suffer and receive this alteration. Now this exhalation (without all question) is divine and celestial: howbeit for all that, not such as may not fail and cease, not incorruptible, not subject to age and decay, nor able to last and endure for ever: and under it, all things suffer violence, which are between the earth and the moon, according to our doctrine: however others there be who affirm, that those things also which are above, are not able to resist it; but being wearied an eternal and infinite time, are quickly changed and renewed (as one would say) by a second birth & regeneration. But of these matters (quoth I) advise you I would and myself also, eftsoons to call to mind, and consider often this discourse, for that they be points exposed to many reprehensions, and sundry objections may be alleged against them. All which, the time will not suffer us now to prosecute at large: and therefore let us put them off unto another opportunity, together with the doubts and questions which Philippus moved as touching Apollo and the Sun.    

WHAT SIGNIFIETH THIS WORD EI, ENGRAVEN OVERDO THE DOOR OF APOLLO'S TEMPLE IN THE CITY OF DELPHI.  

The Summarie.  
AMong infinite testimonies of the fury of malign spirits and evil angels (who having been created at first good, kept not their original, but fell from the degree and state of happiness, wherein continue by the grace and favour of God the good angels, who minister and attend upon those who shall receive the inheritance of salvation and everlasting life) these may bereckoned for the chief and principal, that such reprobate spirits and accursed fiends, endeavour & practise by all means possible to make themselves to be adored by men: and fame would they be set in the throne of him, who having imprisoned and tied them fast in a deep dungeon, with the chain of darkness, reserveth them to the judgement of that great day of doom. And so far proceeded they in pride and presumption, as to cause themselves to be styled by the name of God; yea, and to be adorned with those titles, which are due and appertain unto the aeternal, their sovereign judge. Their devices and artificial means to bring this about, be wonderful, and of exceeding variety: according as the infinite numbers of idols warming in all parts, and so many strange and uncouth superstitions, wherewith the world hath been defamed unto this present day, do testify and give evident proof. But if there be any place in the whole earth, wherein Satanhath actually (hewed his furious rage against God and man, it is Greece: and above all, in that renowned temple of Delphi, which was the common seat, upon which this cursed enemy hath received the homages of an infinite number of people of all sorts and qualities, under the colour and pretence of resolving their doubtful questions. here then especially presumed he and was so bold, as to take upon him the name of God: and for to reach thereto, hath set out and garnished his Oracles, with ambiguous speeches, short and sententious, intermingling some truths among lies: even as it pleased the just judge of the world, to let the reins lose unto this notorious seducer, and to give him power for to deceive and abuse the world: as also by certain notable sayings (as these: Know thyself. Nothing too much: and such like) he hath kept bound unto him, persons of highest spirit and greatest conceit: causing them to think, that in delivering so goodly precepts for the rule and direction of this life, it must needs be the true friend of mankind, yea and the very heavenly wisdom, that spoke by these Oracles. But his audacious pride, together with most intolerable impudence, hath appeared in the inscription of this bareword, E I, upon the porch of the temple of Apollo in Delphi, in that he pretended title and claimed thereby (according to the last interpretation thereof in this present discourse) to put himself in the place of the eternal God: who only Is, and giveth Being unto all things. And that which worse is, the blindness was so horrible, even of the wisest Sages, that this opinion hath been seated in their heads whiles this tyrant possessed them, in such sort, as they took pleasure to suffer themselves so to be cozened by him. But hereby good cause have we to praise our God, who hath discovered and laid open to us such impostures, and maketh his majesty known unto us by his word, to be the only true and eternal deity; in adoring and worshipping whom, we may safely and truly say E ay, that is to say, Thou art: as chose, the deceitful wiles and illusions of satan and his complices, do declare how fearful and horrible the judgement of God is upon such rebellious spirits. Now if some over-busy and curious head, will here dispute and reason against the justice of him who is the disposer of all things, and enterprise to control that eternal wisdom which governeth the world, for having mercy upon such as it pleaseth him, and suffering to fall from so excellent an estate, the Apostatate and disobodient angels, and yet permitting them to have such a powerful hand over the most part of Adam's children; we answer in one word: Man, what art thou, that thus wilt plead against God? shall the thing form, say unto him who form it, Why hast thou made me so? Hath not the potter full power to make of the same mass of earth or clay, one vessel for honour, and another for dishonour? The judgements of God are unsearchable, they have neither bottom nor brink: the riches of his wisdom and knowledge are inscrutable, and beyond all computation: his ways are hidden and impossible to be found out. If then there be any place in the consideration of the secrets of God, where we ought to be retentive, wary and discreet, it is in this, where every man hath just occasion to think upon this not able lesson and advertisement: Not to presume for to know over and above that which he should, but to be wise unto sobriety: and that no man ought to be puffed up with pride, but rather to fear. Moreover, as touching the contents of this discourse, the author having used an honest and decent Presace, saith in general: That by this present inscription, Apollo intended to make himself known, and to incite every man to inquire into time. But here in the enemy of mankind showeth his audacity and boldness sufficiently, as also how he deludeth and mocketh his slaves; in that after he had deprived them of right and sound judgement, he stirreth them up to know, who he is: which is as much as if one should pluck out the eyes, and cut in twain the hamstrings of a traveller or watfaring man; and then bid him seek out his way, and go onward on his journey. Now he brings in four diverse personages, delivering their minds as touching this Mot, EI. Lamprias opining in the first place, thinketh that the first and principal wise Sages of Greece devised it, for that they would be known and discerned from others. Ammonius secondly, referreth and applieth it to the Wishes and Questions of those who resort unto the Oracle. Theon the third, attributeth this 〈◊〉 unto Logic, and doth all that possibly he can to maintain his opinion. 〈◊〉 the Mathematician speaking in the fourth place, and seconded by Plutarch, Philosophizeth at large upon the number of 5. represented by the letter E: he discourseth and runneth through all the Mathematics, and diverse parts of Philosophy, and all to approve and make good his conceit: but his 〈◊〉 and end is, to show under the mystical sense of numbers, the perfection of his Apollo, which he draweth and fetcheth also from the consideration of his titles, epithets and attributes. But Ammonius gathering together their voices, and closing or stopping up the disputation, seemeth to hit the mark: proving by most strong and learned reasons, that Apollo would by this word instruct pilgims, how they ought to salute and call him, to wit, in saying thus, E 〈◊〉 that is to say, Thou art he: which is opposite unto that salutation which this false god (usurping the name of the true Jehovah, or always Existent) greeteth men with, in setting just before their eyes, in the entry and forefront of his temple, these two words, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: that is to say, Know thyself. Having enriched this with two evident proofs, the one taken from the uncerteine condition of creatures; the other from the firmitude and true estate or being of the Creator; he exhorteth his fellows to list up themselves to the contemplation of the essence of God, and to honour the Sun, his express image. Which done, herefuteth certain contrary opinions: and after a new confirmation of his discourse, he endeth where he first began; to wit, that the knowledge of God and ourselves, are opposite in such sort, as yet nevertheless they must meet and concur in us. But all the application of this discourse unto Apollo (whom you must take for the very devil) in no wise is fit and agreeable. And herein a man may see better yet, what madness and folly is the wisdom of man: and in how thick and palpable darkness they go groping with their hands before them, who are no otherwise guided than by the discourse of their own reason. Which teacheth us once again to adore the secrets of God: to recognise and apprehend his mercies in the matter of our salvation: to dread also his justice, which showeth itself in the deplorable and piteous blindness of so many nations; even from the time that sin first entered into the world, unto this present day.   

WHAT SIGNIFIETH THIS word EI, engraven over the door of Apollo's temple in the city of Delphi.  
I Light of late in my reading (friend Sarapion) upon certain pretty [jambique] verses, not unelegantly indited, which Dicaearchus supposeth that the Poet Euripides delivered unto king Archelaus, to this effect: 
No gifts will I to you present,  
Since poor I am, and wealth you have:  
Lest I for folly of you be shent,  
Or by such giving seem to crave.  For he, who of that little means which he hath, bestoweth some small present upon them that are rich and possess much, gratifieth them nothing at all, nor deserveth any thanks: and that which worse is, because no man will believe that he giveth (be it never so little) for nothing, he incurreth the suspicion and obloquy of being cautelous, illiberal, and simply nought. But forasmuch as the gifts that be in the nature of silver, gold and temporal goods, be in regard of beauty and liberal courtesy, far inferior to those which go in the kind of good letters, and proceed from learning: it standeth well with honesty, both to give such, and also to demand the like of those who receive the same. And therefore, in sending presently unto you, and for your sake unto those friends about you in those parts, certain discourses gathered together as touching the Temple and Oracle of Apollo Pythius, as an offering of first fruits; I confess that I expect from you others again, both more in number and better in value, considering that you live in a great city, have more leisure, and enjoy the benefit of more books, and all sort of scholastical conferences and learned exercises. And verily it seemeth, that our good and kind Apollo doth indeed remedy, ease and assoil the doubtful difficulties ordinarily incident to this life of ours, by giving answer unto those who repair unto his Oracle: but such as concern matter of learning, he putteth forth and proposeth himself unto that part of our mind, which naturally is given to Philosophise and study wisdom, imprinting therein a covetous desire to know and understand the truth: as may appear by many other examples, and namely, in this petty mot, EI, consecrated in his temple. For it is not like, that it was by mere chance and adventure, nor by a lottery (as it were) of letters shuffled together, that this word alone should have the pre-eminence with this god, as to precede and go before all others; ne yet, that it should have the honour to be consecrated unto God, or 〈◊〉 in the temple as a thing of special regard for to be seen and beheld: but it must needs be, that either the first learned men (who at the beginning had the charge of this temple) knew some particular and exquisite property in this word, or else used it as a device to symbolise some matter of singularity, or covertly to signify a thing of great consequence. Having therefore many times before, cleanly put by and avoided, or passed over this question proposed in the schools for to be discussed and discoursed upon; of late I was surprised and set upon by mine own children, upon occasion that I was debating with certain strangers, as desirous to satisfy them: whom being ready to depart out of the city of Delphi, it was no part of civility either to detain long, or altogether to reject, having so earnest a mind to hear me say somewhat. When therefore, as we were set about the temple, I began partly to look unto some things myself, and partly to demand and inquire of them; I was put in mind and admonished by the place and matters then handled, of a former question which beforetime (when Nero passed thorough these parts) I heard Ammonius to discourse, and others besides, in this very place; and as touching a question of the same difficulty likewise propounded. For, consideting that this god Apollo is no less a Philosopher than a Prophet, Ammonius then delivered, that in regard thereof the surnames might very well be fitted and applied, which were attributed unto him very rightly and with good reason; showing and declaring, that he is Pythius, a Questionist to those who begin to learn and inquire; Delius and Phanaeus, that is to say, clear and lightsome unto such as have the truth a little shining and appearing unto them; Ismenius, that is to say, skilful and learned unto as many as have attained unto knowledge already; and Leschenorius, as one would say, Eloquent os Discoursing, when they put their science in practice and make use thereof, proceeding for to confer, dispute and discourse one with another. And for that it appertaineth unto Philosophers, to inquire, admire and cast doubts, by good right the most part of divine matters belonging to the gods, are couched & hidden under dark aenigmes and covert speeches, and thereupon require that a man should demand, why? and whether? as also to be instructed in the cause. As for example, about the maintenance of the immortal or eternal fire, Why of all kinds of wood they burn the Fir only? Also, Wherefore they never make any perfume but of the Laurel? Likewise, What is the reason, that in this temple there be no more but two images of two destinies or fatal sisters, named Parcae, whereas in all places else there be three of them? Semblably, What should be the cause, that no woman (whatsoever she be) is permitted to have access unto this Oracle for counsel or resolution? Again, What is the reason of that fabric or three footed table? and such other matters which invite, allure and draw those who are not altogether witless, void of sense and reason, to ask, to see and hear somewhat, yea and to dispute about them, what they should mean? And to this purpose, do but mark and consider these inscriptions standing in the forefront of this Temple: Know thyself, and Nothing too much: what a number of questions and learned disputations they have moved: also, what a multitude of goodly discourses have sprung & proceeded from such writings, as out of some seed or grain of corn. And this will I say unto you, that the matter now in question, is no less fertile and plentiful, than any one of the other.  
When Ammonius had thus said, my brother Lamprias began in this wise: And yet (quoth he) the reason which we all have heard as touching this question, is very plain and short. For reported it is, that those ancient Sages or wise men, who by some are named Sophisters, were indeed of themselves no more than five: to wit, Chilon, Thales, Solon, Bias, and Pittacus. But when first Cleobulus the tyrant of the Lindians, and then Periander the tyrant likewise of Corinth (who had neither of them any one jot of virtue or wisdom) by the greatness of their power, by the number of their friends, and by many benefits and demerits whereby they obliged their adherents, acquired forcibly this reputation, in despite of all usurped the name of Sages: and to this purpose caused to be spread sown and divulged throughout all Greece certain odd sentences and notable sayings, as well as those of the others, wherewith the former Sages above named were discontented. Howbeit for all this, these five wisemen would in no hand discover and convince their vanity, nor yet openly contest and enter into terms of quarrel with them about this reputation, ne yet debate the matter against so mighty personages, who had so great means of countenance in the world: but being assembled upon a time in this place, after conference together they consecrated and dedicated here the letter [E] which as it standeth fifth in the order of the Alphabet, so in number it signifieth five: as if they testified and deposed here before the god, that they were but five; protesting that the sixth and the seventh they rejected and excluded out of their society, as who had no right to belong unto them. Now that this conjecture is not beside the purpose, a man may know, who hath but heard them speak who have the charge and superintendance of this temple; namely, how they call that EI, which is written in gold, the EI of Livia Augusta the empress and wife of Augustus Caesar: the other in brass, the EI of the Athenians: and the first, which is most ancient, and for the matter and substance thereof no better than cut in wood, at this very day they name, the EI of the Sages; as being dedicated not by one of them alone, but by all together. hereat Ammonius pleasantly smiled, as supposing this to be the proper and peculiar conceit of Lamprias himself, howsoever he seemed to father it upon others, feigning that he heard it else where, to the end that he might not be called to account, and put to the maintenance and defence thereof. Then another of the company who were there present, said that this was much like unto a foolish toy which a Chaldaean stranger, and by profession an ginger, not long since set abroach: That seven letters there were forsooth in all the Alphabet, which were vocal and of themselves rendered a voice: like as seven stars there were in the heaven, which had their proper motions apart, at liberty, and not bound and linked to others. Also that among those vocal letters or vowels, E was the second; even as the Sun of all the Planets was next unto the Moon: and that all the Greeks in manner, with one accord, hold Apollo and the Sun, to be both one. But this, when all is done, savoureth altogether of his counting table of judicial Astronomy, and of his trivial discoursing head. Moreover it seemeth that Lamprias taketh not heed, but ere he is aware, stirreth up all those who have the charge of the temple, against this reason of his. For there is not a man in all the city of Delphi, who knoweth aught of that which he hath said, but they allege the common opinion, & that which runneth currant throughout the world, which is: That it is neither the outward form and show, nor the sound; but the very Mot only as it is written, containeth some secret signification: for it is as the Delphians do conceive of it. And with that the high priest Nicander himself (who was present) said, that this EI is the form and manner that they use, who come to consult with the god Apollo, and to conver their questions unto him: and ordinarily, it carrieth the first place in all their interrogatories. For usual it is with them thus to demamaund: EI 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; EI 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. that is to say, If, or whether they shall have victory? if they shall marry? if it will be expedient for them to go to sea? if they were best to till the ground? or if they should do well to make a voyage and travel into foreign parts? And herein the God (who is wise and learned, mocking the Logicians, bidding them farewell who hold, that of this particle or Conjunction EI, that is to say, If, and of what Subjunctive proposition soever following after it, nothing can be made, nor categorically affirmed) both understandeth all interrogations annexed unto EI, as real things in esse, and so accepteth of them. And for as much as this EI is proper for an interrogation proposed unto him as a Divinor or Prophet: and common it is with us, by it to pray unto him, as to a god; they think that this word EI is of no less validity to pray and wish by, than it is to demand or ask a question: for everic one that prayeth, useth ordinarily this form: EI 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, o if it might please god. And thus Archilochus wrote: 
EI 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉:  
O if my luck and hap were such,  
As Neobules' hand to touch.  And it is said, that in the adverb of wishing EIOE, which signifieth, Would God; the second syllable 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is an adjunction idle and superfluous, for that EI alone signifieth as much: like as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in this verse of the Poet Sophron: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉:  
Desirous also in their need  
Of children, for their joy and meed:  as also in Homer: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉:  
As I will now, even thee disgrace,  
And foil thy strength in present place.  Where 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifieth just nothing. Thus you see, how in this little word EI there is an 〈◊〉 power sufficiently declared. When Nicander had delivered these words, Theon (for I presuppose you know him, being a familiar friend of ours) demanded of Ammonius, whether Logic might have the liberty to speak in her own defence, being thus wronged and trodden under foot? when Ammonius willed him to speak hardly, and to say all that he could, and for to help her out of the mire: Certes, quoth he then, there be many Oracles which bear witness & evidently show, that god Apollo is a most skilful Logician. For in some sort it belongeth to one and the same artist, both to move doubtful ambiguities, and also to assoil and clear the same. Moreover, according as Plato said, that there being in old time an Oracle given unto the Greeks, that they should double the altar within the temple of Delos, (which is a piece of work for an expert Geometrician to perform, and who had the very habit and perfection of that Art) it was not that indeed which the god commanded the Greeks to do, but he enjoined them to study Geometry: even so, in giving otherwhiles ambiguous answers, and doubtful Oracles, he recommendeth thereby and augmenteth so much the more, the credit of Logic, as being a science right necessary for as many as would gladly understand his speech. Now in Logic this Conjunction EI, that is to say, If (which is so apt to continue a speech and proposition) hath a great force, as being that which giveth form unto that proposition, which is most agreeable to discourse of reason and argumentation. And verily of this nature be all these hypothetical propositions,, copulative, disjunctive, etc. And who can deny it? considering that the very brute beasts themselves have in some sort a certain knowledge and intelligence of the subsistence of things: but nature hath given to man alone the notice of consequence, and the judgement for to know how to discern that which followeth upon every thing. For, that it is day; and, that it is light, the very wolves, dogs, and cocks do perceive: but that, if it be day of necessity it must make the air light, there is no creature save only man, that knoweth: for he alone hath intelligence of the beginning and of the end, of the antecedent and the 〈◊〉, of the proceeding and finishing of things: as also of the coherence and bringing together of both ends and extremes, of the conference of one to another; what habitude, Correspondence, or difference there is between: and this is it whereof all demonstrations take their chief original and beginning. Now since it is so, that all Philosophy whatsoever, consisteth in the knowledge of the truth; and the light which cleareth the truth, is demonstration; and the beginning of demonstration, is the coherence and knitting of propositions together: by good right that power which maketh and maintaineth this, was dedicated and consecrated by the Sages and wise men unto this god, who above all others loveth the truth. Again, this god is a Divinor and Prophet; but the art of Divining is as touching future things, by the means of such as are either present or past. For as nothing is done or made without cause; so there is nothing foreknown without a precedent reason: but forasmuch as all that is, dependeth and followeth upon that which hath been; and consequently all that shall be, hath a stint and dependence of that which is, by a certain continuity, which proceedeth from the beginning to the end: he who hath the skill to see into causes, and by natural reason how to compose and join them together, knoweth and is able to discourse 
What things are now, what shall hereafter come,  
As also what are past, both all and some;  according as Homer saith: who very well and wisely setteth in the first place the present, than the future, and that which is past. For of the present dependeth all Syllogism and reasoning, and that by the virtue & efficacy of a conjunction: for that if this thing be, such a thing went before: and conversìm, if this be; that shall be. For all the artificial feat and skill of discourse and argument, is the knowledge of consequence, as hath been said already: but it is the sense, that giveth anticipation unto the discourse of reason. And therefore although haply it may seem to stand little with decent honesty, yet I will not be afraid to affirm that this reason properly is the Tripod or three footed table as one would say, and Oracle of truth: namely, when the disputer supposeth a consequence upon that which was premised and went before: and then afterwards assuming that which is extant and subsistent, cometh in the end to induce and infer a final conclusion of his demonstration. Now if it be so, that Apollo Pythius, as the report goeth, loveth music, and be delighted in the singing of swans, and sound of lute and harp; what marvel is it then, if for the affection that he beareth unto logic, he likewise embrace and love that part of speech, which he seeth Philosophers most willingly and oftenest to use? Hercules before that he had loosed the bonds wherewith Prometheus was tied, and having not as yet conferred and talked with Chiron and Atlans two great Sophisters and professors of disputation, but being a young man still, and a plain Boeotian, abolished all logic at first, and scoffed at this little Mot E I: but soon after seemed as if he would pluck away by force the three footed table of Apollo, yea and contest with the god, about the art of divining; for that together with age and process of time he proceeded so far, as that he became by that means a most skilful prophet, and as subtle and excellent a logician. When Theon had made an end of this speech, Eustrophus the Athenian, as I take it, directed his words unto us & said: See you not how valiantly Theon defendeth the art of logic, & hath in manner gotten on the lion's skin of Hercules? It is not therefore decent, that we who in one word refer all affairs, all natures and principles joinctly together, as well of divine as of human things into number, and making it the author, master, and ruler even of such matters as simply are most fair and precious, should sit still and say never a word: but rather for our part, offer the fruits of the Mathematics unto god Apollo. For we say and affirm that this letter E, of itself, neither in puissance, nor in form, ne yet in name & pronunciation, hath any thing in it above other letters: how be it we think, that preferred it hath been before all the rest, in this regard that it is a character and mark of the number five, which is in all things of greatest virtue and validity, and is named Pemptas. Whereupon our Sages and great clerks in times past, when they would express the verb [to number] used Pempazein, as one would say, to count and reckon by five. And verily Eustrophus in saying thus, addressed his speech unto me, not merrily but in good earnest, for that I was very affectionate and much addicted then unto the Mathematics; but yet so, as in all things I observed and kept still the old rule: To much of nothing, as being a scholar of the Academy school. I answered therefore, that Eustrophus had solved passing well the difficulty of the question by this number. For seeing it is so (quoth I) that number in generality is divided into even and odd, Unity is in power and efficacy common to them both: in such sort, as being put unto the even, it maketh it odd; and likewise added to the odd, causeth the same to be even. Now the beginning and ground of even numbers is Two; and of odd, Three is the first: of which being joined together is engendered Five, which by good right is highly honoured as being the first compound of the first simple numbers, where upon it is worthily named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Marriage; because the even number hath some resemblance to the female, and the odd, a reference to the male. For in the sections & divisions of numbers into equal parts, the even is altogether clean parted and severed asunder, leaving a certain void space between the parts, as a beginning of capacity apt to receive somewhat more: chose in the odd number, if a man do as much by it, and cut it into two numbers, there remaineth always somewhat in the midst between, fit for subdivision, yea and generation of new numbers: whereby it appeareth that more generative it is than the other. And whensoever it cometh to be mixed with the other, it carrieth the pre-eminence, and is master always, but never mastered. For what mixture soever you make of them twain, you shall never come thereby to an even number: but mix and compose them as often and in what manner you will, there shall arise always thereof an odd number. And that which more is, both the one and the other added to itself, or compounded with itself, showeth the difference that is between them. For never shall you see an even number joined with another that is even, to produce an odd; for it goeth not out of his proper nature, as having not the power to beget any other than itself, so feeble it is and imperfect: but odd numbers coupled and mingled with others that be odd, bring forth many even numbers, so powerful it is to engender every way. As for all the other properties and different puissances of numbers, the time will not now serve to discourse thoroughly of them all. But hereby you see, wherefore the ancient Pythagorean Philosophers called Five, the Marriage; as being compounded of the first male and of the first female. The same also is sometime named Nature; for that being multiplied by itself, it falleth out still to determine in 
* For 5 times 5 maketh 25.  itself. For like as nature taking a grain of wheat in the nature of seed, and so diffusing it, produceth many forms and diverse kinds of things between, through which she passeth and proceedeth, until at last she bringeth her work to an end; and when all is done showeth a corn of wheat again, rendering the first beginning, in the end of all: even so, when other numbers multiply themselves, and end by growing and multiplication in other numbers, only five & six, if they be multiplied by themselves, do bring forth and regenerate likewise themselves: for six times six, maketh thirty six; and five times five, ariseth to twenty five. But take thus much withal again, that Six doth this but once and after one manner only, when of itself it becometh that 
* That is 〈◊〉 say, 36. made of 4 nine.  four square number: but unto Five the same befalleth, when it is multiplied by itself; and beside particularly, it hath this property, that by addition of itself it produceth also itself, in as much as it maketh ten; which it doth alternatively, and holdeth on this course in infinite, as far as any numbers will extend: so as this number resembleth, that principle or first cause, which doth conduct and govern this universal world. For like as it, of the own self preserveth the world; and reciprocally, of the world returneth into itself, according as Heraclitus said of the fire: 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉:  
Fire into all things first doth turn,  
And all things shall to fire return:  like as gold is exchanged for wares, and wares likewise for gold: even so the meeting of five with itself, howsoever it be, can engender and bring forth nothing either imperfect or strange, but all the changes that it hath, be limited and certain. For either it begetteth itself, or else produceth ten; that is to say, that which is proper and familiar, or else perfect and accomplished.  
Now if a man should come unto me and demand: What is all this (good sir) unto Apollo? I will answer again: That this concerneth not Apollo alone, but 
* Alluding to the 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: whereupon a thing is said to be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is not to the purpose.  Bacchus also, who hath no less to do with the city of Delphos, not is of less authority there, than Apollo himself. For we have heard the Theologians (partly in verse and partly in prose) sing and say, That this god being of his own nature incorruptible and immortal: yet, I wot not by what sentence and reason fatal he is transmuted and changed in many sorts. Sometime he is all on a light fire, and causeth all things to be of the same nature, and like unto all things: otherwhiles most variable, in all manner of forms, passions & puissances all different, and becometh (as now he is) the World; so called by a most common and best known name. But the Sages and wiser sort, willing to conceal and keep these secrets hidden from common people, name this mutation & change of his into fire, Apollo; signifying thereby, a kind of sole unity whereunto it reduceth all things, and negation of plurality: and Phoebus likewise; betokening thereby his purity and clearness from filth and pollution. As for his conversion into winds, water, earth, stars, and into sundry kinds of plants and living creatures, together with the order and disposition thereof, such as we see; all this passion (I say) and mutation, they covertly do signify under the name of a certain distraction and dismembering: and in these regards, they call himself Dionysus, Zagreus, Nyctelius, Isodaetes. They exhibit also and counterfeit I wot not what deaths, destructions and dispatitions; regenerations also, and resurrections: which be fables all, and aenigmatic all fictions, devised for to represent the foresaid mutations. And verily, to Bacchus they do chant in their songs certain Dithyrambicke ditties and tunes, full of passion and change, with motions and agitations to and fro. For according as Aeschylus saith: 
The Dithyrambe with clamours dissonant,  
Sorts well with Bacchus, where he is resiant.  But unto the other (that is to say, Apollo) they sing the Paean, which is a settled kind of song, and Music modest and sober. Moreover, in all their pictures and portraitures of images and statues, they make Apollo always with a young face, and never aging: but the other, to wit, Bacchus, they represent in many shapes, and as many forms and visages. And in one word, to the one they attribute a constancy uniform and evermore the same, a regular order, a serious and sincere gravity: but unto the other, mixed sports, games, wantonness and insolency; in sum, such a gravity as is interlaced with fury, madness and inequality: they invocate and call upon him by the name of Bacchus Eüius: 
Bacchus (I say) 〈◊〉 Eüius,  
Who women doth to rage incite:  
And in such service furtous,  
And frantic worship, takes delight:  noting hereby not unfitly and without good purpose that which is proper to the one and the other mutation. But for that the time of the revolutions in these changes is not equal and alike, but of the one (which is called Coros, and signifieth plenty or satiety) longer; and of the other (named Chresmosyne, which betokeneth want and necessity) shorter: observing even herein the proportion, they use the canticle Paean, during all the rest of the year, in their sacrifices: but in the beginning of winter, they stir up the Dithyrambe, and down goeth Paean; and so invocate this god for three months space in stead of the other, supposing that there is the same proportion of the conflagration of the world to the restoring and reparation thereof, as is of three to one. But peradventure we have dwelled longer upon this point than we should, considering the time: howbeit this is certain, that they attribute the number of five unto this god Apollo, as proper and peculiar unto him; saying, that one while it begetteth itself by multiplication, as fire; and another while maketh of itself ten, as the world. Moreover, think we not, that this number hath no society with Music, which is so agreeable unto this god, as nothing so much? Certes, harmony is (to say at once) occupied most of all about accords, which we call Symphonies: and that those are in number five, and no more, reason proveth, and experience will convince it to be so, even unto him who shall make the trial, either with strings or pipeholes, by the very sense of hearing only, without any other reason. For all these accords take their generation by proportion in number. Now the proportion of the Music or Symphony Diatessaron, is Epitritoes or Sesquitertiall, that is to say, the whole and a third part over: of Diapente, Hemolios or Sesquialterall, that is to say, the whole and half as much more: of Diapason, duple: of Diapason with Diapente together, triple: & of Dis-diapason, quadruple. And as for that which the Musicians bring in over and above these, to wit, Diapason and Diatessaron (for so they name it) they are not worthy to be admitted and received, as transcending all mean and measure to gratify forsooth the unreasonable pleasure of the ear against all proportion, and breaking as it were the ordinance of the law.  
To let pass therefore the five positures of the Tetrachords, as also the first five tones, tropes, changes, notes or harmonies, (call them what you will) for that they change and alter by setting up or letting down the strings, more or less, or by straining or easing the voice; all the rest are 〈◊〉 as bases and trebles. For see you not that there being many, or rather infinite intervals, yet five there be only used in song; namely, Diesis, Hemitonium, Tonos, Trisemitonion, and Ditonos? Neither is there any space or interval greater or less in voices, distinguished by base and treble, high and low, that can be expressed in song. But to pass by many other such things (quoth I) only Plato I will allege, who affirmeth, that there is indeed but one world: mary if there were more in number, and not the same one alone; it must needs be that there are five in all, and not one more. But grant that there be no more in truth than one, as Aristotle holdeth; yet so it is, that the same seemeth to be composed and coagmented in some sort of five other worlds: whereof one is that of earth, another of water, the third of fire, the fourth of air; as for the fifth, some call it heaven, others light, and some again, the sky; and there be, who name it a quint-essence: unto which only it is proper and natural (of all other bodies) to turn round, not by violent force, nor otherwise by chance and aventure. Plato therefore observing and knowing well enough, that the most beautiful and perfect figures of regular bodies which be in the world & within compass of nature, are five in number (namely, the Pyramid, the Cube, the Octaedron, Icofaedron & Dodecaedron) hath very fitly appropriated and attributed each of these noble figures unto one or other of those first bodies. Others there be also who apply the faculties of the natural senses, which likewise be in number five, unto the said primitive bodies: to wit, Touching, which is firm, solid and hard, to Earth; Tasting, which judgeth of the qualities of savours by the means of moisture, to Water; Hearing, to the Air, for that the air being beaten upon is the voice and sound in the ears: of the other twain, Smelling hath for the object Sent or odour, which being in manner of a perfume, is engendered and elevated by heat, and therefore holdeth of the Fire; as for the Sight, which is clear and bright, by a certain affinity and consanguinity which it hath with the heaven and with light, hath a temperature and complexion mingled of the one and the other: neither is there in any living creature other sense, nor in the whole world any other nature and substance simple and uncompound; but a marvelous distribution there is and congruity of five to five, as it evidently appeareth.  
When I had thus said, and made a stop withal, after a little pause between: O what a fault (quoth I) o Eustrophus, had I like to have committed: for I went within a little of passing over Homer altogether, as if he had not been the first that divided the world into five parts; allotting three of them which are in the mids unto three gods, and the other two which be the extremes (namely, heaven and earth, whereof the one is the limit of things beneath, the other the bound of things above) in common and not distributed like the others. But our speech must remember to return again, as Euripides saith, from whence it hath digressed. For they who magnify the quaternary or number of four, teach not amiss nor beside the purpose, that every solid body hath taken the beginning and generation by reason of it. For it being so, that every solid consisteth in length and breadth, having withal a depth: before length there is to be supposed a positure and situation of a point or prick, answerable to unity in numbers; and longitude without breadth is called a line; and the moving of a line into breadth, and the procreation of a superficies thereby, consisteth of three: afterwards, when there is adjoined thereto profundity or depth, the augmentation groweth by four, until it become a perfect solidity. So that every man seeth, that the quaternary having brought nature to this point, as to perform and accomplish a body, in giving it a double magnitude or mass with firm solidity apt to make resistance, leaveth it afterwards destitute of the thing which is greatest and principal. For that which is without a soul, to speak plain, is in manner of an Orphan, unperfect and good for nothing, so long as it is without a soul to use and guide it: but the motion or disposition which putteth in the soul, ingenerated by means of the number of five, is it that bringeth perfection and consummation unto nature. Whereby it appeareth that there is an essence more excellent than the four, inasmuch as a living body endued with a soul, is of a more noble nature, than that which hath none: but more than so, the beauty and excellent power of this number five, proceeding yet farther, would not suffer a body animate to be extended into infinite kinds, but hath given unto us five diverse sorts of animate and living natures in al. For there be Gods; Daemons, or Angels; Demigods, or Heroës': then after these, a fourth kind, of Men; and last of all, in the fifth place, is that of brute Beasts and unreasonable. Furthermore, if you come and divide the soul according to nature, the first and obscurest part or puissance thereof, is the vegetative or nutritive faculty: the second is the sensitive: then the appetitive: after it the irascible, wherein is engendered anger. Now when it is once come unto that power which discourseth by reason, and brought nature as it were to perfection, there it resteth in the fifth, as in the very pitch & top of all. Since then this number hath so many, and those so great puissances & faculties, the very generation thereof is beautiful to be considered; I mean not that whereof we have already heretofore discoursed, when we said, that composed it was of two and three, but that which is made by the conjunction of the first principle, with the first square and quadrate number. And what is that principle or beginning of all numbers? even one or Unity, and that first quadrat is Four: and of these twain (as a man would say, of form and of matter) being brought to perfection, is procreated this Quinarie or number of five. Now if it be true, as some do hold, that Unity itself is quadrat and foursquare, as being that which is the power of itself, and determineth in itself, than five being thus compounded of the two first quadrat numbers, ought so much the rather to be esteemed so noble and excellent as none can be comparable unto it. And yet there is one excellency behind, that passeth all those which went before. But I fear me (quoth I) lest if the same be uttered, it would debase in some sort the honour of our Plato, like as himself said, the honour and authority of Anaxagor as was depressed and put down by the name of the Moon, who attributed unto himself the first invention of the moons illuminations by the Sun; whereas it was a very ancient opinion long before he was borne. How say you, hath he not said thus much in his Dialogue entitled Cratylus? Yes verily, answered Eustrophus; but I see not the like consequence for all that. But you know (quoth I) that in his book entitled: The Sophister, he setteth down five most principal beginnings of all things: to wit, That which is: The same: The other: Motion, the fourth: and Rest for the fifth. Moreover in his Dialogue Philebus, he bringeth in another kind of partition and division of these principles, where he saith: That one is Infinite: another Finite, or the end: and of the mixture of these twain, is made and accomplished all generation: as for the cause whereby they are mixed, he putteth it for the fourth kind: but leaveth to our conjecture the fifth: by the means whereof, that which is composed and mixed is redivided, and separate again. And for mine own part, I suppose verily, that these principles be the figures and images (as it were) of those before: to wit, of That which is, The thing engendered: of Motion, Infinite: of Rest, the End or Finit: of The same, the Cause that mixeth: of The other, the Cause that doth separate. But say they be diverse principles, and not the same: yet howsoever it be, there are always still five kinds, & five differences of the said principles. Some of them before Plato, being of the same opinion, or having heard so much of another, consecrated two E. E. unto the god of this temple, as a very sign to symbolise that number which comprehendeth all. And peradventure, having heard also, that Good appeareth in five kinds: whereof the first is Mean or Measure; the second, Symmetry or Proportion; the third, Under standing; the fourth, The Sciences, Arts and True Opinions, which are in the soul; the fifth, Pure and Sincere Pleasure, without mixture of any trouble and pain: they stayed there, reciting this verse out of Orpheus: 
But at the sixth age cease your song:  
It booteth not to chant so long.  After these discourses passed between us: Yet one brief word more (quoth he) will I say unto Nicander, and those about him; 
For sing I will  
To men of skill.  The sixth day of the month when you lead the Prophetess Pythia into some hall named Prytanium, the first casting of lots among you, of three, tendeth to five: for she casteth three; and you, two: how say you is it not so? Yes verily, quoth Nicander: but the cause hereof we dare not reveal and declare unto others. Well then (quoth I, smiling thereat) until such time as god permitteth us after we are become holy and consecrate, for to know the truth thereof, mean while let that also be added unto the praises which have been alleged in the recommendation of the number Five.  
Thus ended the discourse as touching the commendations attributed unto the number of five, by the Arithmeticians and Mathematicians, as far as I can remember or call to mind. And Ammonius (as he was a man who bestowed not the worst and least part of his time in Mathematic Philosophy) took no small pleasure in the hearing of such discourses and said: Needless it is and to no purpose, to stand much upon the precise and exact confutation of that which these young men here have alleged, unless it be that every number will afford you also sufficient matter and argument of praise, if you will but take the pains to look into them: for, to say nothing of others, a whole day would not be enough to express in words all the virtues and properties of the sacred number Seven, dedicated to Apollo. And moreover we shall seem to pronounce against the Sages and wisemen, that they fight both against common law received, and all antiquity of time; if disseizing the number of seven of that pre-eminence, whereof it is in possession, they should consecrate Five unto Apollo, as more meet and beseeming for him. And therefore mine opinion is, that this writing EI signifieth neither number, nor order, nor conjunction, nor any other defective particle; but is an entire salutation of itself, and a compellation of the God: which together with the very utterance and pronunciation of the word induceth the speaker to think of the greatness & power of him, who seemeth to salute and greet every one of us when we come hither, with these words 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Know thyself, which signifieth no less, than if he said 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, All hail or god save you: and we again to render the like, answer him EI, that is to say, Thou art; yielding unto him not a false, but a true appellation and title which only and to him alone appertaineth, namely, that he is. For in very truth and to speak as it is, we who are mortal men, have no part at all of being indeed, because that all human nature being ever in the midst between generation and corruption, giveth but an obscure appearance, a dark shadow, a weak and uncertain opinion of itself. And if peradventure you bend your mind and cogitation for to comprehend a substance and essence thereof, you shall do as much good as if you would clutch water in your hand with a bend fist; for the more you seem to gripe and press together that which of the own nature is fluid and runneth out, so much the more shall you lose of that which you will clasp and hold: and even so, all things being subject to alteration, and to pass from one change unto another, reason seeking for a real subsistence is deceived, as not able to apprehend any thing subsistant in truth and permanent; for that every thing tendeth to a being before it is, or beginneth to die so soon as it is engendered. For, as Her 〈◊〉 was wont to say, a man cannot possibly enter twice into one and the same river: no more is he able to find any mortal substance twice in one and the same estate. Such is the suddenness and celerity of change, that no sooner is it dissipated but it gathereth again anon, or rather indeed not again, nor anon, but at once it both subsisteth and also ceaseth to be, it cometh and goeth together; in such sort, as that which beginneth to breed, never reacheth to the perfection of being, for that in very deed this generation is never accomplished, nor resteth as being come to a full end and perfection of being, but continually changeth and moveth from one to another: even as of human seed, first there is gathered within the mother's womb a fruit or mass without form; then an infant having some form and shape; afterwards being out of the mother's belly it is a sucking babe, anon it proves to be alad or boy, within a while a stripling or springal, than a youth, afterwards a man grown, consequently an elderly & ancient person, & last of ala crooked old man: so that the former ages & precedent generations be always abolished by the subsequent & those that follow. But we like ridiculous fools be afraid of one kind of death, when as we have already died so many deaths, and do nothing daily and hourly but die still. For not only (as Heraclitus saith) the death of fire is the life of air; and the end of air, the beginning of water: but much more evidently we may observe the same in ourselves. The flower of our years dieth and passeth away when old age cometh: youth endeth in the flower of lusty and perfect age: childhood determineth in youth: infancy in childhood. Yesterday dieth in this day, and this day will be dead by to morrow: neither continueth any man always one and the same, but we are engendered many, according as the matter glideth, turneth and is driven about one image, mould or pattern common to all figures. For, were it not so, but that we continued still the same, how is it that we take delight now in these things, whereas we joied before in others? how is it that we love and hate, praise and dispraise contrary things? how cometh it to pass that we use diverse speeches, fall into different discourses, & are in sundry affections; retain not the same visage, one countenance, one mind and one thought? For there is no likelihood at all, that without change a man should entertain other passions; and look who is changed, he continueth not the same; and if he be not the same, he is not at all: but together with changing from the same, he changeth also to be simply, for that continually he is altered from one to another: and by consequence our sense is deceived mistaking that which appeareth, for that which is indeed; and all for want of knowledge, what it is to be. But what is it (in truth) to be? Surely to be eternal, that is to say, which never had beginning in generation, nor shall have end by corruption; and in which, time never worketh any mutation. For a movable and mutable thing is time, appearing (as it were) in a shadow with the matter which runneth and floweth continually, never remaining stable, permanent and solid, but may be compared unto a leaking vessel, containing in it (after a sort) generations and corruptions. And to it properly belong these terms: 〈◊〉, and after: Hath been, & shall be: which presently at the very first sight do evidently show, that time hath no being. For it were a great folly and manifest absurdity to say, that a thing is, which as yet cometh not into esse, or hath already ceased to be. And as for these words, Present, Instant, Now, etc. by which it seemeth that principally we ground and maintain the intelligence of Time, reason discovereth the same, and immediately overthroweth it; for incontinently it is thrust out & dispatched, into future, and past: so that it fareth with us in this case, as with those who would see a thing very far distant; for of necessity the visual beams of his sight do fail before they can reach thereto. Now if the same befall to nature which is measured, that unto time which measureth it; there is nothing in it permanent nor subsistent, but all things therein be either breeding or dying, according as they have reference unto time. And therefore it may not be allowed to say of that which is, It hath been, or it shall be: for these terms be certain inclinations, passages, departures and changes of that which cannot endure nor continue in being. Whereupon, we are to conclude that God alone is (and that, not according to any measure of time, but respective to eternity) immutable and unmooveable, not gauged within the compass of time, nor subsert either to inclination or declination any way: before whom nothing ever was, nor after whom aught shall be, nothing future, nothing past, nothing elder, nothing younger; but being one really, by this one Present or Now, accomplisheth his eternity and being alway. Neither is there any thing, that may truly be said to be, but he alone, nor of him may it be verified: He hath been, or shall be, for that he is without beginning and end. In this manner therefore we ought in our worship and adoration, to salute and invocate him, saying, EI, that is to say, Thou art; unless a man will rather, according as some of the ancients used to do, salve him by this title EI EN, that is to say, Thou art one: for god is not many, as every one of us, who are a confused heap and mass composed, or rather thrust together of infinite diversities and differences proceeding from all sorts of alterations: but as that which is, aught to be one; so that which is one, aught to be: for alternative diversity being the difference of that which is, departeth from it, and goeth to the engendering of that which is not. And therefore very rightly agreeth unto this god, the first of his names, as also the second and the third: for Apollo he is called, as denying and disavowing 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, plurality & multitude: likewise, Iëias, which is as much to say, as One, or alone: thirdly, Phoebus, by which name, they called in the old time, All that was clean and pure, without mixture and pollution. And semblably even at this day, the Thessalians (if I be not deceived) say, that their priests upon certain vacant days, when they keep forth of their temples and live apart pivatly to themselves, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Now that which is one, is also pure and sincere; for pollution cometh by occasion that one thing is mingled with another: like as Homer speaking in one place of Ivory having a tincture of red, said it was polluted; and the word that he useth is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Dyer's also, when they would express that their colours be medleys or mixed, use the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, to be corrupted; and the very mixture they term 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Corruption. It behoveth therefore, that the thing which is sincere and incorruptible, should be also one and simple, without all mixture whatsoever. In which regard, they who think that Apollo and the Sun be both one god, are worthy to be made much of and loved for their good conceit and pleasant wit, because they repose the notion of god in that which of all things that they know and desire, they honour and reverence most. And now, so long as we are in this life, as if we dreamt the most beautiful dream that a man could imagine of this god Apollo, let us excite and stir up our minds to pass yet farther and mount higher, for to contemplate and behold that which is above ourselves, in adoring principally indeed his essence: but yet honouring withal his image, to wit, the Sun, and that generative virtue which he hath infused into it, for to produce and bring forth; representing in some sort, by his brightness some obscure resemblances and dark shows of his clemency, benignity, and blessedness, as far forth as it is possible for a sensible nature, to show an intellectual; and for that which is movable, to express that which is stable and permanent. Moreover, as touching I wot not what ecstasies and leapings forth of 〈◊〉 and his own nature, certain strange alterations likewise, as namely when he casteth fire and withal dismembreth and teareth himself, as they say: as also that he stretcheth, dilateth and spreadeth forth; and chose how he gathereth and draweth in himself here below, into the earth, the sea, the winds, the stars, and uncouth accidents of beasts and plants; they be such absurdities, as are not to be named without impiety. Or else if we admit them, he will become worse than the little boy, whom the Poet's seigne, playing upon the sea shore with an heap of sand, which he first raised, and then cast down again and scattered abroad: if (I say) he should continually play at this game like fast and loose, namely in framing the world first, where before it was not; and then anon destroying it, so soon as it is made. For chose, how much or how little soever of him is infused into the world, the same in some sort containeth and confirmeth the substance thereof, maintaining the corporal nature of it which otherwise by reason of infirmity and weakness tendeth always to corruption. In my conceit therefore, against this opinion principally hath been directly opposed this Mot and denomination of god, EI; that is to say, Thou art: as giving good testimony in his behalf, that in him there is never any change or mutation. But either to do, or suffer this, as is beforesaid, belongeth to any other god or rather indeed to any other Daemon, ordained to have the superintendance of that nature, which is subject both to generation and corruption: as may appear immediately by the significations of their names, which are quite contrary and directly do contradict one the other. For our god here is named Apollo, the other Pluto: as if one would say, Not Many; and Many. The one is cleped 〈◊〉 that is, clear and evident: the other Aïdoneus, that is to say, obscure blind and unseen. Again the former, is named Phoebus, which is as much as Shining or resplendent: but the latter Scotius, which is all one with Dark. About him are seated the Muses and Mnemosyne, that is to say, Memory: but near to this are Lethe, that is to say, Oblivion and silence. Our Apollo, is surnamed Theorius and Phanaus, of Seeing and showing: but Pluto is 
The Lord of night so 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  bleak and dark,  
Of idle sleeps that can not work:  who also is 
To gods and men most odious,  
And to them as malicious.  Of whom Pindarus said not unpleasantly: 
Condemned of all he was, for that  
He never any child begat.  And therefore Euripides to this purpose spoke right well: 
Soule-songs, dirges, libations funeral  
Fair Phoebus please not, he likes them not at all.  And before him, Stesichorus: 
Apollo joys in merry songs, in dances, sports and plates:  
But Pluto takes delight in sighs, in groans and plaints always.  And Sophocles seemeth evidently to attribute unto either of them their musical instruments, by these verses: 
The psaltery and pleasant Lute,  
With doleful moans do not well suit.  For very late it was, and but the other day to speak of, that the pipe and hautboys durst presume to sound, and be heard in matters of mirth and delight: but in former times it drew folk to mourning and sorrow, to heavy funerals & convoys of the dead, and in such cases and services employed it was, as it were not very honourable nor jocund and delectable; howsoever after, it came to be intermingled in all occasions one with another. Mary they especially, who confusedly have huddled the worship of the gods with the service of Daemons, brought those instruments in request and reputation.  
But to conclude, it seemeth that this Mot EI, is somewhat contrary unto the precept 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and yet after a sort to accord and agree therewith. For as the one is a word of devout admiration and reverend worship directed to God, as eternal and everlasting: so the other is an advertisement given unto men mortal, to put them in mind of their frail and weak nature.    

AN EXPLANATION OF SUNDRY TERMS SOMEWHAT obscure, in this translation of Plutarch, in favour of the unlearned Reader; after the order of the Alphabet.  


A.  AUlus, 
A forename among 
A.  the Romans. Abyrtace, A dainty kind of meat, with the Medes & other Barbarous nations, sharp & quick of taste to provoke and please the appetite, composed of Leeks, Garlic, Cresses, Senvie, pomegranate kernels, and such like.  Academy, 
A shadowy place full of groves, a mile distant from Athens, where Plato the Philosopher was borne, and wherein he taught. Of it, the Academic Philosophers took their name; whose manner was to discourse and dispute of all questions, but to determine and resolve of nothing. And for the great frequency and concourse of scholars to that place, our Universities and great schools of learning, be named Academies.  Aediles, 
Certain magistrates or officers in Rome: who were of two sorts; Plebeij and Curules. Plebeij, of the Commons only, two in number, more ancient than the other; chosen by the people alone, to second and assist the Tribunes of the Commons, as their right hands. This name they took of the charge which they had to maintain temples and chapels: albeit they registered the Sanctions and Acts of the people, called Plebiscita, and kept the same in their own custody; were Clerks of the Market, and looked to weights and measures, etc. yea, and exhibited the games and plays named Plebeij. Curules were likewise twain, elected out of the order and degree of the Patritij: so called of the Ivory chair wherein they were allowed to sit, as officers of greater state; and by virtue whereof, in some cases, and at certain times they might exercise civil jurisdiction. It belonged unto these to set forth the solemnities, called Ludi Magni or Romani: overseers they were likewise of the buildings throughout the city, aswell public as private, in manner of the Astynomis in Athens: they had regard unto the public vaults, sinks, conveyances, and conduits of the waters that served the city, as also to the Arsenal, etc. Moreover, they had power to attach the bodies of great persons: and were charged to see unto the provision of corn and victuals. At the first, none but of noble families or Patricians were advanced to this place: but in process of time, Commoners also attained thereto. More of them; & how in julius Caesar's time there were elected six Aediles, whereof two were named Cereals; See Alexander at Alexander, lib. 4. cap. 4. Genial. dieth.  Aegineticke, Mna or Mina, 
Seemeth to be the ancient coin or money of Greece: for they were the first that coined money: and of them came 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Caelius Rhodig.  Aeolius Modus, 
In Music a certain simple, plain and mild tune, apt to procure sleep and bring folk to bed.  equinox, 
That time of the year, when the days and nights be of equal length; which happeneth twice in the year, to wit, in March and September.  aestival, 
that is to say, Of the Summer: as the aestival Solstice or Tropic of the Sun, when he is come nearest unto us, and returneth Southward from us.  Aloïdae or Aloïadae, 
were Othus and Ephialtes, two giants, so named of Aloëus the giant their supposed father: for of his wife Iphimedia, Neptune begat them. It is said, that every month they grew nine fingers.  Alphabet, 
The order or rue of Greek letters as they stand; so called of Alpha and Beta, the two foremost letters: and it answereth to our A.B.C.  Alternative, 
By course or turns, one after another; going and coming, etc.  Amphictyones, 
Were a certain solemn counsel of State in Greece, who held twice in the year a meeting, in the Spring and Autunne, at Thermopyle; being assembled from the 12 flourithing cities of Greece: there to consult of most important affairs.  Amphitheatre, 
A spacious show place; in form round, and made as it were of two theatres. See Theatre.  Amphora, 
A measure in Rome of liquors only. It seemeth to take that name of the two ears it had, of either side one: it contained eight Congios, which are somewhat under as many of our wine gallons.  Amnets, 
Preservatives hung about the neck, or otherwise worn, against witchcraft, poison, eiebiting, sickness, or any other evils.  anarchy, 
The state of a city or country without government.  Andria, 
A society of men, meeting together in some public hall for to eat and drink: Instituted first among the Thebans, like to the Phiditia in Lacedaemon.  Annals, 
Histories, Records, or Chronicles, containing things done from year to year.  anniversary, 
Coming once enery year, at a certain time: as the Nativity of Christ, and Sturbridge fair, etc.  Antarcticke, 
That is to say, Opposite unto the Arctic. See 〈◊〉.  Antidote, 
A medicine, properly taken inwardly against a poison or some pestilent and venomous disease. A counterpoison or preservative.  Antipathy, 
A repugnance in nature, by reason of contrary affections; whereby some can not abide the smell of roses, others may not endure the sight of a Cat, etc.  Antiparistasis, 
A 〈◊〉 or restraint on every side; whereby either cold or heat is made stronger in itself by the restraining of the contrary: as the natural heat of our bodies in Winter, through the coldness of the air compassing it about: likewise, the coldness of the middle region of the air in Summer, by occasion of the heat on both sides causing thunder and hail, etc.  Antiphonie, 
A noise of contrary sounds.  Antipodes, 
Those people who inhabit under and beneath our Hemisphere, and go with their feet full against ours.  Apathte, 
impassibility, or voidness of all affections and passions.  Apaturia, 
A feast solemnised for the space of four days at Athens in the honour of Bacchus. So called of Apate, that is to say, Deceit: because Xanthius the Boeotian was in single fight slain deceitfully by Thimoeles the Athenian. For the tale goeth, that whiles they were in combat, Bacchus appeared behind Xanthius, clad in a goat's skin: and when Thimoeles charged his concurrent for coming into the field with an assistant; as he looked back, he was killed by Thimoeles abovenamed.  Apology, 
A plea for the defence or excuse of any person.  apothegm, 
A short sententious speech.  Apoplexy, 
A disease coming suddenly in manner of a stroke, with an universal astonishment and deprivation of sense and motion, which either causeth death quickly; or else endeth in a dead palsy.  Archontes, 
Were chief magistrates at Athens, at first every tenth year; and afterwards yearly chosen by lot, unto whom the rule of the commonwealth in their popular state was committed: of whom the first was named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, King: the second, Archon, that is to say, Ruler: the third, Polemarchus: and the other six, Thesmothelae.  Arctic, 
that is to say, Northerly; so called of Arctos in Greek, which signifieth the Bear, that is to say, those conspicuous seven stars in the North, named Charlematns wain; near unto which is that pole or point of the imaginary axletree, about which the heavens turn, which thereupon is named, The pole Arctic: and over against it, underneath our Hemisphere, is the other pole, called Antarctick, in the South part of the world.  Aristocratre, 
A form of Government, or a State wherein the nobles and best men be Rulers.  To Aromatize, 
that is to say, To season or make pleasant, by putting thereto some sweet and odoriferous spices.  Astragalote Mastis, 
A scourge or whip, the strings whereof are set and wrought with anklebones, called Astragali, thereby to give a more grievous lash.  Atomies, 
Indivisible bodies like to motes in the Sun beams; of which Democritus and Epicurus imagined all things to be made.  Attic pure, 
that is to say, The most fine and eloquent: for in Athens they spoke the purest Greek; insomuch as Thucydides called it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Greece of Greece, as one would say, the very quintenssence of Greece.  Averrunct or Averruncani, 
Were gods among the Romans, supposed to put by and chase away evils and calamities: such as Hercules and Apollo among the greeks, called thereupon Apotropaei.  Auspexes, 
Plutarch seemeth to take for Augurs, that is to say, Certain priests or soothsayers, who by the inspection and observation of birds did foretell future things.  Axioms, 
Were principal propositions in Logic, of as great authority and force as Maxims in law: and it should seem that those Maxims be derived corruptly from Axioms.    


B  BAcchanalta, 
named also 〈◊〉, Certain licentious festival solemnities in the honour of Bacchus, performed at the first by day light, and afterward in the night season, with all manner of filthy wantonness: instituted first in Athens, and other cities of Greece every three years: in Egypt also: at last they were taken up in Italy and at Rome.  Bacchiadae, 
A noble family in Corinth, who for the space almost of 200. years there ruled.  Bachyllion, 
A song or dance, which seemeth to take the name of a famous Tragedian poet named Bachyllus, who devised and practised it; like as Pyladion, of Pylades, as notable a Comedian.  Barbarism, 
A rude and corrupt manner of speech, full of barbarous and absonant words.  Basis, 
The flat, piedstall or foot of a Column, pillar, statue, or such like, whereupon it standeth.  Baeotarches, or Baeotarchae, 
The sovereign magistrate or Ruler of the Boeotians.  Baeotius, 
a kind of Measure or Note in Music used in Boeotia.    


C  CAius, 
A common forename to many 
C.  families in Rome, and Caia to the woman kind: as usual as John and Joan with us, as appeareth by this form of speech ordinary in marriage; Where thou art Caius, I will be Caia.  Calends. 
See Kalends.  Callasitres, 
Hardness in manner of brawn, as in the skin of hands or feet, occasioned by much labour and travel.  Cancerous, 
that is to say, Resembling a certain hard tumour or swelling, occasioned by melancholic blood, named a Cancer, for the likeness it hath to a crabfish, (named in Latin Cancer) partly, for the swelling veins appearing about it, like unto the feet or cleiss of the said fish: and in part, for that it is not easily removed, no more than the crab if it once settle to a place: & lastly, because the colour is not much unlike. This swelling if it break out into an ulcer, hardly or unneath admitteth any cure, and by some is called a Wolf.  Candyli, 
A kind of dainty meat made with honey and milk.  Candy's, 
an ornament of the Persians, Medians, and other East nations; much like to a Diadem.  Catamite, 
A boy abused against kind: a baggage.  Cataplasm, 
A poultice or gross manner of plaster.  To Cauterize, 
To burn or sear with a red hot iron or other metal.  Cenotaph, 
An empty Tomb or Sepulchre, wherein no corpse is interred.  censors, 
Magistrates of State in Rome, whose charge was to value and estimate men's goods, and enrol them accordingly in their several ranges: Also to demise unto certain farmers, called Publicans, the public profits of the city for a rent, and to put forth the city works unto them, to be undertaken at a price. Likewise their office it was to oversee men's manners, whereby oftentimes they would deprive Senators of their dignity: take from Gentlemen their horses of service and rings: displace commanders out of their own tribe: disable them for giving voices; and make them AErarij.  Centre, 
The middle prick of a circle or globe, equally distant from the circumference thereof.  Centumviris, 
A certain Court of Judges in Rome, chosen three out of every tribe. And albeit there were 35. tribes, and the whole number by that account amounted to an hundred and five; yet in round reckoning, and by custom, they went under the name of an hundred, and therefore were called Centumviris.  Cercopes, 
Certain ridiculous people inhabiting the Island Pitherusa, having tails like monkeys, good for nought but to make sport.  Chalons, 
A small piece of brass money; the eighth part or (as some say) the sixth, of the Attic Obolus: somewhat better than half a farthing or a cue.  Chromaticke Music, 
Was soft, delicate and effeminate, full of descant, feigned voices and quavering, as some are of opinion.  Cidaris, 
An ornament of the head, which in Persia, Media, and Armenia, the Kings and High priests wore, with a blue band or ribbon about it, beset with white spots.  Cinaradae, 
A family descended from Cinaras. Some read Cinyradae, and Cinyras.  Circumgyration, 
A turning or winding round.  Cn. 
A forename to some houses in Rome.  Colian earth, 
So called of Colias a promontory or hill in the territory of Attica.  Colleague, 
A fellow or companion in office.  Colonies, 
Were towns wherein the Romans placed citizens of their own to inhabit, either as freeholders, or tenants & undertakers; endowed with franchises and liberties diversely: Erected first by Romulus.  Comoedia vetus, 
Licentiously abused all manner of persons, not forbearing to name and traduce upon the Stage even the best men, such as noble Pericles, wise Solon, and just Aristides: nay it spared not the very State itself and body of the Commonweal; whereupon at length it was condemned and put down.  Conctons, 
Orations or speeches made openly before the body of the people, such properly as the Tribunes of the Commons used unto them.  Congiarium, 
a dole or liberal gift of some Prince or Noble person bestowed upon the people. It took the name of that measure Congius, much about our gallon, which was given in oil or wine, by the poll: but afterwards, any other such gift or distribution, whether it were in other victuals, or in money, went under that name.  Consuls, 
two in number, Sovereign Magistrates in Rome, succeeding in the place of Kings, with the same authority and royal ensigns: only they were chosen yearly.  Contignate, 
Close set together, so as they touch one another, as houses adjoining.  Contusions, 
Bruises, dry-beatings, or crushes.  Convulsions, 
Plucking or shooting pains: Cramps.  Cordax, 
A lascivious and unseemly kind of dance, used in Comedies at the first, but misliked afterwards and rejected.  Critics, 
Grammarians, who took upon them to censure and judge Poems and other works of authors; such as Aristarchus was.  Critical days, 
In Physic be observed according to the motion of the humour and the Moon; in which the disease showeth some notable alteration, to life or death, as if the patient had then his doom. In which regard we say, that the seventh day is a king; but the sixth, a tyrant.  Cube, 
A square figure: as in Geometry, the Die; having six faces four square and even: in Arithmetic, a number multiplied in itself; as nine arising of thrice three, and sixteen of four times four.  Curvature, 
that is to say, Bending round, as in the felly of a wheel.  Corollary, 
An overdeale, or overmeasure, given more than is due or was promised.  Curule chair, 
A seat of estate among the Romans made of Ivory; whereupon certain Magistrates were called Curules, who were allowed to sit thereon: as also Triumphs were named Curules, when those that triumphed were gloriously beseen in such a chair, drawn with a chariot, for distinction of Oration, wherein Captains road on horseback only.  Cyath, 
A small measure of liquid things: the twelfth part of Sextarius, which was much about our wine quart. So that a Cyath may go for three good spoonfuls, and answereth in weight to an ounce and half, with the better.  Cynic Philosophers, 
Such as Antisthenes, Diogenes and their followers were: so named of Cynosarges, a grove or school without Athens, where they taught: or rather of their dogged and currish manner of biting; barking at men, in noting their lives over rudely.    


D  Decius', 
A forename. For Decius, although 
D.  it were the Gentile name of an house in Rome, yet grew afterwards to be a forename, as Paulus: and likewise forenames at the first, in process of time, came to name Families.  D. Decimus, 
A forename to certain Romans, as namely to Brutus surnamed Albinus, one of the conspirators that killed jul. Caesar.  Decade, 
That which containeth ten: as the Decades of Livy, which consist every one of ten books.  Democraty, 
A free State, or popular government; wherein every citizen is capable of sovereign Magistracy.  Desiccative, 
that is to say, Drying, or having the power to dry.  Diatessaron, 
A consonance or concord in Music, called a Fourth, where of there be four in the Scale which compriseth fifteen strings: it answereth to the proportion, Epitritos; for it consisteth of three and one third part.  Diapente, 
A consonance or concord in Music, called a Five, it answereth to the proportion Hemiolios, or Sesquialtera: for three containeth two and half; three and two make five.  Diapason, 
a perfect consonance containing two fourth's; or made of Diatesseron and Diapente, As if it consisted of all: an Eight. It answereth to duple proportion, or Diplasion.  Disdia pason, 
A duple Eight; or quadruple Fourth; which was counted in old time the greatest Systema in the Music scale.  Diastema, 
The interval in the scale of Music. Also the rest or Time, of which and of found'st or notes consisteth Diatonicke Music.  Diazeugmenon, 
Of disjuncts in Music.  Diaphoretical, or Diphoretical, 
So is called in Physic Excessive sweat, whereby the spirits be spent, and the body much weakened and made faint, as in the disease Cardiaca.  Diatonique Music, 
Keepeth a mean temperature between Chromaticke, and Enharmoniacke: and may go for plain song, or our Music.  Diatonos, 
A note in Music. Diatonos Hypatonn, D, SOLRE. Diatonos Mesonn.  dictator, 
A sovereign Magistrate above all others in Rome, from whom no appeal was granted, mere absolute and kinglike; but that his time of rule was limited within six months ordinarily: so named, because he only said the word and it was done; or for that he was Dictus, that is to say, nominated by one of the Consuls, usually in foam time of great danger of the state, and not otherwise elected.  Diesis, 
The quarter of a note in Music; or the least time or accent, G, SOL, RE, UT.  Dionysius in Corinth, 
An usual proverb in Greece, against such as are upon their prosperous estate, so proud and insolent, as they forget themselves and oppress their inferiors; putting them in mind that they may have a fall as well as Dionysius, who having been a mighty and absolute Monarch of Sicily, was driven at last to teach a Grammar and Music school in Corinth.  Dithyrambs, 
Were songs or hymns in the honour of Bacchus, who was surnamed Dithyrambus, either because he was borne twice, and came into this world at two doors; once out of his mother Senerleus womb, and a second time out of his father Jupiter's thigh: or else of Lythirambus, according as Pindarus writeth. For when Jupiter had sowed him within his thigh, at what time as he should come forth again, he cried forth, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is, Undo the seam, Undo the seam. The Poets who composed such Hymns were called Dithyrambicques, whose verses and words were dark and intricate.  Divination, 
Soothsaying, or foretelling of future things.  Dolichus, 
A long career or race, containing twelve, or (as some say) 24. Stadia.  Dorian, or Doric Music, 
Was grave and sober: so called, for that the Dorians first devised and most used it.  drachm or Dram, 
The eight part of an ounce. Also a piece of money valued at seven pence halfpenny in silver, and in gold much about a french crown. The Roman denarius was equivalent unto it.    


E  ECho, 
A resonance, or resounding of the last part of the voice or words delivered.  Echo-pan, 
A song, of Echo supposed to be a Nymph not visible, but wonderfully beloved of Pan, the Heardmens god.  Ecliptic, 
making or occasioning an eclipse.  Elegi, 
Lamentable and doleful ditties, composed of unequal verses, as the Hexameter and Pentameter; and such be called Elegiake.  Elenches, 
subtle arguments devised to reprove or confute.  Elotae, 
The common slaves that the Lacedæmonians used, and employed in base ministries, as public executions, etc.  Elucidaries, 
Expositions or Declarations of things that be obscure and dark.  Embrochalion, 
a devise that Physicians have to foment the head or any other part, with some liquor falling from aloft upon it, in manner of rain, whereupon it took the name.  Emphatical, 
that is to say, Express and very significative.  Empiricke Physicians, 
Who without regard either of the cause in a disease, or the constitution and nature of the patient, go boldly to work with those means and medicines whereof they had experience in others, fall it out as it would.  Empusa, 
A certain vain and fantastical illusion, sent by the devil, or as the paynim say, by Hecate, for to fright infortunate folk. Appear it doth in diverse forms, and seemeth to go with one leg (whereupon it took the name, quasi 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉:) for one foot or leg it hath of brass, the other of an ass; and therefore it is named also 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Encomiastical, 
Pertaining to the praise of a thing or person.  Endrome, 
A kind of bickering or conflict.  Endymatia, 
A kind of dance or Musical Note.  Enharmonion, 
one of the three general sorts of Music: song of many parts, or a curious consent of sundry tunes.  Enthymemes, 
Unperfect syllogisms, or short reasonings, when one of the premises is not expressed, yet so understood, as the conclusion nevertheless is inferred.  Epact, 
The day put to, or set in, to make the leap year.  Ephori, 
Certain Magistrates or Superintendents for the people in Sparta, in opposition to the kings, and to take down their regal power: such as were the Tribunes of the Commons at Rome, ordained for to abridge the Consuls absolute authority.  Epiali, 
Be fevers of the Quotidian kind, that is continual: they have an unequal distemperature, both of cold and heat at once: but the heat seemeth to be mild and gentle at the first: whereupon they took that name. These fevers also, for the same reason be called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Epidemial diseases, 
Such as are occasioned by some common cause, and therefore spread, and take hold of all persons indifferently in a tract or city: as the pestilence.  To Epitomize, 
To relate or pen a thing briefly and by way of an abbreviarie.  Epitritos, 
The proportion sesquitertion, whereby eight exceedeth six, namely by a third part.  Etymology, 
the knowledge of the origniall of words, and from whence they be derived.  Eviration, 
Gelding, or disabling for the act of generation.  Exharmonians, 
Discords or dissonances in Music.  Ecstasy, or Ecstasy, 
A trance or transportation of the mind, occasioned by rage, admiration, fear, etc.    


F  FLatulent, 
Windy, or engendering wind: as pease and beans, be flatulent meat.  Fomentations, 
in Physic, be properly devises, for to be applied unto any grieved part: either to comfort and cherish it; or to allay the pain; or else to open the pores of the skin, and to make way for plasters and ointments to work their effects the better. Laid to they are by the means of bladders, sponges, woollen clothes, or quilts and such like.  Fungosity, 
A light and hollow substance, such as we may perceive, in sponges, muhrooms, fusse balls, elder pith, etc.    


G  GAlli, 
The furious priests of dame Cybele, the great mother of the gods, honoured in Phrygia: It is supposed that they took that name of Gallus the river; the water whereof if they drank liberally, they fell into a furious rage, and cut off their own genetours.  Graecostasis, 
A withdrawing gallery or place in Rome, near unto the Senate house Curia Hostilia: where Greeks and other foreign Ambassadors staid and gave attendance.  Gymnastical, 
Belonging the public places of exercise, where youth was trained up to wrestling and other feats of activity: the which places were called Gymnasia.  Gymnick games or plays, 
performed or practised by those who were naked.  Gymnopodia, or Gymnopaedia, 
a certain dance, that the Lacedaemonian children were trained in, barefoot; until they proceeded to another more warlike, called Pyrrhica.  Gymnosophists, 
Philosophers of India, who went naked, and led beside a most austere and precise life.    


H  Habit, 
In our bodies, is either the substantial constitution thereof; whereby we term the evil habit (in Greek) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, whenas the body misliketh and thriveth not; and the good habit 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (in Greek) when it prospereth: or else the outward parts; and so we say sweats, pocks, mezels, and scabs, are driven forth to the habit of the body by strength of nature.  Harmonical Music, 
See Enharmonia.  Hemiolios, 
Proportion sesquialterall: containing the whole & half; as twelve to eight.  Hemisphere, 
that is to say, The half sphere or globe, used commonly for that part of the heaven which is in our sight.  Hexameter, 
A verse consisting of six mesures, called feet.  Hexatonos, 
Having six tones or six strings.  〈◊〉, 
The Egyptians sacred Phi losophie, delivered not in characters and letters, but under the form of living creatures and other things engraven.  Holocaust, 
A whole burnt sacrifice: whereas ordinarily they burned upon the altar, only the inwards of the beast.  homonymy, 
the double or manifold signification of a word or sentence, which is the occasion of ambiguity and doubts.  Horizon, 
That circle that determineth our sight, and divideth the one half of the sphere of heaven above, from that which is under, out of our sight.  Horoscope, 
the observation of the hour and time of ones nativity, together with the figure of the heavens at that very instant; and that forsooth in the East.  Hypate, hypaton, 
Principal of principals. A base string in a Musical instrument: or a note in the scale of Music, B, MI.  Hypate Meson, 
A mean string or note in Music: principal of means, E, LA, MI.  Hypate, 
The base string in a lute or other stringed instrument; so called, because it is seated highest & is principal. And yet it may seem in vocal Music, as Lambinas taketh it in Horace, to be the small treble, by that which he writeth of Tigellus, who song Io Bacche, modò 〈◊〉 Voce, modò haec, resonat chordis quae quatuor ima: where by summa he meaneth the treble, and ima the base. Also Boetius (as Erasmus upon the proverb Dis Diapason, observeth) writeth the contrary, namely, that Hypate is the lowest or base; and Neat the highest or treble. Neither doth Plutarch seem to agree always with himself in these terms.  Hyperbolyaeum, 
A term in Music, belonging to their scale, & appropriate to the trebles, that is to say, it signifieth Excellent or exceeding.  Hyporchema, 
An hymn and dance unto Apollo, performed by children with a noise of pipes before them, in the time of pestilence, and thereupon it was also called Paean.  hypothetical proposuions, 
such as are pronounced with a supposition.    


I  IAmbus, 
A measure or foot in verse, consisting of two syllables, the former short, the other long: it is put also for the verse made thereof.  jambicke verses, 
be they which stand upon such feet. If of four, they be called Quaternarij: if of six, Senarij: if of eight, Octonarij. Now for that this kind of foot runneth very quick, two of them together be reckoned but for one measure: and therefore the said verses, be termed also Dimetri, Trimetri, and Tetrametri, as if they had but two, three, & four feet or measures.  Icosaedron, 
A Geometrical solid body, representing twenty sides or faces, distinguished by their several lines and angles.  Idaeae, 
The forms of things settled in the divine intelligence or heavenly mind, according to which as patterns, by Plato's doctrine all things were made.  Idaei Dactyli, 
were certain servitors unto Cybele, brethren all, called otherwise Corybantes and Curetes. But whether they were Daemons, fanatical men, or cozening impostors, it is not agreed upon among writers: neither how many they were, or why so called. See Natalis Comes Mytholog.  
* But here I must not forget to note, that in the Page 257 line 50, instead of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: some read 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, of their own fingers. Caelius Rhodig. Lect. Antiq. lib. 17. cap. 12.  Identity, 
that is to say, The sameness, or being the very same.  Idus or Ides, 
Eight days in every month, derived of an old word Iduo to divide, for that they commonly fall about the midst of the month, namely upon the thirteen or fifteen days, according to Horace: Idus tibisunt agendae; Quidies mensem veneris marinae, findit Aprilem.  To Incarnate, 
that is to say, to make flesh, or help that the flesh may grow: and so certain salves or medicines be called incarnatives.  To Incrassate, 
that is to say, to make thick and gross.  Intercular days, 
that is to say, set or put between, as the odd day in the leap year.  Interstice, 
that is to say, The space or distance between.  Inumbration, 
that is to say, Shadowing.  jonicke Music, 
Gallant and galliardlike: pleasant or delectable.  Isonomie, 
An aequability of government under the same laws, indifferently ministered to all persons: As also an equality of right which all men do enjoy in one state: And an equal distribution unto all persons, not according to Arithmetical, but Geometrical proportion.  Isthmus, 
A narrow bank of land lying between two seas, as namely, that of Corinth and Peloponnesus: and by analogy thereto, all such are so called. By a metaphor also, other things that serve as partitions, be so termed.  Isthmick games, 
Were those which were performed near Corinth upon the said Isthmus: instituted as some think, by Theseus, to the honour of Melicerta, otherwise named Palaemon and Portamnus.    


K  KAlends, 
Was among the Romans the first day of the month, or the very day of the new Moon, which commonly did concur and fall out together: Neomenia in Greek. But so called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, a Calando, because the 〈◊〉 then to call the people unto the court Calabra, and there to pronounce unto them how many days there were to the Nones, etc.    


L  Lucius', 
A forename to diverse families 
L.  in Rome.  To Laconize, 
that is to say, To imitate the Lacedæmonians, either in short and pithy speech, or in hard life.  Lassitude, 
that is to say, Weariness.  Later all motions, 
that is to say, Moovings to a side; for distinction of those that be circular, mounting upright or descending downward.  Libations, or Libaments, 
Assays of sacrifices, or offerings to the gods; especially of liquid things, as wine.  Lichanos, 
A string of an instrument or note in Music: Index: In an instrument: the forefinger string or third: in the GAM-UT, or scale, D, SOL, RE, and C, SOL, RE, UT, according to the addition of Hypatonn or Mesonn.  〈◊〉, 
Any public function: but more particularly for the ministery in the church, about divine service and worship of God.  Lydius Modus, 
Lydian Music, doleful and lamentable.  Lyceum, or Lycium, 
A famous place near to Athens, wherein Aristotle taught Philosophy. His followers, because they conferred and disputed walking in this Lyceum, were called Peripatetici.  Lyrical poets, 
Such as composed ditties and songs to be sung unto the Lute or such like stringed instruments.    


M  MArcus, 
MY. Manius, with the note 
MY.  of apostrophes, Forenames of sundry houses in Rome.  Medimnus, 
A measure containing six Modij Roman; and may go with us for a bushel and three pecks of London measure, or thereabout.  Megarian questions, 
that is to say, Such as were propounded and debated among the Philosopher's Megarenses: for there was a sect of them, taking name of the place; like as the Cyrenaiks: for Euclides and Stilpo were Megarians.  Mercenary, 
that is to say, Hirelings, or such as take wages.  Mese, 
The middle string or mean: it endeth on Eight, and beginneth the other in the scale of Music. In the GAM- UT, A, LA, MI, RE.  Metamorphosed, 
that is to say, Transmuted and changed.  Metaphysics, 
that is to say, Supernatural. The first and principal part of Philosophy in the intention, although it be last attained unto, as unto which all other knowledge serveth, and is to be referred. The Philosopher's Theology or Divinity, treating of intelligible and visible things.  Meteors, 
Be impressions gathered in the air above; as thunder, lightning, blazing stars, and such like.  Mimi, 
Were actors upon the stage, representing ridiculously the speech and gesture of others; jesters and vices in a play: Also certain Poems or plays, more lascivious than Comedies, and fuller of obscene wantonness. The authors of such were called Minographi, as Laberius.  Mina, or Mna, 
A weight, answering to Libra, that is to say, a pound. Also coin valued at so much.  Minervall, 
The stipend or wages paid unto a Schoolmaster for the institution and teaching of scholars; derived of Minerva, the precedent of learning and good arts.  Mixolidian tune, 
that is to say, Lamentable and pitiful: meet for Tragoedies.  Monarchy, 
The absolute government of a state, by one prince. Royalty.  Mordicative, 
that is to say, Biting and stinging: as mustard seed, Pelletary of Spain.  Muscles, 
The brawny or fleshy parts of the body.  Mythology, 
A fabulous Narration: or the delivery of matters by way of fables and tales.    


N  NEmeia, 
Certain solemn games instituted in the honour of Hercules for killing a lion in the forest Nemea; or as some think, in the remembrance of Archemorus a young babe killed by a serpent.  Neat, 
The lowest or last string in an instrument, answering to the treble, and opposite to Hypate. Some take it clean contrary, for the base. See Hypate: and Erasmus upon the Adage, This diapason.  Nete Diezeugmenon, 
A treble string or note of music, last of disjuncts. E, LA, MI.  Neat Hyperbolaean, 
the last of trebles: A, LA Mi, RE.  Neat Synnemmenon or Syzeugmenon, 
The last of the conjuncts: a string or note in music, D, La, SOL.  Niglary, 
Are thought to be notes or tunes in music, powerful to encourage. See Scholiast in Aristoph.  Nones, 
Were certain days in the month: so called, because they began evermore the ninth day before the Ides, honoured by the Romans both for the birth day of king Servius, and also for the chase out of the kings: for otherwise it was not festival; according as Ovid writeth, Nonarum tutela deo caret.  Novenary 
number, that is to say, Nine.    


O  OBolus, 
A certain weight: half a scriptul or scrupul, the sixth part of a drachm or somewhat better in Greece: also a small coin, currant for eight chalci, which in silver is a penny and saithing.  Octaedra, 
A Geometrical body of eight bases, sides or faces, distinct by their angles.  Oeconomie, 
House-governement: or the Administration and dispose of household affairs.  Oligarchi, 
A state of government, wherein a few, and those properly of the wealthier sort, rule the common wealth.  Olympiades', 
were the space of those four years, according to which the Grecians reckoned the time: as the Romans did by their lustra; and Christians, by the year of our lord.  Olympic or Olympian 
games, were instituted first by Hercules in the honour of Jupiter Olymptus; or of Pelops, as some think: and celebrated with a solemn affluence and concourse from all parts of Greece every four years complete once, between Pisa and Elis, in a plain called Olympta: where also stood the temple of Jupiter Olympius.  Oracle, 
An answer or sentence given by the devil, or the supposed gods of the 〈◊〉: also the place where such answers were delivered.  Organ, 
An Instrument. And our body is said to be Organical, because the soul performeth her operations by the parts thereof as instruments.  Orthios Nomos, 
In music a tune or song exceeding high and incentive; which when Timotheus sung before king Alexander, he was so moved and incited, that presently he leapt forth and took arms.  Orthographi, 
That part of Grammar which teacheth the feat of writing truly: also, true writing itself.  Ostracism, 
In Athens A condemnation and confining for ten years space of that person, who was thought to grow greater in wealth, reputation and opinion of virtue or otherwise, than the democratic or free popular estate would well bear, ordained first by Clisthenes: who for his labour was himself first condemned. It took the name of Ostratos, a shell or little potsherd, wherein his name was written, whom any of the people was in that behalf offended with; and meant to expel the city. And if the major part of the people noted one in this manner, he was sent away. It differed from banishment, because no person lost by Ostracism goods or lands: again the time was limited, and the certain place set down, where he should abide. In this sort Aristides the just, valiant Themistocles and other good men were driven out.  Oxyrynchos, 
A fish, so called, of a long sharp beak or snout that it hath.    


P  PAean 
The name of Apollo. An hymn also to Apollo and Diana for to avert plague, war, or any calamity: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth to strike or to heal, or of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to stay or make to cease.  Paederastî, 
The loving of young boys: commonly taken in the ill part, as signifying the abuse of them against kind.  Paegnta, 
Pleasant poems or merry ditties for delight.  Paeon, or Paeon, 
The name of Apollo; and of a metrical foot in verse, of which Paeans are composed: and it is duple, to wit of four syllables, either the first long, and the other three short; or the first short and the other three long: it is named also Paean: also an epithet of Apollo.  To Palliate, 
that is to say, To cover or hide: and so such cures be called Palliative, which search not to the root or cause of the disease, but give a show only of a perfect cure; as when a sore is healed up aloft, and festereth underneath. And thus sweet pomanders do palliate a stinking breath, occasioned by a corrupt stomach or diseased lungs and such like.  P. Publius, 
A forename to some Roman families.  Panathenaea, 
A solemnity held at Athens: wherein the whole city men, women and children were assembled. And such games, dances and plays as were then exhibited; or what orations were then and there made, they called Panathenaik. Of two sorts these solemnities were: once every year; and once every fifth year, which were called the greater.  Pancratium, 
Plutarch taketh for an exercise of activity or mixed game of fist-fight and wrestling. Howbeit other writers will have it to be an exercise of wrestling, wherein one indevoureth with hand and foot, and by all parts of his body to foil his adversary: as also the practice of all the five feats of activity, which is called Pentathlon and Quinquertium: to wit, 
* Or 〈◊〉 the dart.  buffeting, wrestling, running leaping and coiting,  Pancratiast, 
One that is skilful and professed in the said Pancration.  Paramese, 
Next the mean or middle string. A note in music: B, PA, 〈◊〉, MI, in space.  Paranete Hyperbolaean, 
A treble string or note in music: the last save one of trebles: G, SOL, RE, UT.  panegyric, 
Feasts, games, fairs, marts, pomps, shows, or any such solemnities, performed or exhibited, before the general assembly of a whole nation: such as were the Olympic, Pythicke, Isthmicke, and Nemian games in Greece. Orations likewise to the praise of any person at such an assembly, be called panegyrical.  Paradox, 
A strange or admirable opinion held against the common conceit of men: such as the Stoics maintained.  Period, 
A cercuit or compass certainly kept: as we may observe in the course of Sun and Moon, and in the revolution of times and seasons: in some agues also and other sicknesses, that keep a just time of their return, called therefore periodical. Also the train of a full sentence to the end, and the very end itself, is named a Period.  Paranete 〈◊〉, 
A treble string or note in Music: the last save one of disjuncts: D, LA, SOL, RE.  Paranete Synemmenon or 〈◊〉: 
C, SOL, FA.  Parhypate hypatonn, 
that is to say, Subprincipall of principals. A string or note in Music: C, FAVORINA, UT.  Parhypate Mesonn, 
that is to say, Subprincipall of means: a string or note in Music: F, FAVORINA, UT.  Peripatetics, 
A sect of Philosophers, the followers of Aristotle: See Liceum.  Phiditia, 
Were public hals in Lacedaemon, where all sorts of citizens, rich and poor, one with another met to eat and drink together, at the public charges and had equal parts allowed.  Philippics, 
Were invective orations made by Demosthenes the Orator, against Philip king of Macedony, for the liberty of Greece. And hereupon all invectives may be called Philippicke, as those were of M. Tullius Cicero against Antony.  Phrygius Modus, 
Phrygian tune or music, otherwise called Barbarian; moving to devotion, used in sacrifices and religious worship of the gods: for so some interpret Entheon in Lucianus: others take it for incensing and stirring to fury.  To Pinguifie, 
that is to say, To make fat.  plethorical plight, 
that is to say, That state of the body, which being full of blood and other humours, needeth evacuation: whether the said fullness be, ad vasa, as the Physicians say, when the said blood and humours be otherwise commendable, but offending only in quality: or, ad vires, when the same be distempered and offensive to nature, and therefore would be rid away; which state is also called cacochymy.  Polemarchus, 
One of the nine Archontes or head magistrates in the popular state of Athens, chosen as the rest yearly. Who notwithstanding that he retained the name of Polemarchus, that is to say, a Captain general in the field, such as in the Sovereign government of the kings, were employed in wars and martial service under them: yet it appeareth that they had civil jurisdiction, and ministered justice, between citizens & aliens, of whom there were many in Athens; like as the Archon for the time being, was judge for the citizens only. Assistants he had twain, named Paredri, who sat in commission with him.  Poliorceles, 
A surname of Demetrius, a valiant king of Macedon, and son of king Antigonus: which addition was given unto him for besieging of so many cities.  Polypragmon, 
A curious busy body, who loveth to meddle in many matters.  Pores, 
The little holes of the skin, through which sweat passeth, and fumes breath forth.  Positions, 
Such sentences or opinions as are held in disputation.  Praetour, 
One of the superior Magistrates of Rome. In the city he ruled as L. chief Justice, and exercised civil jurisdiction: Abroad in the province, he commanded as L. Governor, deputy, or Lieutenant General: In the field, he was L. General, as well as the Consul. At first, the name of Consul, Praetor, and Judge was all one.  Primices, 
First fruits.  Problems, 
that is to say, Questions propounded for to be discussed.  Procatar cticke causes of sickness, 
Be such as are evident and coming from without, which yield occasion of disease, but do not maintain the same: as the heat of the Sun, causing headache or the ague.  Prognosticke, 
that is to say, Foreknowing and foreshowing: as the signs in a disease which foresignify death or recovery.  Proscription, 
an outlawing of persons in Rome, with confiscation of their goods, and selling the same in portsale: and depriving them of public protection.  Prostambomene, 
A, RE, a term in Music, signifying (a String or Note) taken in or to: for otherwise of two Heptachords, there would not arise 15. to admit a place in the middle for Mese, that is to say, the Mean, to take part of two Eights, or two Diapasons.  Prosodia, 
A certain hymn or tune thereto, in manner of supplication to the gods, and namely to Apollo and Diana, at what time as a sacrifice was to be brought and presented before the altar.  Proteleia, 
The sacrifice before marriage: as also the gifts that ceremoniously went before.  Prytaneum, 
A stately place within the castle of Athens, wherein was a court held for judgement in certain causes: where also they who had done the Commonwealth singular service, were allowed their diet at the cities charges, which was accounted the greatest honour that could be.  Parhypate Hypaton, 
A base string or note in music, Subprincipall of principals: C, FAVORINA, UT,  Parhypate Meson, 
Subprincipall of means, a mean string or note, F, FAVORINA, UT,  Pyladion, 
In music a kind of note bearing the name of Pylades, a Poet comical and skilful master in music.  Pyramidal, 
Form like unto the Pyramid, which is a geometrical body, solid, broad beneath, and rising up one all sides which be flat and plain, unto a sharp point like a steeple. It taketh the name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Fire, which naturally hath that figure.  Pythia, 
or Phoebas, The priestresse or prophetess, who pronounced the answers at the oracle of Apollo Pythius at Delphos: who took that name of Python there slain by him and lying putrefied: or of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, To ask and demand; for the resort of people thither to be resolved by him of their doubts.  Pythick, 
or Pythian games, were celebrated to the honour of Apollo Pythius, near the city Delphos, with great solemnity: instituted first by Diomedes and yearly renewed.    


Q  QUintus, 
A fore name to diverse Romans. 
Q.   Quaternary, 
the number of Four: called likewise 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, so highly celebrated by the Pythagoreans, comprising in it the proportion Epitritos, whereof ariseth the musical harmony 
* .  Diatessaron; for it containeth three and the third part of three: also Diplasion, because it comprehendeth two duple, whence ariseth the music diapason: and Disdiapason, being doubled, which is an Eight & the perfect harmony, according to the proverb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 also in that, it containeth all numbers within it; for, one, two, three and four arise to Ten, beyond which we cannot ascend but by repetition of former numbers.  Quaestors, 
inferior officers in Rome in manner of Treasurers: whose charge was to receive and lay out the city's money and revenues of state: of which sort, there were Urbani, for the city itself: Provinciales, for the provinces: and Castrenses, for the camp and their wars.  Quinquertium, 
named in Greek, Pentathlon. Five exercises or feats of activity among the greeks practised at their solemn games: namely 
* Some put in stead hereof 〈◊〉.  lancing the dart, throwing the coit, running a race, wrestling and leaping. See Pancratium.    


R  Radical moisture: 
Is the substantial humidity in living bodies; which is so united with natural heat, that the one maintaineth the other, and both preserve life.  To rarefy, 
that is to say, To make more subtle, light and thin.  Rectdivation, 
Is a relapse or falling back into a sickness, which was in the way of recovery, and commonly is more dangerous than the former: Recidiva pejor radice.  Regent's, 
Professors in the liberal sciences and in Philosophi: a term usual in the Universities.  Reverberation, 
that is to say, A smiting or driving back.  Rhapsody, 
A 〈◊〉 together or conjoining of those Poems and verses especially heroic or hexametre, which before were loose and scattered: such as were those of Homer, when they were reduced into one entire body of Ilias and Odyssca. Those Poets also, who recite or pronounce such verses, were termed Rhapsodi.  Rivals and Corrivals, 
Counter-suiters: or those who make love together, unto one and the same woman.  To Ruminate, 
that is to say, To ponder and consider, or revolve a thing in the mind: a borrowed speech from beasts that chew the cud.    


S  SAtyri, 
Woodwoses, or monstrous creatures with tails, yet resembling in some sort, partly men & women, & in part goats; given much to venery and lasciviousness, whereupon they had that name: also to scurril, frumping and jibing, for which they were also called Sileni, especially when they grew aged; supposed by the rural herdmen to be the fairies or gods (I would not else) of the woods.  Satyrae or Satyrs 
were certain Poems received in place of Comoedia vetus, detesting and reproving the misdemeanours of people and their vices: at first by way of mirth and jest, not sharply and after a biting manner, to the shame, disgrace or hurt of any person; such were they that Horace composed; howbeit they grew afterward to more diracity and licentiousness, noting in broad terms without respect all lewdness, and sparing no degree; as those were of Juvenales and Persius penning. Latin poets only, handled this argument, both in the one sort and the other.  Scammony, 
A medicinable plant, and the juice thereof issuing out of the root when it is wounded or cut: it purgeth yellow choler strongly. The same juice or liquor being concrete or thickened and withal corrected is called Dacrydium; as one would say, the tears destilling from the root: and is the same which the unlearned Apothecaries call Diagridium; as if forsooth it were some compound like their Diaphaenicon.  Scelet, 
The dead body of a man artificially dried or tanned, for to be kept and seen a long time. It is taken also for a dead carcase of man or woman, represented with the bones only, and ligaments.  Sceptic philosophers, 
Who descended from Pyrrho; so called, for that they would consider of all matters in question, but determine of none: and in this respect they were more precise than the Academics.  Scolia, 
Were certain songs and carols sung at feasts.  Scrutiny, 
A search, and properly a perusing of suffrages or voices, at elections or judicial courts, for the triallor passing of any cause.  Secundine, 
The skin that enwrappeth the child or young thing in the womb: in women the afterbirth or later-birth; in beasts the home.  Senarie, 
The number of six, also a kind of verse. See jambus.  Septimane, 
A week or sevennight. Also what soever falleth out upon the seventh day, month, year, etc. as Septimanae foeturae, in Arnobius, for children borne at the seventh month after conception; and Septimanae 〈◊〉, Agues returning with their fits every seventh day. Serg. Sergius Forenames to certain families in Rome. Serv. Servius  Sex. Sextus.   Sesquialteral, 
A proportion, by which is meant that which containeth the whole and half again, as 6. to 4. 12. to 8. It is also named Hemiolios.  Sesqui-tertian, 
A proportion, whereby is understood as much as comprehendeth the whole, and one third part, as 12. to 9 and the same is called 〈◊〉.  Sesquioctave, 
That which compriseth the whole and one 8 part; as 9 to 8, 18 to 16: in Greek Eptogdoos, or Epogdoos.  soloecism, 
Incongruity of speech, or defect in the purity thereof. It arose of those who being Athenians borne, and dwelling in Soli, a city in 〈◊〉, spoke not pure Attic, but mixed with the Solians language.  Solstice, 
The Sunne-steed, which is twice in the year, in june & December, when the Sun seemeth to stand for a while, at the very point of the Tropics, either going from us, or coming toward us; as if he returned from the end of his race, North and South.  Sp. Spurius, 
A forename to some Romans.  Spasmes, 
that is to say, Cramps, or painful plucking of the muscles and sinews. See Convulsions And Spasmaticke, full of such or given thereto.  Spheres, 
The circles or globs, of the seven planets: as also the compass of the heaven above all.  Spissitude, 
Thickness or dimness.  Spondaeus, 
An hymn sung at sacrifices and libations. Also a metrical foot in verse, consisting of two long syllables: whereof principally such hymns or songs were composed.  Stadium, 
A race or space of ground, containing 625. foot, whereof eight make a mile, consisting of a thousand paces, which are five thousand foot, reckoning five foot for a pace; for so much commonly a man taketh at once in his pace, that is to say, in his stepping forward, and removing one foot before another.  Stoics, 
Certain Philosophers, whose first master was Zeno, who taught in a certain spacious gallery at Athens, called Poecile, for the variety of pictures wherewith Polignotus the excellent painter 〈◊〉 it: And for that a gallery in Greek is called Stoa, therefore those Philosophers who taught and disputed therein, took that name of Stoics.  Strophes, 
that is to say, Conversions or turnings. In Comedies and tragoedies, when the Chorus first speaketh unto the actors; and then turneth to the spectators, and pronounceth certain Iambics. In the rehearsing of Lyrical verses, when the Poet one while turneth to the right hand, and another while to the left, and so reciteth certain verses: which thereupon be called Strophae, and Antistrophae.  Stypticke, 
being such things, as by a certain harsh taste, do show that they be astringent: as the fruit called 〈◊〉, and Alum especially, which thereupon is 〈◊〉 Stypteria. And Stypticitie is such a quality.  Subitarie, 
that is to say, Of a sudden, without premeditation.  Subterranean, 
that is to say, Under the earth.  Superficies, 
The upper face or outside of any thing. In Geometry it is that, which is made of lines set together, like as a line of pricks united.  superfetation, 
Conception upon conception.  Suppuration, 
A gathering to matter or attire: as in biles, impostumes, inflammations and such like.  Sycophants, 
talebearers, false promoters, or slanderous informers, and such as upon small occasions brought men into trouble. The name arose upon this occasion, that whereas in Athens there was an act, That none should transport figs out of the territory Attica; such as gave information of those that contrary to this law conveyed figs into other parts, were termed Sycophants: for that Sycon in Greek, is a fig.  Syllogisms, 
Be certain forms of arguing: when upon two propositions granted, which are called Premises, there is inferred a third, namely a Conclusion.  To Symbolise, 
that is, By certain outward signs, to signify some hidden things: Thus an eye symbolizeth vigilancy.  Sympathy, 
that is to say, A fellow feeling, as is between the head and stomach in our bodies: also the agreement and natural amity in diverse senseless things, as between iron and the loadstone.  Symphony, 
Consent and harmony, properly in vocal Music.  Symposiarch, 
The master of a feast. The Romans called him Rex, that is to say, a king.  Symptoms, 
Be accidents accompanying sickness; as headache, the ague: stitch, shortness of wind, spitting blood, cough and ague; the pleurisy.  Synemmenon, or Synezeugmenon, 
A term of art in music, signifying strings or notes conjunct.  Syntaxis, 
The construction and coherence of words and parts of speech by concord and regiment.    


T  Titus', 
A forename to many houses of 
T.  the Romans.  Talon 
Attic (as well ponderall which was weighed, as numeral or nummarie, counted in money) was of two sorts: The less, of sixty pound Attic, and every one of them consisted of one hundred Drachmae. If mina then, be three pound two shillings six pence starling in silver; this talon amounteth to one hundred eighty seven pound ten shillings of our english money. The greater, or simply the great talon, is eighty minae and hath the proportion Epitritos, or sesquitertian to the less: so that it cometh to two hundred and fifty pound starling.  Tautologies, 
Vain repetitions of the same things oftentimes.  ternary, 
The number of three.  Terpandrios, 
A several tune in music, or a song that Terpander devised.  Tetrachord, 
An instrument in old time of four strings: but now, it is taken for every fourth in the scale of Music or GAM, UT. whereof there be four in fifteen strings: reckoning Mese, to end one octave and begin another.  Tetrarch, 
A potentate or ruler over the fourth part of a country.  Theatre, 
A show place built with seats in manner of an half circle, for to behold games, plays and pastimes; which if both ends meet round, is called an Amphitheatre.  Theorems, 
Principles or rules in any science.  Theriacal Trochisks, 
Trosches made of viper's flesh, to enter into the composition Theriaca, that is to say, treacle.  Thesmothelae, 
Were six of the nine Archontes or chief rulers in Athens during their free popular estate. They had civil jurisdiction and sat as judges in certain causes.  Thesmothesium, 
seemeth to be the court or commission of the said Thesmothelae.  Topics, 
That part of logic which treateth of the invention of arguments, which are called Topi, as if they were places, out of which a man might readily have sufficient reasons to argue and dispute with Pro & contra.  Tribunes of the Commons, 
Certain officers or magistrates at Rome, as provosts and protectors of the commonalty to restrain and keep down the excessive power of the consuls and nobility. Chosen they were and confirmed by the general oath of the people, whereby they were Sacrosancti, that is to say, Inviolable, & no violence might be done to their persons. A negative voice they had and power of inhibition called Intercessio; whereby they might cross and stop all proceedings of the Senate or any superior magistrate (save only the Dictator) even of the very consuls, whom in some case they might command. They resembled much the Ephory in Sparta.  Trite Diezeugmenon, 
The third of disjuncts a string or note in the scale of music C, SOL, FA, UT.  Trite Hyperbolaean, 
A treble string; the third of Exceeding or treble; F, FAVORINA, UT.  Trite Synnemmenon, 
or Syzeugmenon, The third of the Disjuncts, a string or note in music, B, FAVORINA, B, MI in rule.  Triutall, 
Common and ordinary as is the high way, stale and of no account.  Trochaeans, 
A metrical foot in verse, consisting of two syllables; the former long, and the other short.  Tropaees or Trophaees, 
Were monuments in memorial of victory, erected in marble, brass, or in default thereof with heaps of stone or piles of wood, in the very place where any General had vanquished his enemies and put them to flight; whereupon they took that name: for that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in greek signifieth, Turning back and flight.  Tropes, 
In speech the using of words otherwise than in their primitive and natural signification; which many times giveth a grace to the sentence.  Tutelar, 
Protectors and defenders. So were the gods or goddesses among the paynim called, whom they believed to have a special charge of any city or country.  A Type, 
that is to say, A figure under which is signified some other thing.    


V  Vestal virgins, 
were certain Nuns or Votaries, instituted first by Numa Pompilius king of Rome, in the honour of Vesta the goddess: whose charge was to keep the sacred fire that it went not forth. Chosen they were between the years of six and ten of their age: and were enjoined virginity for thirty years: after which time it was lawful for them to be married: But if in the mean while they committed fornication, buried they were quick.  Unction, 
that is to say, Anointing.     

AN INDEX POINTING TO THE PRINCIPAL MATTERS CONTAINED IN THE MORALS OF PLUTARCH.  


A  A Or Alpha, why the first letter in the Alphabet. 788. 10 What it signifieth. 
ib. 30  Abaris, A book of Heraclides. 
18.30  Abrote, the wife of Nisus. 
893.20  Abyrtacae. 
703.50  Academiques. 
1122.30  Acca Larentia, one a courtisane, and another the nurse of Romulus & Remus. 
862.30  Acca Larentia honoured at Rome. 
862.20.30  Acca Larentia surnamed Fabula, how she came renowned. 862.30. Inheritress to Taruntius. 863.1. made Rome her heir. 
ib.  Acco and Alphito. 
1065.1  Acephati, verses in Homer. 
140.20  Acesander, a Lybian Chronicler. 
716.30  Acheron, what it signifieth. 
515.50  Achilles well seen in Physic. 34.30. 729.50. Praiseth himself without blame. 304.50. commended for avoiding occasions of anger. 40.50. his continency. 43.30. charged by Ulysses for sitting idly in Scytos. 46.1. of an implacable nature. 720.10. noted for anger & 〈◊〉. 24.26. he loved not wine-bibbing. 720.20. whom he invited to the funeral feast of Patroclus. 786.40. noted for his fell nature. 106.40. his discretion between Menelaus and Antilochus. 648.30. he kept an hungry table. 750.1. he digested his choler by Music. 1261.40. noted for a wanton Catamite. 568.30. killed by Paris. 
793.50  Achillium. 
899.1  Achrades, wild pears. 
903.40  Acidusa. 
901.20  Acratisma, that is to say, a breakfast, whereof it is derived. 
775.20  Acratisma and Ariston supposed to be both one. 
775.30  Acroames or Ear-sports, which be allowed at supper time. 
758.30  Acron the Physician, how he cured the plague. 
1319.1  Acrotatus his Apothegms. 
453.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who they be. 
604.20  Actaeon the son of Melissus, a most beautiful youth. his pitiful death. 
945.30.  
945.40  Action all in all in Eloquence. 
932.1  Actus, the dog of one Pyrrhus. 
963.40  Active life. 
9.40  Ada Queen of Caria. 
596.20  Ades, what it signifieth. 
608.30. 1000.10  Adiaphora. 
69.1  Adimantus, a noble captain, debased by Herodotus. 1243.30.40. what names Adimantus gave unto his children. 
1244.20  Adipsa. 
339.1  Admetus. 
1146  Admirable things not to be discredited. 
723.1  Admiration of other men in a mean. 
55.20  to Admire nothing, Niladmirari. 
59  Adonis thought to be Bacchus. 
711.40  Adrastia. 
557.40. 1050.20  Adrastia and Atropos whereof derived. 
1080.30  Adrastus reviled by Alcmaeon. 240.30. he requiteth Alcmaeon. 
ib.  Adultery of Mars and Venus in Homer, what it signifieth. 
25.10  Adultery strange in Sparta. 
465.10  Aeacium, a privileged place. 
933.50  Aeacus a judge of the dead. 
532.20  Aeantis a tribe at Athens. 659.40. never adjudged to the 〈◊〉 place. 659.50. highly praised. 660.20. whereof it took the name. 
ib. 40  Aegeria the nymph. 
633.30  Aegipan. 
913.1  Aegipans whence they come. 
568.50  Aegle wings consume other feathers. 
723.20  Aegon, how he came to be king of the Argives. 
1281.1  Egyptians neither sow nor eat beans. 
777.20  Egyptian priests abstain from salt. 728.1. and sish. 
778.30  Egyptian kings how chosen. 
1290.40  Egypt in old time, Sea. 
1303.40  Aemylij, who they were called. 
917.30  Aemilius a tyrant. 
916.40  Aemilius Censorinus a bloody prince. 
917.20  Aemilius killeth himself. 
912.30  Aeneas at sacrifice covered his head. 
854.1  Aeneans their wandering their voyage. 
891.50  
896.10.20  Aeolies, who they be. 
899.30  Equality which is commendable. 
768.1  Equality. 
679.30  Equality of sins held by Stoics. 
74.40  Equinoctial circle. 
820.40  Aeschines the orator, his parentage. 
926.40  Aeschines the orator first acted tragoedies. 926.50. his employments in State affairs. 927.1. banished. 927.10. his oration against Ctesiphon. ib. 20. his saying to the Rhodians as touching Demosthenes. ib. his school at Rhodes ib. his death. ib. his orations. ib. 30. he indited Timarchus. ib. 40. his education and first rising. 
927.30.40  Aescre, what fiend or Daemon. 
157.30  Aeschylus wrote his tragoedies being well heat with wine. 763.40. his speech of a champion at the Isthmicke games. 39.10. his tragoedies conceived by the influence of Bacchus. ib. entombed in a strange country. 
277.20  Aesculapius the patron of 〈◊〉. 997.20. his temple why without the city of Rome. 
881.1  Aesop's fox and the urchin. 
392.20  Aesop with his tale. 330.30. his fable of the dog. 
338.20  Aesop executed by the Delphians. 549.10. his death revengeà and expiated. 
ib. 20.  Aesop's hen and the cat. 
188.50  Aesop's dogs and the skins. 
1091.20  Aethe, a fair mare. 
43.20.565.40  Aether, the sky. 
819.10  In Aethiopia they live not long. 
849.50  Aetna full of flowers. 
1011.10  Affability commendeth children and young folk. 12.1. commendable in rulers. 
378.30  Affections not to be clean rooted out. 
76.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what day it was. 
785.1  Agamedes & Trophonius built the temple at Delphi. 
1518.20  Agamemnon clogged with cares. 
147.50  Agamemnon noted for Paederastie. 
568.30  Agamemnon murdered treacherously. 812.1. noted in Homer for pride. 
24.10  Agamemnon his person, how compounded. 
1284.1  Agamestor how he behaved himself at a merry meeting. 
653.10  Aganide skilful in Astronomy. 
324.40  Agathocles his Apothegms. 407.40. being of base parentage, he came to be a great Monarch. 307.40. his patience. 
126.1  Agave enraged. 
314.1  Aged rulers ought to be mild unto younger persons growing up under them. 
398.10  Aged rulers patterns to younger. 
392.40  Age of man what it is. 
1328.1  Agenor his sacred grove. 
903.30  Agenorides an ancient Physician. 
683.40  Agesicles his apothegms. 
444.1  Agesilaus the brother of Themistocles: his valour and resolution. 
906.40.50  K. Agesilaus fined for giving presents to the Senators of Sparta newly created. 179.20. he avoided the occasions of wantonness. 41. 10. his lameness. 1191.20. of whom he desired to be commended. 92. 30. his Apothegms. 424. 10. he would have no statues made for him after his death. ib. 50. commended in his old age by Xenophon. 
385.1  Agesilaus the Great, his Apothegms. 
444.10  Agesilaus noted for partiality. 445.50. his sober diet. 446.10 his continency. 445. 20. his sufferance of pain and travel. 446.10. his temperance. ib. 30 his faithful love to his country. 450. 1. his tenderness over his children. ib. his not able stratagem. 451.10. he served under K. Nectanebas in Egypt. 451.20. his death. ib. 30. his letter for a friend, to the perverting of justice. 360.10. too much addicted to his friends. 
359.50  K. Agesipolis his apothegms. 
451.40  Agesipolis the son of Pausanias his Apothegms. 
451.50  Agias given to belly cheer. 
679.20  Agis a worthy prince. 400.30. his Apothegms. 
423.40  Agis the younger his apothegms. 
425.1  Agis the son of Archidamus his Apothegms. 
452.1  Agis the younger, his apothegms. 
452.50  Agis the last king of the Lacedæmonians his apothegms. 453.1. his death. 
ib.  Agis the Argive a cunning flatterer about K. Alexander the Great. 
98.20  Aglaonice, well seen in Astrology, how she deluded the wives of Thessaly. 
1329.10  Agrioma, a feast. 
899.40  Agronia. 
765.30  Agroteros. 
1141.20  Agrotera, a surname of Diana. 
1235.20  Agrypina talkative. 
206.30  Ajax Telamonius how he came in the twentieth place to the lottery. 790.50. his fear compared with that of Dolon. 
74.50  Aigos' Potamoi. 
1189.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what place. 
821.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what it signifieth. 
788.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what it signifieth in some Poets. 
29.40  Ainautae who they be. 
897.50  Air how made. 808.40. the primitive cold. 
995.40  Air or Spirit the beginning of all things. 806.1. why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
995.50  Air the very body and substance of voice. 
771.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what it signifieth in Homer. 
737.1  Aix. 
891.10  Al, what parts it hath. 
1031.30  Ale a counterfeit wine. 
685.40  Alalcomenae the name of a city in Ithacesia. 
901.40  Alalcomenion in Boeotia. 
ib.  Alastor. 
896.1  Alastores. 
1330.40  Alcamenes his Apothegms. 
453.20  Alcathoe. 
899.30  Alcestis cured by Apollo. 
1146.30  Alcibiades of loose behaviour. 
350.50  Alcibiades a not able flatterer. 88.50. his apothegms. 419.30 he had no good utterance. 
252.10  Alcioneus the son of K. Antigonus, a forward knight. 
530.1  Alcippus and his daughters, their pitiful history. 
948.10  Halcyons the birds. 
615.20  Halcyon a bird of the sea of a wonderful nature. 977.30. how she builds her nests. 
218.10  Alcmaeonidae debased and traduced by Herodotus. 
1231.20  Alcman the Poet. 
270.40  Alcmena's tomb opened. 
1206.1  Alenas', how declared K. of Thessaly. 
191.1  K. Alexander the great winketh at his sister's follies. 372.50. his respect to Timoclia. 504. 1. his apothegms. 411.10. his magnanimity. ib. his activity. ib. his continency. ib. his magnificence. ib. his bounty and liberality. 411.30. he noteth the Milesians. ib. 40. his gracious thankfulness to Tarrias. 1279.50. his frugality and sobriety in diet. 412.10. entitled Jupiter Ammon's son. ib. 20. he reproveth his flatterers. ib. he pardoneth an Indian his archer. 413.10. his censure of Antipater. 412.30. his continence. ib. 40. he presumeth not to be compared with Hercules. 413.30. his respect of those who were in love. 412.40.50. whereby he acknowledged himself mortal. 105.20.766.30 he honoured Craterus most, and affected Hephestion best. 413.40. his death day observed. 766.1. his demeanour to king Porus. 413.40. his ambitious humour. 147.40. 639.20. he used to sit long at meat. 655.10. he drank wine liberally. ib. he wisheth to be Diogenes. 296.20. his flesh yielded a sweet smell. 655.10. his moderate carriage to Philotas. 1280.20.30. he died with a surfeit of drinking. 613.20. how he was crossed by Fortune. 1283.20. he would not see King Darius his wife, a beautiful Lady. 142.20. he was favourable to other men's loves. 1280. 1. his picture drawn by Apelles. 1274.50. his statue cast in brass by Lysippus. ib. his bounty to Persian women. 487.1. whether he were given to much drinking. 655.10. he intended a voyage into Italy. 639.20. his sorrow compared with that of Plato. 75.1. he forbeareth the love of Antipatrides. 1145.1. he contesteth with Fortune. 1264. 30. how he reproved his flatterers. 
1282.1  Alexander nothing beholden to Fortune. 
1264.40  Alexander his misfortunes and crosses in war. 
1264.40.50.  The means that Alexander had to conquer the world. 1265.40. how he entertained the Persian ambassadors in his father's absence. 1283.10. what small helps he had by Fortune. 
1265.30  Alexander the great, a Philosopher. 1266.10. he is compared with Hercules. 1282.40. how he joined Persia & Greece together. 1267.40. his adverse fortune in a town of the Oxydrates. 1284.50. Epigrams and statues of him. 1269.10.20. his hopes of conquest whereupon grounded. 1283.40. his apothegms. 1269.30. his kindness and thankfulness to Aristotle his master. 1270.10. how he honoured Anaxarchus the Musician. ib. his bounty to Pyrrho and others. ib. his saying of Diogenes. ib. his many virtues joined together in his actions. 1270.10. he espoused Roxane. 1278.50. his behaviour toward the dead corpse of King Darius. 1271.10. his continency. ib. 20. 1279.1. his liberality compared with others. 1271.30. his affection to good arts and Artisans. 1274.20. his answer 〈◊〉 the famous architect Staficrates. 1275.40. he graced Fortune. 1276.40. his sobriety and mild carriage of himself. 1278.1. his temperance in diet. 1278.50. his exercises and recreations. ib. he espoused Statira the daughter of Darius. 1278.50. his hard adventures and dangers. 1281.30. compared with other Princes. 
1284.10  Alexander Tyrant of Pherae, his bloody mind. 
1273.30  Alexander Tyrant of Pherae. 428.10. killed by Pytholaus. 
1155.20  Alexander the 〈◊〉 
6 9.20  Alexandridas his apothegms. 
453.30.  Alexidimus bastard son of Thrasibulus. 
329.20  Alexis on old Poet. 385.50. what pleasures he admitteth for principal. 
27.40  Alibantes. 
989.50  Alibas, what body. 
785.20  Alimon a composition. 
338.40  Alima. 
339.1  Aliterij who they were. 
143.50  Aliterios. 
896.1  Allegories in Poets. 
25.1  Allia field. 
859.20.637.20  Alliensis dies. 
858.30  Almonds bitter prevent drunkenness. 656.1. they kill foxes. 16.30. their virtues and properties otherwise. 
656.10  Aloiadae what Giants. 
1175.20  Alosa a fish. 
953.20  Alphabet letters coupled together, how many syllables they will make. 
782.30  Alpheus the river, of what virtue the water is. 
1345.1  Altar of horns in Delos, a wonder. 
978.20  Altar of Jupiter Idaeus. 
908.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of diverse significations. 
29.20  Alysson the herb, what virtues it hath. 
684.40  Alynomus how he came to be K. of Paphos. 
1281.20  K. Amasis honoureth Polycritus, his sister and mother. 
505.20  Ambar, how it draweth straws &c. 
1022.40  Ambition defined. 
374.50  Ambitious men forced to praise themselves. 
597.10  Ambrosia. 
338.10.1177.30  Amenthes what it 〈◊〉. 
1299.20  Amoebaeus the Musician. 
67.10  Amestris sacrificed men for the prolonging of her life. 
268.20  Amethyst stones, why so called. 684.1. their virtue. 
18.50  Amiae or Hamiae, certain fishes, whereof they take their name. 
974.30  Amity and Enmity the beginning of all things. 
888.1  Aminocles enriched by shipwrecks. 
1237.30  Amnemones who they be. 
889.20  Amoun and Ammon names of Jupiter. 
1291.1  Amphiaraus. 
908.20  Amphiaraus commended. 419.10. he comforteth the mother of Archemorus. 
43.1.  
520.50  Amphictyones. 
390.40  Amphidamas his funerals. 
716.20  Amphidamas. 
334.40  Amphithea killeth herself. 
914.10  Amphion, of what Music he was author. 
1249.20  Amphissa women their virtuous act. 
491.20  Amphitheus delivered out of prison. 
1226.20  Amphitrite, a name of the sea. 
1317.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what it is. 
687.20  Anacampserotes, what plants. 
1178.50  Anacharsis the Philosopher had no certain place of abode. 336.1 put his right hand to his mouth, etc. 
195.40  Anacreon his odes. 
759.1  Anaxagoras his opinion of the first principle of all things. 806.10. how he took the death of his son. 529.10.132.1. why he was thought impious. 
266.20  Anaxander his apothegms and epigrams. 
453.50  Anaxarchus tortured by Nicocreon. 75.10. he flattereth Alexander. 295.20. reproved by Timon. 70.50. a loose and intemperate person. 
752.1  Anaxilas his apothegms. 
453.50  Anaximander his opinion of men and fish. 780.10. his opinion of the first principle. 805.50. his opinion of God. 
812.1  Anaxemenes confuted by Aristotle. 995.1. his opinion of the first principle.. 
806.1  Anchucus the son of Midas, his resolute death. 
908.1  Ancient men how to accept of dignities. 
396.50  Ancus Martius king of Rome. 
631.1  Andorides the orator his parentage, acts and life. 920.40. accused for impiety. ib. acquit. 921.1. he saved his own father from death. ib. a great statist and a merchant beside. ib. 10. arrested by the K. of Cyprus. ib. 20. banished. ib. his orations and writings. 921.30 when he flourished. 
ib.  Andreia. 
762.1  Androclidas his apothegms. 
454.1  Androcides how he painted the gulf of Scylla. 
705.30  Anger the sinews of the soul. 75. 10. how it differeth from other passions. 119. 20. 30. how it may be quenched and appeased. 120.10. how set on fire. ib. 20. compared with other passions. 121.10.20. etc. who are not subject unto it. 123.50.124.1. mixed with other passions. 131.10. to prevent it, as great a virtue as to bridle it. 40.30. to be repressed at the first. 120.30. upon what subject it worketh. 121.30. how it altereth countenance, voice and gesture. 122.1.10. compounded of many passions. 131.10. it banisheth reason. 
542.20  Angle lines why made of stone-horse tails. 
971.10.1008.40  Anio the river whereof it took the name. 
917.40  Animal creatures subject to generation and corruption. 846.30. of sundry sorts. 
ib. 50  Annibal his apothegm of Fab. Maximus. 429.10.20. he scoffeth at soothsaying by beasts entrails. 279.20. vanquished in Italy. 
637.1  Anointing in open air forbidden at Rome. 
864.30  Anointing against the fire and sun. 
620.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
1166.10  Answers to demands how to be made. 204.30.40. of three sorts. 
205.40  Antagoras a poet. 
415.10  Antagoras a stout shepherd. 
905.20  Antahidas his apothegms. 425.30.454.10. how he retorted a scoff upon an Athenian. 363.50. his apothegm to K. Agesilaus. 
423.1  Antarctike pole. 
820.40  Anthes and Anthedonia. 
894.20  Anthes an ancient Musician. 
1249.30.  Anthedon what it is. 
894.10  Anthias the fish, why called sacred. 
976.1  Anthisterion what month. 
785.1  Anticlia the mother of Ulysses. 
901.40  Antigenes enamoured upon Telesippe, was kindly used by King Alexander. 
1280.1  Antigonus the elder, how he took his sons death. 530.1. being an aged king, yet governed well. 395.50. his answer unto a Sophister. 
1268.50  Antigonus the younger, his brave speech of himself. 909.1. his apothegms. 415.40. his piety and kindness to his father. 
ib.  Antigonus the third his apothegms. 416.10. his continency. 
ib. 20  Antigonus the elder his justice. 414.30. his patience. ib. 40. his magnificence. ib. he reproveth a Rhetorician. 414.50. reproved by the Poet Antagoras. 415.10. his apothegms. 414.10. his martial justice. ib. wary to prevent the occasion of sin. ib. 20. what use he made of his sickness. 414.30. his counsel to a captain of his garrison. 1137.20. he acknowledgeth his mortality. ib. how he repressed his anger. 124.30. his patience. 126.1. his secrecy. 197.30. his answer to an impudent beggar. 
167.20  Antiochus one of the Ephori, his apothegm. 
425.30.454.20  K. Antiochus Hierax loving to his brother Seleucus. 416.20 he loved to be called Hierax. 
968.50  Antiochus the great, his apothegms. 417.10. he besiegeth Jerusalem, and honoureth a feast of the Jews. 
ib. 20  Antipater Calamoboas, a Philosopher. 
207.30  Antipater his bash fullness cause of his death. 165.30.40. his answer to Photion. 
103.30  Antipatrides rebuked by K. Alexander the great. 
1145.1  Antiperistasis what effects it worketh. 
1021.50  Antiphera an Acolian borne, maid servant of Ino. 
855.40  Antipho the orator his pregnant wit. 918.50. his parentage and life. 418.40. he penned orations for others. 919.1. he wrote the institutions of oratory. 919.10. for his eloquence surnamed Nestor. 919.10. his style and manner of writing and speaking. ib. the time wherein he lived. ib. 20. his martial acts. ib. his Embassy. ib. condemned and executed for a traitor. ib. 30. his apothegm to Denys the Tyrant. ib. 40. how many orations he made. ib. he wrote tragoedies. ib. he professed himself a Physician of the soul. ib. 50 other works and treatises of his. 920.1. the judicial process and decree of his condemnation. ib. 10. inconsiderate in his speech before Denys. 
108.1  Antipathies of diverse sorts in nature. 
676.20  Antisthenes what he would have us to wish unto our enemies. 
1276.1  Antipodes. 
825.30.1164.10  Antisthenes his answer. 364.20. his apothegm. 240.50. a great peace maker. 
666.1  Antitheta. 
988.10  Anton. 
1145.40  Antonius his overthrow by Cleopatra. 632.1. enamoured of Queen Cleopatra. 99 20. abused by flatterers. 
ib. 93.50  Antron Coratius his history. 
851.20  Anubis borne. 
1293.20  Anytus loved Alcibiades. 
1147.10  Anytus a sycophant. 
300.10.  Aorne a strong castle. 
413.30  Apathies what they be. 
74.20  Apaturia, a feast. 
1232.1  Apeliotes what wind. 
829.30  Apelles his apothegm to a painter. 
8.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what feat of activity. 
716.40  Aphabroma what it is. 
893.20  Aphester who he is. 
889.  Apioi. 
903.40  Apis how engendered. 766.40. killed by Ochus. 
1300.1  Apis how he is interred 
1301.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what dances. 
1251.30  Apollo why called Delius and Pythius. 608.30. he won the prize personally. 773.1. a favourer of games of prize. ib. 10. surnamed Pyctes. 
ib. 20  Apollo the Runner. ib. surnamed Paean & Musegetes. 
797.20  Apollo when borne. 766.10. why named Hebdomagines. 766.20. his two nurses, Alethia and Corythalia. 696.1. why surnamed Loxias. 
103.30  Apollo painted with a cock on his hand. 
1194.20  Apollo the author of Music. 1252.50. his image in Delos how portrayed. 
1253.1  Apollo what attributes he hath, and the reason thereof. 
1353.50  Apollo affectionate to Logic as well as to Music. 
1356.30  Apollo and Bacchus compared together. 
1348.1.10.20  Apollo, why he is so called. 1362.30. why he is called juios. ib. why Phoebus. 
ib.  Apollo and the Sun supposed to be both one. 
1362.40  Apollo compared with Pluto. 
1363.10  Apollodorus troubled in conscience. 
547.1  Apollodorus an excellent painter 
982.20  Queen Apollonis rejoiced in the love of her brethren. 
176.40  Apollonius the physician his counsel for lean folk. 
1004.30  Apollonius his son commended. 
530  Apollonius kind to his brother Sotion. 
185.40  Aposphendoneti who they be. 
890.50  Apotropaei what gods they be. 
756.1  Appius Claudius the blind. 397.20, his speech in the Senate. 
ib.  Application of verses and sentences in Poets. 
45.30  April consecrated to Venus. 
879.30  Apopis, the brother of the Sun. 
1302.10  Apples why named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
726.30  Apple trees, why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
726  Araeni Acta, what it is. 
897.20  Arcadians, repute themselves most ancient. 
881.1  Arcesilaus, sun of Battus, unlike to his father. 504.20. surnamed Chalepos. ib. poisoned by Laarchus. 
ib.  Arcesilaus the Philosopher defended against Colotes. 1123.40. he shutteth Battus out of his school. 92. 20. his patience. 129.20. a true friend to Apelles. 
102.30  Archelaus, king of Macedon his answer to Timotheus the Musician. 
1273.50  Archestratus, a fine Poet not regarded. 
1273.10  Archias, 〈◊〉 Spartan honoured by the Samians. 
1233.20  Archias, the Corinthian his notorious outrage. 
945.40  Archias, murdered by Telephus his minion. 946.1. he built Syracuse in Sicily. 
ib.  Archias Phygadotheres, a notable catchpol. 
936.20  Archias, an high priest. 
1225.1  Archias, the ruler of the Thebans negligent of the state. 
650.30  Archias, tyrannised in Thebes. 1204. 10. killed by Melon. 
1225.20  Archelaus, his opinion of the first principles. 
806.30  K. Archelaus, how he served an impudent craver. 167.10. his apothegm. 
408.1  Archidamus his apothegm. 
425.1.423.20  Archidamus the son of Zeuxidamus his apothegms. 
454.50  Archidamus the sun of Agesilaus his apothegms. 
455.20  K. Archidamus fined for marrying a little woman. 
2.40  Archilochus an ancient poet and musician. 
1250.20  Archilochus what he added to music. 
1257.10.  Archimedes how studious in geometry 
387.10.590.10  Archiptolemus condemned and executed with Antiphon. 
920.10.20.30  Architas represseth his anger. 542.30. his patience. 
12.40  Arctique pole. 
820.40  Arctos, the bear, a star, representeth Typhon. 
1295.50  Ardalus. 
330.30  Ardetas a lover. 
1145.50  Aretaphila her virtuous deed 498.10. her defence for suspicion of preparing poison to kill her husband. 
499.1  Argei at Rome what images. 
861.30  Argileonis the mother of Brasidas, her apothegms. 
479.40  Argois, the name of all Greeks. 
861.40  Argos women, their virtuous act. 
486.1  Aridaeus, an unworthy prince. 
1277.30  Aridaeus, a young prince, unfit to rule. 
395.50  Aridices his bitter scoff. 
668.10  Arigaeus his apothegm. 
454.30  Arimanius. 
1044.1  Arimanius a martial Enthusiasm. 
1143.1  Arimanius, what God. 
1306.1  Arimenes his kindness to Xerxes his brother. 
403.40  Ariobarzanes, son of Darius, a traitor executed by his father. 
909.50  Arion his history. 
342.20.  Ariopagus. 
396.40  Aristaeus, what God. 
1141.20  Aristarchium, a temple of Diana. 
902.40  Aristinus, what answer 〈◊〉 had from the Oracle. 
852.1  Aristides kind to Cimon. 398.20. his apothegms. 418.50. he stood upon his own bottom. ib. at enmity with Themistocles. 419.1. he layeth it down for the Commonwealth. 
ib.  Aristippus his apothegm as touching the education of children. 6.10. his answer as touching Lais the courtesan. 
1133.10.  Aristippus and Aeschines at a jar: how they agreed. 
130.40  Aristoclea her tragical history. 
944.40  Aristocrates punished long after, for betraying the Messenians. 
1540.1  Aristocraties allow no orators at bar to move passions. 
72.40  Aristodemus fearful and melancholic. 
296.1  Aristodemus usurpeth tyranny over Cumes. 
505.50.290.1  Aristodemus, Socrates his 〈◊〉 at a feast. 
753.50  Aristodemus, tyrant of Argos. killeth himself. 265.10.205.10. his villainy. 946.40. surnamed Malacoes, 505.30. murdered by conspirators. 
506.30  Aristogiton, a promoter, condemned. 
421.10  Aristomache a Poetresse. 
716.30  Aristomenes poisoned by Ptolomaeus. 
112.20  Ariston his opinion of virtue. 
64.50  Ariston his apothegms. 
454.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a dinner, whereof it is derived. 
775.30  Ariston punished by God for sacrilege. 
545.20  Aristonicus an harper, honoured after his death by K. Alexander. 
1274.40  Aristophanes discommended in comparison of Menander. 
942.40  Aristotimus a 〈◊〉 tyrant over the Elians. 492.30. his treacherous villainy toward the wives of Elis. 493.10. murdered by conspirators. 494.1. his wife hung herself. 
495  Aristotle how he dealt with prating fellows. 193.30. reedifieth Stagira his native city. 1128.50. his opinion of God. 812.10. his opinion as touching the principles of all things. 
808.10  Aristotle a master in his speech. 
34.20  Aristotle the younger, his opinion as touching the face in the Moon. 
1161.1  Arithmetic. 
1019.1  Arithmetical proportion chased out of Lacedaemon by Lycurgus. 
767.50  〈◊〉 a great favourite of Augustus Caesar. 
368.20  Aroveris borne. 
1292.20  Arsaphes. 
1302.20  Arsinoe, how she was comforted by a Philosopher for the death of her son. 
521.50  Arsinoe. 
899.30  Artaxerxes accepted a small present graciously. 
402.20  Artaxerxes Long-hand his apothegms. 
404.1  Artaxerxes Mnemon his apothegms and behaviour. 
404.30  Artemisium the Promontory. 
906 40  Artemisia a lady, adviseth Xerxes' 
1243.10  Artemis, that is to say, Diana, why so called. 
1184.40  Article, a part of speech seldom used by Homer. 
1028.10  Arts from whence they proceed. 
232.30  Artyni, who they be. 
888.50  Aruntius carnally abused his own daughter, and sacrificed by her. 
912.1.10  Aruntius Paterculus executed worthily by Aemilius Censorinus. 
917.30  Aspis the serpent why honoured among the Egyptians. 
1316.30  The Ass, why honoured among the Jews. 
701.10  Asses and horses having apples and figs a load, be faint with the disease Bulimos. 739.1. what is the reason thereof. 
799.40  Asander. 
1152.20  Asaron. 
645.10  Ascanius vanquished Mezentius 
876.20  Asias what it was. 
1250.40  Aso a Queen of Arabia. 
1292.40  Asopicus a darling of Epaminondas. 
1146.10  Asphodel. 
339.1  Assembly of lusly gallants. 
898.1  Assent and the cohibition thereof argued prò & contrà. 
1124.10.20  Astarte, Queen of Byblos in Egypt. 
1293.40  Aster, a notable archer. 
908.50  Astomis people of India. 
1177.30  Astrology is contained under Geometry. 
797.10  Astrology. 
1019.10  Astycratidas his apothegms. 
455.50  Asyndeton. 
1028,40  Ate. 
346.10  Ateas the king of the Scythians, his apothegms. 
405.20  Ateas misliketh music. 405.20. 592.1. 1273.50. 〈◊〉 unto idleness. 
394.30  Atepomorus king of the Gauls. 
914.40  Athamas and Agave enraged. 
263.20  Athenians. more renowned for martial feats than good letters. 
981.50  Athenians of what disposition they be. 
349.30  Athenians why they suppress the second day of August. 187.40. reproved by a Laconian for plays. 
985.50  Athens and Attica highly commended. 
279.1.10  The Athenians would not break open king Philip's letters to his wife. 
350.1  Athens divided into three regions. 357.20. the mother and nurse of good arts. 
982.20  Athenians abuse Sylla and his wife with 〈◊〉 language. 
196.1  Athenodorus his kindness to his brother Zeno. 
181.20  Atheism and superstition compared. 
260.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who they were. 
1099.1  Atheists who they were. 
810.40  Atheism maintained by Epicurus. 
592.20  Atheism. 260.40. what it is. ib. 50. it arose from superstition, 267. 40. 50. how engendered. 
260.1  Athos the mountain. 
1175.20  Atlas. 
1163.20  Atomies. 
602.50.807.40.50  Athyri what it signifieth. 
1310.20  Atropos. 1049.10.797.40. her function. 1184.40. what she is and where she keepeth. 
1219.30  K. Attalus died upon his birth day. 
766.1  Attalus his reciprocal love to his brother Eumenes. 
188.20.416.30  Attalus a king, ruled and led by Philopaemen. 
394.20  Attalus espouseth the wife of his brother yet living: 
416.30  Avarice how it differeth from other lusts. 
211.20  Against Avarice. 
299.10.20  Averruncani, See Apotropoei. 
 Augurs who they be. 883.10. why not degraded. 
ib.  Augurs forbidden to observe bird flight, if they had an ulcer about them. 
874.30  Augurs and Auspexes why they had their lanterns open. 
874.10  After August no bird-flight observed. 
863.30  Of August the second day suppressed by the Athenians out of the calendar. 
187.40.792.10  Augustus Caesar first emperor of Rome. 
631.50  Augustus Caesar his apothegms. 442. 50. how he paid his father Caesar's legacies. 442.1. his clemency to the Alexandrians. ib. 10. his affection to Arius. ib. his anger noted by Athenodorus. 442. 30. his prayer for his nephew Tiberius Caesar. 631.50. fortune's darling. 
ib.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
901.20  In Autumn we are more hungry than in any other time of the year. 
669.10  Autumn called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
785.10  Axioms ten, by complication how many propositions they bring forth. 
782.20    


B  B. Used for Ph. 890.20. B. for P. 
ib.  Babylon a hot province. 685.20. about it they lie upon water budgets. 
686.50  Baccharis the herb, what virtue it hath in garlands. 
684.20  Bacchiadae. 
945.50  Bacchon the fair. 
1131.50  Bacchus why called by the Romans Liber pater. 885.1. why he had many Nymphs to be his nurses. 696.1. surnamed Dendriteus. 717. 20. the son or father of oblivion. 751.40. why called Eleuther and Lysius. 
764.10  Bacchanals how they were performed in old time. 
214.30  Bacchus how he cometh to have many denominations. 
1358.1  Bacchus patron of husbandry. 797.20. not sworn by within doors at Rome. 860.10. What is all this to 〈◊〉 a proverb whereupon it arose. 
645.1  Bacchaes why they use rhyme and meeter. 
654.40  Bacchaes. 
643.40  Bacchus taken to be the 〈◊〉 god. 712.10. surnamed Lyaeus and Choraeus. 722.40. he was a good captain. 722.40. a physician. 683.40. why surnamed Methymnaeus. 685. 40. surnamed Lysius or Libes and wherefore. 692.30. what is the end thereof. 337.20. why named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
726.50.  Bucchus surnamed Bugenes. 
1301.20  Bacchus portrayed with a bulls head. 
1301.20  Bacchus the governor of all moisture. 
1301.40.  Bactrians desire to have their dead bodies devoured by birds of the air. 
299.50  Baines and stouphes. 612.1. in old time very temperate. 783.30. the occasion of many diseases. 
783.30  Balance not to be passed over. 
15.10  Ballachrades. 
903.30  Bal what it signifieth in the Egyptian language. 
1319.1  Banishment of Bulimus. 
738.20.  Banishment how to be made tolerable. 275.1.10. no mark of infamy. 278.20. seemeth to be condemned by Euripides. 
ib. 30  Banished persons we are all in this world. 
281.20  Banquet of the seven Sages. 
326.30  Barbarians and Greeks compared. 
39.40  Barbell the fish honoured. 
976.40.  Barber's be commonly praters. 200.40. a prattling Barber, checked k. Archelaus. 
408.10  Barber to K. 〈◊〉 crucified for his 〈◊〉 tongue. 200.30. Barber's shops dry banquets. 721.20. a Barber handled in his kind for his 〈◊〉 tongue. 
201.1  Barley likes well in sandy ground. 
1008.10.20.  Barrenness in women how occasioned. 
844.20  Evil Bashfulness cause of much 〈◊〉 & danger. 165.10.20.30. overmuch Bashfulness how to be avoided. 164.30. Bashfulness 163.10. of two sorts. 72.1. Bashfulness to be avoided in diet. 
613.1  Bathing in cold water upon exercise. 620.20. Bathing in hot water. ib. 30. Bathing and 〈◊〉 before meat. 
612.20  Bathyllion. 
759.10  Battus the son of Arcesilaus 
504.30  Battus a buffoon or 〈◊〉. 
775.10  Battus surnamed Daemon. 
504.20  Battus. 
1199.20  Beans abstained from. 
15.20  Bear a subtle beast. 965.10. why they are said to have a sweet hand. 1010.50. why they gnaw not the 〈◊〉. 1012.30. tender over their young. 
218.20  a Bearded comet. 
827.20  Beasts have taught us Physic, & all the parts thereof. 967.60. Beasts capable of virtue. 564.50. docible & apt to learn arts. 570.1. able to teach. ib. 10. we ought to have pity of them. 575.30. brute Beasts teach parents natural kindness. 217.218. Beast's brains in old time rejected. 783.10. they cure themselves by Physic. 1012.1. Beasts of land their properties. 958.50. what beasts will be mad. 955.20. beasts not sacrificed without their own consent. 779.20. skilful in Arithmetic. 968.20. kind to their young. 218.10. beasts wild, what use men make of them. 237.40. of land or water, whether have more use of reason. 951. 30. beasts have use of reason. 954.955. how to be used without injury. 956.40. how they came first to be killed. 779.10. whether they feed more simply than we. 702.1. whether more healthful than men. 
702.1.  Beauty the blossom of virtue. 1153.10. beauty of what worth 6.50. beauty of woman called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 728.50. beauty without virtue not 〈◊〉. 
47.1  Beboeon. 
1370.40  Bebon. 
ib.  Bed of married folk 〈◊〉 many quarrels between them. 322 20. bed-clothes to be shuffled when we be newly risen. 
777.40  Bees of Candie how witty they be. 959. 50. bees cannot abide smoke. 1014.30. they sting unchaste persons. ib. 40. the be a wise creature. 
218.1  The Beetill fly what it signifieth 〈◊〉. 1291.30. why honoured by the Egyptians. 
1316.30  Beer a counterfeit wine. 
685.40.  Begged flesh, what is meant by it. 
891.50  Bellerophontes continent every way. 
739.30  Bellerophontes commended for his continence. 42.30.139.30. he slew Chimarchus. 489.10. not rewarded by jobates. 
ib.  Belestre. 
1137.1  The Bellies of dead men how they be served by the Egyptians. 576.40. of belly & belly cheer, pro & contra. 339.340. belly pleasures most esteemed by lipicurus and Metrodorus. 595. 10. belly hath no cares. 
620.40.  Bepolitanus strangely escaped execution. 
502.40  Berronice & the good wife of 〈◊〉. 
1111.40  〈◊〉 detected for killing his father. 
545.30.  Bias his answer to a prattling fellow. 194.20. his answer to king Amasis. 327.10. his apothegm. 456.1. his apothegm touching the most dangerous beast. 
47.30  binary number. 807.10. binary number or Two, called contention. 
1317.30  Bion his answer to Theognis. 28.20. his apothegm. 254. 50. his saying of Philosophy. 
9.1  〈◊〉 & hath diverse significations. 
29.20  Birds why they have no weezle flap. 745.10. birds how they drink. 745.10. skilful in divination. 968.40. taught to imitate man's man's voice. 
966.30  Biton and Cleobis rewarded with death. 518.10. See Cleobis. 
 Bitterness what effects it worketh. 
656.10  a 〈◊〉 of his tongue how he was served by K. Seleucus. 
200.20  Blackness cometh of water. 
997. 10  Black pottage at Lacedaemon. 
475. 20  Bladder answereth to the windpipe, like as the guts to the weazand. 
745.20  Blames properly imputed for vice. 
47.30  Blazing 〈◊〉. 
827.10  The Blessed state of good folk departed. 
530.50  Bletonesians sacrificed a man. 
878.10  Blushing face, better than pale. 
38 50  Bocchoris a k. of Egypt. 
164.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
898.40  Bodily health by two arts preserved. 
9.10  Body fitter to entertain pain than pleasure. 583.10. body feeble no hindrance to aged rulers. 389.40. bodies what they be. 813. bodies smallest. 813.50. body, cause of all vices and calamities. 517.30. body may well have an action against the soul. 625.1. much injuried by the soul. 
ib.  Boeotarchie. 
367.10  Boeotians good trencher men. 669 10. noted for gluttony. 
575.1  Boeotians reproached for hating good letters. 
1203.50  Boldness in children and youth. 
8.40  Bona a goddess at Rome. 
856.50  Books of Philosophers to be read by young men. 
9.50  Boreas what wind. 
829.30  Bottiaeans. 898.30. their virgin's song. 
ib.  Brasidas his saying of a silly mouse. 
251.20  Brasidas his apothegms. 423. 30.456.1. his death and commendation. 
ib. 10  A Brazen spike keepeth dead bodies from putrefaction. 
697.50  Brass swords or spears wound with less hurt. 
698.1  Brass why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 698.1. why it is so resonant. 
770.10  Brass of Corinth. 
1187.1  Bread a present remedy for fainting. 
739.1  Brennus king of the Gallogreeks. 
910.40  Brethren how they are to divide their patrimony. 180.40. one brother ought not to steal his father's heart from another. 179 30. they are to excuse one another to their parents. 179.50. how they should carry themselves in regard of age. 
184.185  Briareus a giant, the same that Ogygius. 
1180.20  Bride lifted over the threshold of her husband's door. 860.30. bridegroom cometh first to his bride without a light. 872.10. 20. bride why she eateth a quince before she enter into the bedchamber. 872.20. bride's hair parted with a javelin. 
879. 50  Brimstone why called in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
705.30  Brison a famous runner. 
154.30  Brotherly amity a strange thing. 
174.20  Brutus surprised with the hunger 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 738.50. his gracious thankfulness to the 〈◊〉. 
739.1  Decim. Brutus why he sacrificed to the dead in December. 
862. 10  Brutus beheadeth his own sons. 
909.50  The Briar bush 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
892. 50  Bubulci the name at Rome. how it came. 
865.10  Bucephalus K. Alexander's horse 963.50. how he was wont to ride him. 
396.20  Buggery in brute beasts not known 
568.30  Building costly forbidden by Lycurgus. 
577.30.880.1  Bulb root. 
704.20.  Bulls and bears how they prepare to fight. 
959.1  Bulls affrayed of red clothes. tied to figge-trees become tame. 
323.  
741.30  Bulla what ornament or jewel. 40. why worn by romans children. 
883.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. a fainting of the heart and no hunger. 
739. 30  Bulimos what it signifieth. 
738. 20  Bulimos the disease, what it is, & whereupon it proceedeth. 
738. 739  Buprostis. 
738.30  Buris his resolution for his country. 
474.1  A man not to be cased of his Burden. 
777.40  Busiris sacrificeth strangers and guests. 917.1. killed by Hercules. 
ib. 10  Bysatia killeth herself. 
913.20  Bysius what wind. 
890.20  Buzygion. 
323.10    


C  CAbirichus Cyamistos 1225 10. killed by Theopompus. 
ib. 30  Cabiri. 
666.20  Cabbas or Galba, a bawd and witall. 1144.10. and a merry busson withal. 
ib.  Caecias' the wind gathereth clouds. 
240.10  Caecilius Metellus Macedonicus, his rare felicity. 
630.20.  Caecilius Metellus his apothegms. 
436.20  Caena, that is to say, A supper, whereof derived. 
776.1  Caeneus the Lapith. 
247.1.1055 30  Caepio and Cato brethren, agree well together. 
185.20  Caepion an ancient Musician. 
1250.40  Caesar commended by Cicero for erecting again the statues of Pompeius. 243. 1. 10. he made head against M. Crassus. 
874.10  C. Caesar his apothegms. 440. 40. he putteth away his wife Pompeia. 
441  Cajus and Caja. 
860.50  Caja Caecilia a virtuous & beautiful lady. 860.50. her brazen image in the temple of Sanctus. 
861.1  Cakes of Samos. 
613.40  Calamarus fish foreshoweth tempest. 
1008.50  Calamoboas, why Antipater was so called. 
207.30  Calauria, what place. 
894.10  Calbia a cruel woman. burned quick. 
498.40.  
500.30  Calendae. See Kalendae. 
 Callicles answer. 
378.10  Callicrates. 
1106.30  Callicratidas his apothegms. 459.1. his death. 
ib. 30  Callimechus stood 〈◊〉 upon his feet. 
906.30  Callimici, a surname of certain princes. 
1278.40  Calliope the Muse. 795.40. wherein employed. 
798.50  Callipides a vain jester. 
449.10  Callirrhoe a beautiful damosel, her woeful history. 947.40. she hangeth herself. 
913.10  calisthenes refused to pledge Alexander the great. 120.30. in disfavour with K. Alexander. 655.20. his apothegm against quaffing. 
ib.  calisthenes killeth himself upon the body of Aristoclia his bride. 
945.10  calisto, what Daemon. 
157.30  Callistratus a friendly man in his house, and keeping great hospitality. 
707.40  Callixenus a sycophant. 
300.10  Sea Calves their properties. 
977. 20  Cambyses upon a vain jealousy put his brother to death. 
188. 20  Furius Camillus. 
631.10  Camma the Galatian Lady, her virtuous deeds. 500.40. poisoneth herself and Synorix. 
501.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth. 
28. 50  Candaules showed his wife naked to Gyges. 
654.10  Candaules killed by Gyges. 
902. 10  Candidatus 〈◊〉 for offices at Rome in simplerobes. 
867.30  Candyli. 
703.50  Canobus or Canopus, a pilot and star. 
1296.10  Cantharideses the flies, how used in Physic. 
28.30  Cantharolethros. 
156.50  Canus the Minstrel, studious and bend to his work. 
387.10  on Capitol mount no Patritij at Rome might dwell. 
880.40  Capparus the name of a dog. 962. 50. he discovereth one that had committed sacrilege. ib. provided for by the Athenians. 
963.10  Sp. Carbilius, why he divorced his wife. 
855.10  Carians murdered by the Melians. 
847.50  Carmenta the goddess, honoured by Roman matrons. 869.50. the mother of evander. ib. named Themis and Nicostrata. ib. the etymology of Carmenta. 
870.1  Carmina, whereof the word cometh. 
870.1  Carneades his witty apothegm against flatterers. 96.40. when he was borne. 
766.10  Carnia what 〈◊〉. 
766  〈◊〉 dames suffered their heads to be shorn. 
284.1  Carthaginians of what nature they be. 
349.40  Caryce. 
703.50  Carystian quarry, what stone it yielded. 
1345.50  Caspian sea. 
1183.30  Cassandra the prophetess not believed. 
376.30  Cassius Severus his apothegm of a cunning flatterer about Tiberius. 
〈◊〉.  Cassius Brutus a traitor. 
909. 40  Castoreum an unpleasant drug. 
9 50  Castor and Pollux how they loved. 
〈◊〉.  Castorium, what 〈◊〉 among, the 〈◊〉. 
1256.30  Casual adventure what it is. 
1052 30  Catacautae. 
894.50  Catamites hate Paederasts most deadly. 
1155.20  Cataptuston, a mouth of the river Nilus, why so called. 
1292.50  Catephia what it is. 
163.20  Cateunastes, what God. 
1142.1  Cathetus ravisheth Salia. 
917.40  Cats can abide no sweet perfumes. 
323.30  Cato the elder his apothegms. 432.30. an enemy to gluttony. 
ib.  Cato his accusation and plea. 384. 40. his apothegm of Julius Caesar Dictator. 
1083.1  Cato Vticensis killed himself. 295.50. more careful of his soldiers then of himself. 
ib.  Cato the elder against the liberty of women. 
432.30  Cato being a boy, very inquisitive of his Teachers. 
36.40  Cato the elder his severity. 432. 40. he would not have his own image made. 
375.10  Cato the elder misliked statues. 
432.50  Cato the younger his upright dealing against Muraena. 
242.50  a Cat, why she symbolizeth the Moon. 
1312.30  Catulus Luctatius his apothegms. 
437.1  Caudinae 〈◊〉. 
907  Cause, what it is. 
813.20  Causes of three sorts. 
ib.  'Cause efficient, chief. 
ib.  Causes material and efficient. 
1348.1  Cecrops why said to have a double face. 
443.20  Celaenae a city in Phrygia. 
907.50  Celeus a great housekeeper. 
707.40  Censors at Rome, if one died, other gave up their places. 868.1. what first work they undertook after they were sworn. 882.40. their charge. 
882.50.883.1  Centaurs whence they come. 
568.50  Centaury the herb. 
1178.50  Ceraunophoros, an image representing K. Alexander. 
1275.40  Cerberus. 
880.30.604.50  Cercaphus. 
896.30  Cercopes. 
98.20  Cerdous what God. 
154.50  Ceres differeth from Proserpina. 
1181.40  Ceroma what composition. 
672.50  Ceres worshipped in the same temple with Neptune. 
709.10  Ceres surnamed Anysidora. 797.10 patroness of agriculture. 
ib.  Ceres' 〈◊〉. 
897.40  Chaeron how he altered the prospect of Chaeronea. 
134.10  Chabrias his 〈◊〉. 
420.30  Chalcedonian dames their modesty. 
903.20  Chalcitis, a miner all medicinable. 
698.1  Chalcodrytae. 
712.40  〈◊〉, what they think of the Gods. 
1306.40  chameleon changeth colour upon fear. 
973.20  Change in States difficult & dangerous. 
349.20.350.20  Chaos. 646.10.1000.10.1032.50. whereof derived, and what it signifieth. 
989.30.1300.20  Charadrios, a bird curing jaundice. 
724.1  Chares, a personable man. 
389.50  Charicles & Antiochus how they 〈◊〉 their father's goods. 
181.10  Charidotes the surname of Mercury. 
904.20  Charila. 
891.1  Chatillus his apothegms. 
469.40.423.1  Charillus an infant, protected by his uncle Lycurgus. 
1277.30  Charites or Graces, what were their names, and why so called. 
292.1  Charmosyna, what feast. 
1299.10  Charon the brother of Epaminondas, commended for resolution and love to his country. 1204.50. he enterteineth the exiled men at their 〈◊〉. 1216.30. his speech made to the conspirators. 
1223.30  Charroles why commended by Anacharsis. 
737.10  Cheiromacha, a faction in Miletum. 
897.50  Chenosiris what it is. 
1302.10  Chersias the Poet scoffed at by Cleodemus. 
338.1  Childhood how to be ordered by Nurses. 
4.50  children's words taken for Osses. 
1293.10  Children good of bad parents. 
555.40  Children punished for their parents. 
554.1  Children begotten in drunkenness. 
2.40  Children are not to hear lewd speeches. 
4.50  Children to be taught by lenity & fair means. 
10.40  Children why they ought to have no gold about them. 375.1. how they come to resemble their parents and progenitors. 843.50. how it cometh, that they be like neither to the one nor the other. 844.10. they used to go with their fathers forth to supper. 
861.50  Chilon invited to a feast, inquired always who were the guests. 
328.30  Chimaera a mountain. 
489.30  Chimarchus or Chimaerus an archpirate. 
489.1  Chiomara wife to Ortiagon, her virtuous deed. 
501.50  Chios women their virtuous acts. 
485.10.40  Chiron an ancient Physician. 683.40. a singular bringer up of noble youth. 
1262.10  Chirurgery, men did learn of Elephants. 
968.20  Chlidon sent by Hipposthenidas to the banished of Thebes. 1216.1. a ridiculous fray between him and his wife. 
1216.20  Choaspes the river water, drunk only by the Persian kings 
273.1  Choenix. 15.10.749.50. 1328.20. it containeth 4. Sextatios. 
 Cholera the disease. 
781.50  Choler youth ought to suppress. 12.20. the whetstone of fortitude. 
566.10  Chonuphis a Prophet in Memphis. 
1207.1.1291.10  Chresmosyne. 
1358.30  Chrestos, what it signifieth. 
889.30  Chrithologos who it is. 
889.40  Chromatique music. 
796.40  Chrysantas commended by Cyrus for sparing to kill his enemy. 
863.50  Chryseis. 
35.1  Chrysippus taxed for nice subtlety. 
41.40  Chrysippus his contradictory opinions. 1060.10. to what purpose borne. 
1082.40.50  Chrysippus brought in a superfluous plurality of virtues. 65.10. his statue and the epigram to it. 
1058.20  Chthonie, what Daemon. 
157.30  Church robber detected by his tongue. 
201.40  Cicero his scoff. 664.30. noted for praising himself. 
303.40  Cicero his apothegms. 439.30 the reason of his name. ib. he is not ashamed of it. 
ib.  Cich peace forbidden to be eaten. 881.50. their derivation in Greek. 
ib.  Cidre, what drink. 
685.40  Cimon incestuous at first, proved a good Ruler. 
543.40  Cimon why blamed. 
297.20.351.1  Cimmerians believe there is no sun. 
266.20  Cinesias how he rebuked the Poet Timotheus. 
28.10.759.30  Cinesones. 
1199.30  Cinna stoned to death. 
915.1  Cio women their 〈◊〉 act and chastity. 
490.491  Circle. 
1021.10  The Cirque Flaminius why so called. 
872.30  Cleanthes did grind at the mill. 
286.30  Cleanthes thought that the heaven stood still and the earth moved. 
1163.1  Cleanthes hard to learn. 63.1. noted for playing with Homer's verses. 41.40. his contradictions. 
1059.20  Cleanthes and Chrysippus contradictory to themselves. 
1058.40  Cleanthes and Antisthenes practised to correct Poetical verses by change of some words. 
44.1  Clearchus his countenance encourageth his soldiers. 109.20. given to austerity. 651.50. a tyrant. 296.1. his insolent pride. 
1278.20  Clearchus the Philosopher confuteth Aristotle Junior, about the moons face. 
1161.20  Clemency what it is. 
69.10  Cleobis and Biton kind to their mother. 518.20. deemed by Solon happy. 
96.30  Cleobuline a studious and virtuous damosel, named also Eumelis. 
329.1  Cleobulus, usurped the name of a sage and was none indeed. 
1354.20  Cleodemus a Physician, 
335.20  Cleomachus the Thessalian his death. 1145.20. his sepulchre. 
1145.30  Cleombrotus the son of Pausanias, his apothegm. 
459.40  Cleombrotus a great traveller. 
1322.1  Cleomenes the son of Anaxandrides his Apothegms. 459.40.425.10. punished for his perjury and treachery. 
ib. 50  Cleomenes repelled from the walls of Argos by women. 
486.20  Cleomenes the son of Cleombrotus his apothegms. 
461.1.  Cleon being entered into government rejected all his former friends. 
358.50  Cleopatra. 632.1. banished and restored. 
637 30  A Clepsydre. 
840.20  Climacides and Colacides what women. 
86.20  Clio. 795.40 wherein employed 
798.50  Clitomachus the Grammarian could abide no amatorious matters. 
757.50  Cloelia her virtuous deed. highly honoured by k. Porsena. 
492.1  
492.20  Clonas an ancient musician. 
1269.50  Clotho 
797.40 1049.10  Clotho her function. 1184.40. what she is. 
1219.30  Clouds how engendered. 
828.10  Clusia flung herself from an high tower. 
910.20  Clysters commended. 624.10. first 〈◊〉 by the bird Ibis. 
968.1.1317.1  Clitus his vain glory. 
1278.10  Cneph among the Egyptians. 
1295.50  Cnidian grain, a violent purgative. 
623.50  Cocks of the dunghill for what use made. 
1073.20  White Cock honoured by the Pythagoreans. 
711.1  Cocles moderate in receiving honours. 
375.40  Cocytus. 604.50. what it signifieth. 
515.50  Codrus the king, disguised, killed. 
911.40  Coeranus preserved by Dolphins. 
980.1  Coeranium. 
ib. 10  Cold primitive what it is. 993.10. it is not the privation of heat. 
ib. 20  Cold good to preserve things. 
774 10  Cold outward increaseth natural heat. 
739.10  Coliades who they be. 
892.30  Colour what it is. 
814.10  Colours all but white deceitful. 859.40. of diverse kinds. 
814.20  Colotes the Epicure, wrote against the 〈◊〉. 581.10. he is confuted. 
1110.50  Combat of three twins, brethren. 
911.10  Combats of prize in what order set by Homer. 
673.40.50  Comminius Saper worketh the death of his own son Comminius. 
916.10  Comedian condemned by the Athenians. 
985.1  Comoedia Vetus banished out of feasts. 
759.20  Comoedia Nova commended at banquets. 
ib. 30  Company of friends at meals commended. 
742.40  Company bad, children must avoid 
15.1  Comparatives used for positives. 
719.40  Conception how it cometh. 842.20. how it is hindered. 
ib.  Conception of children. 
220. 20  Concoction what it is. 
1003  Concordance of 〈◊〉 and philosophy. 
605.20.48.30  Conflagration of the world. 
807.30  Conipodes who they be. 
888.50.  Conjunctions, a part of speech not much miss. 
1028.20  Conjunction of man and wife why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
1155.30  Conscience 〈◊〉 a safe harbour 
161.10  Conscience a sufficient witness. 
252.40.50  Conscience clear a singular 〈◊〉. 
603.20  peace of Conscience a sovereign joy. 
80.1  Consualia a festival day at Rome. 
867.20  Consular place at the board honourable. 650.10. the reasons why 
ib. 20  Consuls at Rome, when first installed. 856.20. not admitted to triumphal feasts. 
877.10  Consultation of serious matters at the table and wine.. 
761.40  Contentment of mind in 〈◊〉 Crates the philosopher. 
147.50  Continence and temperance how, they differ. 
69.20  Continency in beasts compared with the thastity of men and women. 
566.40  Contingent how defined. 
1051 20  Contradictions of stoic philosophers. 
〈◊〉 .1058  Contrusius the son of 〈◊〉 
914.10  Conus. 
1021.1  Cophene a young damosel saved the Megarians from being 〈◊〉. 487. 40. married to Nymphaeus. 
ib.  Coptos a city in Egypt why so called. 
1293.10  Corax aliâs Collocidas. 553.20 murdered Archilochus. 
ib.  Cordax 
759.10  Cordial confections and counterpoisons called, The hands of the gods. 
1703.1  Core the same that Persophone. 
914.10.1181.50  Coretas gave first light of the oracle at Delphi. 
1345.10  Corinna reproved Pindarus in his poetre. 
984.30  Corinthians chapel. 
1193.1194  Coronistae, who they be. 
505.30  Corpulent and fat folk barren. 
676.1  Coros 
1358. 〈◊〉  Correction of Poet's verses. 
44.1.10  Corruption what it is. 
1114.1115  Corybantes. 
1142.50.1143.10.1183.40  Cothus his subtle practice. 
895.20  Cotyla a measure. 1328.20. it containeth ten ounces, that is to say, about a pint. 
 Cotys a prince given to anger, how he restrained it. 
405.10  Covetousness what manner of disease. 
210  Counsel of state in Lacedaemon how called, 
391.30  the love of native Country surpasseth all others. 
362.10  who voluntary left their own Countries. 
277  native Country called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
395 1.  Cradephoria what 〈◊〉. 
712.10  Cradias' what tune or song. 
1251.10  Cramp-fish Torpedo how subtle he is. 
972.40  Cranes what order they keep in flying. 
960.1  Crantor his opinion as touching the soul of the world. 
1031.30  M. Crassus why he was said to carry hey one his horn. 
874.1  Crassus bitterly taunted and checked Domitius. 240.30. acused for incontinency. 
241.30  Crataiadas. 
895.1  Crates his treacherous part with Orgilaus. 381.1. he is put to death. 
381.10  Crates the philosopher joieth in his poverty. 147. 40. called Thirepanoectes. 666. 1. his epigram opposed to Sardanapalus his epitaph. 310. 1. he for sook the world. 288.10. his exclamation against negligent fathers in the education of their children 
5.50  Cratevas why he killed Archelaus 
1155.20  against importunate Cravers. 
168 40  Credit in a city won at the first and suddenly. 
356.10.20  Cretinas his honest carriage to his concurrent Hermes for the good of the common weal. 
362.1  Crexus what he added to music. 
1257.10  Crisson the Himerean, a flatterer. 
96.30  Critolaus killed his sister Demodoce. 
911.10  Crocodile resembleth god, and honoured by the Egyptians. 
1316.30  Crocodiles tame and familiar. 970. 10. their manner of brecding and their foreknowledge. 
977.1  Croesus erected the statue of his woman baker, in beaten gold. 
1195.40  the Cromyonian sow. 
565.30  Crows of Barbary how crafty they be. 
959.40  Crows age 
1327.30  Cruelty in men whence it arose first. 
951.10  Cruelty in the kill of brute beasts for our food, condemned. 
577.1  Cryassa the new. 
487.50  Cryassians conspire against the Melians. 
487.30  Cube. 819.20. how to be doubled. 
767.30  Cuminseed to be sown with curses. 
746.30  Cupid or love, highly honoured by the Thespians. 
1131.10  Curiosity fostereth anger. mixed with 〈◊〉 and malice. 
132.20.  
134.20  Curious persons ought to look into themselves. 
134.50  against Curiosity the 〈◊〉 of an Egyptian. 
135.50  Curious folk wherein they love to intermeddle. 
136.10  Curiosity in other men's matters how to be avoided. 
136.50  Manius Curius his Apothegms. 
428.20  Curtius a Roman knight. he deflowreth his own daughter Cyane. 
908.10  
911.50  Cuttlefish how crafty he is. 
972.30  Cyanippus killed himself. 
912.30  Cybele the great mother of the gods. 
1129.30  Cydippe. 
896.30  Cydnus the river, of what virtue the water is. 
1345.1  Cylindre. 
1021.1  Cynegyrus lost both his hands. 
906.30  Cynesias the Poet. 
985.1  Cynosarges at Athens. 
1133.30  Cyon the dog-star, representeth Isis. 
1295.50  Cyphi the composition, of what and how many ingredients it consisteth. 
1319.10  Cyphi how the Egyptians use. 1319.30. when it is burnt for perfume. 
1319.40.  Cypselus miraculously saved. 345 30. how he took that name. 
ib. 40  Cyrenaiks philosophers. 
1122.30.584.10  Cyrus sbunned the sight of fair Panthea. 41. 10.142.20. beloved of the Persians. 377.10 how he exercised himself with his playfeeres 207.1 his apothegms. 
403.10  Cyrus the younger his policy to win the Lacedæmonians unto him. 
404.10    


D  DAEmons, how long they live. 1327. 40. sundry sorts of them, and their diverse offices. 
1329.20.30  Daemons of what nature they be. 
1327.20  Daemons who they be. 1221.50. what nature they be of. 
1297.1  Daemons about the Moon. 
1183.40  Daemons how they speak with men. 
1217.50  Daemons: the attribute Daemonius how Homer useth. 
812.40  
1297.20  Daemons of sundry kinds. 
157.40  Daemons twain allotted to every one of us. 
157.30  Day at Rome began at midnight. 
879.40  Daiphantus. 
484.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what reports in Homer. 679.1. why so called. 
ib. 50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what manner of drinking. 
337.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who they were. 
ib.  Dames of Rome debarred from riding in coaches. 869.50. put to no cookery, nor grinding of corn. 
879.20  Damindas his apothegm. 
456.20  Damis his apothegm. 
456.20  Damocrates an impudent jester. 
354.50  Damonidas his 〈◊〉. 
425.10.456.20  Damoteles murdered. 
904.40  Darius father of Xerxes, hated idleness. 394.30. his apothegms. 403.10. he remitted certain taxes imposed upon his subjects. 
ib. 20  Darius fortunes minion. 
1264.30  Darius came up of nothing. 
ib.  Darius' his commendation of K. Alexander. 
1279.20  Darius the son of Hystaspes, how he attained to the crown. 
1280.40  Darkness whether it be visible. 
837.40  Darkness about the oak, what it meaneth. 
894.30  〈◊〉 seeds forbidden in fires for stonphes. 
697.10  Date tree branch in all games for victory. 772.1. why it hath the superiority in such games. 
ib. 30  Date tree highly commended. ib. 10. liveth long. ib. 30. it never sheddeth leaves. ib. 40. it bringeth to the Babylonians 360. commodities. 773.40. it beareth no fruit in Greece. ib. pressed down it curleth upward. ib. 50. the reason thereof. 
1013.40  The Date trees brains. 
622.30  Datys warred upon the Athenians. 
906.30  Daulides, what birds. 
777.1  three Dances of the Lacedæmonians. 
308.20.476.40  of Dancing three parts. 
799.50  Dance and poesy compared. 
801.1  Dance Candiot. 
801.30  Dawning of the day why called Clitus. 
771.20  In Dearth and famine how the Lydians passed the time. 
622,1  Death what it is. 848.1. whether it be common to soul and body. 
848.20.  why men reported Dead, upon their return enter not into their houses at the door. 
851.40  Death the remedy or end of all miseries. 
515.20  Death's hour why unknowen unto us. 
516.1  in Death no harm. 516. 50. to what Socrates compared it. ib. it resembleth sleep. 517.1. called the brother of sleep by Diogenes 517.20. compared to a long voyage. 
517.20  Death a favour and gift of the gods 518.20. compared to our estate before birth. 
519.10  Death only ill, infeare and expectance. 
519.30  Death of young folk is their blessedness. 
520.30  Death how it is accounted diversely 
75.20  Death day of Diogenes the Cynic observed. 
766.1  Death good in what respect. 
603.40  Deaths twain. 
1182.20  Dew the daughter of Jupiter and the Moon. 
1011.20  Dew how it fretteth the skin and raiseth a scurse. 
1005.50  Dew daughter of the air and the Moon. 
697.50  Dews most in the full Moon. 
697.40  Debt a sin in Persia. 
285.20  Decelique war raised by Alcibiades. 
419.50  December the tenth month. 856.20. the last month. 
862.10  Decias voweth himself for his army. 299.30. he cared not for fire. 
ib.  Deccis vowed themselves to death for their country. 
901.40.50  Decrees proposed to the Athenian people. 
938.10  Decree for the honour of Demosthenes. 
ib.  An honourable Decree in the behalf of Demochares. 
938.50  An honourable Decree proposed for Lycurgus. 
939.30  Defluxions of all things. 
1009.40  Deiotarus K. of Galatia. 
1073.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who they be. 
28.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a supper, whereof derived. 
775.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in dancing what it is. 
801.1  Delius an epithet of Apollo. 
1353.50.  The Deliaque oration of Hyperides. 
937.10  Delights of eye and ear more dangerous than of other parts. 752.40. how to withstand the danger of such delights. 
753.20  Delphinius a surname of Apollo. 
978.40  Demades findeth fault with Phocius slender fare. 
211.30  Demades noted pleasantly by Antipater. 
211.40  Demades a very glutton. 
211.30  Demades his images melted. 
376.1  Demades the orator compared to a burnt sacrifice. 416.10. his apothegm of the Athenians. 
615.30  Demades a scoffer requited by Demosthenes. 
355.10  Demades his politic practice. 
373.30  Demaratus his apothegms. 456.30. his free speech to king Philip. 111.1. his speech to K. Alexander. 
1267.30  Demetria a stout dame, slew her own son for cowardice. 
480.10  Demetrius counseled K. Ptolomaeus to read books of policy. 
422.40  Demetrius Phalereus, with 〈◊〉 300. statues. 375. 50. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 happily in 〈◊〉. 
273.20  K. Demetrius spared the 〈◊〉 of jalysus drawn by Protogenes. 415.20. his 〈◊〉. ib. his liberality. 415.30. sur named Polyarcetes, and his complaint of fortune. 
942.1  Demetreioi, why the dead are called. 
1182.30  Demetrius his vain glory, 
1278.10  Demigods or Heroes. 
812.40  Democraty what it is. 
941.20  Democrita and her daughters their woeful end. 
948.40  Democritus studious in searching the causes of things. 
660. 〈◊〉  Democritus commended. 1128.1 his opinion as touching dreams. 784.20. his opinion as touching Atoms. 807. 40. what he thought of God. 
812.1  Democritus a brave captain et sea. 
1242. 〈◊〉  Demodorus an ancient Musician. 
1249.40  Demonides his shoes. 
23.10  Demosthenes the orator never drank wine. 792.50. he loved not to speak unpremeditate. 355 10. his parentage, education and life 930.50. he called judicially to account his tutors or Guardian. 931.10. he sued Midias in an action of battery. 931.20. his painful study. ib. how he corrected his evil gestures. ib. 30. his defects in nature. ib. 40. his exercise of declaiming by the seaside. ib. he sided against the faction of K. Philip. 931.40. encouraged by Eunomus and Andronicus. ib. 50. his speech of Action in eloquence. 932.1. flouted by Comical Poets for his broad oaths in pleading. 932.1. he maintaineth the pronouncing 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, with the accent over the second syllable. 
932.10  Demosthenes dashed Lamachus out of countenance. 932.20. commended by K. Philip for his eloquence. 932.20. his kindness unto Aeschines. 932.40. disgraced at his first coming to the bar. 398.20. accused, and quit. ib. his timorousness. ib. 50. his Motor device upon his target. ib. not blamed in his orations for praising himself. 304.50.305.1. his employment and good service in the Common weal, 933.1. his honours that he obtained. ib. 10. noted for bribery and corruption. ib. 20. condemned and banished. ib. recalled home by a public decree. ib. 30. he flieth and taketh Sanctuary. ib. 40. his answer as touching premeditate speech. 8.1. his statue, with his own Epigram. 934. 10. his death. ib. his issue. ib. 30. honours done unto him after death. ib. 40. he first made an oration with a sword by his side. 934.30. his orations. ib. 50. surnamed Batalus for his riotous life. ib. scoffed at by Diogenes the Cynic. 935.1. his tale of the ass and the shadow. 935. 10. his apothegm to Polus the great actor. 935.20 he studied his orations much. ib. 30. how he took the death of his only daughter. 
529.40  Denary or Ten, the perfection of numbers. 
806.40  Denial of unjust and unlawful requests. 
170.20  Denys the Tyrant. 
296.40  Denys of Sicily abused by slatterers. 93.40. how he served a minstrel. 
56.1  Denys the tyrant's wife and children cruelly abused by the Italians. 377.1. his cruelty to Philoxenus the Poet. 
1274.1  Denys the elder could not abide idleness. 394.30. how he named his three daughters. 1278.30. his witty apothegms. 406.10. the younger, his apothegms. 407.20. his apothegm. 1268.50. his base nigardise to an excellent Musician. 1273.30. his proud vainglory. 
1278.20  Dercillidas his apothegms. 
456.30  Deris what Daemon. 
157.30  Destinies three. 
797.40  Destiny or fatal necessity. 816.40 what it is. 817.1. substance thereof what it is. 
ib. 50  Deucalion his deluge. 
961.50  Dexicreon a cozening Mount-banke or Merchant venturer. 
904.1  Diagoras of Melos. 
810.40  〈◊〉 in 〈◊〉 of two sorts. 758.40. whether they ought to be rehearsed at supper time. 
759.50  Diana's temple at Rome, why men do not enter into. 
851.10  Diana but one. 796.20. the same that the Moon. 697.20. her attributes given by Timotheus. 28.10. her temple within the Aventine hill, why beautified with cows horns. 
851.20  Diana Chalceoecos 455.10. surnamed Dictynna. 
978.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 how defined. 
953.1  Diapason, what symphony in Music. 
1037.1  Diapente, what symphony in Music. 
1037.1  Diapente in tempering wine and water. 
695.20  Diaphantus his apothegm. 
2.30  Diatessaron, what symphony in Music. 
1035.50  Diatessaron in tempering wine and water. 
695.20  Diatonique Music. 
796.40  Diatrion in tempering wine and water. 
695.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
736.50  〈◊〉 the city perished. 
1190.20  Dice. 
295.20.557.50  Dictamnus the herb medicinable. 
968.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
785.20.  Diesis. 
1037.40  Diet exquisite condemned. 
617.40  
620.20  Diet for sick persons. 
611.40  Diet for men in health. 
612.10  Diet physic taught us by brute beasts. 
969.10  Differing of punishment. 
540.1.10  Digestion of meats how hindered. 
701.1.10  Diligence supplieth the defect of nature. 3.20. the power thereof. 
ib. 30  Dinaea what Daemon. 
157.30  Dinarchus the orator his life and acts. 937.30. his voluntary extle. 
ib. 50  Dino a great captain. 
901.30  Dinomenes what oracle he received as touching his sons. 
1197 20  Diogenes smote the master for the scholars misbehaviour. 81.40. his free speech to K. Philip. 
111.10  Diogenes the Sinopian, a Philosopher abandoned the world. 
249.20  Diogenes compared himself with the great king of Persia. 
250.1  Diogenes the Cynic his apothegm unto a boy drunken. 
250  Diogenes his patience. 128.20 his speech to a yoonker within a Tavern. 
254.30  Diogenes the Cynic his answer as touching his banishment. 273 20. he contemned slavery. 
299.20  Diogenes master to Antisthenes. 
666.1  Diogenes rebuketh Sophocles about the mysteries of Ceres. 28.10. his apothegm as touching revenge of an enemy. 28.1. concerning fleshly pleasure. 6.30. his silthy wantonness. 1069.1. his frank speech to K. Philip. 
279.10  Diognetus sansieth Polycrite. 
497.1  Dion how he took the death of his own son. 525.40. through foolish bashfulness came to his death. 165. 30. his apothegms. 
408.1  Dionysius. See Denys. 
 Dionysus Eleutherios. 
885.1  Dioscuri, two stars. 
822.10  Dioxippus rebuked by Diogenes for his wandering and wanton eye. 141.20. his opinion as touching the passage of our meats and drinks. 
745.1  Dis, diapason. 
1037.30  discontentedness in Alexander the great. 
147.40  Discourse of reason what it is. 
839 40  Diseases of a strange manner. 
782.40  Diseases of the body which be worst. 
313.30  Diseases of the soul worse than those of the body. 
313.10  Diseases have their avantcurriers or forerunners. 
616.20  Diseases how they arise. 
781.10  Diseases new how they come. 
781.20  Diseases which were first. 
782.1  a Dish of sows paps. 
613.50  Disme or tenth of goods, why offered to Hercules. 
855.50  Disputation, what manner of exercise. 
619.30  Disputation after meals. 
622.50  Distances between sun, moon, and the earth. 
1165.30  Dithyrambs what verses & songs. 1358.10. they sort well with Bacchus. 
1358.10  Diversity. 
65.40  Divine what things be called. 
728 20.30  Divine knowledge or doctrine of the gods seven fold. 
810.10  Divine providence what it is. 
1052 50  Divine providence denied by the Epicureans. 
598.1  Divine service most delectable. 
ib. 40  Divine power, author of no ill, nor subject thereto. 
600.1  Divination of many kinds. 
841.10  Divination ascribed to Bacchus. 
1764.10  Divination by dreams. 
784.10  Divination dented by the Epicureans. 
598.1  Docana what images they were. 
174.1  Doctrine and life ought to go together. 
1057.40  Dodecaedron. 
1020.40.819.20  Dogs sacrificed by the Greeks in all expiations. 873.1. odious unto Hercules. 880.30. not allowed to come into the castle of Athens. 886. 50. esteemed no clean creatures. 887.10. sacrificed to infernal gods and to Mars. 
887.20  Sea Dogs how kind they be to their young ones. 
218.20.976.40  Dog how subtle he is. 
959.40  Dogs their admirable qualities. 
962.20  a Dog discovereth the murderer of his master. 
ib. 30  a Dog detecteth the murder of Hesiodus. 
ib. 40  Dogs gentle and courageous withal. 
964.10  an Indian Dog of rare 〈◊〉. 
964.10  a Dog counterfeited a part in a play. 
967.30  Dogs crucified at Rome. 
638.30  a Dog saluted as king in AEthiopia. 
1087.40  a Dog resembleth Anubis. 
1305.10  a Dog why so much honoured in Egypt. 
1305.20  Dogs why they pursue the stone that is thrown at the. 
1015.10  a Dog why he resembleth Mercury. 
1291.40  Dolphins loving to mankind. 344.30.751.20.979.1.10. delighted in Music. 
ib.  Dolphins spared by fishers. 
344.30  a Dolphin saved a maiden's life. 
344.40  a Dolphin, the arms that Ulysses bore in his shield. 
980.20  Dolphins how affectionate to a boy of Jasos. 
979.40  Dolphin how crafty he is, and hard to be caught. 
972.10  Dolphins in continual motion. 
974.1  C. Domitius his apothegm. 431.30. he overthrew K. Antiochus. 
ib.  Dorian Music commended by Plato. 
1253.40  Dorians pray to have an ill hay harvest. 
1008.10  Doryxenus who it is. 
893.30  Cock Doves squash their hens eggs. 
954.20  Dragon consecrated to Bacchus. 
699.20  A Dragon enamoured of a young damosel. 
966.10.  who never Dreamt in all their life time. 
1349.50  Dreams to be considered in case of health. 
618.10  Dreams how they come. 
841.30  how to be regarded. 
255.10  Dreams in Autumn little to be regarded. 784. 1. the reason thereof. ib. how to be observed in the progress of virtue. 
255.10  Drink whether it pass through our lungs. 743.20. the waggon of our meat. 
743.50  Drinks which are to be taken heed of. 
613.30  Drinking leisurely moisteneth the belly. 
743.50  Drink five or three but not four. 
695.20  Dromoclides a great states man in Athens. 
348 40  Drunkenness what persons it soon assaileth. 
652.10  Drunckenesse is dotage. 
765.20  Faults committed in Drunkenness doubly punished. 
336.50  Half Drunk more brainsick than those who be thorough drunk. 
694.20  Drunkenness most to blame for intemperate speech. 194.10. how defined. 194.40. soon bringeth age. 
690.10  Dryads what Nymphs. 
1141.30  Duality the author of disorder and of even numbers. 
1341.1  Duplicity of the soul. 
65.40  Dying is a kind of staining or infection. 
774.40  Dysopia what it is. 
163.20    


E  Ears give passage to virtue for to enter into young men's minds. 
52.10  Ear delights are dangerous. 
18.40  Eare-sports how to be used. 〈◊〉 10. when to be used at a feast. 
761.30  Ears of children and young 〈◊〉 how to be descended. 
52.10  Early eating condemned in old time. 
775.30  Earth whether it be the element of cold. 
999.40  Earth called Estia or Vesta wherefore. 
1002.1  Earth by god not always placed below. 
649.1  Earth whether but one or twain. 
829.50  Earth what prerogative it hath. 1345.30. what it is. 830. 1. what form it hath. 830. 10 the situation thereof. 830.10 why it bendeth southerly. 
830.30  Earth whether it move or 〈◊〉. 
830.40  Earthquakes how occasioned. 
831.20  Earth corrupteth waters. 〈◊〉 it causeth diversity of waters. 
774.40  Earth for the most part not inhabited. 
1177.40.50  Echemythia. 
139.10  Echeneis a fish. 676.10. the reason how she stayeth a ship. 
676.50  Echo how it is caused. 
839.20  In Eclipses of the moon why they rung basons. 
1183.20  Eclipses of the Sun. 
1171.20.30  Eclipses why more of the Moon then of Sun. 1172. 10. of eclipses the cause. 
1172.10  Education of what power it is. 
4.10.6.40  Eels coming to hand. 
970.1  Eels bred without generation of male or female. 
672.10  Egg or hen, whether was before. 
669.50  Eggs resemble the principles of all things. 
670.50  The Egg whereof came Castor and Pollux. 
671.20  E. signifieth the number five. 
1354 30  EI. written upon the temple at Delphi what it signifieth. 
1353 30.1354  EI. an gold, in brass, and in wood. 
1354.30  EI. a stone. 
345.20  EI. as much as 〈◊〉. 
 EI. of what force it is in logic 
1355.  why E. is preferred before other letters. 
1356.40  Eight resembleth the female. 
884.20  Eight, the first cubic number. 
884.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, signifieth both the fruit and the tree of the olive. 
32.1  Elaeus the city whereof it took the name. 
917.40  Elaphebolia a feast, when instituted. 
485.10.699.50  Elasiae who they be. 
895.40  Electra concubine to Deiotarus with the privity and permission of his wife. 
50.40  Elegy whose invention. 
1257.10  Elements. 4. 994.40. which be elements. 
805.10.808.1  Elements before elements. 
813.50  Eleon. 
901.10.20  Elephants how they be prepared for fight. 
959.1  Elephants docible. 961.10. their wit, patience and mildness. 
961.30  Elephant of king Porus how dutiful unto him. 
963.40  Elephants witty and loving to their fellows. 965.40. devout and religious. ib. 50. full of love and amorous, they can abide no white garments. 
323.40  Elephantiasis a disease not long known. 
780.30  Eleutherae. 
899.50  Eleutheria, what feast. 
914.40  Elians why excluded from the Isthmick games at Corinth 
1194.40  Elieus the father of Eunostus 
900.40  Ellebor root cleanseth malancholie 
659.10  Ellebor. 
91.50  Elops the only fish swimming down the stream and wind 
973.50  Eloquence becometh old men. 391.10. in princes most necessary. 
352.10  Elpenor. 
899.20  Elpenor his ghost. 
791.40  Elpisticke Philosophers. 
709.1  Elysius' the father of Euthynous 
518.30  Elysian field in the moon. 
1183.30  Emerepes his apothegm 
557.1  Empona her rare love to her husband. 1157.1158. cruelly put to death by Vespasian. 
ib.  Empusa. 
598.30  Empedocles his opinion touching the first principles. 807.50. how he averted a pestilence. 134.10 a good common wealths man. 
1128.10  Emulation that is good. 
256.50  Enalus enamoured of a virgin destined for sacrifice. 
345.1  Encnisma what it is. 
895.50  Encyclia what sciences. 
9.1  Endrome the name of a canticle 
1256.40  Endimatia, what dance. 
1251.30  Engastrinythi what they be. 
1327 1  In England or great Britain why folk live long. 
849.50  by Enemies men may take profit. 237.20.30.50. of Enemies how to be revenged. 
239.30  Enneaterides. 
891.1  Entelechia. 
805.30.808.10  No enterring the relics of triumphant persons within the city of Rome. 
876.50  Enthusiasm. 
1344.20  Enthusiasmus. 654.40. of sundry sorts. 1142. 50. what kind of fury. 
1142.40  Envy. 1070.50. Envy a cause of men's discontent, 156.1.10. Envy among brethren. 183.10. how it may be avoided. 
184.1.10.20  Envy and hatred differ. 
234.1  Envy what it is. 
234.20  Envious men be pitiful. 
235.50  Envy hurtful especially to scholars and hearers. 
53.50  Envy of diverse sorts. 
53.50.54.1  Envious eye hath power to bewitch. 
724.20  Envy whom it assaileth most. 388.20. compared to smoke. ib. 30 how it is to be quenched. 
389.1  Envy not excusable in old age. 399 10. in young persons it hath many pretences. 
399.10  Enyalius what god. 
154.50.1141.10  Epacrii a faction in Athens. 
1149 10  Epact days. 
1292.10  Epaenetus his apothegm 
557.1  Epaminondas beheadeth his own son. 
910.1  Epaminondas his commendation. 
53.20  Epaminondas accused of a capital crime. 477.40. his plea. ib. his death. 
428.1  Epaminondas the nickename of a talkative fellow. 
207.20  Epaminondas had a grace in denying his friends requests. 361.10. how careful for the Thebans. 295.40.50. he retorted a reproachful scoff upon Calistratus. 363.50. his valiant exploit 400: 10. his magnanimity. 303 20. his apothegms. 425.40 he could not abide fat and corpulent soldiers. ib. his sobriety and frugality. ib. 50. debased by the Epicureans. 1129.10 his apothegm. 625.50. admired in commending himself. 
303.10  Epaphus. 
1302.20  Ephyppus. 
899.20  Ephort by whom brought into Sparta. 294. 1. graced by the Kings. 
371.20  Epiali what fevers. 
160.50.  Enterring of other things with the dead corpse. 
602.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it is. 
953.1  Epicharmus rebuked king Heir too sharply. 
108.1  Epicranis. 
834.40  Epicureans, enemies to policy, rhetoric and royal government. 
1129.1  Epicurus honoured by his favourites and sectaries. 
597.1  Epicures given wholly to pleasures. 
582.1  Epicures life confuted. 
582.1  Epicurus his favourites. his consolatory reasons in perils. 601.1. he maintaineth the mortality of the soul. 
600.20.  
601.10  Epicurus his vanity. 60.50. wonderfully respected and loved of his brethren. 
185.30  Epicurus a Democratian. 1111.20. collauded by his favourites. 1119.20. his opinion as touching the principles of the world. 807.30. his opinion of the gods. 
812.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what use it hath. 
743.40  Epimenides. 
338.50  Epimenides how long he slept. 
384 10  Epimetheus. 
31.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the surname of Diana. 
902.40  Epitedeius the Sycophant, first put to death at Athens. 
578.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 an image representing K. Alexander the great. 
1275.40  Epitherzes' his narration as touching the great Pan. 
1331.40  Epithets that Empedocles useth, be most proper and significant. 
726.30  Epithymodeipni who they be. 
775.10  Epitritoes, what proportion. 
1036.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
1070.50  Epopticon what part of Philosophy. 
1318.10  Erato, how employed. 
779.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
779.20  Erebus. 
1000.10  Erechtheus sacrificed his own daughter. 
912.10  Eretrians wives roast flesh against the sun. 
897.40  Ergane who she is. 232.10.352.50. the surname of Minerva. 
692.30  Erinnys. 
557.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who they be. 
744.1  Ervill why called Catharter. 
902.20  Eryngium the herb, what virtue it hath. 290.10.20. being held in the hand stayeth goats for going. 
746.10  Eryxo her virtuous act. 
504.20  Eteocles his saying as touching a kingdom. 
614.10  Etesiae what winds. 
829.30  Ethos. 
543.10  Euboean brass the best. 
1345.40  Euboedas his apothegm. 
557.10  Eubulus a good 〈◊〉. 
366.20  Eubulus the surname of Bacchus 
762.20  Eucarpos a surname of Venus. 
323.10  Euchnamus the Amphissian. 
1146.10  Euclides how he repressed his brother's anger. 50. loath to fall out with his brother. 
130.30.187.  
ib.  Eucteus and Eulaeus the minions of K. Persius. 
110.40  Eudamidas his Apothegms. 
425.20.557.10  Eudorus as touching the soul of the world. 
1031.40  Eudoxus studious in Astronomy. 
590.1  Euemerus the Atheist. 
810.50 1296.20  Euergetes a fit attribute for princes. 
307.1  Euergetae a surname of some princes. 
1278.40  Euippe. 
346.10  Eumaeus kept a good house. 
750.10  Eumenes reported to be dead. 416 30. his mild behaviour to his brother Attalus. ib. 188.10.20 his stratagem by secrecy. 
197.40  Eumertis. See Cleobuline. 
 Eumolpus instituted the sacred ceremonies at Eleusis. 
280.30  Eunomia. 
630.1  Eunostus. 900.30. murdered by the brethren of Ochna. 
900.40  Evocation of tutelar gods out of their places. 
871.1  Eupathies what they be. 
74.20  Euphranor and Parrhasius painters compared. 
982.30  Euphranor his notable picture of the battle at Mantinaea. 
982.40  Euphrone a name of the night. 762.20. the reason thereof. 
141.50  Euripides his day of death and birth observed. 766. 1. his speech to a foolish and ignorant fellow. 61. 10. taxed for Atheism. 811.1. he forsook Athens his native city. 
277.20  Euryclees. 
1327.1  Eurycratidas his Apothegms. 
457.50  Eurydice a noble and virtuous lady. 
17.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
1182.50  Eutelidas bewitched by himself. 
724.40  Euterpe what she is allotted to. 
795.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Hesiodus what it is 
747.1  Euthynous died suddenly. 
518.30  Eutoria her daughters twain deflowered by Saturn. 
909.10  Eutropion king Antigonus his cook highly advanced. 
13.40  Euxine sea why so replenished with fishes. 
976.1  Euxynthetus and Leucomantis 
1152.20  Exercise of body fit for health. 619 1.10. meet for students. 
619.10  Exercise of body for youth. 10.1. after meat. 
622.40  Expedition or quick execution. 
296,40  Experience what it is. better than the book for government. 
836.10.  
392.40  of Exile or banishment. 
270  Extremities in all changes are nought. 
625.20  Ay of the master feeds the steed. 
11 30  Eyesight how it is performed. 
657.30.40  Ey-biting, and the reason thereof. 
723.30.40  Eyesight the source and beginning of love. 
723.40    


F  FAbia committed 〈◊〉 with Petronius Valentius. 917.1. she killeth her 〈◊〉. 
〈◊〉.  Fabius Maximus his policy in wearying Annibal by 〈◊〉. 429.10. his apothegms. 429.1. his courteous usage of an amorous soldier, otherwise valiant. ib. 30. his death. 907.50. he despised scoffs and frumps. 
ib. 10  Fabius 〈◊〉 the son of Fabia killeth her mother and the adulterer. 
917.1  Fable of the fox and the leopard. 
313.10  the Fable of the ox and the camel. 
629.50  Themistocles his Fable of the feast and the morrow. 
633.10  C. Fabricius his apothegm. 428 30. his contempi of money. ib. 40 he misliked treason even against his enemies. 
ib. 50  Faculty in the soul what it is. 
67.40  Faeciales what priest. 
871.20  Fair means to be used with children. 
10.40  Fame or rumour had a temple at Rome. 
〈◊〉  Fasting long, why it procureth rather thirst than hunger. 
730.30  who Fast long feed more slowly. 
658.30  Fatal destiny how to be understood 
1048.40  Fathers love their daughters better than their sons. their folly in choosing governors and teacher's for their children. 5.40. taxed for their negligance in this behalf. 6.10. they ought not to be austere unto their children. 16.20. their care in choosing wives for their sons. 16.40. they are to give good example to their children. 
321.50  
16.50  Fatness occasioned by cold. 
688.40  Faunus sacrificeth guest strangers. 917.10. killed by Hercules. 
ib.  Fear of God how to be limited. 
598.40  Fear. 15.1. what passion it is. 
26.1  Fear compared with other passions. 261.1. why it is named in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
ib.  of Feasts, what is the end. 
652.40  Philosophy not to be banished from Feasts. 
764.10  Festival days at Athens, or martial victories. 
987.10  Feasts have two precedents, hunger and Bacchus. 
722.40  Feasts ought to make new friends. 
699.30  a Feast of what proportion for number of guests it should be. 
720.30.40  at a Feast consideration would be had of room and sitting at ease. 
721.10  a Feast master what person he ought to be. 
651.10  February. 
873.1  February the month, what it signifieth. 872.50. the twelfth and last month of the year. 
856.20  Feeding a part or in common whether is more commendable. 
678.20  Feeding without fullness. 
619.1  Females whether they send forth seed in the act of generation. 842.10. how they are begotten. 
ib. 30  Fenestella, a gate. 
635.20  Fenestra, a gate at Rome. 
863.1  Ferula stalk why put into the hands of drunken folk. 
762.40  Ferula consecrated to Bacchus. 
642.1  Fever what it is. 849.20. an accessary or symptom of other diseases. 
849.30  Figs why sweet and the trce bitter. 
727.20  the sacred Figtree at Athens. 
749 30  Figtree juice hot. 741.40. it crudleth milk. 
ib.  Figtree never bloweth. ib. never smitten with lightning. 
727. 20  Figtree Ruminales. 
632.40  Figtree leaf what it signifieth. 
1301.50  Figure what it is. 
814.1  Figure of the elements. 
ib.  Fish 〈◊〉 best for sickly and weak stomachs. 
709.40  Fish more dainty and costly than flesh. 
708.10.20  sea Fish most pleasant and wholesome. 
709.40  abstinence from Flesh. 
340.40  certain Fishes why called Ellopes. 
778.10  Fishes mute and dumb. 
ib.  why Pythagoras forbore to eat Fish. 
778.1  to kill Fish, cruelty. 779.30. to eat them, gluttony. 
ib.  Fishes harmless creatures. 
ib.  Fish not eaten by Ulysses and his mates, but upon extremity. 
779.50  a Fish adored as god by the Syrians 
780.10  Fish among the Egyptians symbolyzeth hatred. 
1300.20  Fish, a name implying blockishness. 
969.1  Fishes and their properties described. 
969.50  Fishes very obsequious. 970. 1. used in divination. ib. 20. more wary and circumspect than land beasts. ib. 30. how ready they be to help one another. 971.30.40 why they swim for the most part against the stream. 973.50. how kind to their young fry. 
976.30  Fist-fight or buffets the first exercise by Homer's reckoning. 
673.30  Five the number, what preogative it hath. 
1357.1.10.1341.30  Five the number why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. that is to say, The marriage. 
1357 1  Five a number most be seeming marriage. 850.50. why it is called Nature. 
1357.20  Flamen Dialis why he might not touch meal nor leven. 886.10. forbidden to touch raw flesh. ib. 30. he might not touch nor name a goat or dog. ib. 40. in steed of an altar or sanctuary. 887.1. not permitted to touch an Ivy tree, nor to go under a vine. 
887.30.  Flamen dialis not admitted to sue for government of estate. 
888.10  Flamina. 
879.30  Flamen or priest of Jupiter gave up his sacerdotal dignity if his wife died. 
867.40  Flaminius circus. 
872.30.  Flaminia via. 
ib  Flatterers the overthrow of young men. 15.30. they are depainted in their colours. 
16.40.50  Flattery to whom most hurtful, 
ib.  what Flatterers be most dangerous 
86.20  Flatterers how they be discovered. 
89. 10.20.&c.  the Flatterers of Denys. 
90.20  Flatterers abuse the world by frankness of speech. 
97.40.50.98.10.20  Flatterers of K. Ptolomaeus. 
98.1  Tiberius Caesar Flattered under liberty of speech. 
98.20.30  Flatterers how they abused Antony. 99.20. compared to gadflies and ticks. 
92.40  Flatterers tame and wild. 
99.40 50  Flatterers about Demetrius. 
379 10  Flavius whipped his wife. 
856.50  Flesh, Pythagoras forbade to be eaten. 
572.10  Flesh eating might be well dispensed with in the first age of the world. 
572.50.573.1  Flesh eating condemned in men. 
574  Flesh meats apt to breed 〈◊〉. 
84.50  Flesh killed, hanging upon a figtree soon becometh tender. 741. 20. it sooner corrupteth in the Moon, than in the Sunshine 
696.10  Flinging of stones or weighty things how performed. 
1022.20  Flowers of trees may be gathered. 
683.20  Flies will not be tamed. 
777.20  Food fit for students. 
620.40  Form. 
805.30  Fornacalia, what feast. 
888.20  Fortitude what it is. 
69.10  Fortitude of brute beasts compared with men's valour. 
565.1  Fortitude in men not natural. 
565.40  Fortune by whom attended when she pleads against virtue. 
630.10  Fortune not sufficient to make misery. 
299.50  Fortune in geatest favour with Venus. 
630.40  Fortune primigenia. 
635.20.  
885.30  Fortune virilis. 
631.1  Fortune a word unknown to poets 
31.20  Fortune had many temples at Rome. 
630.50  Fortune although it differeth from wisdom, yet it produceth like effects. 
765.50  Fortune viscata. 
ib. 635.30  Fortune with diverse attributes. 
875.1  Fortune. 631.1. by whom erected. 
635.1  Fortune much honoured by king Servius Tullius. 
875.1  Fortune muliebris or feminine. 631.1 when erected. 
635.10  little Fortune and short Fortune with their temples. 
874.50  temple of Fortune fortis, where built. 
631.20  Fortune what it is. 817.10.1051 50. how it differeth from rash adventure. 
ib.  Fortune favourable to Julius Caesar. 
631.40  Fortune envieth great felicity. 
513.40  against Fortune. 
230. 1.10.&c.  Fortune and virtue at debate. 
628.10  Fortune obsequens. 
635.20  Fortune cometh to plead against virtue. 
629.40  Fortune favourable to Ser. Tullius. 
635.10  Fortune private. 
635.30  Fortune in what manner she came to the city of Rome. 
629.40.50  Fortune the virgin. 
635.30  Fortune good hope. 
635.30  Fortune, as it were hope. 
ib.  the Fox of Telmessus. 
565.30  Fox more spotted than the leopard 313.10. his subtlety in passing over rivers frozen. 
962.1  Frank speech beseemeth a ruler in extremities. 370.1. it beseemeth not a flatterer. 
971  Frank speech to friends how to be used. 
105.30.40  in Frank speech scurrility and biting is to be avoided. 
108.1.10  Free will. 
1051.1  of Friends but few pairs. 
224.50  a Friend why he is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek. 
225.1  Friend the word, how to be taken. 
699.10  Friendship true how many things it requireth. 
225.30  Friendship ought not to be in a mean. 
227.40  Friends how to be used by a magistrate. 
360.30  Friends how they may be denied in their unlawful suits. 
361.10  Friendship not unpleasant 
85.30  Friends may praise friends aswell as blame them. 
85.50  Friends how they differ from flatterers. 
91.40.50  a true Friend will do his friend good secretly. 
102.40.50  plurality of Friends. 
224.30  Frogs why they coake against rain 1004.10. how they engender. 977.20. they prognosticate rain. 
ib.  Fulvius sharply rebuked by Augustus Caesar for his lavish tongue. 199.40. he killeth himself and dieth with his wife. 
199.40  Functions meet for aged Rulers. 
395.20  Furciferi, who they were. 
873.40  Fury of diverse sorts. 
1142.40  Fire the best sauce. 85.40.615.20. argued to be better than water. 991. 1. found out by Prometheus. 990.1. the principle of all things. 807. 20. worshipped by the Assyrians & Medes. 1174.40. how made. 808.40. in old time might not be put out. 748.40. not always by God placed aloft. 649. 1. dieth two manner of wates. 748.40. why it was so religiously preserved unextinct. 749.1. not to be digged into with a sword. 15.10. stronger in Winter; and more seeble in Summer. 1323.20. seemeth to have life. 
875.20    


G  G. and C. letters of great affinity. 
869.1  G. devised first by Sp. Carvilius. 
ib.  Galaxion a place plentiful of milk. 
1201.30  Galepsus a town in Euboea, pleasantly seated. 
707  Galli the priests of Cybele. 
1129.30  the Gallion of Delos. 
387.50  Garrulity. 192.20. compared with other vices. 193.10. accompanied with curiosity and much meddling. 199. 50. compared with treason and treachery. 
202 20  Garrulity how to be cured. 
202.40  the Garrulity of a Roman dame. 
198.30  Garments how they are said to warm the body. 78.40. they both heat and cool. 
735.30  Gates of Rome not hallowed. 
859.50  Gaul women their virtuous act. 487.10. their advice is taken in counsel house. 
ib.  Gegania. 
636.10  Geirs or vultures most observed by the Romans in their Auspexes. 881.10. strange birds and seldom seen in Italy. ib. most harmless and just. ib. 20. most significant in Augury. ib. 30. all females, and conceive by the East wind. 
ib.  Gelon scoffed at by allusion to his name. 305.40. his apothegms. 405.40. he reclaimed the 〈◊〉 from sacrificing children to Saturn. ib. 〈◊〉. 
ib.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth in Hesiodus. 
1327  Genitamana a goddess at Rome. 868.20. a dog sacrificed unto her. 
ib.  Generation and corruption. 
816.1  Generation what it is. 
1114.1115  Generation and creation different. 
1018.10  act of Generation a token of mortality. 
766.30  Geometrical proportion allowed in Lacedaemon by Lycurgus. 
767.50  Geometry commended. 767.10. in what subjects or objects it is occupied. 
767.20.30  Geomori who they were. 
904.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Honour, why so termed in Greek. 
391.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, why old men be so called. 
391.30  Geryones or Geryon, a wonderful giant. 
374.20  Gidica her villainy. 916. 10. she hangeth herself. 
ib.  Glass with what heat it is best melted and wrought. 
697.1  Glaucia with child by Deimachus. 
901.10  Glaucia a riveret of her name. 
ib. 20  Glancopis, why the Moon is called so. 
1174.1  Glaucus his foolish bargain with Diomedes. 
1087.20  Lucius Glauco lost both his hands. 
906.40  Glory of what account it is. 
6.50  Glosses. 
28.50  Glottae. 
1311.40  Gluttons abroad, spary at home. 
614.30  Gnathaenium the name of an harlot. 
1144.1  Gnatho a smell feast. 
754.40.  Gnatho the Sicilian, a glutton. 
606.30  Go we to Athens. 
898.30  Goats very subject to the falling sickness. 
886.40  Goats rivers, a place so called. 
922.10  Goats of Candie cured by Dictamnus. 
569.40  Goats commending their pasturage and feeding. 
702.10  a Goat fancied Glauce. 
966.30  God how he is called Father and Creator. 
766.30  God. 
768.50  Gods and Goddesses how they differ. 
766.40.50  how God is said by Plato to practise Geometry continually. 767 10. how he framed the world. 
768.10  God manageth great affairs only. 
364.40  Gods nature what it is according to Plutarch. 
263.40  God seemeth to defer punishment for causes to him best known. 
541  God immortal. 
1099.1  God is not Philornis, but Philanthropos. 
1221.10  God not the author of evil. 
1033.50  God described by Antipater. 
1076 10  Gods, which were begotten, which not. 
1076.20  God what he is. 
808.10.809.20  notion of God how it came. 
809.20  God his nature described. 
1335.50  Gods worship in three sorts. 
810.10  Gods the Sun and Moon, why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
810.20  Gods good and profitable. 
810.20  Gods bad and hurtful. 
ib.  God's fabulous. 
810.30  what God is, Sundry opinions of Philosophers. 
812  God the father and maker of all things. 
1018.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
953.10  Goldsmiths with what fire they melt & work their gold. 
699.1  Gold why it maketh no good sound. 
770.10  Good or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth. 
868.40  Good or bad things simply. 
1084.40  to Good men, what epithets and additions Homer giveth. 
1297.10  a Goose in love with a boy. 
966.30  Geese silent as the fly over the mount Taurus. 
202.10  Geese of Cilicia, how witty they are. 
959.50  Geese saved the Capitol of Rome. 638. 20. carried in a show at Rome. 638. 30. how they restrain their own gaggling. 
ib.  Gorgias 〈◊〉 the great Rhetorician. 919. 20. his apothegm of Tragoedies. 
985.10  Gorgias could not keep his own house in peace. 
323.20  Gorgo the wife of Leonidas a stout dame. 464.30. her apothegm. 
ib.  Gorgo the daughter of Cleomenes her apothegms. 
479.40  Gorgon and Asander. 
1152.20  Governors of youth how to be chosen. 
5.10  Government politic the best. 
940 50  of Governments the exorbitations. 
941.30  C. Gracchus. 348. 50. by what device he did moderate his voice in pleading. 
122.10  Graces, why placed with Venus and Mercury. 316. 10. their names. 
292.1  Grammar what art it is. 
1249.1  Grasshoppers sacred and musical. 
777.10  Greece in Plutarch's time fallen to a low ebb. 
1326.1  〈◊〉 and Galatians buried quick by the Romans. 
878.40  Greeks what opinion they have of the gods. 
1306.40  greeks compared with the Egyptians, in matters of religion. 
1315.10  Guests ought to sort well together. 
722.1  Guests sit close at first: but more at large toward the end. 
722.20  Guests invited aught to be of acquaintance. 
755.40  Guests invited coming last to a feast 
775.20  A Guest ought to come prepared to a feast. 
328.10  Guests how to be placed at a feast 646.20. how to be pleased at the table. 648.20. allowed their chaplets of flowers. 
680 20  Whether it be commendable for Guests to wear garlands. 
682.10  Of Guests a multitude to be avoided at a feast. 
721.20  The guide a fish 
975.30  Gurmandise in men taxed by Gryllus. 
669.10  Gifts none between wife and husband. 
853.1  No gifts from son in law or father in law. 
853.20  Gymnasia the overthrew of Greece. 
864.20  Gymnopaedia what dance. 
1251 30  Gymnosophists. 
1270.30  Gyrtias her apothegms. 
480.1    


H  HAbitude in the soul what it is. 
67.40  Hades and Dionysius, both one. 
1298.40  Hail how it cometh. 828. 10 how it may be averted. 
746.30  Hair long commended and commanded by Lycurgus. 
422.40  Hair long commended. 
423.10  Halo the circle how it is made. 
832.40  Halcyones sea-birds. see Alciones 
633.50  Hamedriades why so called. 
1327 50  Hamoxocylistae, a family in Megara. 
905.40  Hands always warm, wholesome and good for health. 
611.40  Hands most artificious instruments. 
174.40  Hanno banished for ruling a lion. 
349.50  Happiness diversely taken by Poets and philosophers. 
32.30  Happiness not to be measured by time 
1333.1  Hares how crafty they are. 
965.1  The Hare why not eaten among the Jews. 
111.10  Hares of exquisite sense. 
711.10  Hares and asses alike. 
ib.  Harma the name of a city. 
908.20  Harmatios what tune or song. 
1251.1  Harmonia what goddess. 
1306 50  Harmony what Daemon. 
157.40  Harmonicke music. 
976.40  Harmonice. 
1019.1  Harmony commended. 
1255.30  Harpalus endeavoured to have Ivy grow about Babylon. 
685.20  An Harp or lute going about the table. 
645.10  Harp familiar at feasts. 
760.20  Harpocrates the son of Osiris by Isis, wanteth his neither parts 
1295.1  Harpocrates his portraiture. 
1313.50  Hearts or stags age. 
1327.30  Hatred how engendered. 234.20. it differeth from envy. 
234.1  Hawk symbolizeth god. 
1300.20  Hawk symbolizeth Osiris. 
1308.10  Hautboys and slut. 760.30. commended at feasts. 
ib.  Romans worshipped the gods with their Heads covered; but men, bore headed. 
853.50  Health what it is. 
849.30  Health of what price. 
6.50  Health the best sauce. 615.20. by what means maintained. 
618.50  Health and pleasure agree well together. 
702.1  Health how it is accounted of diversely. 
75.20  Heart not to be eaten. 
15.20  Heat natural maintained most by moisture. 
730  Heat putrefieth things. 
774.10  Heats by fire of diverse kinds and sundry operations. 
697.1  Heaven how the Egyptians portray. 
1291.30  Heaven how made. 
808.30  Heaven beautiful. 
809  Heaven what substance it hath. 830. into how many circles divided. 
820.40  Hear much and say little. 
53.20  Hearing how to be employed. 18.40. presenteth the greatest passions to the mind. 52.10. aught to go before speech. 
52.50  Hearers how they should be qualified. 53.20. etc. they ought to sequester envy and ambition. 53.50. how they should behave themselves in praising the speaker. 
58.40  Hebius Tolieix. 
915.40  Hecate's gulf in the Moon. 
1183 30  Hecatompedon a temple of Minerva in Athens. 
963.20  Hecatomphonia. 
341.10  Hector noted for presumption. 
24.40  Hegesias caused his scholars to pine themselves. 
223.1  Hegesippus surnamed Crobylus his apothegm. 
420.40  Helbia a vestal nun smitten with lightning. 
878.20  Helena escaped sacrificing. 916.10. how in Homer she spiceth her cups. 
644.1  Helepolis an engine of battery. 
415.30  Heliope what Daemon. 
157.30  Helitomenus. 
1295.1  Hellanicus a valiant citizen of Elis. 493.40. he conspired against Aristotimus. 
494.40  Hemerides. 
76.50  Hemeris the vine. 
1141.30  Hemiolion, what proportion. 
1036.50  Hemitonium. 
1039.20  Hemlock a poison. 
690.20  Hens having laid an egg turn round about. etc. 746.10. hardy in defence of their chickens. 
219 20  Hephaestion inward with king. Alexander. 412.10.1280.30 rebuked by king Alexander. 
1277.10  Heptaphonos a gallery in Olympia. 
192.40  Heraclides surnamed little Hercules, a great eater and drinker. 
655.40  Heraclitus the Philosopher in a dropsy. 
625.30  Heraclitus his opinion as touching the first principles. 
807.20  Heraclius the river. 
908.40  Hercules noted for Paederasty 568 30. with Omphale in habit of awench. 386.20. poisoned by Deianira. 
812.1  one Hercules killed treacherously by Polysperchon. 165.40. enraged. 
165.40.263.20  Hercules disguised in women's apparel. 
905.30  Hercules sacrificed the tenth cow of Geryons drove. 855.50. not sworn by, within house at Rome 860.10. he never swore but once. 
860.20  Hercules his sexton. 
862.30  Hercules where most honoured. 
1180.40  Hercules skilful in music. 
1262 10  Hercules & the Muses why they had one common altar at Rome 
870.30  Hercules greater altar. 870.40. women participate not of his begetting. 
630.30  Hergians. 
902.50  Hermanubis and Anubis. 
1311.30  Hermes images why so portrayed. 
401.10  Hermione in Euripides. 
322.40  Hermodotus the poet wisely reproved by Antigonus. 
1296.40  Hermogenes his belief in the gods. 
630  Hermodorus Clazomenius his soul how it walked abroad. 
1200.20.30  Herodotus a Tharian by habitation. 
277.30  Herodotus the historiographer his malice. 
1228. etc.  Herondas his apothegm. 
458.1  Herois what feast. 
891.1  Heroes or demigods. 
1327.1328  Herons how crafty they are to get the meat in oysters. 
960.10  Hesiodus whose Poet. 459.40. murdered, and his murder detected. 344.1.10. skilful in physic. 
339.20  Hesychia the priestresse of Minerva. 
1197.20  Heir, what she is. 
398.40  K. Hiero his apothegms. 405.50. noted for a stinking breath. 242.1. first an usurper, proved afterwards a good prince. 543.20. his wife a simple and chaste dame. 
242.10  Hieroes statues. 
1189.30  Hieroglyphics Egyptian. 
1291 20  Hieromnemones. 
780.1  Hierophoroi. 
1288.30  Hierostoloi. 
ib.  Hierosolymus the son of Typhon. 
1300.1  Himerius a flatterer. 
98.40  Hinds their natural subtlety. 
965.10  Hippalcmus. 
899.20  Hipparchus troubled in conscience. 
547.10  Hippasus his opinion of the first principle. 
807.20  Hippasus dismembered by his mother and aunts. 
899.30  Hippo the daughter of Scedasus. 
946,10  Hippochus murdered. 
485.20  Hippoclides a dancer. 
1240.20  Hypocrates confesseth his own ignorance. 
254.40  Hippocratides his apothegm. 
458.50  Hippodamus his apothegm. 
458.40  Hippodamia killeth Chrysippus 915.30. banished by her husband Pelops. 
ib. 40  Hippolochus took Lais to wife. 
1154.10  Hippolytus the son of Theseus by Hippolyte. 915.50. killed at the request and prayer of his father. 
916.1  Hippona how engendered. 
914.30  Hipposthenidas his counsel. 
1215.1  Hippothoros what tune. 
315.50 751.10  Hyrcanians sepultures. 
299.50  Hircanus the dog of king Lysimachus. 963.40. his love unto his master. 
ib.  Hister a singular actor. 
885.50  Histriones. 
ib.  HOC AGE 〈◊〉 it signifieth. 
859.10  Hogs why honoured among the Egyptians. 
710.30  Holy war. 
491.10  Homer's Ilias and Odyssea in what steed it stood king Alexander the Great. 
1265.40  Homer the chief 〈◊〉. 
708.1  Homer whose Poet. 459.40. presuming much of his own perfection. 252.20. commended. 24.1.25.1.195.10. his words were said to have motion. 
1189.40.  Homoeomeries'. 
806.10  Homoeoptota. 
988.10  unto Honour the Romans sacrificed with bare head. 
854.40  Honoris a temple at Rome. 
630.50  Honours which be true. 
375.10  the Honour of old age void of emulation. 
388.40  Honey best in the bottom of the vessel. 747.30. once boiled, it is marred. 
774.10  Hope. 
15.1  Hope remaineth in Pandora's tun. 514.20. holdeth body and soul together longest. 
709.1  Horatins Cocles. 629.30. his valour. 909.1. he killeth his sister Horatia. 
911.20  Hora. 
866.50  a Horse why sacrificed at Rome to Mars. 
882.20  river Horses unnatural to their parents. 
954.20  river Horse symbolizeth impudence and villainy. 
1300.30  Horizon what circle. 
1305.10  Horn of Apimdance. 
630.1  Horta a goddess at Rome. 40. her temple open. 
866.  
ib.  Horus the son of Osiris. 1294 40. see Orus. 
 Hosias' who. 
890.10  Hosioter who it is. 
890.10  Hounds have the discourse of reason. 
962.10  Hounds of a brave courage. 
964 20  House-government. 
335.50  A House what it is. 
336.20  What House is best. 
336.20.30  Hunger whereupon it proceedeth 273.20. allayed by drink. 
733.10  Hunting of wild beasts commended. 
950.40  Hunting wild beasts how far forth tolerable. 
957.10  Hunting commended above fishing. 
958.30  Husband prevail more with their wives by gentleness than by roughness. 
317.30  Husband and wife are not to use dalliance before strangers, much less to chide and brawl one with another. 
317.40  The Husband ought to direct and govern the house. 
317.20  The Husband's example maketh much to the wife's behaviour. 
318.20  The Husband's pre-eminence over the wife. 
317.20.319.1  How he ought to rule over his wife 
321.10.20  Hyaenaes' skin not smitten with 〈◊〉. 
727.20  Hyagnis an ancient Musician. 
1250.10  Hyanthia a city. 
893.1  Hybristica what feast. 
486.30  Hydrophobie when it was discovered first. 
780.30  Hymenaeus. 
861.30  Hymns a plough share whereof derived. 
710.30  Hypate in music whereof it is derived. 
1025.10  Hypate. 
796.40  Hypates the Theban killed by conspirators. 
1226.10  Hypatos an attribute of Jupiter 
1308.1  Hypeccaustria who she was. 
889.20  Hypaera Hyperes and Hyperia. 
894.20  Hyperballontes. 
646.50  Hyperbolus a busy or at our. 
1228 30  Hyperides the orator his parentage and life. 
935.40  Hyperides articleth against Demosthenes. 937. 1. his manner of style and plain pleading. 937.20. his embassage to Rhodes. 937.10. he defended Calippus. 937. 20. his praise for eloquence. 936.40. chosen to accuse Demosthenes. 936.1. his orations. ib. given exceeding much to the love of women. ib. he pleaded for the noble courtesan, Phryne. 936.50. he secretly framed an accusatory oration against Demosthenes. ib. accused and acquit. 936.1. he fled and was taken. ib. his death. 
936.20  Hyperochus K. of the Inachians. 
892.10  Hyprocreteridian in Herodotus. 
1348.1  Hypocrisy of the Epicureans. 
595.30  Hyponoeae. 
25.1  Hyporchemata. 
801. 10. 1251.30  Hyporchema and Paean differ. 
1251.40  Hypotinusa. 
590.10  Hypsipyles foster father. 
701.20  Hysiris, the same that Osiris. 
1301.10  Hysteropotmoi who they be. 
852 10    


I  Iambics Trimeter and Tetrameter whose invention. 
257.1 10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 
785.20  January why the first month among the Romans. 
856.10  Jason a monarch of Sicily. 372.20. his apothegm. 
625.10  Jasians coin what stamp it hath. 
980.1  Javelin consecrated to 〈◊〉. 
880.10  Jaundice cured by the bird Charadrios. 
724.1  Ibis in age, smelleth sweet. 
393.10  Ibis wherefore honoured among the Egyptians. 710.50.1317 1. what letter it representeth among the Egyptians. 
789.20  Ibicus murdered and the murderers strangely discovered. 
201.50  jearius stoned to death. 
909.20  Ichneumon how armed. 
959.10  Icosaedra. 
762.20.819.20.1020 30  Idaei Dictyli. 
257.50. 〈◊〉 .40. 1250.10  Idathyrsus his 〈◊〉. 
405 20  Ides of the month. 
858.1  Ides of December, a festival day. 
822.20  Ides of August festival. 
883. 30  Ides whereof they took the name. 
858.10  Idaea. 
1310.1  Idaea. 768.50. what it is. 
808. 10 813.1.1019.1.10  Identity. 
65.40  Idleness how hurtful. 〈◊〉. breedeth no tranquillity of 〈◊〉. 145. 50. an enime to health. 
624.30  Idols of Aegina and Megara. 
725.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what significations it hath. 
976.10  Janus honoured most by K. Numa. 
156.30  Janus with two faces. 
857.30  Janus temple shut and open at Rome. 
634.40  Jests, which men can abide best. 
664.20  Jests without biting. 
664.50  Of Jests and pretty, scoffs sundry sorts. 
664.40  Jews how superstitious they were. 265.50. why they abstain from eating swine's flesh. 710. 20 they have swine in abomination. 
711.20  The Jews feast. 
712. 10  Ignorance is odious 
608.40  islands inhabited by great persons. 
275.  Ilithyia a surname of Diana. 
697.20.1184.40. 1142.1  Image works exhibited at feasts and banquets. 
760.10  Images and statues refreshed by the censors. 
883.1  Images devised by Democritus. 
784.30  Imaginations or fantasies whether they be true. 
835.40  Imagination what it is. 
836.30  Imaginable. 
836.40  Imaginative. 
836.40  Imagined or fantasy. 
ib. 50  Imitation in bad things. 
89.50  Imitation 
33.1  〈◊〉. Imber. of Thymbris. 
913.30  Immortality of the soul. 
553.1.10  Immortality without knowledge and wisdom is not life. 
1288.1  Imperfections of the body not to be imputed by way of reproach. 
47.50  Impiety, see Atheism. 
 Inachus the river. 
901.20  Incense burned by the Egyptians. 
1318.40  Indian dames burnt with their husbands in one funeral fire. 299.30. loving to their husbands. 
299.30  Indian Sages die voluntarily. 
299.40  The Indian root. 
1177.30  Indifferent things what they be. 
1084.40  Indolence condemned. 
510.1  Indolence of the Epicures. 
583.30  Indos a sophistical argument. 
622.20  Infants bewitched by some men's eyes. 
723.10  Infants in the womb whether animal or no? 844.50. how they be nourished. 845.20. what part of theirs is first perfected in the womb. 845.30. borne at seven months end be livelike. 845.40. how they be vital and like to live. 10.20.846.20. eight month infants live not ordinarily. 
846.20  Infants new borne helpless. 
221.1  Infinity the principle of all. 
805.50  Infortunity not to be ubraided. 
48.1  Injury to a man's self. 
1066.10  Ino enraged upon jealousy. 
855.30  Unto Ino prayers made in the behalf of Nephews and Nieces. 855.40. troubled in mind for abusing her lord and husband Athamas 
548.10  Inoculation or graffing in the bud. 
675.10  Intelligible subjects. 
1018.50  Intemperance and incontinence how they differ. 
69.50.70.1  Intervals in Music. 
1358.50  Io traduced and slandered by Herodotus. 
1229.40  jobates king of Lycia. 
489.10  jocasta in brass. 
715.20  jolas' poisoned king Alexander. 
937.1.  jolaus became young again. 
1055 50  jolaus beloved of his uncle Hercules. 191.20. his darling. 1146.20. his tomb. 
ib.  jole flung herself down from a wall. 
910.20.  jon the Poet wrote also in prose. 
628.20  jonique Philosophy. 
805.40.806.30  Iphicles brother of Hercules 〈◊〉. 
880.30  Iphicles slain, and lamented by Hercules. 
191.20  Iphicrates discommended for dealing in too many matters. 366.20. his apophthgemes. 419.50. his apothegm to Callias. 82.20. reproached for his base parentage. 419.50. his bodily strength and valour. 
420.1  Iphigenia sacrificed. 
910.40  Ire how portrayed hieroglyphically by the Egyptians. 
1291.30  Ire moderate, helpeth virtue. 
77.10  Irene. 
894.10  Iriciscepta what they be. 
704.40  Iris the Poet's fable to be the mother of Love. 
1151.30  Ironia that Socrates used. 
665.50  Irreligion bringeth in brutish barbarism. 
1126.40  Isagoras traduced by Herodotus. 
1233.30  Isis Hairs, or Isidos Plocamoi, what plants. 
1178.40  Ision, the temple of Isis. 
1288.20  Isia. 
1311.20  Isis, what it signifieth. 1288.10 whereof derived. 
1321.20  Isiake Priests. 1288.40. why they be shaved and wear linen, ib. 50. why they forbear salt. 
1289 20  Isis borne. 1292.20. she mourneth for Osiris. 1293.10. her habiliments. 
1318.1  Isis symbolizeth the land of Egypt. 
1302.30  Isles fortunate for blessed folk. 
531 50  Isles of Damon's and Heroes about Britain. 
1332.10  Isles commended. 
275.20  Ismenias his pretty scoff to an unskilful minstrel. 
665.40  Ismenius an epithet of Apollo. 
1353.50  Ismenodora a virtuous and beautiful doom. 1132.1. she falleth in love with Bacchon. 1132.1. she surpriseth Bacchon. 
1138.10  Isaeus the orator, his life. 926.20 he imitated Lysias. ib. 30. when he flourished. ib. his orations and other works. 
ib.  Isocrates would not philosophize at the board. 640.30. taxed for pusillanimity and idleness. 988.1.40. his parentage and condition. 923.20. the time of his birth and education. ib. he defendeth his master Theramenes. ib. 30. his nature. ib. 40. he penned orations. ib. he taught a school. ib. 50. his abode in Chios. ib. a great gainer by keeping school. 924. his scholars. ib. his answer to Demosthenes coming to him for to be taught. 924.10. his minervall. ib. the time of his death. 924.20. he pined himself to death. ib. his age. ib. his wealth. ib. 30. his apothegm. ib. 40. he adopted Aphareus his son. 924.30.40. his sepulchre. 924.50. his tomb. 925.1. his statue of brass erected by Timotheus the son of Conon. 925.10. his orations. ib. his bashful modesty. ib. 20. his apothegms. 925. 20. he mourned for the death of Socrates. ib. 30. he termed Ephorus Diphorus. ib. 40. given naturally to waentonnesse. 925.40. his statue erected in brass by Aphareus his adopted sonnc. 925.50. his picture. 
926.10  Isoscecles. 
1020.30  Isthmia the name of the Admiral galley of Antigonus. 
718.10  Isthmique games. 
717.10  Ithacesia. 
898.10  Judaeus the son of Typhon. 
1300.1  Judges how portrayed in Egypt. 
1291.30  K. Jugurtha led prisoner by Sylla. 
358.30  Julia law, as touching adultery. 
442.40.  Julius Drusus a man of great integrity. 
351.10  Julius Caesar beholden to Fortune. 
631.20  June the month, dedicated to Juno. 
879.30  Juno why she is so called. 
876.1  Juno had but one nurse, Euboea. 
696.1.  Juno Lucina. 
ib.  Juno, air. 
808.1  Juno's Priestresse or Flamina ever sad. 
879.30  Juno Gamelia. 320.10. no beast having gall, sacrificed to her. 
ib.  Juno's dressing herself in Homer, what it meaneth. 
25.10  Jupiter Olympius. 
1360.40  Jupiter Agoraeus. 
1218.10  Jupiter compared with Neptune. 
1288.1  Jupiter Labradeus in Caria his image. 
902.10  Jupiter Hospitalis. 
279.40  Jupiter's statue without ears. 
1317.10  Jupiter Tarsius. 
908.10  Jupiter Astraeus. 
314.40  Jupiter's Priest or Flamen is not anointed abroad in the air. 864 10. why called Flamen. 864. 30. he might not swear. 
866.1  Jupiter, fire. 
808.1  Jupiter Carius. 
1233.40  Jupiter had two nurses, Ida and Adrastia. 
696.1  Jupiter Sthenius. 
1256.40  Jupiter's oaristes why Minos was called. 
290.10  Jupiter had diverse acceptions among Poets. 
30.10  Jupiter the only immortal God, consumeth all the rest. 
1099.1  Jupiter 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
1278.10  Justice or Fortitude, whether the greater virtue. 
424.10  Justice or Injustice in beasts. 
956. 10  Justice what it is. 69.10. the end of the law. 
295.1  Justice neglected by Magistrates, the overthrow of States. 360. 20. whether there be any in beasts. 
956.1  Ivy garlands, what use they have. 683.50. whether it be hot or cold. 685.10. it would not grow about Babylon. 
685.20  Ivy chaplets, why used in Winter. 
ib. 40  that Ivy is cold. 
686.1  Ivy berries intoxicate the brain. 686.1. why the wood groweth tortuous. 686.10. why it is always green. 
686.20  Ivy consecrated to Bacchus. 690. 20.1302.10. rejected from the sacrifice and temples of celestial gods. 887.40. fit for frantic folk. 
888.1  Ixion loved Juno. 291.10. in Euripides representeth a godless man. 
24.50    


K  KAimin, what it signifieth. 
1310.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, in Poets of diverse significations. 
32.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what place. 
717.10  Kalends, whereof they took the name. 
857.50.858.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what exercise or feat of activity. 
716.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
680.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
ib.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the walnut tree, why so called. 
683.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
1166.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
746.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
953.10  Killing of a man but upon necessity. 
863.50  to be a King, what a trouble and burden it is. 
392.1  Kings abused by flatterers and parasites. 
94.1  Kings sons learn nothing well, but to ride an horse. 
96.40  Kings ought to be mild and gracious. 
125.10  Kissing the ear. 
53.20.  Kissing of kinsfolk by women, how it first came up. 
484.20  why women Kiss the lips of their kinsfolk. 
852.20.30  Knowledge simply is the greatest pleasure. 
588.40.50  much Knowledge breeds many doubts. 
784.1  KNOW THYSELF. 84. 40. 346.1. 526.50. 240.40. 1120.30. 1201.10. this Mot hath given occasion of many questions & disputations. 
1354 10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, who they were. 
679.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
785.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth. 
670.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a kind of Sophism or masterfull syllogism. 622.20 not fit for feasts. 
645.1  Kyphi, a certain composition. 
1308.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
775.1    


L  L. who pronounce in stead of R. 
869.1  Laarchus usurped the tyranny of Cyrenae. 504.30. murdered. 
ib.  Labotas his apothegms. 
461.1  Labour with alacrity. 
619.1  Labour. See Diligence. 
 Lacedæmonians bountiful to the Smyrnians. 103.10. their modesty to them. ib. how they scared their children from drunkenness. 121.50. they showed their Ilotae drunk to their children. 1091.10. why they sacrifice to the Muses before battle. 
125.50  Lacedaemonian apothegms. 
469. 50 444.1  Lacedæmonians reverence old age. 
473.20  Lacedaemonian customs and orders. 475. 10. how they lost their ancient reputation. 
479.1. 10  Lacedaemonian women's apothegms. 
479.30  Lacedæmonians forbid torchlights. 
475.30  the Laconism or short speech of the Lacedæmonians. 
103.10.20  Lachares a tyrant over the Athenians. 
586.10  Lachesis her function. 
1184.40. 1219.30  Lachesis. 
679.50.797.40.1049. 10  Lacydes a fast friend to Cephisocrates, and made no show thereof. 
102.40  Lacydes noted for effeminate wantonness. 
241.20  Ladas the famous runner. 
356  Laelius advanced Scipio. 
357.50  Laesmodias. 
759.20  Lais a famous courtesan. 
61.1  Lais became a married wife. 1154.10. stoned to death for envy of her beauty. 
ib.  Lamachus. 378. 10. his apothegm. 
419.50  Lamentation for the dead how to be moderated. 
521.40  Lamia the witch. 
135.1  Lamps, why the Romans never put forth, but suffer to go out of their own accord. 
875. 10. 748.30  the golden Lamp of Minerva. 
765.10  Lamp burning continually at the temple of Jupiter Ammon. 1322. 10. why less oil was consumed therein every year than other. 
ib. etc.  Lampon. 759.30. the rich merchant. 
388.1  Lampsace, the daughter of Mandron, her virtuous act. 497. 40. honoured as a goddess. 
498.1  Lampsacum the city how it took that name. 
497.50  Lapith of the Stoics. 
1055.30  Lares, what images. 
868.10  Largesses. 
377.20  Lasus, what he conferred to music 
1257.20  Lautia what presents they were. 
865.50  Law of what power it is. 
294.295  Leaena her rare taciturnity. 
196.30  Leaguer. 
902.50  Led why it causeth water to be more cold. 
735.10  Led plates and plummets seem to sweat and melt in hard winters. 
740.10  Leander bewitched with the love of Aretaphilaes' daughter. 499 20. he exerciseth tyranny. ib. 30.40. betrayed by Aretaphila into the hands of Anabus 500.10. put to death. 
ib. 30  Leaves of trees not to be plucked. 
683.10  Lefthand Auspexes presage best. 
876.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
〈◊〉  Lenity of parents to their children. 
16.10  Leon the son of Eucratidas his apothegms. 
461.30  Leon the Bizantine a merry conceited person. 
355.30  Leonidas the son of Anaxandridas his apothegms. 461. 40. his valiant death. 907.40. his heart all hairy. ib. his vision with the temple of Hercules at Thebes. 1239.1. his noble acts & not able apothegms. 
1239 10.20  Leontidas together with Archias tyrannised in Thebes. 1204. 30. a valiant man. 1225.50. he killeth Cephisodorus. ib. he was killed himself by Pelopidas. 
1226.1  Lcontis a tribe. 
660.30  Leotychidas the first, his apothegms. 
461.10  Leotychidas the son of Ariston his apothegms. 
461.20  Leschenorius, an epithet of Apollo. 
1353.50  Lethe. 
609.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. that is to say, The commonwealth. 
872.40  Letters in Egypt invented by Mercury. 
789.20  Letters in the alphabet just 24. how they arise. 
789.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the gorge or we sand. 
744.10  Leucippe. 
899.30  Leucippidae. 
902.50  Leucippus killed by Poemander. 
899.20  Leucomantis 
1152.20  Levites whereof they took that name. 
712.20  Leucothea, what it is. 
64.50  Leucothea kind to her sister's children. 
191.20  Leucothea or 〈◊〉 temple admitteth no maid servant to enter into it. 
855.30  Liberality what it is. 
69.10  Libitina, supposed to be Venus. 857.40. her temple how employed. 
ib.  Libs, what wind. 
829.30  P. Licinius vanquished by Perseus. 431.40. his demand of Perseus. 
ib.  Lictor's officers of Rome, why so called. 
872.30.40  Life and language ought to concur in a governor. 
352.1  Life is but an illusion. 
603.40  Life solitary and hidden discommended. 
606.20  Life hidden or unknowen, a sentence full of absurdities. 
607.30.40  of Life three sorts. 
9.40  long Life not best. 
521.20  Life of man transitory and 〈◊〉. 
585.40  Light how delectable it is. 
608.40  Lightning how it is shot forth. 
1022.30  Lightning. 704.20. what effects it worketh. 
705.1.10  bodies smitten with Lightning 〈◊〉 not. 
705.20  folk a sleep never blasted with Lightning. 
705.40  what things be smitten with Lightning. 
ib. 50  Lightning how it cometh. 
827.40  Line or flax the herb. 
1289.10  Linus of what Music he was the inventor. 
〈◊〉  Lion how stout he is in 〈◊〉 of his whelps. 
218.30  Lion why the Egyptians consecrated to the sun. 
710.50  Lions heads gaping, serve for 〈◊〉 of fountains in Egypt. 
710.50  Lion how he goeth in 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
959.1  Lions kind one to another. 
966.1  Lions portrayed with mouths 〈◊〉 open in the porches of the Egyptians temples. 
1302.30  Literature compared with the 〈◊〉 of fortune and nature. 
7.1  Liver diseased, how it is discovered. 
782.50  Lochagas his apothegms. 
462.20  Lochia a surname of Diana. 
1142 1.697.20  Locrians law against curiosity. 
139.1  Locrus. 130.1. what cities he built 
893.1  Locusts engendered in Sicily. 
671.30  Loadstone how it draweth iron. 
1022.30  Logic or dialectic. 
804.40  Lotos the herb in Homer. 
1057 50  Love of young boys how permitted. 
14.1  Love of what power it is. 
294.295.1143.40  against Love-drinks. 
316.40  Love in young persons soon hot and quickly cold. 
ib.  of Love or amity four branches. 
1142.30  Love lively described. 
1143.30  Love of boys compared with that of women. 
〈◊〉  Love 〈◊〉 commended. 
ib.  Love a violent affection. 
1138.50  Cato his saying of Lovers. 
1143.30.  The bounty and goodness of Love. 1146.50. how it comes to be called a god. 
1139.10  Love an ancient god. 
1140.20  Love covereth defects and imperfections. 
59.40  Love the most ancient work of Venus. 
1140.20  Lovers be flattcrers. 
93.30  Love teacheth Musuke etc. 
655.50  Love resembleth drunkenness. 
654.1  Love what resemblance it hath with the Sun. 
1149.50  why Lovers be Poets. 
654.10  Lovers how they can away with jests. 
667.20  Loxias one of the surnames of Apollo. 
103.30  Lucar what money among the Romans. 
880.10  Lucifer the star. 
821.30  Lucina. 
1142.1  Lucretia the Roman lady 
491.30  Lucullus noted by Pompey for his superfluity. 386.30.40. led by calisthenes. 394.30. his valour. 437.30. given to pleasure. 438.40. kind to his younger brother. 182.1. why blamed. 
297.20  Lungs full of pipes and holes to transmit liquors and solid meats. 
744.40  Luperci at Rome, why they sacrifice a dog. 
872.50  Lupercalia. 
ib.  Lusts and appetites of sundry sorts. 
567.10.1212.50  Lutatius Catulus erecteth an altar to Saturn. 
909.20  Lycaon's sons, Eleuther and Lebadius. 
900.1  Licaeum. 
900.10  Lycus a book of Ariston his making. 
18.30  Lycian women their virtues. 
489.1  Lycia overflowen by the sea. 
489.20  Lyciscus a traitor punished long after his treachery committed. 
540.10  Lycophanes what it is at Lacedaemon. 
475.40  Lycospades what horses. 677.10. why they be fuller of stomach than others. 
677.20  Lycurgus his apothegm as touching education. 4.10. his apothegms. 462.20.422.50. his example of two whelps, ib. he caused all vines to be cut down. 19.30.76.40. he brought in base coin. 463.10. hurt by Alcander. ib. 50. his patience. ib. his ordinances in Sparta. 464.40. he ordained sacrifices of least cost. 402.30. honoured by the oracle of Apollo. 600.20. not blamed for praising himself. 
305.1  Lycurgus the orator his parentage. 927.50. his education. 928 1. his state affairs. ib. his fidelity and reputation. ib. 10. his building for the city. 528.10.20. beloved of the people. 928.30. a severe justicer. ib. 20. his authority. ib. 30. his ordinances and 〈◊〉 ib. he enacted that Poets might be free burgesses. 
928.40  Lycurgus ordained to perpetuate the tragoedies of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. ib. he rescued Xenocrates the phtlosopher for going to prison. 929.1. he saved his wife from the danger of law. ib. his mean apparel. ib. 10. his painful study. ib. his apothegms. ib. his children indited and acquit. ib. 30. his death and sepulchre. ib. he advanceth the weal public. 929.40. his innocency. ib. his children. ib. 50. his orations. 930.10. his crown and statues. ib. honours decreed for him and his. ib. his wealth and bounty. ib. 20. surnamed Ibis. 
ib.  Lydian music rejected. 
1253.20  Lyde the wife of Callimachus. 
515.10  Lyde an Elegy of his composition 
ib.  Lydiades first an usurping tyrant, proved afterward a good prince. 
543.30  Lying in children to be avoided. 
13 4  Lynceus quicksighted. 
238.30  Lyncurium. 
954.30  Lysander his apothegms. 
423.50  Lysander refused jewels sent to his daughters. 320.10. unthankful 
357.40  Lysander slain by Inachion for want of understanding an oracle. 
1200.30  Lysanoridas combined with the tyrants of Thebes. 
1205.20  Lysanoridas put to death. 
1227.1  Lysias the orator his parentage and place of nativity. 921.40. his education. ib. 50. his troubles and exploits. 922.1.10.20 his age and death. 
922.20.30  Lysias the orator, his orations and writings. 922. 20.30. his style. ib. 40. commended. 195.10. his eloquence. 
195.10  K. Lysimachus for to quench his thirst lost a kingdom. 416.1.547.40. his apothegms. 
416 1  Lysippus how he portrayed K. Alexander. 
1296.50  Lysis, his relics. 
1208.1  Lysius the surname of Bacchus. 
330.50    


M  MAcareus deslowreth his own sister. 
914.10  Macedonians plain spoken men 409.30. their army after Alexander's death compared to Cyclops. 
414.1  Macellus a famous thief at Rome. 
869.1  Macellum the shambles there. 
ib.  Maemactes. 
125.20  Magas how he dealt with Philemon. 
124.50  Mage the sages what they think of Oromazes and Arimanius. 
1306.30  Magis the tyrants of Persia. 
375.40  Magistracy shows a man. 
363. 364.&c.  May the month why so called. 
879.40  Maidens not permitted to marry upon a festival day. 
885.10  Maidenhair the herb why always green. 
686.30  Mallacoes what it signifieth. 
505.30  Maladies new come, and old depart. 
782.50  Maladies new and strange whereof they proceed. 
783.10.20  Maladies of the soul compared with those of the body. 
313.20  Malcander king of Byblos. 
1293.40  Males how begotten. 
842.30  Male children and female how they be form in the womb. 
847.20  Mallows. 
339.1  Man why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
668.40  Man most miserable. 
312.50  Mankind most unhappy. 
312.50  Man's life full of miseries. 
512.30.40  Men derived into three sorts. 601.30. made to do good. 
393.30  Men unable in the act of generation. 
844.20.30  Men at what age they come to perfection. 
847.40  Of men in the moon. 
1176.50  Mandragoras cold and procureth sleep. 
689.40  Mandragoras growing near to a vine. 
19.40  Maneros who it was. 
1294.10  Manis a king. 
1296.30  Manica. ib. his pride and arrogancy. 1278. 20. how he was scoffed by Pasiades. 
ib.  〈◊〉 might not be surnamed Marci. 
880.40  M. Manlius sought to be king of Rome. 
ib.  Manlius Imperiosus beheadeth his own son. 
910.10  Battle of Mantinaea described. 
983.1.10  Mantous. 
154.50  Marcellinus unthankful to Cn. Pompeius. 439.10. checked by him. 
ib.  Marcellus his apothegm as touching the gods of Tarentum. 
429.40  March in old time the first month. 
856.10  Marriage in kindred forbidden at Rome. 
852.40.886.1  Marriage love discredited by Protogenes. 1132.50. maintained by Daphnaeus. 
ib.  Marriage, a number. 
1035.40  Marriage with a rich and wealthy wife, argued. 
1137.10.20  Marriage with a wife younger or elder. 
ib. 40  No Marriages at Rome in May. 
879.30  Marriage with the cousin germans how permitted. 
852.50  of Marriage, precepts. 
315  Married folk ought to have a reverend regard one of another. 
317.20  C. Marius defaited the Cimbrians. 637.1. his apothegms. 436.30. he crucified his daughter Calpurnia. 912.10. he endured the cutting of his varices. ib. his justice. 
ib. 40  Marius and Sylla, how they first fell out. 
350.30  Marius Gurges. 
907.30  Marpissa ravished by Aphareus. 
917.30  Mars and Venus commit adultery. 24. 30. disguised himself, and lay with Sylvia. 913.50 what is meant thereby in Homer. 25.1. what epithets and attributes he hath. 1140.50. his etymology. 
ib.  Mars opposite unto love. 
1140.40  Mars hath diverse acceptions in poets. 
30.10  Mars what God. 
1141.10  Marsyas the minstrel deviseth a hood or muzzle for his cheeks whiles he piped. 122.40. why punished by Apollo. 
761.1  Martial men ought to be strong of body. 
391.1  Martius Coriolanus. 
631.1  Masanissa an aged king. 
394.1  Masdes a renowned prince. 
1296 30  Massacre in Argos. 
368.1  Mathematics what pleasure they afford. 
590.30  Mathematics. 1018.40. of three kinds. 
796.50  Mathematical five solid bodies. 
819.20  Matter. 
768.50.805.30.808.10  the Matter, not the man, to be regarded. 
55.30  Meal an unperfect and raw thing 886.10. why called Mylephaton. 
886.20  Meats which are to be refused. 
613.40  for the Medes, leave somewhat. 
750.1  Medica the herb. 
583.1  Mediocrity or mean, how to be taken. 
68.50  Mediterranean sea. 
1173.30  Medius an archsophister and flatterer in K. Alexander's court. 
104.50  Megaboetes a fair Catamit. 
449.40  Megabyzus prettily reproved by Apelles. 
96.10.154.40  Megali, a surname of some prince. 
1278.40  Megarians insolency against their principal burgesses. 
894.1  Megisto her virtuous deed. 
492.30  Megisto the wife of Timoleon, her wise speech. 
494.10  Melancholic persons great dreamers, and their dreams most significant. 
1349.50  Melanippides, what he altered in Music. 
1257.20  Melanchosike disposition praesage the sickness. 
618.20  Melanthius his apothegm of a tragedy. 
55.50  Melanthius his speech concerning factions in Athens. 
25.40  Melanthius checketh Gorgias. 
323.20  Melanthius the flattering parasite of K. Alexander Phaeraeus. 
86.10  Melanthia what it is. 
64.50  Melanuri. 
15.20  Melicertaes' body cast up with a wreck. 
717.10  Melichrus a slattering term. 
93.30  Mellicre what she is. 
398.30  Melisponda. 
712.50  Melissus the Philosopher a good Statist and martial man. 
1128 20  Melissa wife to Periander. 
330.40  Melissus the son of Abron killeth himself. 
945.50  Melon one of the conspirators against Archias the Theban. 
1225.20  Melos women their virtuous act. 
487.30.  Memnon his apothegm. 
404.50  Memory in children to be exercised. 
11.30  Memory how profitable it is. 11.50. the mother of the Muses. 1131.30. of what power it is. 
1344.1  Menalippe a tragedy of Euripides. 
1139.30  Menander his comedies praised. 759.30. much commended before Aristophanes 942.40. his untimely death. 
943.30  Menander a wise and mild prince. 377.1. highly honoured by his subjects. 
377.1  Menecrates a vainglorious Physician. 424.20.449.10. reproved by Agesilaus. 
424.20  Menedemus shutteth the door against his friend's son. 〈◊〉 10. his opinion of virtue. 
64.50  Menelaus and Paris enter combat. 
793.1  Menelaus and Helena debased by Herodotus. 
1230.20  Menelaus came unbidden to Agamemnon his feast. 
753.40  Menelaus in Homer protected by Minerva. 
1282.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it is. 
 MENTIS a temple at Rome. 630 40. when it was dedicated. 
635.1  Mercury terrestrial and celestial. 
1182.30  Mercury is come, what it meaneth. 
193.10  Mercury, why he is shrined near to the graces. 59.20. master of merchants. 
692.30  Mercurial Daemons. 
1297.50  Mercury Hegemon. 
290.40  Mercury the author of Grammar and Music. 
1288.30  Mese. 
796.40  Mesoromasdes. 
294.40  Messenger reporting news of the victory at Marathon. 
984.1  Messenger of the victory at Mantinaea, how rewarded. 
984.10  Mestor an attribute of Jupiter in Homer, what it signifieth. 
1308.1  Metageitnion and Metageitnia. 
272.30  Metaphors. 
800.1.10  Metellus sacrificeth his own daughter. 910.30. his secrecy. 197. 30. checked by Cicero. 
439.50  Meteors what they be. 
826.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
685.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
890.50  Methides sepulchre in Egypt. 
1295.40  Methyer, what it signifieth. 
1310.20  Metiochus a favourite of Pericles. 
365.1  Metrocles challenged the kings of Persia. 299.50. he contemned poverty. 
299.20  Metrodorus his letters commending bodily pleasures. 595.10. professeth ignorance in history and poetry. 590.40. his gross opinion of pleasure. 1127.10. he vaunteth for rescuing Mythra. 1128. 50. he scorneth Lycurgus, Solon, and such. 
1129.20  metal mines that have failed to bring forth oar. 
1345.40  Mezentius king of the Tuscans. 
866.20  Micca her virtuous deed. 492.30. most barbarously misused by one Lucius. 492.50. murdered by him. 
493.1  Mice of the water detested of Zoroastres and the Magi. 
711.1  Mice conceive by licking salt. 
728.40  Midas upon a melancholy killed himself. 
265.1  Mildness of Euclides his brother. 
130.30  Milesia the daughter of Scedasus. 
946.10  Milesian maidens troubled with melancholy. 496.30. how their rage was repressed. 
ib. 40  Milichius an attribute to God. 
125.20  Military exercises fit for youth. 
10 10  Milk not properly called moist as oil is. 
740.40  Milk in women how it is made, and whereto it serveth. 
220.10  Milke-way or Galaxia. 
826.40  Milk how students should use in their diet. 
621.10  Miltiades a tyrant at first, proved a good captain. 
543.40  Mimi. 
760.10  a MIND, the efficient cause of all things. 
806.30  Minerva rebuked for piping. 
122.30  Minerva flung away her pipes. 
122 40  Minerva Chalcioecos. 
909.30  Minerva provident. 
381.1  Minerva Itonia. 
796.20  Minerva but one. 
796.20  Minerva Optelitis. 
464.1  Mine and Thine. 
80.30  Mine and Thine reproved by Plato. 
318.40  K. Minis why accursed by the Egyptians. 
1290.40  Minos a judge among the dead. 532.20. why he was called Jupiter's Oaristes. 
290.10  Minotaures whence they come. 
568.50  Minstrels at Rome disguised in women's apparel. 
869.20  Minstrel pipers forsake Rome. 
ib.  Minstrel wenches whether they are to be admitted to sober feasts 
757.20  Minyas his daughters enraged. 
899.30  Mirrors and the resemblances in them. 
837.20  Mirrors of diverse sorts and their reflections. 
1170.1  Mirth to be joined with serious affairs. 
653.1  Misogyne a temple of Hercules. 
1198.1  Mithridates, one who for eating and drinking won the best game. 655.30. surnamed Dionysus 
ib.  K. Mithridates escaped death by the means of Demetrius. 
415.20  Mitres, who he was and what it signifieth. 
1036.1  Mixolydian music who invented 
1253.20  Mixarchagenas who it is. 
895.40  Mixture of elements. 
814.40  Mnevis a beef or bull in Heliopolis. 
1300.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, how defined. 
953.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, mother of the Muses. 
11.30.796.30  Mnesarete her image of beaten gold. 1195. her name was also Phryne. ib. why named Phryne 
1195.1  Mnesiphilus. 
336.40  Mnesiphilus kind to Themistocles. 
398.20  Mocks and scorns to be abidden with patience. 
48.10  Mockers and scorners how to be answered. 
ib.  Modesty a great token of progress in virtue. 
253.10.20  Moderation in both fortwes commended. 
510.20.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
29.1.679.30.50  Moist what thing is properly called. 
740.30  Molionidae. 1106.20. massacred by Hercules. 
1194.40  Molpus the minstrel. 
896.40.  Molus the father of 〈◊〉 found headless. 
1330.10  Monarchia what it is. 941.20. it is the best government. 
ib. 50  Monthly terms or purgations of women. 
220.30  Months first and second to what gods consecrated. 
858.40  Months attributed to Juno. 
876.1  Monogenes the name of Proserpina, and the reason thereof. 
1182.30  Monophagi in Aegina. 
901.50  Monsters how engendered. 
843.1  Money with the stamp of Janus face and the prow or poop of a ship. 
864.50  Money with the stamp of a beef, sheep, and a swine. 
865.10  Moon at full what effects it hath. 
697.30.40  Moon slow, and of a feeble heat. 
1168.50  Moons upon the shoes of the noblest Senators in Rome. 
875.30  Moon of what substance it is. 
1183.10  Moon the type of this world's mutability. 
875.40  Moon a most pure mirror. 
1161 1  at full Moon women have easiest childbirth. 
876.10  whether the Moon be earth. 
1163 1  the moons substance. 
824.30  the Moon whether it be a dim fire. 
1162.1  the Moons three motions. 1177. 10. her magnitude. 824.40. 1172.1. illuminate from the Sun. 
ib. 50  Moon why it falleth not. 
1163.20  the moons form or figure. 
824.50  Moon within the confines of the earth. 1165.20. her seven shapes 825.1. her illuminations. ib. 10. her eclipse. 825.20. her monthly occultations. 825.40. how she is illumined from the Sun. 
1169.10  the moons face, or unequal apparition therein. 
825.50  the face appearing in the Moon, and the cause thereof. 
1160  the Moon hath diverse denominations. 
1329.1  the Moon inhabited. 
825.50.1177.1178  the Moon worketh moist effects. 
1179.10  the Moon is named Pseudophanes. 
826.1  Moonshine hurtful to babes, and for sleep. 
697.10.20  Moon how far distant from the Sun. 
826.1  the tale of the Moon and her mother. 
338.10  Moral virtue what it is. 
64.30  Morows after Kalends, Nones, and Ides, dismal days. 
858.20  Motes in the Sun. 
770.40  Mothers love their sons better than their daughters. 321. 50. they ought to suckle their own babes. 4.30. how tender they be over their infants. 
220.50.221.1.10  Moüth, a name of Isis, what it signifieth. 
1310.20  Motion what it is. 
815.40  of Motion six sorts. 
831.40  to Mourn for the dead, what nations be addicted most. 
523.10  Mucius Scaevola his valorous resolution. 
907.1  Mucius or Mutius Scaevola. 
629 30  Mulberry tree not cut down at Athens. 
749.30  Mules why barren. 
844.20  a Mules craft detected by Thales. 
964.40  a Mule rewarded at Athens. 
963.20  a Mullet hard to be caught. 
971.20  Mulius. 
634.20  Multitude not to be flattered and pleased. 
7.20  Mummius moved to pity with the verses cited by a young lad. 
787.20  Murderers of the Poet Ibycus revealed by their own words. 
201.50  Musaea, what houses. 
141.50  Muses why called in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. how they be severally employed. 
799.10.20.30  Muses three, named Hypate, Mese, and Neat. 
796.40  Muses why nine. 
796.20  Muses at first but three. 796.30 why they be many. 
796.20.30  Muses named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
795.50  muhrooms of Italy. 
613.40  muhrooms whether they breed by thunder. 
704.1  Musical discourses rejected by Epicurus. 
591.30  Music how to be employed. 
1249.1  Music ariseth from three causes. 
654.20  Music used in war among the Lacedæmonians. 
477.1  Music or melody of three kinds. 
796.40.  Music Phrygian. 
1251.20.  Music Dorian. 
1251.20.  Music Lydian. 
1251.20.  Music sorteth well with martial knights. 
1274.50  Music why used at feasts. 
1263.10  Music necessary in the managing of the state. 
1262.20  the effects of Music in a common wealth. 
1262.30  laws of Music not to broken. 
1261.1  Musical notes, Mese, Hypate and Neat, answerable to the three faculties of man's soul. 
1025.10  Music doth inebriate more than wine. 
750.50  musics complaint to Justice. 
1257 40  Musicians ditties of what matter they are to be made. 
25.20  Music plain commended in Lacedaemon. 
477.10  Music Chromaticke. 
592.30  Music harmonical. 
592.30  Music highly regarded in old time. 
1256.30  Music commended. 
263.10  the use of Music in war. 
1256.30  Music fitter for merry 〈◊〉 than for sorrow and sadness. 
758.10  the use of Music. 
1261.40  Mu or new wine doth not soon inebriate or make drunk. 693. 30. how it continueth sweet long 
1012.20  Mutability of this life. 
511.1  Mycale the blind mouse deified by the Egyptians. 
710.40  Myconos what it is. 
646.30  Mymactes, an attribute to God. 
125.20  Myrtia Venus. 
857.1  Myrionimus, an attribute of Isis. 
1309.1  Myro her piteous death. 
495.10  Myronides his apothegm. 
418 40  Myrrh burnt in perfume by the Egyptians at noon. 
1318.50  Myrrhina a sumptuous strumpet. 
936.40  Myrtle why not used in the chapel of the goddess Bona. 856.50. consecrated to Venus. ib. why it is always green. 
686.30  Myson his apothegm to Chilon. 
878.50    


N  NAmes among the Romans men have three, womans twain. 
884.30  Forenames when given to the Romans children. 
884.10  Forenames how they be written. 
884.40  Names of gods, how to be taken in Poets. 
29.50  Names of virtues attributed to vices the overthrow of states. 
93.40  Namertes his apothegm. 
467.10  Naphtha about Babylon. 
723.50  Narcislus, why the daffodille is so called. 
683.50  Narrations historical, resemble pictures. 
983.50  Native country which is properly called. 
272.20  Nature what it is. 
817.30.805.1 1114.1115.  Nature why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
1101.1  Natural heat how it is excited. 
611.40  Natural is finite; Unnatural, infinite. 
782.10  Natural Philosophy wherein it consisteth. 
804.40  Natural things. 
805.1  Nature contented with a little. 
1179.40  Nature of what power for attaining to virtue. 
3.1  Nauplius assisted by the Chalcidians. 
898.1  Nausicaa in Homer, how to be praised or blamed. 
35.20  Nausicaa by Homer, compared to a date tree. 
772.10  Nausicaa in Homer washing her clothes. 
658.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
738.40  Neaera the wife of Hypsicreon enamoured of Promedon. 
496 20  Necessitas non habet legem. 
400.40  Necessity. 
797.50.1033.10  Of Necessity what is the essence. 
816.30  Necessary defined. 
1051.20  Necessity what it is. 
816.20  Nectar. 
338.10.1177.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Homer. 
791.40  Negligence corrupteth the goodness of nature. 
3.20  good Neighbours, a great treasure. 
418.20  Nemanous what it sgnifieth. 
1293.40  Nemertes what Daemon. 
157.40  Nemesis, what it is. 
768.1  Nepenthes. 
644.10  Nephalia. 712. 50. what sacrifices. 
621.50  Nephthe or Nepthis borne. 1292. 20. what other names she hath. 
ib.  Neptune Equestris. 
867.20  Neptune why portrayed with a three forked mace. 
1317.20  Neptune surnamed Phytalmios. 717.20.780.1. surnamed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
ib. 10  Neptune and Jupiter compared together. 
42.1  Neptune many times vanquished 
792.1.10  Nero abused and corrupted by flatterers. 93.50. his soul tormented in hell. 560. 50. he hardly escaped murdering. 
196.20  Nessus the Centaur. 
870.40  Nestis the water. 
808.1  Nestor feedeth the ambitious humour of Ulysses. 
663.1  Nestor and Calchas compared together. 
38.30  Nestor mild in rebuking. 398.1 why esteemed above Laertes, or Peleus. 
389.20  Neat. 796.40. how it is derived. 
1025.20  Nets why they rot more in winter than in summer. 
1007.50  News forbidden to be hearkened after in the city Locri. 
139.1  Nicander his apothegm. 
467.20  Nicanor won by the liberality of K. Philip. 
408.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, victory, whereof it is derived. 
772.1  Nicias the captain by his superstition overthrown. 
265.10  Nicias the painter how much addicted to his work. 
387.1. 589.30  Nicocles. K. of Cyprus his liberality to Isocrates. 
924.30  Nicocrates his tyranny. 498.10. murdered by Daphnis. 
499.30  Nicolai certain dates, why so called. 
772.20  Nicolaus a peripatetic Philosopher. 
ib.  Nicomedes. K. of Bythinia made himself vassal to the Romans. 
1276.40  Nicostratus his apothegm. 425.20. a concurrent of Phaulius, and detectour of his bawdry. 
1144.30  Nicturus a star, the same that Phaenon or Saturn. 
1180.40  Nicostrata the daughter of Phoedus. 
948.10  Niger the great Rhetorician died with overstraining his voice. 
620.10  Night meet for the sports of Venus. 692. 10. more resonant than the day. 
770.10.  Night what it is. 
1000.1  Night and eclipse of the sun compared. 
1171.20.30  Nightingales teach their young ones to sing. 
966.50  Niloxenus. 
327.1  Nilus water is thought to pinguify and make corpulent. 
1289.30  Nilus water why drawn in the night by sailors for their drink. 
774.10  Nilus, inundation whereof it is caused. 833. 10. the height of the rising thereof. 
1304.40  Nine, a number resembling the male. 884. 20. the first square triangle number. 
884.30  Niobe over-sorrowful for the loss of her children. 526. 40. her children slain by Latona. 
266.50  The Lady Niobes daughters killed. 
1145.10  Nisus built the city Nisaea. 
893.20  Nobility of what esteem. 
6.40  Nobility of birth alone, not commended. 
46.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what they be. 
953.1  A Noise from without sooner heard within than chose. 
769.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, why laws be so called. 
680.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in music of sundry sorts. 
 Nonae Capratinae. 
632.30  Nones. 
858.1  After Noon Romans made no league nor treaty of peace. 
878.50  Noses hawked in estimation among the Persians, and why? 
403.1  NOTHING TOO MUCH. 1201. 10. 345.50. 526. 50. This Mot hath ministered matter of many questions and disputations. 
1354.10  Nothing. 
1098.10  Notions of diverse sorts. 
836.10  Notus the wind, why so called. 
1025.20  Nurses who are to be chosen. 
4.40  Nourishment and groweth in animal creatures. 
849.1  Nourishment or feeding of infants. 
4.20  Nouriture, see education. 
 Now. 
1019.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 858.10. named, Nonae. 
ib.  Nouns and verbs sufficient for speech. 
1027.10  Nuceria killeth Phenius Firmus her husband's base son. 
915.40  Nullity, or not being after this life condemned. 
604.30.40.50  Numa Pompilius a sage & Philosophical king. 855. 20. a peaceable prince. 
856.30  Numa Pompilius. 630. 10. his reign ascribed to fortune. 
633.30  Number the principal of all things. 
806.40  Numbers even defective. 
868. 50  Number odd, perfect. 
ib.  Nundinae what they were. 
865.40  Nympha in breeding of bees what it is. 
670.40  Nymphaeus a captain of the Melians. 
487.30  Nymphs age. 
1327.40  Nymphs Nomades. 
1333.30    


O  OAristes. 
290.10  to Oblivion an altar. 
792.10  Ocean represented the Moon. 
1161.10  Ochimus. 
896.30  Ochna the daughter of Collonus. 900. 30. killeth herself. 
ib. 40  Ochus a wicked king of Persia. 486. 50. why he was called by the Egyptians, The sword. 
1291.50  Ochus by the Egyptians called an ass. 1300.1. he killed their Apis. 
ib.  Ocridion. 
896.30  Ocrisia the supposed mother of Servius Tullius. 635. 40. strangely conceived with child. 
636.1  Octaedra. 
768.20.819.20.1020 30  Ocytocium. 
956.10  Odours sweet proceed from heat. 
655.20  Odours smell better a far off 
657.50  Oeconomie. See House-government. 
 Oedipus overthrown by his own curiosity. 142.40. he plucketh out his own eyes. 
223.1  Oenomaus loved to have a race of good horses. 
903.40  Oenuphis the priest and prophet of Heliopolis in Egypt. 
1291.20  Oeolycus his funerals. 
716.20  Oeonoloae. 
899.40  Oeonus the son of Lycimnius. 
880.30  Ogygie what Island. 
1180.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who they be. 
28.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of diverse significations. 29.1 an Oinion commended by Homer. 
709.30  Oinions rejected by Isis' priests, and why. 
1290.20  Oak branches made the Civik coronet at Rome. 
880.50  Okes honoured. 
749.20  the Old age of diverse princes and rulers, happy in their government. 
385.1.10  Old age bearest of bodily pleasures. 
386.50  Old age whereof it cometh. 
849 50  Old age hath recreations. 388.20 it is freed from envy. 
ib. 30  Old age how to be secured from contempt. 
389.10  Old men fit for to be rulers. 
389.40  Old age how it is commendable for government. 
390.20  Old men unmeet to marry. 
ib. 30  Old age why honoured most in Lacedaemon. 
398.50  Old age not unfit for government. 383.1.10. it should not be idle. 
384.1  Old folk why they drink mere wine. 656.40. wherefore dull in all senses. 
ib.  Old folk see better a far off. 657.10. they love to be asked many questions. 
664.1  Old men soon drunken. 
687.10  Old men dry. 687.30. why called in Greek, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
ib.  Old age to what accidents subject. 
687.50  Oligarchy what it is. 
941.20  Olive tree wood, for what fire it serveth best. 
697.1  Olympus an ancient Musician. 
1250.10  Q. Olympias words of a Thessalian woman whom the King her husband loved. 319. 30. her speech of a young gentleman newly married. 
319.40  Omomi. 
1306.10  Omphalos what part of the world. 
1321.40  Omphis, what it signifieth. 
1304.40  Onobatis, who she was. 
889.1  Onochus king of the Aenians. 896.20. killed by his own men. 
ib.  Onomademus his counsel to have always some adversaries. 244. 10. a great politician. ib. his apothegms. 
ib.  Onoscelis how engendered. 
914.20  Opium what it is, and the force thereof. 
684.40  at the Oracles why they made a great sound with basons etc. 
854.10  Oracles of Apollo delivered in rude verse. 
1188.1  Oracle at Delphi why it hath given over to answer in verse. 
1189.20  Oracles delivered in prose. 
1197.20.1198  from Oracles why poesy is rejected. 
1199.40  Oracles why given in verse and obscurely in old time. 
1199.1200  Oracles why more plain of late time than before. 
1200.40.50  an Oracle bidding the greeks to double the altar at Delos. 
1207.20  Oracle of Lebadia. 
1323.50  Oracles why for the most part they ceased. 
ib.  Oracle of Ptous Apollo. 
ib.  Oracle of Amphiaraus. 
1324.1  Oracle of Tegyrae. 
1324.10  Oracle at Delphi in old time not frequented. 
1326.20  the reasons discussing why Oracles cease. 
1343.1  Oracles by what mean they be performed. 
1344.20  Oracle at Delphi, by what occasion it began first. 
1345.10  Oracle of Tiresias how it came to fail. 
1346.10.  Oracles of Mopsus and of Amphilochus. 
1346.10  Oracle of Mopsus, how it was tried by the governor of Cilicia. 
1346.20  Orators pleading at the Pythique games for the prize. 
716.20  Oratory wherein it consists. 
796.1  Orator, whereof derived. 
866.50  Orators and warriors compared together. 
987.40  Order in the composition of the world. 
646.10  Order belongeth to God. 
1167.10  Order in feasts. 
646.10  the Order of setting guests at the table. 
649.30  Orestes furious. 
857.1  Orestes how he was feasted. 642. 50. how he was feasted by the lineage of Demophon. 
678.30  Orestes revenged his fathers and sister's death. 
916.50  Orgilaus. 
380.50  Orion what star. 
1295.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what they be. 
1062.40  Ornaments of women what they be 
320.10  Oromasdes. 
1044.1  Oromazes, what God. 
1336.1  Orontes his apothegm. 
404.40  Orpheus an ancient Poet & Musician. 
1250.20  Orphne. 
100.1  Orthios what music. 
1251.10  Orus his fable. 
1044.10  Orus or Horus the elder, the same that Apollo. 
1292.20.30  Orus his answers to his father Osiris. 1294.40. he vanquished Typhon in sundry battles. 
1294.1295  Oryx a beast observing the Dogsiarres rising. 
968.30  Osiris what he signifieth. 
778.30  Osiris, how the name is derived. 1291.20.1308.40. 1311.30. how he is portrayed. 
ib.  Osiris' the Sun, and Isis the Moon. 
1308.50  of Osiris and Isis the fable. 
1292.1  Osiris borne. ib. 10. he reduced Egypt to civility. 1292.30. supposed to be Bacchus. ib. found by Isis. 1294. 10. why there be many monuments and sepulchers of his. 1294.20. his body, where interred. 1295.30 his corpse dismembered by Typhon. 
1294.20  Osiris, Isis and Typhon allegorized. 
1300.10  Osiris shut up in a chest, what it signifieth. 
1303.10  Osiris his sepulture. 1304.30. how he is portrayed hieroglyphically. 1308.1.10. his policy to vanquish his enemies and to rule his subjects. 1315.40. his robes. 
1318.1  Otacaustes. 
143.1  Otacaustae, who they be. the Oath that the judges in Egypt took. 
143.30.  
404.50  Oaths not rashly to be taken. 
860.20  Oath of the Pythagoreans. 
806.50  The Other. 
1031.1  Othryades his valour. 
907.20  Othryadas traduced by Herodotus. 
1231.20.30  Otis a bird delighting in the fellow ship of horses. 
〈◊〉  Overweening in young men is to be rid away. 
53.40  Ovihj, how the name came at Rome. 
865.10  Oxyrynchites, what people. 
1289.50  Oxyrynchos, what fish. 
ib.  Oil 〈◊〉 transparence & 〈◊〉 in the sea. 
1007.30  Oil why Homer calieth Moist. 
740.30  Oil the only moist and liquid 〈◊〉 that will burn. 
740.50  Oil best in the top of the vessel. 
747.30  Oil will not be mingled with any liquor. 
675.30.748.1  Oil an enemy to plants. 675.30 hurtful to Bees. 
ib.  Oil of all liquors most transparent 994.20. it allaieth the waves of the sea. ib. it is full of air. 
ib.  Oil why it breedeth much rust in brass. 
1187.30  〈◊〉, people why so called. 
893.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, who he is. 
225.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Fish, is put for all other meats. 708.1. what it 〈◊〉. 
775.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is, Gluttons. 
ib.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, of the Stoics. 
1092.30    


P  P. Or Pi, the letter in Greek how it differeth from other mute consonants. 
789.1  P for B in the Aeolique dialect. 
738.30  Pacification in civil dissensions how to be made. 
380.20  Paean the song, sorteth well with Apollo. 
1358.10  Paedaretus his apothegms. 
425 10.468.20  Paegnia. 
760.10  Pains be durable, but pleasure's momentany. 
582.583  Pains excessive not durable. 
49.1  Palamedes devised four letters of the alphabet. 
789.20  Palamnaeus 
896.1  Palaestinus who he was. 
1294.10  Palaestra where of it took the name 
672.40  Palintocia, what it is. 
893.50  Palladium the image. 
92.50  Pallas her image devised with a dragon by it. 
1317.10  Palladin recovered by Ilus and Metellus. 
911.30  Pambaeotra, what solemnity. 
947.40  Pammenes reproved Homer for his order in ranging a battle. 
649.1145  Pamylia what feast. 
1292.10  Pamylitia, a feast to the honour of Priapus. 
1301.50  the great Pan dead. 
1332.1  Pan. 
808.50  Pan and the world differ. 
809.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, whereof derived. 
1310.10  Pan the god of herdsmen. 
873.  Panagra what net. 
972.10.20.50  Pancration, what exercise. 
672.50.364.40  Pandarus taxed for vanity. 
24.40  Pandecles an attribute given to Isis. 
1309.1  Pandora in Hesiodus. 
514.20  Panegyricus an oration penned by Isocrates. 
988.20  Panic terrors or affrights 
1193 1.1142.50.425.40.488.40  fair Panthea loved by Araspes. 
257.20  Panthoidas his apothegms. 
467.30  Paracyptusa. 
1152.20  Paradoxes of the Stoics. 
1083.30  Parallelo grammon what 〈◊〉. 
1036.30  Paralos the ship. 
364.30.  a Parasites portraiture. 
90.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 defined. 
953.1  Pardiae, what 〈◊〉. 
957  Parentage how important both ways. 
〈◊〉  Parents challenge the 〈◊〉 next to God. 176.10. most delighted in the love of their own sons. 
〈◊〉  Parents wicked have begotten good children. 
545  Pariere what she is. 
23.40  Paris in Homer resembleth a wanton. 
398.40  Parisa. 
988.10  Papyrius Romanus deflowered his own sister. 
914.20  Paralli a faction at Athens. 
1149 10  Parmenides defended against Colotes. 1116.40. his singular commendation. 
1128.10  Parmenoes' sow. 
715.30  Parmeno crying like a swine. 23.1 all Parts of speech in one verse. 
1026.40  Parts of speech all save Verb and Noun, to what use they 〈◊〉. 
1027.50  Participle what it is. 
1029.10  Partridges how subtle and crafty they be. 964.50. their natural affection to their young. 964.50. careful over them. 219.10. their subtlety. 219.1. the male kind to the female. 
954.30  Parysatis her apothegm. 
404.30  Pasiades how he checked Lysimachus. 
1278.20  Pasiphae. 
317.1  Passion of the soul what it is. 
67.40  Passions different from reason. 
71.30  Passions not to be rooted out quite. 
76.50  Passions how divided. 
799.20  Passion counterfeit, we can abide to see, but not in deed. 
715.1.10  Pataetion, a notable thief. 
28.10  Pater patratus who he was. 
871.20  Patience of Socrates. 12.30. 129 30. of K. Agathocles. 1261. of K. Antigonus. 126.1. of Arcesilaus. 129.20. of Archytas and Plato. 
12.40  Patience commended. 
242.40  Patratus what it signifieth. 
ib. 30  Patres and Patres Conscripti at Rome, who they were. 
870.20  Patroclus his funeral obsequies and games of prize. 
716.20.  Patroclus' commended himself. 
304.20  Paulus Aemilius his Apothegms. 431.40. the osse that he observed of his daughter Tertia. ib. 50. his infortunity in the loss of his children. 432. 20. his contempt of gold and silver. ib. compared with king Perseus. 158.20. curious in the dispose of feasts. 646.1. his fortune. 
630.10  Pausanias his treason and death. 
909.30  Pausanias the son of Cleombrotus his apothegms. 
467.30  Pausanias the son of Plistonax his apothegms. 
468.1  Pausanias troubled in conscience for the abuse and murder of Cleonic. 
547.20  Pauson the painter, and the tale of him. 
1188.20  Peach dedicated to Harpocrates. 
1314.1  Pedetes 
904.40  Pediaei a faction in Athens. 
1149.10  Pegasus Bellerophontes horse. 
164.40.  Peinting a mute poesy. 
95.50  Peinters excellent, were athenians. 
982.20  a Peinter, who had painted cocks unskilfully. 
104.40  Peitho. 630.1. her image why placed with Venus. 
316.20  Pelamides fishes, why so called. 
 Pelias Achilles spear, Patrocles would not meddle with. 
97.1  Pelopidas his apothegms. 
428.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth. 
1310 10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
1341.20. 1356.50.  of Penned came 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
1341.30  Pentagons'. 
1020.50  Pentathus. 
716.15  Peveleus. 
899.20  People are to be led by the cares. 
353.30  Pepromene, whereof derived. 
1080.30  Perdicca his moderation toward K. Alexander. 
1283.40  Periander why he burned in his wife's funerals her habiliments. 602.10. master of the banquet of the seven Sages. 326.50. he was none of the seven Sages. 
1354.20  Periander tyrant of Ambracia, killed by his own Ganymede or Catamite. 
1155.20  Pericles noted by Cratinus for his slowness. 988.30. he praiseth himself without blame and envy. 303.1.302.50. why he disrobed the image of Minerva. 283.40. his apothegms. 419 20. his apothegm as touching speech not 〈◊〉. 7.50 how he admonished himself. 651.40. surnamed Olympius. 529.10. how he bore the death of his two sons. 
ib.  Pericles eloquent. 353.10. a singular politician. 
365.40  Periclitus an ancient musician. 
1250.40  Peripneumonia. 
745.20  Periscylacismus. 
873.1  Persephone or Proserpina. 
1181.50  Persian women their prowess. 486. 
40  Persian kings allow their slaves and dogs to be served from their own table. 
749.40  Persian king how he entertained Antalcides the Lacedaemonian. 
761.20  Persian kings of what water they drink. 
272.50  Persian king called by the Asians the great king. 
424.10  Persian kings not drunken in the presence of their wives. 318.10 they count all slaves but their wives. 
294.30  Persians not merry at the board in their wife's presence. 
642.30  Persian Sages procure their own death. 
299.40  Persuasion. 
797.50  Pestilence remedied by making great fires. 
1318.50  the great Pestilence at Athens in Thucydides. 
〈◊〉  Petron maintaineth 183 worlds. 
1335  Petromus a flatterer about Nero the emperor. 
98.40  Phaeacians in Homer 〈◊〉 wooers, eat no fish. 
779.40  Phaedra compasseth the death of Hippolytus. 
916.1  Phaedus a captain of the Thebans. 
948.1  Phaenician letters in number 〈◊〉, invented by Cadomus. 
789.20  Phaenon what star. 821.40. the same that Saturn. 
1180.40  Phaethon what star. 
821.40  Phagilus who it is. 
〈◊〉  Phagrus the fish. 
229.1  Phalaris hated of the 〈◊〉. 
377.10  Phalaris a tyrant. 
917.10  Phalarts abused by slatterers. 〈◊〉. he justly executed Perillus. 
917.20  Phallus. 
214.30.1294.30  Phallephoria what 〈◊〉. 
1292.20  Phanaeus, an epithet of Apollo. 
135.3  Phantasium whereof derived. 
836 30  Pharos the Isle, become part of the continent of Egypt. 
1303.50  Pharicum a poison. 
360.1  〈◊〉 her piteous death. 
1189.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what pipe it is. 
744.20  Phaulius an Argive prostituted his own wife. 
1144.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifieth both the beech tree and the mast. 
32.1  Phemius a musician. 
1249.40  Phemius king of the 〈◊〉. 
892.10  Phiditia. 
861.50.743.1.762.1  Phidon his notorious treachery. 
945.20  Philadelphus a fit epithet for a prince. 
307.1  Philammon an ancient musician. 
1249.1  Philanthropon what music. 
〈◊〉  Philemon an old poet. 
385.50  Philemon how he was punished by Magas. 
75.10  Philippus tyrannising in 〈◊〉 with Archias, murdered by Charon and Lysitheus. 
1225.20  Philip, Callias his 〈◊〉. 
〈◊〉  K. Philip of Macedon reproved by a musician. 668.20. 1274. 10. his commendation and apothegms. 408.30. his apothegm as touching the Greeks revolting from him to T. Quintius. 1228.1. 〈◊〉 suspecteth his own prosperity. 408.30. 〈◊〉 trustful of fortune. 513.40. his clemency. ib. how he saved the credit of his host that invited him. 612.40, his patience. ib. 40 124.30.40. his bounty to Nicanor. 408.40.50. made better by slanders of enemies 409.1. his pleasant conceit to his Chirurgeon. 409. 10. he playeth with the names Hecateroes and Amphoteros. ib. his comparison of Demosthenes orations with Isocrates. 932. 30. his counsel to his son Alexander. ib. 30.40. his liberality. 409.40 his demeanour at Chaeronaea. 763. 20. he recommendeth to Alexander the philosopher Aristotle. 410. 20. wounded in the eye. 908. 50. he checketh a judge commended unto him by Antipater. ib. his behaviour to Machetas in case of wrong and judgement. 410.30. noted for rasing the city Olynthus. 55. 10. his uprightness in judgement. 410. 30. his trust in Antipater. ib. 40. reproved mildly by a minstrel. ib. 50.108 1. his disagreement with his wife and son, taxed by Demaratus. ib. reproved by an old woman. 
411.1  Philip the son of Demetrius repelled from Chios by women. 
485.50  Philippides his answer to K. Lysimachus. 
136.30  Philippides the Poet refuseth to know king's secrets. 
199.50.416.10  Philistus. 
1145.40  Philoctetes. 
715.20  Philomela. 
777.1  Philometus the tyrant of the Phocoeans. 
1189.40  Philometor a fit epithet for a prince. 
307.1  Philopappus a courteous prince. 
659.40  Philophanes a professed Rhetorician. 
444.10  Philopoemen. 
372.10  Philopsi who they be. 
708.1  Philosophy what it is. 804.30 how it is divided. 
ib.  Philosopher's 〈◊〉. 
805.40  Philosophers ought to converse with Princes and great men, 
289.30.40  Philosophy commended. 9.1. it is the Physic of the soul. 
9.10  Of Philosophy the fruits. 
9.10  Of Philosophy three parts. 
796.50.1059.50  Philosophy Active or Practive. 
804.50  Philosophers how to be deemed. 
1266.1  Philosophers their sundry opinions of the gods, and principles of the world. 
1306.1307  Philotas a minion of K. Alexander, by his own folly overthrown. 
1280.10  Philotimus his answer to a patient of his. 
57.40.34.40  Philoxenus the son of Eryxis a glutton. 
606.30  Philoxenus soliciteth K. Alexander to wantonness. 
596.30  Philoxenus the musician made a sale of all that he had. 
288.20  Phloeon. 
904.30  Phoebus. 
497.20  Photion his poverty. 421. 10. cross unto the common people. ib. how he took his death. 
422.10  Photion compared with Demosthenes. 355.1. a just ruler. 360.10. his magnanimity at his death. 304. 20. he retorted a scoff upon Demades. 364.1. commended for his selfe-praise. 364.20. his apothegm. 420.50. aged and yet a good ruler 394.1. a frugal man. 
211.20  Phorea women their deeds. 
491.10  Phocis dames their virtuous acts 
484.30  Phocus his pitiful history. 947.30. his murder revenged. 
948.1  Phoebidas his apothegm. 469.10. he held Thebes with a garrison. 
1204.10  Phoenician letters. See Phoenicium. 
 Phoenix the birds age. 
1327.40  Phoenix the tutor of Achilles. 5.20. he instructeth Achilles to bridle anger. 
35.10  Pholia what disease of a bear. 
965.10  Phora in dancing. 
799.50  Phosphoria. 
1121.50  Phosphori Proeresij. 
ib.  Phosphorus what star. 
821.40  Phraaces king of the Parthians. 
438.40  Phrygnis enamoured of Pieria. 
496.1  Phryne the courtesan shrined in gold. 
1276.30  Phryne the famous courtesan, absolved by the Judges for her beauty. 936. 50. See more of her. 614.1. 1137.1. 1195.1. her children Lecastus and Parrhasius strangely saved. 
916.30  Phrynichus and Aeschylus brought into Tragoedies narrations pathetical. 
645.1  Phrynis an ancient Musician. 
1250.30  Phthois. 
890.30  Phthorae, what they be. 
774.30  Phygadotheres, the name given to a pursuvant. 
933.50  Phylactes a Gaoler in Cumes. 
889.10  Phyllidas conspireth with Pelopidas and others to surprise and murder the tyrants of Thebes. 1205.30. he feasteth Archias and other of the Tyrants of Thebes. 
1216.30  Phylonome deflowered by Mars. 
916.30  〈◊〉 a city. 
893.1  A Physician challenged all men in drinking, and by what means. 
656.1  Physicians reproved by Pausanias. 
468.10  Physic how it began first. 
607.10  Physicians we ought to be unto ourselves. 
626.1  Phytalmius. 
76.50  Phyximelon what it signifieth. 
890.40  Pictures absurd. 
22.40  Picus Martius a bird. 
632.50  K. Picus transformed into the bird called Woodpecker. 857.10. he gave answer as an Oracle. 
ib.  A Pie of wonderful qualities. 
977.1  Pieria her virtuous deed. 495.40 highly honoured of the Milesians. 
ib. 10  Pinarij who so called. 
870.40  Pindarus forewarned of his death. 518.30. checked and reproved by Corynna. 984.30. he was borne during the solemnity of the Pythique games. 
766.10  Pine tree. See Pitch tree. 
 Pinnoteres a fish. 
974.40  Pipes banished from what feasts. 
214.10  Pisistratus first an usurper, afterwards a good prince. 453.20. murdered by his Nobles. 915.10. why he married a second wife. 177.1. a tyrant of the Athenians. 422.20. his patience toward Thrasibulus. 124.50 his apothegms. ib. his speech to the people. 
643.30  Pismires industrious. 960. 20. their caves and holes. 
961.1  Pissites wine. 
717.50  Pithya, that gave answers in oracles, what kind of wench she was. 
1199.30  Pithya, when she was restrained from verse and poetical terms. 
1198.1199  Pit-water why less nutritive than others. 
1014.1  Pittacus his answer to the king of Lydia. 181.40. crossed with a shrewd wife. 
153.30  Pittacium a piece of ground. 
1231 10  Pittacus grinding corn. 338.50. modest in receiving honours. 375.40. debased by Herodotus. 
1231.1  Pittacus elected Ruler by all the Metylenaeans. 
1149.40  Pittacus his valour. 
1233.1  Pitch-tree garlands. 717.10. consecrated both to Neptune and to Bacchus. 717.20. the reason thereof. 
ib. 30  Pitch acordeth well with wine & wine vessels. 
717.40  Place, what it is. 
815.10  Distinction of Place at feasts and meetings observed in old time. 647.40. observed among the gods and goddesses. 
647.40.50  Places at a feast how to be disposed. 645.30. which be most honourable. 
650.10  Places at a table. 
329.40  of curious and sumptuous Plays the speech of a Laced emonian. 
758.10  Planctae, what rocks. 
338.10  Plants and herbs that can abide no wet. 
1178.50  Plants whether they be animal or no. 848.30. how they grow. 
ib.  Plato's suppers commended by Timotheus. 
729.40.50  Plato repressed his own anger. 542 30. excused and commended. 745.50. another Chiron, to cure the soul. 766.20. his censure of Lysias oration. 59.50. his supposed father, Apollo. ib. his opinion as touching the principle of all things. 808.10. his nativity or birth day solemnised. 765.50. his fable of Era and Harmonious how to be understood. 791.20. his text in Timaeus expounded. 1031.1 maintained against Colotes. 1119. 1120. a good politician. 
1128.20.  Plato bunch-backed. 34.20. how he reproved Denys the tyrant. 107.20. how he graced his brethren. 
182.10  Platychetae who they be. 
890.1  Pleasures spiritual, or of contemplative life. 
591.1  Pleasures of an Active life. 
594.20  Pleasures of the flesh may be soon too costly. 
6.30  Pleasures of the body not to be provoked by the lusts of the mind. 
614.10  Pleasures be momentany. 
582.583  Pleasures of the body compared with those of the soul. 
387.10.20.584.1.10  Pleasures proceeding from knowledge of Arts, incomparable. 
589.10.20  Pleasure the Summum bonum of beasts. 
 Pleasures not in the senses, but in the understanding. 
715.20  A prize or reward proposed for devising new Pleasures. 
653.30  Plistarchus his Apothegms. 
468.30  Plistonax his Apothegms. 
ib. 40  Ploiades what clouds. 
889.50  Ploutis maintaineth a faction in Miletum. 
897.50  Plutarch comforteth his own wife for the death of their young daughter an infant. 533. 40 a priest unto Pythius Apollo. 
395.10  Pluto, the earth. 
808.1  Pluto blind. 463.30. why called Dis and Ades. 
268.20  Pluto obeyeth Love only. 
1146.40  Pluto his meadows. 
1182.40  Podargus a swift horse. 
1153.1  Poemander. 
899.10  Poesy and painting compared. 
983.20  Poesy how it cometh to be so powerful. 
33.20  Poesy whereof it is the imitation. 
34.10  Poems and Poets not to be rejected. 
19.50  Poets and Poems how to be heard and red. 
18.50  Poetry described. 
22.30  Poets liars. 
20.10  Poets in old time had their combats for the best game. 
716.10  Poets and Poetresses was the victory at the solemn games. 
716.30  Poetry referred to Music. 
797.10  Poets and Philosophers compared. 
25.40  Poetry an inducement and training to Philosophy. 
50.1  Poetry standeth more upon fine invention of fables than words or verses. 
984.50  speeches different in Poets how to be reconciled. 
26.10  speeches wicked in Poets, how to be red. 
26.10  Pogonias the bearded blazing star. 
827.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
557.40  Polemon a ruffian reclaimed by Xenocrates. 
112.40  Polemon a great Antiquary. 
716.30  Polemon by his patience repressed the anger of another. 
130.40  Poletes who it is. 
807.1  Policy or government of the Persians. 
941.20  Policy or government of the Spartans'. 941.20. of the Athenians. 
ib.  Policy and politicians. 
348.20  polis. 
895.1  Politic government joined with Philosophy. 
9.30  Politia hath many significations. 
941.1  Politions feast. 
652.1  Polium a stinking herb. 
91.50  Pollux kind to his brother Castor. 182.10. killeth a pickthank for whispering a tale against his brother. 
180.30  Poltys his answer to the Troyans' and greeks. 
425.1  Polus a famous actor in 〈◊〉. 
385.50  Poliager a notorious bawd to his own wife. 
35.40  Polyarchus brother of Eryxo, complotteth to murder Laarchus. 
504.50  Polycephales' what song. 
1250.50  Polycratidas his apothegm. 
469.1  Polycrete died for joy. 
496.50  Polycrite her virtuous deed. 
496.10  Polycrithus a great Architect. 
899.10  Polydorus the son of Alcamenes his apothegm. 
468.40  Polymathia. 
499.20  Polymnestus a Musician. 
1249.50  Polysperchon how he entertained an impudent craver 
669.20.  Polymniae. 
995.50  the Polyps head. 
19.1  Polyp fish how he changeth colour. 
973.10.1009.10  Polymestor murdereth Polydorus. 
913.20  Polyzelus how he became blind. 
906.30  Pomegranates why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
726.20  C. Pompeius an enemy to belly cheer. 438.50. his clemency to the Mamertines. 438.1. surnamed Magnus by Sylla. ib. 10 his name cofirmed by Servisius. 438.20. noted for effeminate wantonness. 241.30. his apothegms. 437.40. his martial justice. ib. 50. he died the same day of the year whereon he was borne. 766.10. killed by Ptolomaeus. 
631.40  C. Pompilius his apothegm. 
437.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who they be. 
29.1  Poppy juice. 
684.40  Popular government which is best. 
335.40  Popular praise to be avoided. 
43.1  Porinus Selinus. 
921.40  Porsena his patient behaviour to Muteus. 
124.50  Porsena made peace with the Romans. 
907.10  Port of the dragon. 
897.30  Portij, or Porcijs the name at Rome how it arose. 
865.10  Porus to king Alexander. 
125.10  of Poros and Penia the fable. 
1310.30  K. Porus bis answer to Alexander the Great. 
1271.10  Postumia a Vest all nun accused for incontinency. 241.30. checked for her light behaviour. 
241.30  Postumius Albinus defeated by the Samnites. 
907.20  the Pot being removed from the fire, why the ashes are to be confused. 
777.30  Poverty in rulers not to be dissimuled. 378.20. how it is esteemed diversely. 
75.10  Praepositions how they may be spared. 1028.1. how they serve in speech. 
1029.20  Praise by another is pleasing. 
320.1  Praise the best sound. 
387.30  selfe-Praise when, and in whom allowed. 
301.302  selfe-Praise odious. 
303.40  Praisers to be taken heed of. 
93.1.10  Cicero misliked, and Scipio commended for selfe-Praise. 
303.40  warriors & seamen apt to Praise themselves. 
310.30  Praise and dispraise how to be used in the education of children. 
10.50  Praise overmuch hurtful to them. 
12.40  Praise properly due to virtue. 
47.20  Prandium, that is to say, a dinner, whereof derived. 
776.1  a Prater is traitor to himself. 
202.20  much Prating gave occasion that Athens was forced by assault. 
196.1  Priestresse of Minerva would not curse Alcibiades. 
866.10  Preneste or Prineste the city why so called. 
918.1  a Prenestine resolute for his country. 
370.10  Presbeion what it is. 
388.30  Prester. 
827.50  Prestites or Lares. 868.10. portrayed with dogs by them. ib. tormenting spirits or devils. 
868.20  Princes unlearned compared to Colossi. 
294.10  Prince the image of God. 
295.1  Princes hardly admit good counsel. 
293.50  Princes why they be named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 295.40. their secrets not to be inquired into. 
136.30  Princes vigilant over their subjects. 
295.40  what Prince most happy. 
332.333  Principles 5. Essence or being, of all. 
1340 30  Principles 5. The same, of all. 
1340 30  Principles 5. The other, of all. 
1340 30  Principles 5. Motion, of all. 
1340 30  Principles 5. Station, of all. 
1340 30  Principles three of the world. 
768.50.805.30.  Principle and Element how they differ. 
805.20  Principles five of all things. 
1360.10  Privation. 
805.30.994  Privet flowers what virtue they have. 
684.20  Probascania what they be. 
724.30  Procles the tyrant of Epidaurus 
1197.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it is. 
247.10  Proculus his policy. 
915.20  Prodotae. 
1199.30  Progne and Itys. 
766.50  Prognosticke signs of sickness toward. 
618.1.10  of Progress in virtue and philosophy, the signs. 
248. 10.20.&c.  Promethea 
630.1  Prometheus. 
31.1  Prometheus the Thessalian cured by his enemies sword. 
241.10.  Prometheus' the author of wisdom and foresight. 
1288.30  Promises of friends and flatterers how they differ. 
101.20  Promises how to be considered. 
38.50  Pronoune a kind of Noun. 
1029.10  Propomata. 
783.20  Proportion Arithmetical and Geometrical. 
181.30  Proposition consisteth of Noun and verb. 
1026.40  prophesy of the war between K. Philip and the Romans. 
1191.20  Prosagogidae what they be. 
143.30  Proselem why the Arcadians were so called. 
875.30  Proserpinaes' field in the Moon. 
1183.30.  unto Proserpina a dog sacrificed. 
868  Proserpina why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
29.50  a Prosopopoeia between Poets and warriors. 
985.30.  Prostaterios what month it is. 
693.30  Prothesis what it is. 
952.50  Proteleia. 
1021.50  Protogenes a great paederast. 
1132.40  Providenee of threc sorts. 
1053.1  Prudence what it is. 68.1. guideth all arts. 82. 30. seen in four things. 
510.50  Prudence of beasts compared with the wisdom of men. 
569.30  Prytaneion. 
762.10  Prytan ship. 
367.1  Psoloes who they be. 
896.30  Psychostasia a Tragedy of Aeschylus. 
21.20  Psychoponipos what god. 
1142.1  Psyche. 
29.1  Ptolomaeus Philadelphus espouseth his own sister. 
13.20  Ptolomaeus Lagus, his son how frugal he was. 
414.1  Ptolomaeus the first that erected a library. 
591.40  Ptolomaeus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
547.10  K. Ptolomens Philopater sacrificeth elephants. 
965.50  K. Ptolomaeus abused by flatterers. 93.40. 98.1. a lover of learning. 98.1. he represseth his anger. 
125.10  Ptolemaeus Soter translated the Colosse of Sarapis unto Alexandria. 
1298.40  Pulse, why forbidden to be eaten. 
881.50  Punishment ought to be inflicted at leisure. 
542.30  Punishment of servants how to be ordered. 
126.40.50  Purgations for students. 
623.20  Purgative physic taught us by brute beasts. 
968.1  Purgatorte of the paynim and philosophers. 
1182.40  Purple, death in Homer. 
13.30  Purple fishes how sociable they be. 
975.40  Putrefaction what it is. 
774.30  Pyanepsion what month. 
1314.20  Pyladion. 
759.10  Pylaochos. 
1301.30  the Pyramid was the first body. 
1339.20  Pyramid. 
819.20  Pyramus a lake. 
799.40  Pyrander stoned to death. 
915.1  Pyraichmes king of the Euboeans. 908.30. his horses. 
ib.  Pyroeis, what star. 
821.40  Pyrtho his apothegm. 
255.1  Pyrrhias sacrificed to his benefactor. 
898.20  K. Pyrrhus delighted to be called the eagle. 968.50. his apothegms. 
416.50  Pyrsophion. 
898.1  Pysius what it signifieth. 
890.20  Pythagoras sacrificed an ox for the invention of one Theoreum. 
768.40  Pythagoras his precepts smell of the Egyptian Hieroglyphics 
1291.20  Pythagoras a Tuskane 〈◊〉. 
776 30  Pythagoras how much addicted to Geometry. 590.10. he condemned cruelty to dumb beasts. 243. 30. he 〈◊〉 a draft of fishes. 779.1. the first author of the name of Philosophers. 806.30. he taught in Italy. 807.20. his opinion of God. 
812.1  Pythagorean precepts. 
ib. 40  Pythagoras abode long in Egypt. 
778.20  Pythagorical dark sentences expounded. 
15.10.20.  Pythagorean precepts not to be taken literally. 
887.30  Pythagoreans pitiful unto dumb beasts. 
958.20.248.30.  Pythes the rich. 506.40. his virtuous wife ib. his strange death. 
507.40  Pytheas his apothegm. 
420.40  what befell unto Pythia the prophetess at the Delphic oracle. 
1350.10  Pythia how she is to be chosen and disposed. 
1350.20  Pythicke games which were most ancient. 
715.50  Pythocles unmeasurably praised by Colotes and the Epicureans 
1126.20  Pythoegia, what day it is. 
693.30  〈◊〉 what they be. 
1327.1  Pythius an epithet of Apollo. 
1153.50  Python modest in his self praises. 306.1. how he avoided envy. 
306.1.371.1  Python wounded by Apollo. 
891.10    


Q  QVaternary of the Pythagoreans. 
806.50.1036.10  Quaternary number. 
1036.10  why dedicated to Mercury. 
789.20  Quaternity of Plato and Pythagoras compared. 
1037.50  Questions or riddles proposed by K. Amasis' of Egypt to the K. of AEthiopia. 
333.50  What Questions are to be propounded unto a Philosopher. 
57.50.58.1  Questions to be discoursed upon at the table, of what sort they should be. 
644.20  What Questions men delight to be asked. 
662.30  What Questions we mislike most. 
663.30  A Question or case as touching repugnant laws. 
793.1  Questions Platonique assoiled. 
1016.10.20. etc.  Questours at Rome 〈◊〉 ambassadors. 
805.50  A Quince why eaten by the new bride. 
316.20  Quinquertium. 
〈◊〉  〈◊〉. 
808.10.812.10  Quintilis, what month. 
856.10.  the same that Julie. 
859.20  Quintius his apothegms. 〈◊〉. a parley between him and K. Philip. 431.1. he set free all the Greek captives. ib. his 〈◊〉 tale of his host at Chalcis. 431.20. his jest as touching Philopoemen. 
〈◊〉  Quires three in Lacedaemon. 
308.20  Quirinalia, the feast of fools. 
880.10  Quiris, a spear or javelin. 880.10. the name of Mars. 
ib.  〈◊〉 the name of Juno. 
880.10    


R  Rain how engendered. 
828.10  Rain-water nourisheth 〈◊〉 and seeds most. 
〈◊〉  Rains which be best for seeds or young plants. 
1004.50  Rain showers named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
〈◊〉  Rainbow. 828.30. how it 〈◊〉. 1151.30. how it is represented to our 〈◊〉. 
〈◊〉  Raria. 
322.10  Rational or verbal Philosophy. 
〈◊〉  Ravens age. 
1327.40  Reading what manner of 〈◊〉. 
619.30  A Reading school first taught by Sp. Carbilius. 
〈◊〉  To teach for to Read and spell, an honourable office. 
870.30  Reason ought to guide and rule our free will. 
51.40  Reason or discipline powerful to attain virtue. 
3.1  Reason given to man in 〈◊〉 of many other parts. 
231.30  Of Reasonable natures four kinds. 
1327.20  Reason how divided. 
799.10  Reasoning or disputing at the table. 
622.20  Rebukes and checks at wise 〈◊〉 hands be well taken. 
106.30.40  Recreation and repose to be allowed children in due time. 
11.10  Recreations allowed Governors and Statesmen. 
388.20  Recreations and pastimes allowed by Plato. 
624.50  Red sea. 
1183.30  Regulus a Pancratiast died with bathing and drinking upon it. 
630.20  Religious men have great comfort in the exercise of their religion. 
599.50  Religion the foundation of all policy and government. 
1127.40  Religious in the good, breedeth no desperate fear. 
45.30  Religion a mean between 〈◊〉 and superstition. 
268.40  Remorse of conscience in diverse. 
547.1.10  Repentance and remorse of conscience. 
160.50  Repletion or emptiness, whether is more to be feared. 
703.30  Repletion cause of most diseases. 
616.10  Reproof of others, a thing incident to old folk. 
310.50  Respiration how it is performed. 
840.10  Revenge not best performed in anger. 
125.30  Revenge not to be done 〈◊〉. 545.10. how it should be taken. 
126.10  Revenge of enemies to forbear, is commendable. 
243.1  Rex Sacrorum at Rome. 
871.40  Rhadamanthus a judge of the dead. 
532.20  Rhesus killed his brother Similus. 913.40. banished by his father. 
ib.  Rhetana her enterprise. 
914.50  Rhetoric hath three parts. 
786.50  Rhetrae. 
450.10  Rhetrae delivered by Lycurgus in prose. 
1197.40  Rhodopis the harlot and her obelisks. 
1194.50  Riches how to be regarded. 6.40. how to be used. 
214.1  A Riddle as touching a Phrygian flute. 
331.30  Riddle of the king of AEthiopia unto Amasis' king of Egypt. 
332.1  Riddle of Cleobuline. 
335.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth. 
28.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
785.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Music. 
1252.20  Right line. 
1021.10  A Ring worn straight. 
1137.10  Rods and 〈◊〉 why borne before the head magistrates at Rome. 
877.50  Roiot, youth ought to avoid. 
12.10  Roma a Trojan lady. 
484.20  Rome city whether beholden more to virtue than to fortune. 
628.10  Rome the work of fortune and 〈◊〉 jointly together. 
628.30  Rome the pillar of the whole world. 
628.40  Rome why founded and reared by the favour of fortune. 
632.20  Rome much subject to scarefires. 
867.10  The Roman Daemon. 
636.50  Roman kings left their crown to none of their children. 
149.10  Roman words derived from the Greeks. 
776.10  Romans, of their return home gave intelligence beforehand to their wives. 
853.30  The Romans fortunate affairs under the conduct of Cn. Pompeius. 
636.40  Roman tongue used in all countries. 
1028.1  Romulus a martial prince. 
856.20  Romulus and Remus their birth & generation ascribed to fortune. 632.20. when begotten. ib. 
30  Romulus and Remus wonderfully preserved. 632.40. how 〈◊〉 and brought up. 
633. 〈◊〉. 916.40  Romulus translated. 
632.30  Romulus killed Remus. 
859.50  Romulus murdered by the Senate. 
915.20  The Rose garland of what use it is. 
683.30.684.20  Rose, why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek. 
684.50  Rosin burnt by Egyptians in the morning. 
1318.40  Rue growing near unto a fig tree is not so strong scented. 
723.30  Rue why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek. 
684.1  Rubbing or frictions which be good for students. 
619.30  Rulers ought not to dispend above their living and ability. 
378.1  Rulers ought to live warily and without note. 350.50. how they may help and advance their friends. 361.20. how they ought to carry themselves toward their companions in government. 
370.20.30  Rulers ought not to be over-precise. 
472.40  Rulers must banish from themselves avarice. 374.40. they ought to be void of ambition. 
374.50  Ruma. 
632.40  Rumina, a goddess at Rome. 
870.10  Rusticus his gravity. 
142.143  Rust of brass how caused. 
1187.30  Rutilius a proud usurer. reproved he is by Musonius. 
286.10 ib.    


S  SAbbats feast of the Jews. 
712.20  Sabbat whereof it cometh. 
712.20  Sabine maidens ravished. 
861.20  Sabinus the husband of Empona. 
1157.20  Saboi. 
ib.  Sacadas an ancient Poet and musician. 
1251.20  Sacred fish. 
976.10  Sacrificing of children. 
268.1.10  Sacrificing of men and women. 
268.1  Sacrifice how to be observed at the Oracle at Delphi. 
1347.10.1349.1.10  Sacrilege strangely detected by the offender himself. 
201.40  Saffron chaplets what use they have. 
684.20  Sages in old time accounted seven, were in truth but five. 
1354.10  Sailors and sea men love to discourse of the sea. 
662.50  Salaminia a ship. 
364.30  Salmatica besieged by Hannibal. 
489.50  Salt highly commended. 709.10. provoketh appetite to meat and drink. 
709.30  about Salt and Cumin a proverb. 
727.40  Saltfish washed in sea water is the fresher and sweeter. 
658.30  of Savours only the Saltish is not found in fruits. 
1005.10  Salts called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
728.10  Salt why so highly honoured. 727.40 it provoketh wanton lust. 728.1 why called divine. 
728.10  Salt why given to beasts. 
1004.20  Salt procureth appetite to food. ib. it maintaineth health. ib. 30. it abateth corpulency. ib. it moveth to generation. 
ib.  the SAME. 
1031.  Sambicus a miserable man. 
902.30  Sanctus a god at Rome. 
861.1  Saosis Queen of Byblos in Egypt. 
1293.40  Sapience, what it is. 
68.1.804.30  Sapphoes' fits in love. 
1147.50  Sapphoes' verses. 
759.1.1148.1  Sarapis who he was. 
1298.20.  Serapis or Sarapis the same that Pluto. 
1298.40  Sarapis from whence it is derived. 
1299 1  Sardanapalus his epitaph. 
310.1.1269.1  Sardanapalus an effeminate person, advanced by fortune. 1264.30. the epigram over his statue. 
1276.20  Sardians port sale. 
868.40.50  to Saturn the Romans sacrificed bare headed. 
854.20  Saturn kept in prison by Jupiter. 
1180.20  Saturn counted a terrestrial or subterranean god. 
854.30  Saturn the father of verity. 
854.30  Saturn's reign. 
ib. 40  the Island of Saturn. 
1181.1  Saturnalia solemnised in December. 
862.20  Saturn's temple the treasury at Rome. 865.20. the arches for records. 865. 20. in his reign there was justice and peace. ib. why portrayed with a sickle in his hand. 
ib.  Saturn supposed to cut the privy members of Coelum or Ouranos. 
〈◊〉  Saturn a stranger in Italy. 
865.50  in Saturn's temple ambassadors are registered. 
865.50  Saturn kept prisoner asleep by Briareus. 
1332.20  Sauces provoking appetite, are to be avoided. 
614.10  Scalenon. 
1020.30  Scamander. 
901.1  Scammony a violent purgative. 
623.50  Scaurus his uprightness showed to Domitius his enemy. 
243.40  Scaurus 〈◊〉 treachery even toward his enemy. 
243.40  Scedasus, his lamentable history and of his daughters. 946. 10 his daughters deflowered. 946.20. murdered. ib. 20. his death and his daughters murder revenged. 
947.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it is. 
785.20.  a Scelet presented at Egyptian feasts. 
328.30.1294.10  Schema in dancing. 
800.1  a Scholastical life. 
1058.1  Scilurus and his 80 sons. 
103.40  Scilurus persuadeth his children to unity. 
405.30  Scolia certain songs. 645. 10. sung at feasts. 
1257.1  Scipio not well thought of for leaving out Mummius at a feast. 370.30. why blamed otherwise. 297.20. blamed for loving his bed to well. 
ib. 351.1  Scipio the elder his apothegms 529.50. a great student. ib. accused judicially before the people. 530.40. his manner of plea. 
ib.  Scipio the younger his apothegms. 433. 50. his commendation. 
434.10  Scipio used the advice of Laelius 400.50. not blamed in praising himself. 
303.40  Scipio Nasica, his saying of the 〈◊〉 state. 
239.20  Sea what it is. 832. 1. how it cometh to be salt or brackish. 
ib.  Sea commodious to man's life. 
778.50  Sea air most agrecable to us. 
709.40  Sea accounted a fifth element. 990. 40. what commodities it affordeth to mankind 
990.50  Sea-water nourisheth no trees. 
1003.1.10  Sea-water hotter by agitation contrary to other waters. 1006.20. naturally hot ib. 30. less brackish in winter than in summer. ib. why it is put into vessels with wine. 
ib.  Sea sickness how it cometh. 
1007.10  Sea why the Egyptians do detest. 
1300.20  Sea-gods feigned to be the fathers of many children. 
728.50  Sea, Salt, Sea-fish and Sailors odious to the Egyptians. 
778. 40  Seven the sacred number and the commendation thereof. 
1361.1  Secrecy of K. Antigonus and Metellus. 
197.30  Secrecy of K. Eumenes and his stratagem wrought thereby. 
197.40  Secrets revealed the cause of much ruin. 
195.40  Section of bodies. 
814.30  Seditions how to be prevented and appeased. 
386.40  Sedition dangerous at Delphi. 
381.10  Sedition at Syracuse. 
381.10  Sedition at Sardis. 
ib. 20  Seed falling upon ox horns why they prove hard and untoward 
746.40  Seed what it is. 
671.20  Seed natural to be spared. 619.1. why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 1100. 50. what it is. 841.40. whether it be a body. 
841.50  of seedness three seasons. 
323.1  Seeing in the night how it cometh. 
658.10  Seleucus Callinicus how he served a blab of his tongue. 
 Sella Curulis 
877.20  Selfe-praise. 301.20. in what cases allowed. 302. 50. See more in praise. 
 Semiramis of base degree became a Queen. 1136.40. her brave acts. 1276.20. her 〈◊〉 ambition. 1136.50. her sepulchre and epitaph. 
〈◊〉  P. Sempronis why he drowned his wife. 
855.10  Senate of Rome why so called. 
391.30  Senses inserted in our bodies by harmony. 
1256.20  Sense what it is. 
835.50  Senses how many. 
835.50  Sense common. 
837.10  Sentences over the temple porch at Delphi. 
103.20  Septerian what feast. 
891.1  Septimontium what festival solemnity. 
873.20  Sepulchre of children. 
895.60  Sepulchre of envy. 
496.50  Sermons, how to be heard with profit. 
56.30  Servius Tullius a favourite of fortune. 635. 40. strangely borne. 636. 1. how he came to the crown. 
636.10  Seth, what it signifieth. 
1307.40. 1304.20  Sextilis what month at Rome. 
856.10  Sextilis is August. 
863.30  Sextius a great student in philosophy. 
249.1  Shadows at a feast. 682.30. who they be. 753.50. how they began 
ib.  whether it be good manners to go as a Shadow to a feast. 
754.20  what shadows a guest invited may bring with him. 
755.50  Shame good and bad. 
164.30  Shame breedeth fortitude. 
42.40.50  Sheep woolfe-bitten why they yield sweetest flesh. 677.40. whether their wool breed louse. 
677.40  Sibylla the prophetess. 
1190.1.716.30  Sickness how to be prevented. 618 30.40. how immediately occasioned. 
849.40  Sight how it is caused. 
837.10  Signs 12, in the zodiac they be dissociable. 
846.20  Sideritis the Loadstone. 
1312.1  Silenus caught by K. Midas instructeth him of life and death. 
525.50  Sileni. 
98.20  Silence for five years enjoined by the Pythagoreans. 
139.10  Silence commended. 
194.40.242.20  Silence of Zeno. 194.30. commendable in young men. 
13.1  Silon the bold. 
634.20  Simonides his sage admonition to Pausanias. 513.40. his saying of silence and speaking. 614.20. he devised four letters in the alphabet. 
789.20  Simonides aged. 385.20. in his old age covetous. 
397.1  Sinatus espoused Camma. 
500.40  Sinistrum in latin what it signifieth, and whereof it is derived. 
876.10  Sinorix enamoured of Camma. 500 50. he murdereth Sinatus. 
501.1  Sinus equal according to the Stoics. 
74.40  Sipylus a city in Magnesia. 
1082  Siramines a Persian his apothegm. 
402.50.  sirens in Homer. 
798.1  sirens upon the stars & sphares. 
797.40.1146.50  why the muses were called sirens 
798  Sisachthia in Athens what it was. 359.40. 〈◊〉 by Solon. 
1284.30  Sirius the dog star. 
1036.20  Sistrum what it signifieth. 
1312.10  Six a perfect number, and the 〈◊〉. 
1031.1  Skic called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
810.1  Skoffe's which they be wherein men delight to be skoffed. 
664.20  Sleep to be regarded in case of health. 
618.10  Sleep after supper. 
623.10  Sleep procured by cold. 689.40 how occasioned 847.50. whether it be common to body and soul. 
848.20  Sleep how procured by aromatical smells. 
1319.20  Smalach if it be trodden upon groweth the better. 
746.30  Smalach wreaths used for coronets in the Isthmike games. 718.1. why given with provender to Achilles' horses. 
720.1  Smelling how it is effected 
848.20  Smilax a plant whereof the shadow is hurtful. 
684.40  Smy one of the names of Typhon. 
1312.1  Smyrna enamoured of her own father Cinyras. 
912.40  Snow how it cometh. 
828.10  Snow from out of Egypt. 613.50 why it thaweth so soon upon Ivy. 
686.20  Snow keepeth flesh long sweet. 
774.10  Snow preserved in warm things, as chaff, and clothes. 735.30. a most subtle and piercing substance. 
739.50  Socrates permitted to do what he would in his 〈◊〉, by direction from the oracle. 
1218.1  Socrates guided by his familiar. 
ib. 10  Socrates his patience, & repressing choler. 12.30. opposite to Alexis the poet. 
27.50  Socrates had a familiar. 
600.30  Socrates the wrestler, his precepts as touching health. 
618.50.619.50  Socrates the Philosopher his opinion of the first principles. 
808.10  Socrates his familiar spirit. 1208.30. his birthday solemnised. 765.50. he drunk poison willingly. 299.20. whether sneezing were the familiar of Socrates. 1209.20. he bridleth anger. 1110.30. he is defended against Colotes. 1119. 1. a goodstates man and maintainer of laws. 1128.10. resolute and constant in all his courses. 1209. why he is named a midwife or physician. 
1016.40.50  Socrates why he was condemned and put to death. 1266.30. his apothegm of the great king of Persia. 7.10. his enemies were odious to the world. 235.30. how he cooled his thirst. 205.30 endured the shrewdness of Xantippe. 
242.40  Socrates and Plato both of one opinion. 808.10. what they thought of God. 
812.10  Solon opposeth himself against the designs of Pisistratus. 397.30. he held them infamous who in a civil dissension took neither part. 
379.30  Solon abused and discredited by his friends. 359.40. whom he deemed happy. 
96.20  Solon chosen jointly by all the factions in Athens. 
1149.10  Soluble how the body is to be made 
624.10  Sons interred their parents with heads covered, but daughters bore headed. 
854.50  Sonchis a priest or prophet of Sais in Egypt. 
1291.10  soothsayers of diverse sorts. 
1221.30  Sophocles his answer as touching venerte. 211.10. he took joy in his old age. 390.1. he rejoiceth for being disabled for wanton pleasures. 
590.50  Sorrow a violent passion. 
510.1  Sorrow for the dead. 521.50. to be resisted at the first. 
533.30  Sotades paid for his lavish tongue. 
13.20  Soteres. 
1122.1.1278.40  Soteria. 
1121.50  sooth, or Sothis' a star. 
968.30  Sothis' what star. 
1295.50  Spring and fountains dried up. 
1345.40  Soul of man what it is according to sundry philosophers. 
65. 20.30.&c.  Soul of the world. 
65.50  Soul of man how divided 
833.40  Soul what it is. 
1023.50  Soul of the world what it is. 
1033.10  Soul in infants when and how engendered. 
1079.40  the Soul a chief instrument of God. 
345.20  Soul sickness worse than 〈◊〉 of the body. 
314.30  substance of the Soul. 
833.50  Soul hath two parts. 
834.20  Souls estate after this life. 
1182.40.50  Soul reasonable where it is seated 
834.30.40  Souls motion. 
834.50  Soul whether immortal or no. 
835.1.10.  Souls not affected only according to the body. 
714.1  Souls delights and food apart from the body. 
714.10  Soul why it is supposed to be a light. 
608.40  Souls of good men after this life. 
608.50.609.1  Souls of the wicked after this life. 
609.10  Soul why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
1079.10  Sous his devise to beguile his enemies. 
469.20  Sp. what it signifieth. 
884.40  Space or room what it is. 
815.20  Spadix, what it is. 
772.50  wild Sparage adorned the new bride's head. 
316.20  Speech of two sorts. 
290.40  Speeches premeditate preferred before those which are extempore. 
7.40  Speech with what moderation to be used. 
8.30  Speeches short and pithy of the Lacedæmonians. 
103.1  Speculative philosophy. 
804.40  Spertis his resolution for his country. 
474.1  Speusippus reclaimed by his uncle Plato. 
190.40  Sphagitides. 
660.30  Sphinxes whence they came. 
568.50  Sphinx held the rock Phytion. 
565.30  Sphinxes why portrayed upon the church porches in Egypt. 
1290.50  Sphragistae, what Priests. 
1299.50  Spiders how they wove their cobwebs. 
959.30  Spintharus his commendation of Epaminondas. 
53.20.1221.10  Spongotheres what fish, and his nature. 
974.40  Sports admitted at feasts. 
652.50  Spoils of enemies suffered all Rome to run to decay. 
863.20  Springs of hot water be wondered at. 
1012.50  Spurij, who they be. 
884.40  Sponges of the sea and their properties. 
974.50  Stags weep salt tears, but wild Boars shed sweet drops. 746.30 why called in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 970.30. their natural wit. 
965 10  Stars whence they have their illumination. 
822.1  Stars how made. 808. 30. of what substance they be. 
820.50  the order, situation and moving of Stars. 
821.30  Stars shooting. 
827.30  Stars motion. 821.50. their signification. 
822.30  Starfish how crafty he is. 
972.40  Stasicrates a famous Architect, his device to portray K. Alexander. 
1275.30  A Statesman what kind of person he ought to be. 
348.10  A Statesman or governor, whether he may execute base and mean offices for the Commonwealth. 
364  Statesmen are to consider the natures and humours of the subjects under them. 
349.20.350.10.20  A Statesman ought first to reform himself, 350.20. when and how he may scoff. 
354.30.  How Statesmen may rise to credit and reputation. 
356. 40.50.357.1.10.&c.  Young Statesmen and Rulers whom they are to join unto. 358.40. what friends they are to choose. 
358.50  Stationary plants. 
247.50  Station or Rest rejected. 
815.50  Statues rejected by Agesilaus. 
446.50  stepmothers jealous over their daughters in law. 
321.40  stereometry. 
1019.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, whereof derived. 
1153.40  Sthenelus & Diomedes compapared. 
38.1  Sthenelus commended for praising himself. 
303.20  Sthenius a resolute man for his country. 
438.1  Sthenia, games of prize. 
1256.40  Sthenon. 
370.1  Stilbon what star. 
821.40  Stilpo his apothegm of K. Demetrius. 159.1. his dream of Neptune. 
ib.  Stoics opinion of God. 812.20. bitterly bend against the Academiques. 1082.20. repugnant to common sense and notions both in doctrine and manners. 1086.10. they lead a voluptuous life. 
1058.10  Stones lying within the earth, more pliable and easy to be wrought. 
747.10  Stone why it resoundeth not. 
770.10  Stone flakes whereof Naperie is made. 
1345.50  Storks do us some service. 777.10. kind to their parents. 
954.20  Storks why honoured by the Thessalians. 
 Stratius a surname of Mars. 
1141 10  Stratocles a great politician at Athenes. 348.40. he 〈◊〉 the Athenians. 
350.10  Stratonice wise of Deiotarus, her kindness to her husband. 
501.40  Straton his disloyalty unto Theophanes and calisthenes. 
314.30  Strato his apothegm of Menedemus and his scholars. 
155.40  Stratonicus his apothegm of the Isle Seriphos. 273.30. his speech concerning banishment. 273.30. how he taxed the Rhodians. 
211.20  Awispe of Straw or hey why tied to the horns of cursed beasts. 
673.50  Strength of body how to be regarded. 
6.50  Struthias a scoffing flatterer. 
94.10  Styx, and the water thereof. 
1000.40  Styx what it is. 
1219.20  Sulpitius Gallus why he put away his wife. 
855.10  Summer. 
829.40  The suns substance. 822.30. his circle. 〈◊〉. his magnitude. 823.20. his form or figure. 
ib. 30  Sunsteads or Tropikes. 
〈◊〉  Suns twain appearing in Pontus. 
829.10  suns eclipse how occasioned. 
824.1  The Sun the image of God. 
296.10  Sun rising how portrayed among the Egyptians. 
1291.40  Sun and Moon row in barges. 
1301.1  to the Sun, incense burned three times a day. 
1308.40  The folly of Superstitious persons. 
262. 20.30.&c.  Superstitious folk compared with Atheists. 
263.30  Of Superstition. 260. 1.10.&c. what it is. 260.40.598.50. to be avoided. ib. 30. how it is bred. 
260.1  Be Surety, and be sure to pay. 
346.10  Suretyship dangerous. 
165.20  Surfeits how cured. 
618.40  Surnames drown other names. 
1195.1  Swallows how they build. 
959.10  Swallows why to be kept out of our houses. 776.40. unthankful and disloyal. 777.1. they will not be tamed. 
ib. 20  Swallowing of our victuals how it is performed. 
1022.20  Sweet and pleasant how they differ. 
693.50  Swine ear the Egyptians land in stead of a plough. 710.30. subject to leprosy and the scurf Psora. 711.20. love not to look up into the air. 
711.30  Swine tame why they farrow oftener than the wild. 
1010.20  Swordfight at Pisa in old time. 
717.1  Sybarits how they invite women to a feast. 
328.10  Sycophants who they be. 
143.40  A Sycophant first put to death at Athens. 951.5. compared with curious busibodies. 
143.40  Cornelius Sylla Fortune's minion and adopted son. 630.30. he surnamed himself Foelix. ib. his style. 
ib. 40  Sylla Foelix his apothegm. 103 30. 437. 10. he advanced Pompeius and envied not his glory. 358.30. envied by Marius. 358. 20. he surnamed himself Epaphroditus 
306.10  Sylvanus. 
913.1  Sylvia mother of Romulus and Remus. 
632.30  The Symbolical speech of Heraclitus. 
103.30  Sympathy in man and wife commended. 
318.50  Symphonies in Music five, with their proportions. 
1358.40  Symposiaca and Sympotica how they differ. 
662.1  Syncritesmus what it is among the Candiots. 
188.40  Synorix murdered Sinnatus. 1154.30. poisoned by Camma. 
1154.50  Syssitia what they be, and by whom instituted. 
463.20    


T  TAbernacles feast of the Jews. 
712.10  Tabletalk not to be forgotten. 
642.10  Table makes friends. 
64.2  Table discourses of Philosophy allowable. 
642.20  Table why not voided clean at Rome. 
748.3.872.1  the Table a sacred thing. 750.20 why it is called virtue. ib. cold Tables in old time, what they were. 
783.20  Table, the foundation of the house. 
339.30  a Table furnished with meats and drinks commended. 
ib. 40.50  Table talk of two sorts. 
661.50  Table discourses of learning highly commended. 
730.1.10  Table talk aught to be used with discretion. 
742.50  〈◊〉. 193.1. commended. 53.20. of a Roman servant. 
204.10  Talasia and Talosos. 
861.10  Talassto a word used at weddings. 
861.10  Talassius an active gentleman. 
861.20  Tale of the Fox and Crane out of Egypt. 
640.40  Tanagra. 
899.10  Tanaquil wife to Tarqvinius Priscus. 
635.40  Tanaquillis or Tanaquil a wise Lady. 
863.10  Tantalian riches. 
298.10  Taphosiris in Egypt. 
1295.40  Tarpeia betrayed the Capitol. 
910.50  Tarquin the proud deposed and banished. 491.30. he warreth upon the Romans. 
491.30  Tarqvinius Priscus. 630.10. his prowess. 
883.40  Tarrias a false cozener. 
1279.50  Tartarians desired to be devoured of dogs. 
299.50  Tartarus for the damned. 
531.50  Taruntius. 
862.50  Taste, how it is performed. 
838.30  Taunts and merry scoffs how to be used by a Statesman. 
363.40  Taxiles an Indian king, his conference with King Alexander. 
413.20  Tears of wilde-bores sweet, of stags and hinds saltish. 
1010.1  Technatis king of Egypt loved frugality. 
1290.40  Telamonius killeth his brother Phocus. 
913.40  Telechus his apothegm. 
423.10  Telecrus his apothegm. 
469.30  Telegonus the son of Ulysses Circe. 
917.50  Telemachus his discretion. 
214.50  Telemachus bewaileth that he hath no brother. 
177.10  Telephus cured by his enemies spear. 
241.1  Telephus healed by that which wounded him. 
62.1  Telesphorus encouraged. 
279.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth. 
1060.1  Teleutia mother of Pedaretus. 
481.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 who he is. 
225.10  Tellus deemed by Solon happy. 
96 20  Tellus the goddess her chapel. 
1196.20.40  Telesilla her noble acts. 
486.1  Telesinus. 
634.20  Temenus. 
902.50  Temon his stratagem. 
892.1  Temperance what it is. 69.10. how it differeth from continency. 
69.20  Temperance and continency defined. 
567.1  Temperance of brute beasts compared with that of men. 
568.569  Tenes and Tenedians 
896.40  Tenes stain by Achilles. 
896.50  L. Terentius redeemed by Scipio the elder. 430.20. he wore a cap in the triumph of Scipio. 
ib.  Teres his apothegm. 
405.1  Tereus. 
777.1  Teribasus how devoted to the K. of Persia. 
264.50  no beast sacrificed to Terminus. 
855.20  Terminus a god. 
855.20  Terminalia. 
ib.  ternary number. 
807.20  ternary number or three, called Justice. 
1317.30  Terpander an ancient Musician. 
1249.40  Terpsichore the Muse, who loveth dancers. 
692.30  Tetractys the famous quaternary of the Pythagoreans, called the World. 
ib. 1317.30  Thales his error. 805.30. the first author of Philosophy. 16.40. he traveled into Egypt. ib. his opinion of God. 
812.1.  Thales how he answered his mother as touching marriage. 691.40. he found out the height of the Pyramid in Egypt 327.20 admired of K. Amasis. 327.20. accused unto him. 
ib.  Thalia. 
797.20  Thalia wherein employed. 
799.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
299.20  Thamus pronounceth, That the great Pan was dead. 
1332.11.  Thargelia. 
766.10  Thamyris the musician challengeth the Muses in song. 
1249.30  Thamyris the musician how he fared in his anger. 
121.40  Thaumas the father of the 〈◊〉. 
828.30  Theacidas his apothegm. 
458.1  Theagenes a vaing lorious champion. 
364.40  Theagenes died in the quarrel of his country. 
503.1  Theano a chaste and sober matron 
321.1.  Theano, daughter of Scedasus. 
946.10  Theatrical sports banished. 
358.30  Theatre, whereof the word came. 
1256.50  Thebes the wife of Alexander, tyrant of Pherz. 
428.20  Thectamenes his apothegm. 
458.30  Thelonae, what nurses. 
870.10  Thematiron what music. 
1252.30  Themisteas his apothegm. 
458 10  Themistocles his apothegms. 417.30. riotous in his youth. ib. reclaimed by the proesse of Miltiades. ib. his stratagem to save Greece. 
418.1  Themistocles in his government overruled much by his friends. 
359.20  Themistocles and Aristides, laid by all private quarrels, for the good of the weal public. 361.50. suspected for a traitor to the state of Greece. 241.40. his apothegm as touching his banishment.. 273.20. he basheth not to blazon his own virtues before the Athenians. 304.40. his words as touching Miltiades. 244.30. he lived richly in exile. 
273.20.  Themistocles for his wisdom surnamed Ulysses. 1243.1. depraved by Herodotus. 1244.40.50. his apothegm to his sons. 
1266.40  Themis. 
295.20  Themotecles captain conspirator against Aristodemus. 
506.20  Theodestes a wanton person, how he saluted his love. 
751.50  Theodorus his saying of his scholars. 
1303.40  Theoclymenus furious. 
837.1  Theocritus the Sophister punished for his intemperate speech. 
13.30  Theodorus counterfeiting the creaking of a wheel. 
23.1  Theodorus Atheos'. 
148.30.810 40  Theodorus neglected the sepulture of his body. 
299.40  Theodorus being banished how 〈◊〉 answered king Lysimachus. 
279.10  Theopompus first instituted the Ephori. 294.1. his apothegm. 
423.20.458.10  Theophrastus twice saved his country. 
1128.50  Theori. 
905.40  Thera and Therasia. 
1191.10  Theramenes his buskin. 379.50. his apothegm. 458.30. put to death by his colleague in government. 
513.50  Thero the Thessalian an amorous person. 
1146.1  Thessander, captain of the Argives. 
907.10  Thessales and Achilles compared. 
37.40.50  Therytion his apothegm. 
458.30  Theseus banishod from Athens. 280.30. his temple there. 
ib.  Theseus' his pictures. 
982.30  Thesmophoria. 
1314.10  Theos the general name of God, whereof derived. 
1311.20  a Thessalians apothegm as touching Thessalians. 
 Thesmothesion. 
762.10  Thespesius how he became a new man. 556.10. his tale. 
ib. 40  Thesis the mother of Ac hills 896.50. she complaineth of Apollo. 
20.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, of diverse significations. 
29 10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the name of the night. 
1163.10  Thoosa what Daemon. 
157.30  Thraseus justified by Nero his enemy. 
362.50  Thrasonides his miseries. 
210.50  Thrasybulus his counsel to Periander. 
327.50  Thrice signifieth Many times. 
1300.50  Thucydides commended for his diluciditie of style. 
983.30  Thunder how caused. 827.40.1004.50. what things be good against it. 
704.20  Thunder. 
ib.  Thyades, religious priestresses. 
1301  Thyasi what sacrifices. 
902.1  Thybians, ey-biters. 
723.20  Thyrsophoria what feast. 
71210  Thirst whereof it proceedeth. 731.1. quenched and slaked by sleep. 
731.10  thirst not allayed by meat. 
733.10  Tiberius declared Heir apparent by Augustus. 442. 50. his 〈◊〉. 
626.1  Tides of the sea how occasioned. 
〈◊〉  Tigranes K. of Armenta his base mind. 
1276.40  Tigers love not to here drums and tabours. 
323.40  Time, what it is. 
1024.20.815.30  the instruments of Time. 
1024.1  essence of Time. 
815.30  Timagenes jesteth to broad with Augustus Caesar. 
108.20  Timarchus murdered by Procles. 
1197.30  Timarchus his tale as touching the familiar spirit of Socrates. 1218.20. how he died. 
1220.50  Timber not to be fallen but in the full moon. 
〈◊〉  Timesias a busy politician. 
365.10  Timoclia her virtuous deed. 
503.10  Timoleon. 371. his speech of Smallach coronets. 718. 1. modest in praising himself. 
360.1  Timon the brother of Plutarch. 
185.40  Timon's nurse of Cilicia. 
782.40  Timotheus a Poet and musician, emboldened by Euripides. 398.30. his vainglory. 301. 50. his speech of Chares a tall and personable man. 389.50.420.20. a fortunate captain. 420.20. his apothegms. 
ib.  Timotheus his apothegm of the Academy fare. 
616.1  Timotheus the musician rebuked by K. Archelaus for craving. 
408.20  Timoxena the daughter of Plutarch. 
539.20  Tiresias his ghost. 
791.40  Tissaphernes compounded with Agesilaus. 445.10. his treachery. 
ib.  Titans. 
1333.50  Titus the emperor given over much to bathing. 
612.20  〈◊〉 and Typhones. 
1184. 30  Thesimachus his policy. 
915.10  Tongue naturally seated, against much 〈◊〉. 
193.40  Tongue the best and worst piece of all the body. 
52.20.197.20  Tongue one, ears twain. 
53.20  Tongue lavish hath undone many states. 
195.50  how to frame the Tongue in making answers. 
204.20.205.1  Tongue an hard matter to bridle. 
13.1  Tongue lavish compared with other infirmities. 
193.10  Tone. 
1037.1.40  Toredorix a Tetrarch of Galatia. 502.20. executed by Mithridates. 
502.40  Tortoises of the sea, their manner of breeding. 
976.50  Tortoises of the land cured by the herb Origan. 
569.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth in vines and other things. 
1013.10  Tragoedies condemned at feasts & banquets. 
759.1  Tragedy what manner of deceit. 
19.20  Tragedy what it was at first. 
645.1  Tragedians compared with captains. 
985.20.  Tranquillity of mind. 145.1. what is the fountain thereof. 
148.1  Transmigration of souls into new bodies. 
578.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
775.10  Trees bearing pitch or rosin will not be grafted in the scutchian. 675.10. they will bear no imp of another tree. ib. 20. they be unfruitful. 
676.1  Trees growing within the sea. 
1178.40  Trees some shed their leaves, others not; and why. 
 Triangles of three sorts what they represent. 
1328.40.685.30  Triangle named Pallas. 
1317.20  Tribunes at Rome why they wore no imbraydered purple robes. 877.10.20. counted no magistrates. 
ib.  Tribunate a popular function. 877.30. a sanctuary to the commons. ib. 40. inviolable and sacred. 
ib. 50  Trimeres what music. 
1251.30  Trioditus or Trivia why the moon is called. 
1177.10  Trochilus and the crocodile their society. 
975.10  Tritogenia, a name of Pallas. 
317 20  Tritons sea gods why so called. 
1317.20  Trojan war why caused by the gods. 
1073.30  Trojan dames their worthy deed. 
484.1  Trojans and Greeks compared together. 
38.40  Trojans settled in Italy. 
484.20  Troilus the page of Hesiodus, & a rock of that name. 
344.10  Trophaees of Sylla. 
630.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, whereof derived. 
731.50  Trophoniades, what Daemons 
1183.40  Trophonius and Agamedes rewarded with death. 
518.20  Trophonius Oracle and cave. 
1218.27  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
543.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 what it signifieth. 
736.50  Truth a commendable quality in young folk. 
13.40  Truth but one, lies be infinite. 
782.10  Truth and the knowledge thereof is incomparable. 
1287.50  The plain or field of truth. 
1334.40  Tullus Hostilius executeth Metius Suffetius. 
908.40  The two tons in heaven full of destinies. 
271.30  Tuny fish not ignorant of Astronomy. 974.1. skilful in Arethmeticke and perspective. 
ib. 20  Tuskane women their virtuous hast. 
488.1  Tutelar god of the Romans not to be named or inquired after. 
870.50  Tutors and teachers of children, how to be chosen. 
5.10  Twines how engendered. 
843.30  Tynnicus the Lacedaemon how he took the death of his son. 
472.40  Typhon, a Meteore. 
828.1.10  Typhonij. 
1316  Typhon. 
1121.20  Typhon what it signifieth. 
1288.10  Typhon borne. 1292.20. he conspired against Osiris. 1292.40 his outrages. 1298.10. repressed and plagued by Isis. 
ib.  Typhon of a ruddy colour. 1299.30.40. how portrased in Hermopolis 
1307.50  Tyrants and good princes wherein they differ. 
296.1  Tyranny to be repressed at the first. 
121.10  Teribazus how obsequious and devoted to the king of Persia his name. 
264.50.  Tyrtaeus the Poet, what Leonidas thought of him. 
950.20  Tyrians enchained the images of their tutelar gods. 
871.1  A Tyrant living to be an old man, is a wonder. 
1206.40    


V  VAlerius Poplicala. 
865.40  Valerius Poplicala suspected for affecting the kingdom of Rome. 
880.40  Valerius Torquatus. 908.30 exiled. 
910.30  Valeria her virtuous act. 
491.50  Valeria Tusculanaria enamoured of her own father. 
912.50  Valerius killeth himself. 
913.1  Veleria Luperca, destined to be sacrificed. 916. 20. she had a gift to cure the sick. 
ib.  Valleys within the Moon three. 
1183.30  Valiant men may be slain by cowards. 
973.50  Variety acordeth to Nature. 
652.40  Ventoses and cupping glasses, the reason of their attraction. 
1022.10  Venus image why placed hard by Mercury. 
316.10  Venus Belestie. 
1137.1  Venus what attribute she hath. 
1140.10  Venus why called Harma. 
1155.30  Venus and Love how they differ. 
1140.10  Venus image among the Elians upon a tortoise shell. 
321.1  Temple of Venus the murderess. 
1154  Of Venus the end. 
337.30  Sophocles joied, that by age he was bereft of the sports of Venus. 
390.1  Venus how to be used. 
621.10  Venus of Dexicreon. 
904.1  Venus altogether to be abandoned. 
691.40  Venus sports in day time not to be used. 692.50. at what time to be used. 
690.30  Venus why she is said to be borne of the sea. 
728.50  Venus the goddess, on whether hand wounded by Diomedes. 
789.50  Venus Epitalaria. 
635.30  Venus Epitimbia. 
857.40  Venus her image with a Tortoise. 
1317.20  Venus to be used with temperance. 
619.1  Venus how she came to the Spartans'. 
629.40  Venus enervate without Love. 
1144.10  Veneralia a solemn feast. 
866.20  Vord-de-gris of what effect it is. 
698.1  Verses taunted by Cicero 
439.40  Verses cited to good purpose. 
787  Verses unfitly and unseasonably cited. 
787.40.50  Virtue moral differing from contemplative. 
64.30  Virtue and exercise of virtue, how they differ. 
1213.10  Virtue no more than one. 
64.1  Virtue by what means accomplished. 
3.1  Virtue excelleth other gifts. 
7.10  Virtues commendable in young men. 
12.20  Virtue & vice of what power they be. 
79.20  Temple of Virtue at Rome when built. 
634.50  Virtue may be learned. 
81. 10. 20. & c.  progress from vice to Virtue. 
246.40.50  proceeding in virtue by degrees. 
247.30  Virtue what it is. 
65.20.67.50  Virtue standeth upon two grounds. 
15.1  Virtues temples at Rome. 
630.40  Virtue taken diversely among poets. 
32.1  Virtue and Fortune at debate. 628.10. compared together. 629.20. she advanceth forward to plead against Fortune. 
ib.  Vespasian his cruelty to Lady Empona. 
1158.10  Vessels more slow in Winter upon rivers than upon the sea. 
1006.10  Vestal Nuns three, for incontinent life convict and punished. 
678.30  Vestal virgins committing fornication, why buried quick at Rome. 
882.1  Vestal Nuns at Rome of three sorts. 
398.30  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek whereof it is derived. 
1301.1  variety of Viands better than simple feeding. 
700.30  Viands of sea or land, which be better. 
707.50  Viands simple, more wholesome than of diverse sorts. 
700.20  Viands rare and dainty. 
613.40  Vice what it is. 
67.50  Vice sufficient for infortunity. 
298.40  Vice according to the Stoics, profitable for the world. 
1088.1089  victors at games of prize how honoured at Lacedaemon. 
674.30  Vinegar most contrary to fire. 
690.10  Violet garlands of what use. 
684.20  Visible subjects. 
1018.50  Ulysses highly commended for his silence. 197.1.10. he vaunteth of his own deeds. 309.20. he inhabited Italy. 
892.30  Ulysses excused. 36.1. noted for drowsiness. 36.10. he schooleth Telemachus and teacheth him patience. 41.20. able to rule his passions. 66.50. drenched in the sea. 
659.20  Understanding in man, better than the soul simply. 
1182.20  Understanding and knowledge compared with other parts. 
7.1  Unity the beginning of numbers. 
858.50  Unity of the Pythagoreans. 
806.40  Unity, named Apollo. 
1317.20  Unity, is the principle of all order. 
1340.1341  Vocal Music. 
760.50  Voices in the night more sounding and audible than in the day: the reason thereof. 
769.20  Voice what it is. 838.40.1248.50 why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 838.40. how it filleth whole theatres. 839.10. whether it be a body or no. 
839.20  what Voice most pleasant. 
302.1  a strong Voice commendable in a Statesman. 
355.40  Voice exercised, good for student's health. 
619.20  voidness or vacuity rejected. 
814.50  voidness or emptiness in the world whether there be any. 
820.10  Voluptuous life. 
9.40  Vomits usual hurt the body. 
624.1  Vomits for students. 623.20. how to be procured. 
623.50  Upbraiding of good turns ordinary in flatterers. 
103.1.10  Urania. 
798.50  Urchin honoured by Zoroastres and the Magi. 
711.10  Urchin of the land craftily beguileth the fox. 965.20. provident for his young ones. 
ib. 30  the Urchins hole. 
ib.  Urchin of the sea how crafty he is. 
973.40  Use, of what effect it is. 
3.40  against taking money upon Usury. 
283.1.10. etc.  usurers to be avoided. 
284.20  Vulcan but one. 
796.20  Vulcan the prince and author of all arts. 
992.10  Vulcan's Temple why founded without the city of Rome. 867.1. the chamber or counsel house of Romulus and Tatius. 
ib. 10  Vulcan hath diverse acceptions in Poets. 
30.10  Vulcan lame. 
1162.10    


W  WAking out of sleep, how occasioned. 
847.50  Walls of cities set out by the plough. 
860.1  Walls of Rome held to be sacred, but not their city gates. 
859.50  Walking after supper. 
623.1  Wanton words, as well as filthy deeds to be avoided. 
36.30  War knoweth no stint. 
423.20  gentle civil War and friendly between the Megarians. 
893.30  War the father and protector of the world. 
1306.50  Water and fire compared together. 
989.20  Water argued to be more profitable than fire. 
ib. 40  Water once heat, becometh colder afterwards. 
734.20. 996.50  Water is the primitive cold or element of cold. 
997.1  Waters which be most unwholesome. 
1014.10  Waters why black in the bottom, and white above. 
1015.30  Water how it runneth. 
1022.50  Water-gals resembling rainbows or sundry suns. 
829.20  Water what kind of drink. 
621.20  Water of the sea unctuous. 
659.1  Water how made more cold. 
734.20  Water fresh compared with sea water for scouring. 
658.40  Water of lakes and pools in summer not potable. 
774.20  Water the principle of all things. 805.40. the reasons proving the same. 
ib.  Water how made. 
880.40  Wealth alone not commendable. 
46 40  Wedlock what conjunction it is. 321.30. maintained against Paederasti. 
1155  Wedded folk forbidden at Rome to give or receive any thing interchangeably. 
321.40  Wedlock precepts. 
315.316  new wedded wives bidden to touch fire and water. 
850.20  at Weddings why five torches or wax-lights are lighted. 
850.40  at Wedding suppers many guests, and why. 
706.40  〈◊〉 why honoured among the Egyptians. 
1316.30  a Welcome home. 
776.30  the Weasand pipe. 
744.1  Westwinde swiftest. 
1014.20  Whales cast away for want of the guide, a fish. 
975.40  Wheat loveth clay ground. 
1008.20  three month Wheat. 
ib.  Wheat hot. 
741.40  White clothes purest and least costly 
859.40  in White they mourned at Argos 
859.50  Widows might be wedded upon a festival day. 
885.10  a Wife ought not to be awed by her husband. 317.10. she ought to be most 〈◊〉 by her husband. 
317.10  a Wife ought to keep the house. 
800.40  of a little Wife an apothegm. 
178.30  the new Wife decketh with wool the door of her husband's house. 
861.10  a Wife must frame herself to her husband. 
317.50.  Wives in Egypt wear no shoes. 
320.50  how a Wife ought to carry herself toward her husband. 
320.50  Wind eggs. 
52.50  Winds what they be. 
〈◊〉  Wine liberally taken what effects it worketh. 
194.10  Wine how it killeth the vine. 
1013 20  Wine how hot, and how it is cold. 
1112.10.20  Wine how students should use. 
621.10  Wine the best drink. 
ib.  Wine what effects it worketh. 681 20.763.50. it discovereth the 〈◊〉 of the heart. 
681.40  Wine a singular medicine. that Wine is cold. 
683.40  
689.30  Wine new. See Must. 
 Wine whether it should run through a streiner before it be drunk. 
736.20  Wine called at the first 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, by the name of Lees. 
736.40  variety of Wines soon causeth drunkenness. 
700.50  Wine best, in the mids of the vessels. 
747.30  Wine why poured forth at Rome before the temple of Venus. 
866.30  Wine hurt with wind and air. 
747.50  Wine the foundation of government and counsel in Greece, 
762.1  Wine in Greek, why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
762.50  Wine and the vine came of giant's blood spilt upon the ground. 
1289.40  Wine is talkative. 
763.1  Wine worketh boldness and confidence. 
763.40  Wine causeth a self conceit and opinion of wisdom. 
763.1  Wine new at what time of the yccre first tasted or set abroach. 
785.1  Wine sparily drunk by the Egyptian kings. 
1289.40  that Wine is cold. 
688.1  a Wing compared to God. 
1021.40  Winter how it is caused. 
829.40  Wisdom and fortune produce like effects. 
628.20  the wise man of the Stoics described. 
1055.50  Wisdom what it is. 233.1. to be preferred before all worldly things. 
1288.1  Wool more pliable if it be gently handled. 
658.30  Wolves whelp, all in twelve days 
1015.20  Women not soon drunk, and the reason thereof. 687.10. their temperature moist. 
ib.  Women whether they be colder or hotter than men. 
688.1  that Women be hotter. 
ib. 10  one Woman's body put to ten dead men's bodies in a funeral fire. 
688.20  that Women be colder than men. 
688.30  Women why they conceive not at all times. 
843.20  a Woman beareth five children at the most at one birth. 
850.50  Women why they wear white at funerals in Rome. 
859.30  a pretty tale of a talkative Woman. 
198.30  Women can keep no secret counsel. 
199.30  Women are best adorned with virtue and literature. 
325.10 20  women's virtuous deeds. 
482.20  Women publicly praised at Rome. 
483.10  Women of Salmatica their virtuous act. 
489.50  a Woman of Galatias, love to Toredorix. 
502.50  Wooden dog among the Locrians. 
892.50  Wood-pecker a bird why so much esteemed at Rome. 
857.10  Wood-pecker feed Romulus and Remus. 857.10. consecrated to Mars, wherefore. 
ib. 20  Words filthy are to be avoided by children. 
11.50  a Word, occasion of much mischief. 
242.20  Words compared with deeds. 
402 40  Words the lightest things in the world. 
668.40.196.10  Words have wings. 
198.10  World, of what principles it was composed. 
1305.50  World how it was made. 808.20 in the World four regiments. 
1219.30  World one. 808.50. how Plato proveth it. 
809.1.1335.30  more Worlds than one. 
1335.50  World not incorruptible. 
809.10  Worlds infinite. 
809.10  infinity of Worlds condemned. 
1332.30.1334.20  World round. 
809.30  Worlds in number five. 
1335.20  World why called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
818.1  Worlds whether one or infinite. 
818.10  Worlds not one nor five, but 183. 
1334.30  World and Whole, not both one. 
818.10  World and the parts thereof compared to a man's body. 
1168  World what it is. 
646.10  Worlds in number five, how proved. 
1339.10  World what form or figure it hath. 
818.20  World whether it be animate or endued with soul. 
818.30  Worlds five which they be. 1359.1. whether it be corruptile or eternal. 
818.40  World whereof it is nourished. 
818.50  Worlds five, proportionate to the five senses. 
1359.10  World's fabric at which element it began. 
819.10  World's fabric in what order it was framed. 
819.30  World why it copeth or bendeth. 
819.50  the World to come hath joys for good men. 
603.20  World's sides, right & left. 
820.20  the World's conflagration. 
1328.10  World created by god. 
1032.40  the Worlds general conflagration held by the Stoics. 
1090.30  Worship of brute beasts excused. 
1327.50  Wrathfulness what it is. 
119.50  Wrestling whether it were the most ancient Gymnike exercise. 
672.30    


X  XAnthians plagued by the means of Bellerophontes. 
489.40  Xanthians negotiate in the name of their mothers, and bear their names. 
489.50  Xenocrates his aurelets or bolsters for the ears. 
52.20  Xenocrates a scholar hard to learn. 63. 1. his opinion as touching the soul of the world. 1031.10. he directed Alexander the great in the government of the king doom. 
1128.30  Xenocrite her virtuous deed. 505 30. she conspireth the death of Aristodemus the tyrta. 
506.30  Xenophanes his saying of the Egyptian Osiris. 
1149.10  Xenophon reporteth his own acts. 
372.10  Xenophon the Philosopher beloved of king Agesilaus. 448.30 how he took the death of his son. 
529.30  Xenophon called Nycteris. 930.20. he penneth the history of himself. 
982.10  Xerxes menaceth Athos. 121.40 he died for sorrow that his own sons were at deadly discord. 
176.50  Xerxes and Ariamenes brethren how they strove for the crown. 186.40. how they were agreed. 
187.1.10  Xerxes his policy to keep down rebellious & mutinous subjects. 403.40. his apothegms. ib. his clemency unto two Lacedæmonians. 
474.1  Xerxes his barbarous cruelty unto rich Pythes. 
507.20  Xuthus. 
895.20    


Y  Year why it is called the age of man. 1328.20. of Jupiter. 826.20. of the Sun. ib. of Mercury and Venus. ib. of the moon. 
ib.  the Year or revolution of Saturn. 
826.20  the great Year. 
826.20  Years dedicated to Jupiter. 
876.1  Yeugh tree shade how hurtful. 
684.40  Young men are to be governed with greater care than children. 14.40. to what vices they be subject. 
14.30.40  Young men how they sleep at Lacedaemon. 475. 40. how they demeaned themselves to their elders at Lacedaemon. 
476.1  Young lads permitted to steal, at Lacedaemon. 
476.20  Young folk drunk resemble old men. 
687.50  Youth ought not to be overbold, nor yet too fearful. 8.40. how they should read the books of Sages. 
9.50  Youth is to obey. 
391.20  Youth brought up hardly at Lacedaemon. 
476.20.  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth in composition. 
726.50  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth. 
726.40  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
760.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, Nosegays. 
684.30  Iron, why it is not vocal and resonant. 
770.30    


Z  ZAleucus his 〈◊〉 highly reputed among the Locrians 
306.10  Zarates the master of Pythagoras. 
1031.20  Zeipetus king of the 〈◊〉. 
903.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is to say, To live. 
991. 20  Zeno his opinion of virtue. 65.1 he lost all that he had. 
148.40  Zeno traineth his scholars to the hearing of the music of instruments. 
67.20  Zeno the disciple of Parmenides undertook to kill the 〈◊〉 Demytus. 
1128.30  Zeno bitoff his own tongue. 196.30. contrary to himself. 
1058.50  Zeno the Cittiaean honoured by Antigonus the younger. 
416.1  Zeno his valorous resolution. 1128.30. his opinion as touching the principles of all things. 808.20. his answer to the Persian ambassador as touching taciturnity. 
194.30  Zephiodorus a minion of Epaminondas. 
1146.10  Zephyrus what wind. 
693.40.789.30  Zous hath many significations. 
〈◊〉  Zeuxidamus his apothegms. 
457.50  Zodiac circle. 809.40. how it passeth. 820. 40 the obliquity thereof who first observed. 
820.50  Zoilus a priest died of a little ulcer. 
899.40  Zoilus taxeth Homer for incongruity. 
719.50  Zones of the heaven. 
820.40  Zones 
5.835.10  Zona Torrida. 
831.10  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, an attribute given at Pittacus. 
775.20  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
775.1  Zoroastres never fed of any thing but of milk. 
700.10  Zoroastres very ancient. 
1306.1  〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, what it signifieth in Homer. 
719.20     

Errata.  
Page. line. Read 2. 41. DWarf-kings 6. 34. given themselves 7. 10. The violence of war 9 9 so, as many as 11. 19 In sum, rest and repose,  33. examined 12. 6. Take it a pitch against  50. Speusippui 14. 13. rule and squire  24. love the beauty 16. 18. juice or liquor. 17. 20. sage lessons all, which 10. 22. as in a picture drawn to the  36. entitled, Theriaca, (life.  52. with Apollo, for the 22. 47. rage and madness 23. 2. cart wheel or pulley  34. Nay, sleep 24. 32. choler. He  36. Patroclus  44. nor bore heavily 26. 10. How then? should I For God's cause die? 27. 39 credit of the worse 30. 45. This was the will 31. 9 he meaneth 39 48. seeketh for roots 41. 39 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 etc. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 42. 6. Behold, one father  21. What Glaucus, You  25. that Pandarus through 43. 21. Aetha, which he gave 44. 45. For Atreus  49. For Atreus 45. 26. Wsse men fearful  43. not at all 46. 30. at quails 48. 1. Homer derideth  16. provoked him  40. arms so dread  45. thou overmatched be  53. decisions  55. to endure such doctrine 50. 50. in those cities 53. 5. pour forth any 54. 3. a certain importunate desire 55. 31. a special fancy 56. 45. and stuphe  52. Embrochations. 57 38. caudrons  44. lateral motions 58. 3. undo the knots 59 41. composed 62. 27. was strange 63. 36. this counsel, that 64. 1. but more 69. 9 base and treble  43. worse with 70. 38. anchor flouke  40. not unproperlie 71. 43. never considering 74. 5. many an house 76. 19 audacious; rash also  34. dilatations  43 a sensual  52. 〈◊〉 79. 57 giveth thereto 81. 21. to shoe 83. 56. do us pleasure 86. 31. under that viso 87. 23. soon followeth them,  42, with sick likewise sick persons best do sort: 89. 21. long first: I 〈◊〉 I liked him not, a great etc. 91. 51. Castoreum 92. 31. this rule, 93. 51. with the profusion  54. grandeur. 95. 34. of his skill  40. also, and precepts 96. 9 shew-places 98. 16. fellows, use  24. Cercopes 102. 18. the lines 103. 28. only. A friend 105. 13. sound judgement 106. 48. a stomach fell, 107. 12. and then, spare 108. 10. made the statues 112. 8. given unto; whiles he 113. 10 in clipping 115. 18. lewd courses 119. 7. which are trebles in one. 8.  8. more high & small become 〈◊〉. i. the Bases.  34. and burn themselves 122. 12. their form of visage 123. 1. at secret root of hart  2. but lie apart 131. 13. and a dredge  44. and forwardness 134. 40, an Isthm 135. 1. have I done  19 and what was the occasion 137. 34. the very mids 137. 40. if he recount 138. 3. doth ever chant and sing  37. make a start 140. 48. not to amuse 141. 51. that regard the street 143. 1. cause great remorse  5. to hear 146. 30. by line descended 147. 16. when they be under sail 149. In the marg. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 150. 6. weakness of yours, you shall  42. to refresh (be sure 151. 3. that ran away; who being demanded what his Master  37. that they were absent 152. 52. monntaine Athos 153. 48. passions, do falsify 154. 54. surnamed Enyalius 155. 43. if there be more 156. 4. live by grazing  20. upon the dore-sill  26. and to make 157. 3. a table, do say  6. fall out to their minds; for, 158. 11. of them: I wist, 162. 43. scope 163. 28. a sad heaviness 167. 41. to dispense 169. 16. Helicon a Cyzicene 172. 57 and to repeat 180. 17. he hath him alone 186. 4. in siding 188. 57 our sight unto those bodies 190. 44. cry out upon him 194. 29. to mock him 195. 54. harried Asia (him 199. 29. an imputation charged upon 200. 52. tidings, whiles they 202. 21. by his treason 204. 5. guests were present 206. 12. give me than  30. 〈◊〉  44. Bacchu  49. writh himself 207. 28. refuted the sect 209 34. of mean raiment 210. 10. ordinarily, he that hath 212. 11. of the bane 213. 32. or Lyceum 215. 8. run a madding 218. 55. craw and gesier 219. 7. with their coovie  21. but for themselves  24. to fight for them 220. 17. providence, industry and diligence 221. 19 that induced them. 222. 12. wanton love, whoring, and 223. 13. taking it to be a prodigious wonder; confessing 227. 47. it well besits 228. 34. who died most 229. 17. to sue and mung 231. 3. sight of eyes  5. by the ear to the brain  56. attributed to fortune. 233. 12. Jove shall lend, 234. 18. be the same  48. grandeur 238. 42. the geirs or vultures 239. 24. was now settled 240. 54. honest another day, 243. 48. ambition, declaring 244. 45. with their diligence 246. 54. My lying dreams 250. 26. many there be 251. 14. and profited more 254. 46. or Sutures 255. 48. Aphyae 261. 12. in Galaetia  17. morimals 266. 44. Phoebas 268. 4. those Galatians 270. 49. Celmis or Bacelas  50. upon the pleasant tabor 〈◊〉 271. 34. to dispense  40. more potable 272. 15. not include 273. 36. where, as one 275. 38. 〈◊〉 277. 8. who hither 280. 52. Mad Bacchoe, running 282. 49. exposed to 283. 36. town Aulis  50. occasions  53. from our table  54. is needless 285. 1. their spurns  2. stoup and sink 289. 18. seigneurs  54. things profitable 290. 8. everrunning 292. 56. grandeur 295. 13. realm, a prince  40. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 300. 6. called Napeltus 306. 15. Zaleucus 308. 1. A plain and common soldier might enjoy etc. 310. 4. all else 312. 26. no decision 314. 36. maugre 318. 3. superficies 319. 5. their havoir 322. 39 Lady Hermione 327. 45. amiss. And in truth 329. 31. whom not? before 331. 32. horns so brag  54. begin with me, 332. 38. of the negotiation 336. 8. grandeur 337. 1. last year, and not 339. 5. physicians name  26. of this fair 341. 20. sick any more,  35. wine do drink 342. 3. coming toward, kissed him 344. 27. unto the temple 〈◊〉 346. 2. Hector 349. 29. that he is now able 352. 11. magnificent port 353. 51. affectation; 357. 29. entrance than so;  37. former avenue 358. 35. here at Marius took 360. 2. called Cadmia,  5. that one Sphodrias 361. 50. to have a cop 362. 7. go forth and retire 363. 13. of Comices  53. with the Parricides  42. but matters light 365. 20. who could drive with  46. sentences, acts 369. 12. and how 371. 15. or Polus, 373. 35. so, as I purpose  36. a Mna of silver 375. 3. a proper chaffer 376. 37. For why? 377. 22. congiaries 378. 5. and by endebting 385. 25. when for 388. 1. Lampon 391. 35. honourable marks 394. 5. arm and follow him. Now 396. 47. grandieur (when 397. 52. Now, in the advices 398. 42. power to initiate 400. 1. or declaim 402. 9 Some tracts  16. to set the reader  39 since that (most gracious 415. 13. what! Antagoras, prince)  26. Jalysus  32. grandeur 417. 14. where, as 420. 54. and guess worse; 423. 38. hath many better 426. 44. city of Thebes 429. 20. cloud hoovering 430. 25. unto him L. Terentius  49. sacrifice and give thanks 436. 7. who they had foiled so often 439. 49. readily, Thy mother quoth he, hath 442. 34. neither say nor do aught 445. 7. yea; thereupon 446. 6. lay sick: when the party 450. 39 preserve the laws 455. 34. whether you would be named an ill Poet, for to be a good Physician?  35. and to join battle 462. 3. I bring quoth he, mé enough 463. 22. four Chalci  52. he reached him a rap with his baston 471. 8. do not demolish 473. In marg. to dulce, gétly handle, 474. 35. and hafted with them so, 475. 30. manner, all naked 477. 47. by which means they accustomed 481. 17. accompanying a lame son of hers  18. that thou steppest, thy ver-  37. upon her head, (tue 483. 30. draw to the life men and women 484. 25. that women should 486. 23. loss and carnage 489. 4. was a mecre fable 492. 34. bearing himself 498. 38. Thebes, the wife of the tyrant of Pherae, 499. 14. being now fully persuaded. 500 50. unto her husband; 502. 25. undertook one day this enterprise 503. 13. and reaped she of virtue.  47. who stood above 504. 49. and haft no longer 511. 56. some great office, 512. 8. of felly, 513. 5. without regard 514. 26. and flew 518. 43. he went out 519. 45. Being none have left  50. Being none, have 〈◊〉 520. 43. than thou 524. 1. should have shed  33. and satisfy myself 525. 57 is to die 526. 56. but Jove alone 529. 26. each one being 532. 10. their eyes, ears and whole 536. 1. it is become (body  55. of our felicity or misery 539. 42. faring and inveighing 543. 51. Of freedom 545. 9 plant Ledum  55. bear forthwith 556. 34. Cilicia, 558. 13. degenerate  25 and swertish withal  27. the soul 562. 15. no other appuy 565. 54. customs & reprehensions, 598. 3. lavender, canel, and malabathrum,  4. skill and  36. ganymed 572. 6. carry themselves 574. 21. but disavoweth (ling 577. 26. touchings, frictions & hand- 583. 6. and extremities of the body 586, 30. pleasant, a principle 589. 55. known to stock 590. 52. Etesian winds 591. 21. or compost 594. 6. Boidion 597. 40. Acts of Cities 598. 27. and composed of 603. 25. prize of the victory 608. 8. as dormant  22. upon a fervent desire 610 48. nor desirous was he 611. 27. concerning the regiment 613. 25. Glaucus 615. 33. and such as they will 622. 29. to the taste, yet hurtful 624. 9 be so hard,  22. foreknowledge or suspicion: 627. 52. of their grandeur 629. 6. of that grandeur  21. in her pace and manner 630. 2. guiding and wresting  4. as Alcman the Poet  37. all suit  38. self repute  40. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 631. 23. they built it to the  39 and turn about back  54. Scipio, as well beloved In the marg. To 〈◊〉 Locutius, etc. to the goddess Moneta, etc. 632. 2. by whose wars, as well  48. paps bestrut 634. 6. while the junctures 636. 50. private destiny.  37. but they being humbled by this affliction,  52. pieces or plates of cork, 639. 22. beginning now to shoot  43. to Philosophise 644. 5. drougues, 644. 5. drougues, wherewith she 645. 1. and mere injury done  7. 〈◊〉 In the marg. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 646. 32. there should not be 649. 42. one rich man with another  54. as an emollitive 650. 8. male or female 656. 28. diaphoretical 659. 22. all plunged he had been 665. 24. reproaching persons with such vices & defects as are  33. Kymbix (not 666. 6. Thyrepanoectes  38. buffoon of king 669. 41. of pulse, wheat-bread, 671. 45. there were no eggs, 675. 40. imps or buds with their eyes 677. 18. and yet rescued, & escaped 680. In the marg. that is, the soul  50. or reward to check the same 683. 43. unto Agenortdes, 684. 27. 〈◊〉 ose and lay even  36. that were expressed 685. 56. spurred us forward 688. 9 the only cause 689. 40. apply 〈◊〉 wine unto 690. 25. counterpoison 691. 41. For, That an ancient 692. 48. The slaves of Bacchus 695. 3. purpose, new wine  6. dead folk, which at the first 696. 24. sapie or corrupted 697. In the marg. or half moon 698. 38. it is a received opinion. 699. 29 and therefore, As it were a 702. 13. bark and browse (base 705. 57 soft and lax 709. 22. as 〈◊〉 saith  47. air, which it 〈◊〉 710. 44. Mygale 717. 31. appertaineth unto Neptune 721. 33. chose for to 725. 13. that be: for custom 737. 11. if he had 〈◊〉 738. 22. with twigs  45. as is before said, there, 739. 44. contortion  48. 〈◊〉 or breath 751. 3. do acquit of Intemperance 754. 44. of the 〈◊〉 or Parasite 755. 46. do affirm, there is (Gnatho 756. 2. 〈◊〉 758. 45. a conformation 761. 18. but also, those who being  33. altercation 762. 11. is that night assembly  54. them that drink 764. 48. our beds, bidden to tuffle 765. 21. but filleth not unto them, wine 766. 22. even another Chiron, 767. 29. that in all other  35. square by mechanical  43. was amorous of him: 768. 47. this 〈◊〉 769. 1. form, Setting  2. he made, which he doth 771. 1. many times, scatter it 772. 54. Spadix, 773. 34. mids of those 774. 24. reason also inclineth 776. In the marg. who procured her 778. 56. Pythagoreans war, (sister 779. 42. containing themselves 780. 19 and help themselves  20. and mother both, 781. 27. incredible: pronouncing  44. stipticity 782. 13. like to the sand  24. of the ten Propositions, 783. 30. of bathing our flesh 784. 4. I wot not how 785. 30. thickened; the pour 786. 6. accordant, in Muficke? 788. 32. Quinquertium,  32. in that she is a 〈◊〉: 790. 19 this Lady gently, See, 791. 3. and therefore, 〈◊〉, 798. 1. our wills 799. 18. in nature? 800. 4. a lively and true  9 of running water, they are  12. with hot desire, and  42. 〈◊〉 with her gold crown honoured, Fair 〈◊〉 and well  45. From 〈◊〉 (favoured.  55. And 〈◊〉, 801. 1. who list to know 805. 43. That, as all things 808. 18. called Entelechia 811. 21. snow black; 〈◊〉 cold; 816. 33. and percussion  47. chain, there is comprised  37. Nature none there is 824. 36. the curvature or 〈◊〉 826. 2. Pseudophanes, 828. 38. war portends 831. 32. the cliffs and chinks 834. 42. hold it to be in 836. 53. ay thee beseech, 839. 10. and cich pease 846. 22. Scorpio is unsociable 848. 5. the inferior belly 853. 29. about, and return  54. with their 〈◊〉 855. 48. for that 〈◊〉 was a Lady 858. 44. and present offerings 869. 37. whom partly. 871. 8. with them their Tutelar  36. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  46. were the greatest 872. 32. Cirque of 〈◊〉  57 Febraten and Febrarin, 874. 15. called Auspexes  56. smallness 〈◊〉 Fortune, 881. 31. of all beside,  51. 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 pease 884. 29. the uneven number, nine, 886. 41. not only not to touch 889. 〈◊〉. and there, held them still 898. 28. in all respects otherwise, 899. 8. Stratonice,  12. by towns and villages  55. them they send 903. 12. injuries and wrongs  54. any money at interest 905. 21. Hercules being departed 906. 41. in which battle L. Glauco 915. 24. and bestowed every man 918. 35. States and governments  46. corporation of Rhamnus  48. as some think by himself 919. 3. no, 〈◊〉 by those  9 〈◊〉 and Archinous 920. 13. preferied by Andron: The Senate hath ordained 921. 24. he was driven out 223. 3. for sapience should now immortal be) 925. 10. the son of Conon 928. 25. up to the very cope  32. demanded to have had 929. 9 meeting with the children 932. 7. driven out of countenance  8. of lusty youthfulness  22. alleged testimonies  26. the 〈◊〉 934. 5. to convince the Macedoni- 943. 7. as buckler in (ans 945. 17. body of the espoused virgin  53. of the Bacchiadae; 950. 1. being not taught, nourished, nor any ways framed  47. commended hunting. 952. 16. again for them, contrary: 954. 29. when they coove or sit 955. 30. and the same not in small  32. For, that (Heraclitus  33. dealing with them as he doth, 960. 13. at Hercules, if he putting 961. 9 the nature of this wit & intelligence 962. 21. conclusion inferred  25. either disjunct or conjunct 967. 29. & among other pretty tricks  37. matter of the play required 969. 28. hides and deep obscurity  49. a tincture as one would say, from 970. 6. among the rest, those in 971. 4. that rural ox head bare  51. within the Amphitheatres  56. that he may raise himself upon, and so get forth, 972. 2. but say it were true, 974. 26. enter into the sea of Pontus. 977. 1 within the sand 978. 2 swallows do; nor yet 979. 35. About the temple Nemeium 980. 24. with his feet; and as men say. 984. 16. called Phiditia 986. 42. most sacred oblation that is  56. 〈◊〉 accompanieth 988. 44. the inconsiderate folly 991. 54. a man may account 992. 45. another declamation 994. 19 and perceivance of cold 997. 56. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 998. 46. contiguate 999. 2. not evermore cold alike  8. huge meres 1004. 36. cattle to lick salt 1009. 5. the 〈◊〉  43. others, their smitings.  〈◊〉. in steed of crooks 1012. 9 diverse 〈◊〉, sweetnesses  31. in the vatte 1017. 8. most just and equal  42. immutable, doth always 1020. 8. thereof, yet 〈◊〉  36. and Icasaedron 1021 56. cupping glasses;  51. rough 〈◊〉 1023. 30. to succeed and receive them, the 1024. 24. no nor any noise consonant 1026. 43. Adverb. For, the Particle 〈◊〉, 1028. 34. in gesture, in port; by the regard of his eye in his voice: 1029. 39 either parts or elements 1031. In the marg. and his sectaries.  45. generation either of itself 1034. 24. much less then, unto 1036. 48. to wit, two and three unto  35. of three to two, 1038. 1 which are inserted, 1040. 10. of which, let the less number  44. a sesquiterce to a 〈◊〉 1046. 3. of the Ecliptic  42. Paramese 1052. 3. certain and one. 1059. 23. As for 〈◊〉 1063. 43. very bald and absurd 1066. 22. forbiddeth expressly 1067. 3. and are better  5. and all one, as to say 1068. 10. such as Hydanthyrsus the Scythian was, and Leucon  55. could receive wrong 1075. 28. nor expedient, is if 1087. 40. had filled two cups 1092. 42. is conducible 1095. 21. in the peising and handling  46. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 1097. 28. the care diseased, 1102. 17. the water aloft,  2. Also, they annex hereto, their 1115. 38. is really of a 1116. In the marg. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 1121. 56. Phosphoria 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 1124. 8 to hear belive. 1127. 55. 〈◊〉 pardon. For, to slip 1129. 〈◊〉 the papyr reed,  33. of Cybele, the great 1132. 5. friend of hers, and a  49. that I 〈◊〉 now against 1134. 39 of Paederastie 1136. 10. signs of ripeness show 1138. 47. stratage me, as it were of the young man himself 141. 17. And is there never a god 1142. 9 The shady night me never  39 need it hath not of 〈◊〉  50. even so, saith he,  57 Panic terrors and frights, 1143. 35. or enameled  47. and so do call them; it is 1144. 28. named Nicostratus, 1146. 32. wome have not ordinarily, 1147. 9 into fire burning, 1150. 18. but diverse; like as  20. and if this would not seem 1151. 10. wonderful generative  42. invention of love, that 1152. 33. to second his suit 1153. 10. branches and bitches 1155. 4. and revile Venus, 1156. 31. confused trouble and In the marg. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 1159. 47 to incite those 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  50. have made the overture 1160. 15 amulets 1163. 18. avowed to be the earth: 1164. 2. Do bitter 1165. 1. bodies here, and their concretion with the earth,  2. which be there gathered  9 highest cope 1166. 22. to come themselves 〈◊〉 1169. 18. 〈◊〉, 1174. 27. and the calm, white:  56. is a dead body 1175. 21. and argumentation, 1176. 10. even and subtle  30. and kerbed mirrors 1177. 27. do not 〈◊〉 1181. 1. with the winds and transported  27. incontaminate 1183 18. grandeur  40. They be assistant 1185. 35. all the babble of  43. make this disputation of 1186. 21. presently withal, 1188. 37. And 〈◊〉, some you 1191. 55. called 〈◊〉 (shall 1194. 9 or seen the 〈◊〉  15. from his root above, which  25. with a cock upon his hand 1198. 3. 〈◊〉  45. Ad now to these things so well 〈◊〉 1198. 21. For, wine, as  49. golden tufts 1200. 36. Inachian an 〈◊〉, 1202. 9 of the said god. 1206. 2. myself quoth 〈◊〉, 1207. 28. what the sense and meaning  51. is 〈◊〉 occasion 1208. 52. and called unto those his familiar 1211. 11. good turn, either hath it  14. which by his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 1214. 1. As 〈◊〉 your 〈◊〉,  30. by the inspection of 1219. 29. all above  33. there is a Fiend or 〈◊〉 1220. 20. and orderly motion 1221. 31. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 〈◊〉. 〈◊〉  ib. others 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 1225. 21. whom being 〈◊〉 1227. 8. was retired, immediately 1228. 45. and besides that it is 1229. 2. and how he treated  26. evident it 〈◊〉, that it 〈◊〉. 1230. 14. by his 〈◊〉 1232. 4. feast named 〈◊〉  33. exiled from 〈◊〉  39 upon a poor and 〈◊〉 1234. 10. 1240. 37. Did with their blood 1245. 45. abandoned and betrayed 1246. 〈◊〉. Colossuses & giant like 〈◊〉 1247. 18. Sochares, 〈◊〉,  49. Greeks, were quite 〈◊〉 1252. 2. 〈◊〉 (〈◊〉  14. Diesis next unto the 〈◊〉 and a discord or dissonance,  52. no more than the lute or the harp only etc.  53. for this god devised the play both of the one and the other: 1254. 23. did it wittingly. But to 1255. 27. 〈◊〉  28. to six; & nine is 〈◊〉  56. according to excess in nu- 1257. 11. Tetrameter iambics (〈◊〉  23. who first brought up, by their 1259. 14. For, the most part  16. or the teacher: but the better sort reject 〈◊〉 indiscretion; 1260. 34. mixture of parts (as the  49. as he the parts 1261. 28. and these verily  39 which are 〈◊〉 1263. 9 As things that 1265. 52. resolution; of prows 1268. 12. who use to chase 〈◊〉  54. to preach unto me of justice 1269. 51. as making this account 1273. 22. under Alexander, as by A.  29. as sweetly singing (lexander. 1276. 34. truly 〈◊〉, Lo the 〈◊〉 1277. 40. whom differing in truth nothing from 1281. 39 river that had fourd passable 1285. 22. with the sword, glaives, 1286. 11. & by that means also, cause  50. of the rasure, vesture, 1288. 50. few there be among them. 1290. 54. dimly appeareth. 1291. 25. Unitv, Apollo; Two Diana;  31. And Ire, they set out 1292. 44. Osiris' body, and caused 1293. In the marg. in the trunk of the Plant 1295 41. one Methide 49. where they were honoured 1297. In the marg. wicked or cursed.  〈◊〉 to Minerva. 1298.46. Hades and Dionysus. 1300.29. O all ye 〈◊〉. religious Thyades 〈◊〉. sacred fury 1302.31. with whose head having 51. son of Isis 1309.41. 〈◊〉 it 1317.4. Clystre 1319.14. all these speeres 1321.20 ouvertures 1323.2. and taketh not up 1324.33. Adieu dame Corone, 43. or else to look 1327.2 Engastrimythi 42. The daughters verily 1328.32. in order from one: and 33. by four every way,  In the marg by another, maketh 54. all sudden 1329.12. as a 〈◊〉 1335. In the marg. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 1339.9. having equal angles, 1340.29. Essence or Being, 1344.16. who in Conjectures 〈◊〉 1354.27. they usurped (least 1356.13. hath a suit and 1357.36. in 〈◊〉, 1362.17. nor subject either 31. 〈◊〉, 1363.45. as were not  
Those few faults which haply have escaped us beside, are such, as the Reader not altogether unlearned may correct of himself, and of his courtesy pardon us for, considering the far absence of our Author, and the matter of the book not always familiar.